| "I remember something. There was a man. He’s bald and wears a
short-sleeved shirt and somehow he’s very important to me," Jonah said
at last. Memories not his own were beginning to surface just as
Carlin said they would and Therra was not the one he wanted to be
talking with.
She looked as if she were trying to remember this man.
"I think his name is Homer," Jonah added.
"It doesn’t ring a bell," Therra admitted regretfully.
It was one of those things they each said unthinkingly, words,
expressions no one else here used. One of the reasons he'd
listened to Carlin in the first place. One of them. Jonah
thought back to last night and his gut clenched in the best way.
He'd been looking at Carlin and looking away in guilt and frustration
for as long as he could remember, wanting him fiercely and feeling it
was wrong. The more he'd wanted this man he didn't know, the
closer he clung to Therra. They were tight, the two of
them. Nothing could change that. They had trust and he did
care for her.
"Damn."
Difficult to keep track of what they were supposed to be accomplishing
here, but for Carlin, he'd promised to try. Jonah was
restless. Carlin should've been here with them, but he and Kegan,
some others from their section, had been held back on their shift to
vent and clean pipes. They wouldn't escape until that was done.
"You?"
"Just a lot of vague images."
Therra at his side, his mind still followed Carlin, the way his
coveting eyes always had.
The worst was when he knew Carlin looked at him too.
No words were spoken between them until they fought over the bread, Tor
lost his mind and in the middle of it all they stood side by side as if
they were meant to be there. Jonah was obsessed and knew
it. Carlin should be nothing to him, yet came by slow degree to
mean everything. He took the first opportunity he had with the
man, took it to get close to him, took it with relief and a sense of
rightness. They fought shoulder to shoulder, no words
needed. Saved their section and themselves, and after, Jonah held
out his hand and Carlin took it. They walked away together.
Carlin knew his own mind more than any man here did, accepted nothing
until it proved itself to him. He questioned everything.
Not so different from Jonah, then.
He was obsessed, he knew it, and Therra was still here, right here with
him in the place he brought Carlin, tumbled him down and took him hard,
loved him the way they both needed. The place he would love
Carlin again, tonight.
Therra laid her head on his shoulder, jarring him from his hopes of
Carlin and the night.
"You know, there are things about this place that I like," she said
softly.
"Really?" The irony struck Jonah that now Carlin was his, Therra
chose to show more affection, to be closer to him than she ever had
before. She smiled up at him and he understood what she meant by
this, felt an ache of pity and regret. She might have been more
than a friend to him if he'd never laid eyes on Carlin.
Therra was making herself vulnerable to him now, opening up to
feelings she'd never shared, and he found he couldn't hurt her for
that. Maybe it was cowardly, but he wanted to believe he was
thinking of her. This was hard for her, as hard as it was for any
man but his passionate lover.
"Would it mean anything if I told you I remember something else?" he
asked gently.
"What?" Therra asked in reply.
"Feelings."
"Feelings?" she echoed him.
"I remember feeling - feelings." This at least was true.
Warm, deep feelings, of trust and caring, of experiences shared.
"For me?"
"No, for Tor," Jonah retorted sarcastically, embarrassed at trying to
do this good, unselfish thing for her.
Therra laughed at him, another first for her. She was always -
focused. Driven, maybe. He didn't share her need to be the
best. He didn't have her insecurity.
"I don’t remember much. But I do remember that," he promised her
quietly. In this other life, the one he was beginning to
remember, they were friends too. They were close, but it was not
the same as it was between Carlin and him. He didn't have the
need for her he had for Carlin, as if the man were part of him.
"So?" Therra hinted.
"So," Jonah replied, for the first time wondering what it was Therra
was hearing from him, how deep her feelings went. "I’m just
saying." Maybe he'd said too much.
"Well, then I feel better."
Jonah should be satisfied with that but he felt edgy now, reluctant, as
if she were reading into his words more than he meant. He
was sorry for her, that she would be hurt more than he'd known he'd
taken Carlin as his lover, but there was nothing he could do for
her. He couldn't and wouldn't give up Carlin. Nothing could
make him do that.
His gut told him this was the worst time to tell her, that he should
wait until she was not so open to him, more herself. She could
take it then, but not now.
Sitting with her like this was a deceit and even if he were a coward,
he wouldn't willingly sit here and make liars of them both.
"I'll take you back," he said abruptly. "Walk you to our section.
It's close to curfew. Harder to hide if we're both missed."
"What about Carlin?" Therra asked, startled, sitting up away from
him. "He may have learned something today. It's important
we know."
"Then I'll come back," Jonah said. "Wait for him here and tell
you in the morning what he said."
Therra was puzzling over this, or maybe his abrupt change of mood.
"Kegan can't stand Carlin spending time with anyone but her. She
saw us all sit together at breakfast. Who knows what talk the
jealous bitch has spread?" he explained rapidly. "The last thing
we need are people watching us."
Therra saw the sense in this, knew without him saying Kegan would only
let her mouth go about the two of them, not Carlin, and got to her
feet, her confiding mood slipping away from her almost as soon as they
began to move.
He could only be relieved she placed so much importance on finding out
the truth. No matter how much he hurt or angered her, he would
always be able to rely on her. The knowledge did not make him
proud. It cost him nothing, only her.
He saw her safe back to the section, watched as she settled herself
down for sleep, then hurried back to the place Carlin would come for
him. It was easy to put Therra from his mind, to taste Carlin, to
feel him, remember being buried to the balls in his heat.
Jonah slid his hand between his legs, lazily rubbing his cock, the worn
cloth of his breeches adding to the friction.
"Starting without me?" a dry voice enquired.
Jonah smiled at the faint tremor Carlin couldn't quite disguise.
His lover came over to him, shedding his jacket carelessly on the
floor, kneeling down in front of Jonah.
"Tell me," he instructed eagerly, his face alight. "What did you
remember? What does the bowl mean?"
No time for talking now.
Jonah took Carlin's face in his hands and drew him into a kiss, smiling
when Carlin melted into him without a fight. They were good
together, they were right. They both knew. His senses
filled with Carlin, the sprawling, eager weight of him, the mellow
satin of his mouth. Muscles bunched and rolled beneath his
reaching hands, hot, salt skin he licked clean of sweat. Every
place he touched cloth, Jonah bared and stroked, loving Carlin with his
mouth and his hands.
Skin met skin at last and he pulled Carlin heavy into his lap, urged
him kneel, tongues curling deep as he fucked him with a finger, two,
until Carlin clenched around him and the breath shook in his
chest. Jonah pulled him close then, held his hip with one hand,
with the other positioned his cock.
Carlin's eyes were drowned in a tense, excited face, his thighs shaking
as he held his weight, pushing down as Jonah thrust up. They both
moaned out in shock when Jonah's cock breached him. Jonah held
both Carlin's hips, steadying him as best he could as he sank
down. When Carlin's ass rested warm against his skin, Jonah
wrapped his arms around his shoulders, cradled him close, kissing his
cheek, his jaw and throat. Let Carlin know he was with him any
way he could.
Jonah needed this brief respite himself. His cock was crushed by
silken heat, every quiver of Carlin's strong, hurting body throbbing
through his groin. It was all he could do not to drive up, end it
now in screaming pleasure. He held Carlin, held on to his control
until Carlin stilled and sought out his mouth, not kissing him, but
flickering a gentle tongue in soft, small dabs over his tingling
lips. He opened to probing pressure, sighing as Carlin stroked
into him, dabbing teasingly at his tongue.
Kisses warmed Carlin, the pained clench of his flesh easing until a
restless shift of Jonah's hips left him gasping. He began to move
on Jonah then, delicately rocking back and forth his hips.
Jonah's cock rubbed over and over a hard nub of flesh, the sweet, slow
friction making Carlin shiver. Jonah buried his face, kissing and
biting at the smooth, muscular column of Carlin's throat, gently
pushing up as Carlin rocked dreamily on his cock, every nudge over that
nub of flesh deep inside him drawing a soft moan of pleasure.
Waves of pleasure, squeezing Jonah's pounding cock. A shudder of
sullen ecstasy, low in his belly, deepening. Smiling to himself,
he drew Carlin back into a plunging kiss, gloating over his passionate
response. Carlin thrust and shoved with him, caressing and then
crowding his tongue voluptuously, their lips grating as they
intensified the kiss, long fingers buried in Jonah's hair.
All the time, Carlin rocked on him, harder and harder, angling his
hips, driving himself out of his mind with soft, massaging
pressure. Every ripple of his heated flesh throbbed through
Jonah's body as he let Carlin find his way, lift himself and sink down,
searching out that one sweet spot. He gripped Jonah's shoulders,
using him for balance, staring intently into his face as he rode his
cock, his thighs trembling. Rode him hard, their skin pricking,
shudders of ecstasy ripping them both again and again.
Jonah thrust up as Carlin bore down, his lover threw back his head and
cried out rapturously. Staring up at his proud, arched throat and
beautiful face, Jonah's eye was caught by a movement in the
shadows. He thrust again, driving up, Carlin's body clenching
hard around him. They both cried out, a sobbing, strangled sound.
It drew her forward, helpless.
Therra.
Therra was there, watching them fuck, rocked by incredulity,
resistless, unable to comprehend the act she was witnessing, unable to
look away as the two men loved. She stood in the shadows and
she'd made her choice, or had it made for her. She watched.
Jonah made his own choice when she didn't walk away from
them. His choice was for Carlin, of course. He would not
speak, would not put Therra's feelings before Carlin's by acknowledging
her.
He buried his face in Carlin's shoulder, licked his salty skin, then
kissed him wildly. Therra saw this. She saw Carlin's slim,
sweating back and ivory skin, the rhythmic flexing of his perfect
buttocks as he rode Jonah wantonly, Jonah's cock pounding into
him. Therra heard him as he sobbed out Jonah's name.
She was there, staring still, when Jonah's head came up and she saw his
naked face as he came, a fury of love bleeding from him as his body
palsied, his lover all he knew. She saw Carlin throw his arms
convulsively around Jonah's neck, the gentling kiss and cradling
caresses.
She saw them love and when Jonah's vision cleared, when he could
see more than Carlin, he watched as she stumbled away into the dark.
"Hi," Daniel said neutrally. "Can I come in?" He thought
Jack would refuse and then he stepped aside, sarcastically ushered
Daniel in. "Whatever your problem is, don't take it out on me,"
Daniel told him, very direct.
Jack reached out to him, grabbed a fistful of his tie, drew him up
close as he kicked his front door shut behind them. "I didn't
mean," he offered brusquely.
"You stood me up," Daniel interrupted. "Don't do that
again. Call."
"You were worried," Jack noted intelligently.
Daniel came right here. He hadn't even changed. Endured the
diplomatic hyperbole, mumbled through his own speech when called on,
hustled Per'sus and the others back through the wormhole, the President
onto the elevator. Missed Sam, Teal'c and Fraiser heading out
after the debriefing, told a hustling Jack he'd meet him later.
Dinner at Sotto Voce was booked, had been for weeks. They could
talk then. Jack agreed. Daniel waited. Called.
Got the machine and waited some more. Came here.
"Try pissed," he snapped. And worried. Of course he
was. "You could've died today!"
"I know," Jack said soberly. "But so could Carter and that was
worth the risk."
"It always is for you." Daniel's anger was melting away, defeated
by Jack's hang-dog look. "What is it, Jack? What's wrong?"
Jack tugged at Daniel's tie once more, smoothed it and let him
go. "Nothing," he lied. "Want a beer?" he tossed casually
over his shoulder as he headed off into the kitchen.
"I don't like beer," Daniel called out, following.
"Have one anyway." Jack shoved a sweating bottle in his hand and
prowled past him, down into the living room and out onto the deck.
Suppressing a sigh, Daniel hung his suit jacket over the back of the
nearest chair and followed. Jack wasn't sitting, he was down on
the grass, pacing. Daniel stomped down the steps, walked over and
paced with him.
"So, this is you happy then?" he asked sarcastically.
"This is me," Jack hesitated, "not knowing what to do."
Daniel smiled then. "Sleeping together makes it thaaat much
harder to look each other in the eye and lie," he drawled
appreciatively.
Jack's lips tightened and he took a long swig of beer, his eyes roaming
restlessly over Daniel's body in a way he'd come to know, a way which
meant sex.
"Did I mention how good you look in that suit?" Jack asked softly,
skimming his hand over the grey dress shirt to rest his hand on
Daniel's hip. "Lucky Anise didn't ask me about that."
"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Daniel asked
insistently. "Because most of what makes this work between us is
honesty."
"It's a mess."
"Sam?"
Jack shrugged a shoulder.
"Her feelings for Martouf went very deep. She was confused.
I guess you knew that?" Daniel's voice rose on the question.
"More confused than you know," Jack barked, snorting humourlessly.
"Sam found she couldn't separate out her feelings from those of
Jolinar, any more than Martouf could see her without looking for the
memories she carried." Daniel dropped his head, still distressed
for Sam and the part she took in stopping Martouf. It was her
calculated second shot which killed him. "I think it finally hit
her today, how much he meant to her. When he was gone."
He'd hoped to talk, but she'd turned to Janet instead, Teal'c worried
enough to go with her. Daniel was grateful for that at
least. Teal'c had lost Shan'auc; he could empathise with what Sam
was going through.
"I saw."
"What happened, Jack?" Daniel moved closer to him, took his arm.
"Please. I hate to see you so down and not be able to help."
Jack kissed him hard on the lips. "This would help."
Daniel kissed him back. "This would be hiding."
"I care about Carter far more than I'm supposed to," Jack revealed,
watching Daniel's face closely. He seemed morbidly satisfied by
Daniel's polite confusion. "Would it come as a complete shock to
you that I would rather die myself than lose her?"
"Should it?"
"God, I don't know!" Jack kissed him again,
persuasively. "I really need this," he growled, his dark
eyes intense.
"Jack, sometimes you make mistakes, sometimes you just can't beat the
odds. That makes you human. You're as fallible as the rest
of us but you work hard," Daniel assured him. "I'm not sure what
you need to hear from me right now but I promise you, I cannot conceive
of you knowingly leaving any of us behind, ever. It isn't in
you."
All he got back from Jack was a thoughtful nod, little conviction at
all.
Whatever this was, it came from the second test Anise had conducted on
Jack, the questions he was asked then. They had never talked
again about Sam's unexpected emotionalism on Apophis' ship, and though
Daniel had kept a wary eye on both his friends, he'd been relieved to
see no sign of tension or self-consciousness from either of them.
Sure that Sam was fine, he'd believed Jack had forgotten the
incident. Now, it sounded as if something had brought all his
confusion back to the surface.
"I don't want to embarrass the crap out of you," he said awkwardly,
knowing he was about to. Jack did too. He looked
alarmed. "You've, er, you've lost me a time or two and you've
lost Teal'c. I've never doubted that you care. A lot."
"More than I'm supposed to?"
"You told me so, one time," Daniel hinted.
"You know, that's true." Jack slid his arm around Daniel's waist
and snagged him closer. "I have been known to get somewhat -
irritated - over losing you."
"Me?"
"You."
"You gave me a nice eulogy that one time you thought I was fish food."
"You were fried, that time, I think." Jack was swaying subtly,
rolling their hips together. "That time," he snorted, his eyes
twinkling ruefully. "That is so you."
Daniel took a small, distasteful drink of his beer and ignored the
growing sign of Jack's interest in him. "You get upset when I
die?" he enquired politely. "That's nice."
Jack coughed uncomfortably.
"Would you rather die than lose me?" Thinking about it, Daniel
wouldn't answer a loaded question like that. He grimaced
apologetically at an appalled Jack and tried a fresh tack. "Were
you more upset at the thought of losing Sam than you have been those
times you thought you were losing me? Or Teal'c?"
"You? No."
The swaying was becoming quite engaging.
"So you would've answered any question about that the same way.
You would rather die than lose any of us?" Daniel raised his eyebrows.
"What I said, what I answered, was the literal truth," Jack mused.
"Well, given the technology Anise was using, it had to be," Daniel
agreed mildly.
"If there was more to it, if I, er, I felt more?"
"The Zaytarc detector would have registered a lie."
"That's what I was thinking."
"If you started out thinking that, then I'm not sure if I helped."
"I was down. Now," Jack said sweetly, rubbing himself against
Daniel. "I'm up."
Daniel took another slow, deliberate sip of beer. There was
more. Jack had something to say, even if he was going to bitch
and moan until it was dragged out of him syllable by syllable. If
necessary. Jack appeared to recognise this was in fact going to
happen unless he spilled.
"Carter's - weirdness - a while back?"
"Yes?"
"We're confident she would've transferred off the team if she were
compromised?" Jack didn't sound confident at all.
"If her feelings went that deep. I don't want to seem
unsympathetic here, Jack, but I'm struggling to accept Sam's feelings
for you - and I assume what has you doing the Cowardly Lion act is a
sudden revelation of major league weirdness - as being deep."
"It amazes me that no matter how tangled or insulting a sentence gets,
you never lose track of where you want to be at the end of it."
"As you said, Sam barely knows you," Daniel retorted, ignoring
this. "Colonel O'Neill, her C.O., she's familiar with.
Jack, she doesn't know much at all. She can't, for all the
reasons you stated. She and I are much closer, we do have a
personal relationship, a close one and I've never felt her feelings for
me were romantic."
"She didn't know she was lying to herself," Jack said absently, still
thinking through what Daniel was saying to him.
"How can you not know?" Daniel asked blankly.
"Well, in my case, apparently because there's nothing weird
there. It is what it is and I don't think much about my," Jack
let go of him and sketched quote marks in the air, "feelings,"
he quoted bitterly, "at all. It never even crossed my mind!"
Daniel seized the opportunity to sidle out of range and take a
refreshing stroll around the garden.
Jack strolled right after him, gaze approvingly fixated on his
ass. "Slick reflexes," he commented idly.
"I think maybe," Daniel began hesitantly. "I think Sam missed you
when you were away on Edora. I don't think she expected to."
"Out of sight, out of mind?" Jack suggested coldly.
"It - it may be a crush."
"She's forty."
"Well, I don't know what else it could be if she didn't even know she
was feeling it!" Daniel glared over his shoulder at a sulking
Jack. "Sam knows as well as you do she can't pursue any kind of
personal relationship. She's been kind of shaken up twice now by
alternates who were involved with you, then we thought we'd lost you
all those months and when we found you, well, you'd accepted by then
you weren't going to be rescued and had moved on. She wasn't
expecting that." He didn't like to say that Sam wasn't always
able to empathise, that she kept her own emotions under tight check and
wasn't comfortable expressing feelings. It was sometimes limiting
to her. "Maybe all of this has been on her mind. There's no
point to it, so she buried it, she was fine, then Anise comes along and
- "
"I get the picture," Jack interrupted, without heat.
Troubled, Daniel turning around. "Sam lost the privacy she
deserves. I'm sorry now, in a way, I pushed you. I didn't
mean to intrude."
"You get upset," Jack said unkindly, smirking. "I'm sorry, too, I
let you weasel it out of me. Carter and I - she did say it would
be better if it stayed in the room."
"I think that lends even more weight to my assertion," Daniel
pounced. "If this wasn't superficial?"
"Carter would've taken the appropriate action. She's a good
officer, a good 2iC. The best," Jack murmured, taking a long
draught from his beer.
Jack wasn't going to tell him what Sam had said and Daniel was not
going to ask. It was none of his business. He knew her well
enough to understand when she was comfortable talking, when she wanted
his help, she asked. When she kept it to herself, it was how she
chose to deal with whatever was troubling her. To push her in
that situation was to disrespect her. Daniel wouldn't do
it. Sam knew where he was if she needed him. Any time.
She'd been embarrassed today, he thought, but it was nothing compared
to the impact on her of Martouf's death.
Jack's arms came around him, hands clasping comfortably in the small of
his back. "I got a little freaked," he made excuse.
"I would too." Daniel smiled. "But I would make sure I called
so other people didn't worry."
"There's no point in me talking to her, is there?" Jack responded,
prudently refusing to attempt to answer this provocation in any
way. "No way we can. I'm just going to have to trust the
two of us are okay."
"I think so, Jack. In fact, I was just thinking the same."
"Carter will be fine. She always is."
"We're fine too," Daniel gave his word.
"Now can we go to bed?"
Melting, satisfied, Carlin lay quiet in Jonah's arms, a warm hand
cupping his head, the other curled around his bicep. "I wonder
who we are." Carlin drew his fingers through Jonah's hair.
"This could all take time, you know," Jonah cautioned. "My
memories aren't exactly flooding back. I remember a man, an old
man, very important to me. I even know his name.
Homer. But that's all."
"Homer?"
Something about the way Carlin said this…"The name means something to
you?"
"Yes." Carlin's eyelashes fluttered excitedly. "Yes, it
does! Homer is a man who searched, who undertook an epic journey
to find his home again. I'm sure of it!"
Jonah sighed. "Why am I not surprised?" Everything came
back to this damned quest of Carlin's. His now, too, he supposed.
"You don't feel the same?"
"I didn't say that. What you say about the journey, it makes
sense."
Carlin looked at him eagerly. "This place is too small."
"It is."
"I need more. I need - to belong."
"If we never leave this place, if we never know," Jonah began.
"If we get caught, you mean," Carlin interrupted, biting his lip.
"The thought had crossed my mind. You saw what happened with
Teal'c. They took him away, he knew us, he knew he was this man
Teal'c, not Tor, that we were friends."
"But when they brought him back, he was Tor and he knew none of
us or even the name Teal'c."
"Night sick."
"That's how they keep us from remembering, from pushing too hard
against the illusion," Carlin deduced. "Those people aren't sick
at all, they're remembering. Brenna takes them away and whatever
she does to them, afterwards, they don't remember at all. No one
questions their loss of memory because they think the person has been
cured of the night sickness and because they don't want to be named as
part of anyone's delusion."
"I don't think they can keep us from remembering, Carlin," Jonah
assured him with calm certainty. "I think you and I - we'll
always know each other."
Carlin looked at him questioningly, surprised and touched, though he
tried not to let it show.
"It doesn't matter if someone turns us in and we have to begin
again. Even knowing nothing, I'll see you. I'll want you."
"I was watching you too."
"You'll belong," Jonah promised softly. He could see he'd shaken
Carlin with this, moved him. Pleased him greatly. It was an
easy thing to do. Carlin asked little and gave much, gave himself
wholeheartedly. Jonah loved his passion and found he wanted very
much to see Carlin happy, whether it was possible for him to be content
or not. They would have this quiet time and then they would love
again. The sex was shattering them both.
"I don't mean to push," Carlin apologised. "But I keep thinking
about Teal'c, about how sick he is. He means something to us in
this other life, he's a part of this. The longer it takes us to
find the way out of here?"
"The less of a chance he has?"
"Look how sick he got after the last treatment they gave him for night
sickness, how fast, a huge, healthy man like that," Carlin reminded him
sombrely. "Who knows if this treatment they're giving him now
isn't making him even worse? How long will he last before he
collapses again? Before they have to take him away and treat him
again?"
"If he's part of this, then we owe it to him to find the way," Jonah
decided, even though he remembered nothing of the man. "We take
him with us when we go, sick or not." Part of him was willing to
stay here, to keep Carlin with him in a place he knew, a situation,
people he could control, but not at the cost of Teal'c's life.
That price was too high to pay to keep Carlin, even for him.
"It's good to hear you talk this way," Carlin confided, his eyes very
warm. "It feels right to me." He kissed Jonah then, a
murmuring touch of his lips, tongue flickering out invitingly.
Jonah took Carlin into his mouth, suckling on his tongue, heat curling
in his groin. It seemed he would never have enough, never give
enough, Carlin pulling back from him too soon.
"Tell me about your dreams," Jonah asked him.
"The ones about you?"
"Any."
"You weren't listening, before." Carlin knew it and was angered.
Jonah was drawn to the sparkle of temper in his blue eyes but Carlin
snorted, pushed him away.
"I know my own mind, Jonah," Carlin warned, not softly at all.
"You won't think for me."
"I can try," Jonah threatened, not fooling Carlin at all.
"You'll take me as I am," he retorted, glowering, a smile tugging at
his lips.
"I'll take you all," Jonah promised extravagantly.
"Have you dreamed about the ring of bright water?" Carlin never strayed
far from his point.
"Mostly, I've dreamed of you."
"Not good enough!"
"And Homer too."
"Jonah," Carlin grated out in frustration.
"I'll try. Tonight."
"The bowl," Carlin instructed eagerly, his face lightening again.
He took Jonah on trust. It was a good feeling.
"The bowl means something to you, Jonah. I could see that it
did. Focus on that."
"I'll try."
"Succeed."
"You push!"
"At least as hard as you."
"You want to hear about the bowl or you want to push some more?"
"Both," Carlin decided. "But the bowl first."
"There isn't much to tell. I'm standing in front of a large
window, curving around me. I look out and see a gleaming city
teaming with people and activity. I'm in my usual clothes and I
don't feel I fit in with what's around me. I turn and say, 'Very
impressive,' but I don't see who it is I'm talking to. That's
all." It seemed little enough to Jonah.
"A city? Describe it."
He liked Carlin's energy and quickness, in sex most of all. "Tall
buildings of grey stone. Very clean. Lights everywhere I
look. Causeways cross it, high in the air, lights streaming
quickly across them."
"You say you don't fit. Does the city feel real to you?"
"I don't know. It was a glimpse, nothing more. There's no
real detail for me to see. Everything is too far away."
"This could be proof we didn't come from the mines, that we don't
belong to this place, if you remember a city we could never have
been. Not if all of this," Carlin gestured at the pipes, the
crumbling plant around them, "was real."
"Or it could just be a dream."
"That's up to you to find out," Carlin retorted briskly.
"Tonight."
"No pressure," Jonah griped.
"You handle pressure well."
"You don't give an inch, do you?"
"If I did, you'd take it all."
"Believe it," Jonah purred, meaning it. Carlin knew, smiling
reprovingly at him, accepting the unspoken challenge. "Now tell me
about your dreams. Not the puddle. Tell me about you."
"The puddle," Carlin retorted, "is important to me. It is a dream
within the dream. Both real, as Therra dreamed it too, and a
symbol. I want the dream, the ring, it draws me so powerfully I
can't tear my eyes away, but what moves me is you. That ring of
bright water is not enough for me, not without you."
This was more, so much more than Jonah hoped to hear, a kind of ease
flowing through him. He was not a man easy to content either.
"I dream that." Carlin's eyes fell, his gaze inward. "Until
last night. For the first time, I saw Therra and Teal'c
too. They fitted around you like satellites, a comfortable fit,
waiting for me but looking to you. You didn't look at them, they
were yours, you only looked at me. You wanted me to come to you,
for us to go into the water together. You asked. It seemed
important to you that I choose." He smiled a little, focused on
this vivid dream he saw, not the reality of Jonah before him.
"You needed me. All of it was yours and you needed me."
"That's a good dream." Jonah felt the truth of it. He
understood the great need he had for Carlin, though he doubted he could
ever frame it in words. They were better together, that was all
he knew.
"It felt real to me. I felt I knew what I was seeing."
"I don't know the city that well, not the way you do this ring."
Jonah rubbed Carlin's neck. "I know you, though."
"Yes?" Carlin looked up at that, intrigued. "All you would say
was you dreamed of other things."
"I dreamed of sex with you." He moved in closer, pushing his hips
into Carlin's, let him feel he was hard. "Tired?" he asked softly.
"No," Carlin denied clearly, twining his arms around Jonah's
neck. They kissed passionately, Carlin wanting this rough,
joyously eating Jonah's tongue, a clever, knowing hand slipping down to
grab his cock, milk his pleasure until his legs shook.
He urged Carlin down onto his stomach, the easiest position for him to
be fucked again. Touching him with care, Jonah positioned
himself, breaching him with fast, short strokes, driving smoothly
home. Balanced on his elbows, Carlin hissed and clenched
reflexively, dropping his head to pant as he adjusted to Jonah's cock
inside him. He was tight, very much so, this gift of his body not
one he had given often. Jonah lay still, kissing Carlin's broad
shoulder as he breathed again, relaxing under him.
Barely moving his hips, Jonah stroked softly into Carlin, the head of
his cock massaging over the sweet spot he knew. He wanted Carlin
to know tenderness, soothing his shoulders and nape with gentle kisses,
rubbing his face in his hair. He fucked him slowly, deeply,
sweetly, for long minutes, focused on his pleasure. Carlin began
to writhe beneath him, rocking his hips, deepening the pressure of
Jonah's cock against that one spot inside. He began to shake,
breathing out pleasured moans.
Jonah wrapped his arms around Carlin's chest, kissed his cheek,
lengthened his strokes, began to fuck him harder. To move so
strongly with Carlin was intensely satisfying. Each time he
struck against that hard nub, Carlin's body jolted and he cried
out. He shook more and more, his muscles rippling round Jonah,
wracking him with pleasure. Orgasm shuddered through Carlin, slow
and easy, convulsing Jonah's cock. He came hard, groaning out his
lover's name, pumping luxurious heat into him, Carlin's tremors drawing
out his ecstasy to near pain.
Weak as an old man, he carefully withdrew from Carlin, stretched out
beside him and drew him to him, petting his hair with trembling hands.
"Jonah," Carlin whispered, his face dazed and achy, the
intensity in his voice tightening Jonah's throat with feeling.
"I'm so glad I found you."
"These items are to be boxed for delivery to the University," Daniel
ordered, straightening up from labelling the last of them. He
turned, gesturing to his left. "These artefacts are for the
mountain. And these," he stepped forward, tapping a box with his
foot, "are for Goodwill." His squad of SFs sprang into action,
split into two teams, swarming, stripping away all the signs of
Robert's occupancy of this space.
"Dr. Jackson?"
They used his salutation as if it were a rank, which was comfortable
for them if not always for him. Sam had told him once his
notional rank was equivalent to Jack's, but perhaps that had just made
it easier for her to accept the two of them were Jack and Daniel to one
another, on missions, in front of the general, always, not 'Colonel'
and 'Doctor'. Or 'Colonel' and 'Major'.
"Sergeant?" The man was hovering attentively. Daniel would
keep rubbing his aching wrists. That tended to make the Air Force
jumpy. They liked their personnel hale and healthy.
"What about this last box, Sir?"
"Personal items. I'll be taking those."
The sergeant's eyes slid around the small open plan apartment, which
had been crammed high when they got here this morning. He looked
again at the solitary box before Daniel and his eyes said, 'That's it?'
"Will we take you back to the base, Sir, or home?" the sergeant offered
politely.
"Home, I think," Daniel said vaguely. He was tired. "I need
to check around one more time. Be sure."
"Sir," the sergeant acknowledged. "All the utilities are
covered," he informed Daniel, backing discreetly away. "Take your
time."
Daniel stood alone in the living room, rubbing his wrists again,
surrounded by dust-sheeted furniture which had come with the
place. Robert hadn’t cared. His mind had never been focused
in the now, rarely in the future. His place was in the past.
He wasn't saying goodbye to the apartment, wasn't lingering. He
just wanted to be sure and walk away clean, never having to think of
this place again. It was just some place Robert slept. The
life he lived, the man he was, was packed away in those boxes.
He walked around and when he was sure they had everything, he went out,
and the sergeant locked the apartment up behind them. He sat in
state in the back, his box beside him, was driven home. The
sergeant insisted on carrying the box up to his apartment, glancing
surreptitiously at his bruised, cut wrists.
There were days even Daniel was aware of his notoriety.
"Back at base, go to storage room 19C183 and bring back one of the
stainless steel boxes. Also a shovel and GPS."
"Dr. Jackson," the sergeant nodded.
"And fetch me Colonel O'Neill," Daniel added as the man headed out his
front door.
"One shovel?" the sergeant queried politely, before going out.
"And Colonel O'Neill," Daniel confirmed crisply.
For a moment, the sergeant grinned, then made good his escape.
Daniel went along to his bedroom and changed into jeans and fine-knit
v-necked sweater, the colour of frosted grass. Smiling, he folded
back the overly-long sleeves, then laced on his old work boots.
He made some coffee and stood at the table, emptying out the contents
of the box he'd kept, for Robert and for himself. An empty box
had gone into the ground at the difficult memorial service, a wreath
went through the wormhole to the world where Robert died and was
buried, and Daniel came home with a flag, pressed into his arms by
Jack.
It wasn't enough.
Daniel sifted through the items, sorting the strictly personal to one
side, and then changing his mind. This was about Robert, his
life, and the discipline of his vocation was only part of that.
The fossilised egg he found on his first student dig had as much of a
place, not more, as the crystal skull paperweight Daniel had got him
for Christmas from the Smithsonian. His degree diplomas, the CD
with all his research papers, his erratically kept private journals,
those all had their place too.
He sipped his coffee and looked at photos; the memories came thick and
fast. Robert, always having to explain, no, he wasn't Dr.
Jackson, that was him, there, the other guy. The hippie.
That was Robert, never quite with it, never cool. People were too
recent for him, Daniel one of the few who became more than a blur
Robert was vaguely ambivalent towards the existence of. Despite
his slight irritation with anything he didn't dig out of the ground,
Robert quite liked Daniel.
He was a friend.
Daniel looked up.
"One shovel," Jack said, holding this up for inspection. "One
bitchin' hot USAF colonel to do with as you please," he joked, but his
eyes were wary.
"You found the keys, then," Daniel commented as Jack put down the
shovel, came over to the table, pulled up a chair and sat himself down.
"They were in my pocket."
"I meant to give them to you before I shipped out for P3X-888."
Daniel shrugged, his eyes returning to the photographs. "I
forgot."
"So you give 'em to me now?"
"Too heavy for the hair shirt?"
"That's a shitty thing to say, Daniel," Jack told him coldly.
"It's a shitty way to act," Daniel retorted evenly. "You kill my
friend and freeze me out?"
"It's because he was your friend I figured I was the last person," Jack
argued defensively.
"When are you going to get it through your head there are times I need
you around? Times I want you to think about me."
Jack tried to say something, but couldn't get any words out.
"I guess this is putting the boots to my unblemished record as Mr.
Sensitive around here, but I actually didn't care too much about your
guilt in killing Robert," Daniel disclosed. "What I looked for,
and didn't get, was you putting aside your guilt and caring what my
friend meant to me. You made this about you, Jack, and that
disappoints me."
"You wanted me around," Jack stated wearily.
"I wanted you around."
"I'm not a mind reader."
"You could've asked."
Daniel got up then and walked away, down through his living room and
out onto the balcony, leaning on the brass railing, glinting in the
sun, light dancing through the glass over his legs. A familiar
weight settled on his shoulder, rubbed.
"I've been looking for this," Jack commented, tweaking at his sweater.
"It's been here."
"It's too big for you."
"Read between the lines, Jack. I like it. It's mine."
"You're mad at me."
"Ya think?"
"You still gave me keys."
"Read between the lines," Daniel ordered softly.
"If I grovel extensively, you'll let me make it up to you?" Jack
took Daniel's hand, turned it palm up, and made a start.
"Keys?" Daniel closed his fingers over them.
"I felt the need for an overblown gesture after you made me feel all
goofy and stupid."
Daniel held onto the keys, reaching round with his other hand to slide
his fingers into the back pocket of Jack's jeans. Brown eyes
narrowed in amused warning. If anyone was looking, they could be
seen. And Jack liked his hand there just fine.
"Do you think I blame you for what happened?" he asked.
"Yes, I expected you'd blame me."
"I'm glad you didn't try to claim you blame yourself."
"You don't let me get away with anything, do you?" Jack grumbled
gently, holding Daniel too. "Rothman was done for when we pulled
up by the lake. I couldn't split my force to leave anyone behind
with him and it would've been no gain to maybe lose him instead of
you. He needed the rest, neither Carter or Teal'c sensed the
presence of Goa'uld. I took a calculated risk, just like
always. We had no way to know the snakes were infesting the water
until it was already too late. Rothman took out Teal'c and Griff,
he had the staff weapon…There was nothing I could do but take him
out. Nothing I could've done different. So no, I don't
blame myself. I hate to lose a man, Daniel, that's never changed,
but I've learned to deal with it." His eyes were steady.
"It's been happening most of my adult life."
"You've been hiding out because you don't feel badly enough?"
Jack winced. "Sounds dumb, I know. I figured you'd be
looking to me for something I didn't feel and that would make it worse
for you."
"I don't blame you and I don't blame myself. I guess I've learned
to cope with that too. I recruited him into the Stargate
programme and even if I wanted to wallow in self-pity, I can't fool
myself it meant anything less to him than it meant to me. Robert
was my friend and I miss him." Daniel looked out at the
city. "It's very hard."
"For what it’s worth, I'm sorry too," Jack told him quietly. "I
hated what I had to do and I hated it would hurt you."
"You shouldn't have been thinking about me at all."
"You were kidnapped at the time. That kind of thing tends to gnaw
at me," Jack said sarcastically, pardonably annoyed. "And I was
figuring maybe the Unas were gnawing on you."
"It worked out," Daniel said dismissively. "Chaka and I, we
communicated. Bonded. I learned a lot and there's a
possibility, if Hammond agrees, I can go back. Learn more about
their language, their culture. My theory about 888 being the
original world of the Goa'uld became a proof. Robert's work there
was important. We're closer to understanding the origins of the
Goa'uld, as well as the role the aboriginal Unas played in their
evolution. They're the missing link. Robert would have been
- content - with that."
"Was it worth losing him?"
"Not for me." Daniel turned around, smiling. "With Robert,
I couldn't always tell." He walked away then, Jack following him
in. Went into his bedroom and took off his glasses. Waited.
"I thought I was in the dog-house?" Jack sidled in.
"Yes."
Jack rocked up on his toes and made a show of inspecting the
bed. He quirked an eyebrow, waiting for the proverbial axe
to fall.
"That's what the shovel is for," Daniel told him ruthlessly.
Jack's face fell.
"In the meantime, I want sex."
"Ask and ye shall definitely receive on that one," Jack responded with
alacrity and impressive acceleration across the room in eager pursuit
of Daniel. "Way to stop me whining about my bad back and shot
knees before I pick up the shovel," he praised grudgingly.
Daniel stripped off his sweater, then folded it and tucked it back into
its spot in his closet, Jack's eyes following it the whole time.
He closed the closet door with the satisfying firmness of
ownership. "You get sex again afterwards, when you're all
sweaty."
"That's good. Very reassuring." Jack pulled off his smart cream
sweatshirt. "For a while there, I was thinking you were intending
on burying me after making me dig my own grave."
They sat down on the bed to unlace their boots and neatly ball socks.
"It is a grave, in a way," Daniel said at last. "For Robert's
life. A time-capsule. For the things of his which really
meant something to him, which he loved." Daniel turned and rested
his chin on Jack's warm shoulder. "It would be more important to
him that his life be remembered than his death. I know just where
to put the box. There's a spot we found, in the Dinosaur National
Monument. Waaay off the beaten track. It'll be a long time
before the palaeontologists dig that far." Jack slipped his arm
around Daniel's shoulder. "The box would be found, in time.
I'm sure. He'd like that someone discovered him where he
shouldn't be and know from the things they found that it's exactly his
place, where he belongs. Someone who shares the same passions he
had."
They drifted into silence then, easy with each other.
"I'm sorry," Jack apologised at last, stiff but meaning what he
said. "I stayed away so I wouldn't upset you and wound up
upsetting you more."
"Just be straight with me, Jack. It's all I ask of you."
"I'm not good at this stuff," Jack said slowly. "You know why
Sara left me."
"I know you try to be a good friend to me, you try to talk and it's not
easy for you. I know you were right about sleeping together
helping our friendship." Daniel smiled, Jack smiling back, his
eyes very gentle. "We're close. I've come to trust that, to
- to rely on you. I guess I look for you here and that is
not easy for me. I've never had a friend like that
before."
"Honestly? I haven't either." Jack sighed, a contented kind
of sound. "Never had anyone hound me so relentlessly for what is
deemed to be my own good or be so goddamned stubborn about everything."
"It's character building," Daniel remarked, then he reached across,
rubbed Jack's throat. "I want sex, Jack." A hot, achy
wanting. He sat back and his hands went to his jeans but Jack
stopped him.
"Like this," he instructed softly. "Keep these on. Just lie
back on the pillows and trust me."
Daniel hitched back, swung his feet around and lay down. Still in
his jeans, Jack climbed on the bed with him, pushing his legs apart to
kneel between them. Daniel looked up at him questioningly.
"Just let me," Jack requested with an easy smile, pulling down the
zipper on Daniel's jeans, nudging the denim aside to ease down his
briefs. He freed Daniel's penis, his smile widening as Daniel
stiffened in his warm, heavy hand.
Puzzled but trusting, Daniel pulled another pillow behind his
shoulders, wondering what Jack had in mind. They both liked to
see, to be close, to stroke and touch skin while they masturbated one
another. This was a new variation and he was interested to see
where they were going.
Jack lay down, looked up at him for a moment, a slight question on his
face, then he buried his face in Daniel's belly, kissed him there.
Daniel murmured approval, lifting his knees to plant his feet on the
mattress either side of Jack. It wasn't until they'd started
having sex together that he even appreciated how much of his experience
was focused on his partner's pleasure. He knew a woman's body,
but not his own. Jack's attraction to him was more earthy, more
specifically sexual than either of his partners before. He wanted
Daniel's body in a different way, was lustful and predatory in a way
that Sarah and Sha'uri had never been. Sex with Jack was still a
strange and increasingly good experience, the more Daniel trusted, the
more he relaxed.
He slipped his fingers into Jack's hair, tufting out the strands in a
way which drove Jack nuts, murmuring wordlessly, which drove him nuts
in quite a different way. Whispering kisses and warm licks,
gentleness suited the ache he had inside. Jack slid lower, taking
his time, lavishing affection on every inch of his belly as his skin
heated and his penis twitched and throbbed demandingly against Jack's
chest.
Jack's tongue trailed soft, lavish swipes, skimmed his pubic hair,
stroking moist heat the length of his penis.
Daniel's body lurched. "Jack?" he gasped.
"I've been wanting to do this with you for a while," Jack explained,
smiling up at him. "I know this is kind of outside our comfort
zone but I hoped…You do trust me, right?"
"I do, but," Daniel frowned, uncertainly.
"I would really like to do this for you. And no, before you ask,
I don't expect it in return."
"Why now?"
"Only because I think our physical intimacy has reached the point where
you'll be comfortable with my liking for oral sex."
"Your liking?" Daniel blinked. Surely - was it not supposed to be
the other way around?
"I like to give head, but only with a partner I trust."
Which meant it had been a long time for him. Daniel had learned
early on that Jack didn't do casual either.
"You're very gentle and I think you'll like this very much."
"If you weren't sure you wouldn't be offering," Daniel noted
ironically, tabling the gentle thing for discussion at such time as he
didn't have his pants around his hips.
Taking this as a yes, Jack hooked his arms beneath Daniel's legs,
holding his hips securely.
Daniel, quite nervous about this, swallowed hard.
Jack swallowed too, sucking the head of Daniel's penis into his mouth,
sucking as if he were a small child with a sticky treat, a salacious,
squeezing tongue deliciously crowding Daniel's sensitised flesh against
the roof of his mouth. Jack groaned in satisfaction.
Daniel groaned too, opened his eyes and blinked in dismay at the hair
he'd just yanked from Jack's head. He had hands he didn't know
what to do with, clearly not safe anywhere near Jack. Quickly, he
stuffed them under his butt. The first rule of oral sex, with any
partner, was do no harm!
Jack's mouth widened and he took Daniel deeper into him, sucking
blissfully, just this exquisite, erotic torturing pressure,
lips and tongue massaging. Daniel slid a little deeper
into Jack's mouth, moaned ecstatically, guiltily slid out again, Jack's
hands clamping over his hips, holding him rigid.
Mortified by this merited rebuke, Daniel let another moan slip out as
Jack took even more of him in and did this little grating thing with
his teeth. His insides liquefying, Daniel yelped and lurched
violently, dazedly feeling as if he were falling down the bed.
Heat was throbbing in his groin, his penis twitching embarrassingly
when Jack's tongue sensually swirled. And there was the suction,
the grating friction as Jack's hot, beautiful mouth rode his penis up
and down.
His head spinning, Daniel writhed and whimpered, his pleasure pulsing
faster, stronger, scalding, shaking his thighs, his ass, his belly,
shaking through him 'til he couldn't stand it, pleasure lancing
out. His penis jerked in Jack's mouth, he panicked, pulling away
protectively, Jack's teeth dragging his skin. "Sorry!" he gasped
as orgasm struck, intense, convulsive, blinding. "Sorry, sorry, sorry,"
he groaned as his penis thumped and spurted, Jack greedily gobbling,
milking out his gentling contractions to the point of pain.
"Oh. My. God. Daniel!" Jack breathed reverently,
surging up to kiss Daniel exuberantly. "This gets better and
better! Thank you!"
"No." Daniel, groggy and groaning, eyes tight shut, fingers clutching
the sheet until the world stopped moving. "Thank you."
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