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"My
theories on the age of the pyramids weren’t popular. I lost my
research grant, everything. I was - My last lecture didn’t go
well. I wasn’t looking forward to the eulogy. Not in the
least. I was expecting hours of pitying looks and contempt."
"Spurious sympathy," Kate snapped, her eyes flinty.
Daniel sighed. "Exactly."
Joe poured out another generous glass of burgundy for Daniel, which
made Jack wince. Daniel and alcohol did not go well
together. Hence the current confiding mood.
"So Jack came with you?"
Daniel looked up with sparkling eyes. "Full dress uniform,
sunglasses, attitude, the works. Intimidated the hell out of
everyone in there."
Jack failed to look modest but had noticeable success with gloating
offensively. "I destroyed them," he announced smugly.
"Absolutely destroyed them. By the time I’d let them clue in on
Daniel’s job security, limitless funding, access to all the biggest and
best toys?"
"And being important enough to rate having Jack as my bodyguard."
"They were losing the will to live."
Kate headed off to retrieve the desserts.
Jack took a few sips of wine. "Especially that guy, what was his name again?"
"Doctor Dawson. He was hinting about jumping on the bandwagon and Jack told him."
"We don’t take applications." Jack finished triumphantly.
Joe’s shout of laughter brought Kate hurrying back.
A little of Jack’s current good mood had to do with Ruth being worn out
by the alleged excitement of the museum and going to bed with a bowl of
chicken soup. A lot to do with Daniel being so relaxed and maybe,
by Daniel's standards, happy. He was certainly communicative, and
that wasn't just the wine.
Kate had been busy while Daniel was sleeping. The dessert had been made entirely in his honour.
"It didn’t stop there, though, Jack had to - o-oooh!"
Jack indulgently enjoyed Daniel’s open mouthed astonishment.
"Jeez, you’d think nobody had ever made you a chocolate pyramid before."
"No trouble at all once I’d made a mould," Joe said, carefully casual.
"The filling is coffee mousse. Jack said you’d like it," Kate fussed. "It was this or?"
"Ruth in chocolate body paint," Jack interrupted flippantly. "Like the chick in The Mummy, y’know?"
"That wasn’t funny the first time, Jack," Joe said severely. Then
he grinned at Daniel. "Ruth taking him up on the offer was damned
funny though."
"Jack jumping two feet in the air was even funnier, Daniel," Kate added
with a derisive snort. "All those finely honed survival
instincts? Phooey. He was whining about even a rattlesnake
giving you some warning."
There was a breathless hush of anticipation as Daniel excavated the pyramid with the respect it deserved.
"Belgian chocolate." Kate emphasised.
The very first taste utterly blissed Daniel out. He lost it
completely in sensory overload. Kate and Joe beamed as he closed
his eyes and just let the chocolate melt on his tongue. "Mmm."
"Colombian coffee beans."
"I can tell," Daniel breathed sincerely. "This is wonderful. Thank you."
"Sick to my stomach here. Two days with Daniel and we’re turning into the Waltons," Jack mourned.
"No fear of that, Jack," Daniel said wickedly. "Grandma never felt up John Boy that I can remember."
Jack cuffed him gently round the head, then succumbed to irresistible temptation and laughed too.
Joe was curious. "What did Jack have to?" He waved a ‘you know what’ hand, "At the eulogy?"
Daniel sighed.
Jack’s face darkened. "Let’s just say as the drink flowed, and
the word of Daniel’s good fortune spread, the mood graduated from pity
to out-and-out resentment in some quarters."
Daniel shot Jack a mischievous look. "Somebody dared to use the
phrase ‘sell-out’ in Jack’s hearing. The fallout wasn’t pretty."
"I never touched him," Jack insisted.
"You didn’t have to. You just loomed. In an unmistakeably and increasingly menacing manner."
"Well, he might be able to pull off menacing," Kate sniffed, eyeing
Jack's reaction to this extremely critically, "but modest is totally
beyond him."
"I allowed my body language to imply a threat I was more than willing
and able to make good on if anybody wanted to take the discussion
outside. Which they didn’t." Jack’s voice was not wholly free
from regret. "I merely did my duty as Daniel’s bodyguard," he
added virtuously.
"He enjoyed himself hugely, ruthlessly intimidating an entire room full
of archaeologists," Daniel hooted disbelievingly. "He had a
blast. I sensed a definite personal agenda. Jack got more
and more outrageous as the night wore on. It was, it was
primal. Despite pretty much being what Jack was loudly commenting
they were, they were still smart enough to recognise an apex predator
when they saw one. Especially once he decided we needed to
circulate. After a few preliminary skirmishes, my esteemed colleagues
in the Society for Archaeological Sciences tried to flock together for
safety, then scattered whenever they saw Jack swooping down on them,
picking off the strays."
"The terminally unsuspecting or downright aggressive. Culled
neatly from the flock." Jack’s smile was wolfishly
satisfied. "Survival of the fittest and all that. Very
Darwinian, very scientific."
"He kept making provocative comments like, 'Oh yes, I thought that was
an excellent point when Dr Jackson first made it, three years ago.'"
"Had you?"
"Not in that case, no. But he said it with such superb
conviction." Daniel rolled his eyes in pained remembrance. "I
made a fatal error later and showed him my invitation to the AGM of the
Society. It’s normally just a standard circular but mine had a
memo attached, stating any military escort would be deemed acceptable,
except Colonel O’Neill. They mentioned him by name, three times,
in as many paragraphs. He sulked for days when I refused to
attend."
Jack looked wounded, glancing appealingly to his parents for support.
"He also refused to nominate me as an Associate Member of the Society."
Daniel ate some more of his pyramid, then responded to the blank looks.
"Clause 13, sub clause 5, of the Society’s constitution, allows for
final appeal, in person, before a quorate panel at the AGM if
membership is refused. Which in his case was a foregone
conclusion. He was strongly drawn to that."
"Democracy at its best." Jack gave them his best grin and
vigorously attacked his pyramid, smacking the spoon down, dramatically
flattening the fragile chocolate. He then ate it with relish.
Daniel winced.
"Jack is very talented," Kate marvelled, watching this display.
"All he’s doing is eating, and he’s still managing to annoy everyone
else in the room."
"Multi-tasking." Jack sent an exploratory spoon out towards Daniel’s plate. "You gonna eat the rest of that?"
"Yes. I’m savouring."
Jack struck.
"Jack!" Daniel howled, outraged.
"Too slow, kid. Too slow," Jack gloated, flaunting his stolen piece of Daniel’s pyramid.
"Hey! Give that back!"
"Isn’t that what the chieftain said to the archaeologist?"
There were ways to make the archaeologist talk.
Jack needed the right ambience. Having said archaeologist
snuggled up next to him in his jammies, slightly drunk, very relaxed
and still on that post-pyramid chocolate high was a good start.
Jack put his own troubles down for the moment and made the effort to do
what he brought Daniel here for.
"I didn’t forget, Daniel," he said, very gently.
"Hmm." A drowsy murmur.
"It’s been a year. I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten."
Timing. Timing was everything. Jack waited patiently,
knowing Daniel’s guard was as down as it was ever likely to be.
"I still miss her." Daniel’s voice was soft. "Every day."
Aah. Caught him on the cusp of sleep. Despite himself,
Jack's fingers were tangled in the rumpled softness of Daniel’s hair
before he could stop himself. "I still miss Charlie," he
confessed, shaken by an affection he never used to question.
"Every day."
"Does it get better?" Daniel asked with gentle curiosity.
"You learn to cope better," Jack said cautiously, unwilling to offer
any more comfort than this. He wasn't the best one to
ask. He was never sure how well he healed or if forgetting was
better than forgiving. He still didn't know which was letting
go. "Give it time. It’s only been a year."
"Yes. One. Just one." Daniel’s eyes remained closed for all
his fierce emphasis. It was difficult for him, to even think that
Sha'uri was gone a long time, that there had never really been hope.
It was difficult for Jack too. He was the one who made the rash
promise, the one Daniel believed in, trusted implicitly to help him
find Sha'uri. She was free now, but the price paid by those
around her was as high as her enslavement.
Jack continued to stroke his hair. "You never gave up, Daniel."
"We," Daniel corrected him automatically.
It warmed Jack right through. "Just wanted you to know, Daniel. Nothing’s forgotten."
"No, Jack. Nothing’s ever forgotten."
Jack sat beside his best friend, lulled Daniel to sleep under the
steady, comforting pressure of his hand. It was all in the
timing. Or maybe, it was just in the caring. This was clean
and good, this was what their friendship was supposed to be, the reason
he'd been able to let Daniel get so close to him. Neither of them
found it easy to talk, but they did talk, to each other.
It was a long time before Jack was able to move his hand from Daniel's hair.
"It’s falling off me!" Daniel was irritated.
"I wish," Kate sighed gustily.
"Mom. For the thousandth time," Jack protested wearily.
Kate just winked at Daniel.
Daniel was well aware blushing only made Kate tease him all the
more. Unfortunately, knowing this wasn’t the same as being able
to do anything about it.
"It’s huge." Daniel fingered a cuff tentatively. The
sleeves were so long they were spilling down onto his hands.
Maybe if he turned them back? "Ow!" He shook his stinging hand.
"I’ve seen snakes strike slower than you do, Kate."
Jack was not without sympathy. "I keep telling her a firm ‘No!’ will do it every time, but does she listen?"
"It’s supposed to be huge, Daniel. It’s for Jack. He’s taller than you."
"Only by two inches," Daniel muttered resentfully in the direction of the big, handsome All-American, annoying as hell hero.
"Two inches can make all the difference," Jack smirked on automatic pilot.
"And the sweater will cover a multitude of sins," Kate offered absently.
Jack rolled his eyes heavenward and stalked over to the window
seat. "Okay to sit here?" he asked his loving mother with awful
sarcasm.
"Yes, love, perfectly okay." Kate sounded very distracted. "I’ve had the joists reinforced."
Jack froze for a moment as Daniel snorted explosively, then sat down
with a solid thump, glaring out of the window. Daniel was glad he
wasn’t the only one suffering here.
"Shoes, Daniel!"
"Er, I thought perhaps not?" Daniel protested feebly, struggling to resist Kate's wiles.
"Shoes." Kate was inexorable. "Glasses, too."
Daniel reluctantly removed the offending items.
Jack was staring out the window when he heard Daniel ask carefully, "Kate? Er, what are you, er, doing?"
"You’re supposed to be windswept."
"Oh."
Then Jack turned around and settled down to enjoy the show, horrified
but mesmerised. Kate had a firm grip on Daniel’s chin and was
using it to turn his head this way and that while she mussed his
hair. Jack noted she seemed in no particular hurry. No
hurry at all.
"How old are you, Daniel? You’ve got skin like a baby’s bu-"
Even the glare scorching across the attic didn’t stop Jack’s voice
shaking with laughter. "Thirty-four." He’d have to remember that
one.
"Really? You don’t look a day over twe-" Kate subsided as
Daniel’s furious eyes dared her – dared either of them - to finish that
statement. She gave him an insouciant little pat on the cheek and
headed over to grab her camera.
Daniel folded his arms over his chest and scowled.
"Keep that pose but lose the pout, Daniel. Try for
pensive." Kate was in full artist mode, which was actually no
more nor less commanding than her usual mom mode. "Lift your
head, stare off into the distance. Mmm," she murmured
appreciatively. "That’s it."
"I’ll be staring right at Jack the whole time if I stay like
this. He’ll just keep pulling faces or something, distracting
me." Daniel wouldn’t put it past Jack, he could be alarmingly
juvenile sometimes.
"Go away, Jack," Kate ordered at once, an unspoken 'or else!' colouring her tone.
Jack settled himself more comfortably.
"Bare feet, you have very elegant hands and feet, Daniel," Kate praised
him with matter-of-fact rapidity, "jeans, fisherman’s sweater.
Arms crossed." Kate darted forward, and twitched an errant hand into
the perfect spot. "Hugging across the chest. Nice."
She tilted Daniel’s chin just a tad further. "Face, pensive, yes,
hair, windswept." She sighed. "Just beautiful." She raised
the camera. "Stop laughing, Jack. Why are you still here?"
"I’m not about to leave Daniel in his hour of need," Jack replied
glibly, blandly ignoring his mother's scorching look. "He’s too
young and impressionable to leave alone with an old reprobate like
you."
Kate stuck her tongue out at him and started taking pictures from every conceivable angle.
Daniel gazed at Jack and wondered how hard it was for Jack to be here,
in a house full of pictures and memories of his son. Whether he
was able to talk about Charlie with his parents. There were
pictures of Charlie, of Jack with Sara, candid photographs of them as a
family, different than Jack's few snaps and portraits. Daniel
knew those. Sometimes, after a beer too many, Jack didn't want to
forget. He would talk of his son, his life before. The
weight he carried, never leaving him. He never did truly
forget. Daniel's grief was different but as always they found a
common ground, an understanding which didn't need talking
through. Comfortable silence could be enough.
It was hard for Daniel not to be curious, to wonder if Kate and Joe
respected Jack's silence or if he could talk with them for their
sake. He'd come to think of Ruth's man-eater act as a uniquely
creative and loving distraction. Her antics filled up a lot of
time and empty space for Jack whenever he was with his family, time he
wasn't dwelling in the past. Ruth knew what it was to yearn that
way. Daniel understood it too.
There was no immediacy of grief here, as in the home Jack used to share
with Sara, the home where Charlie died, but Daniel was sure the grief
here ran just as deep. He wondered if Jack knew how lucky he was
to have people like this, loving and supporting him without limit or
question. He couldn’t help but smile, though it was
bittersweet. He'd never walked into a foster home and just
connected with the people he found there. He was used to having
to work, to give something of himself, however small, and then to move
on.
He felt, a little, that Jack didn't truly value the permanence of his
parents' love. In some ways, Daniel was still angry with his own
parents for the choices they made. He was part of their life,
they made room for him, but he was only a part and not always the most
important. Daniel knew love, but he also knew a place. He
knew limits. All in all, there had been less love in his life and
more limits and he could give, he could trust himself more easily than
he could take.
It unnerved him, how much he took from Kate and Joe, and Ruth, how unthinkingly, overwhelmed by their emotional generosity.
He took more from Jack, more than from anyone. Demanded it,
almost. Jack was, Jack was different. There was no way for
Daniel to quantify this and he had tried, on occasion. He'd
simply grown to accept and even to rely. He wasn't comfortable
with needing Jack, but they were so bound up in each other, there was
no walking away.
Most times, it was worth his risks. Most times. Jack was Jack. His friend.
Jack returned Daniel’s sudden shy smile. He’d certainly managed
the pensive look Kate wanted. No wonder, with the most important
person in his life so much on his mind.
Jack turned his head to the window and remembered Sha’uri with the same
sense of regret and resentment he always did. It was terrible and
he knew it, but he'd come to wish she'd been killed outright in the
beginning, in the raid on Abydos. He had lost much of the value
he once had for her, she had become less real to him than Daniel's pain
without her. He was glad, he was very glad and relieved Daniel
sensed none of this, that he could reach past it when he had to, as he
had last night.
He hadn't seen the two of them together, not really. What he'd
seen most was Sha'uri's need, her insecurity. Daniel loved her
but it wasn't enough, not for him, not for her. Not for
Jack. Right from the start, he hadn't trusted the feeling Sha'uri
wanted him to see.
Were they a threat to one another, even then? On some instinctual
level had they always known they wanted the same thing? He looked
back at their reunion and all he saw was Daniel, his reaction to
him. Skaara had faded from a memory sharpened by loss, no longer
overshadowing subtler emotions.
Jack was uncomfortable, questioning, and not liking the answers he was
beginning to find. He knew where he stood, here, even if he
didn't know or maybe wouldn't let himself know what he wanted. To
break with Daniel was as impossible as pushing for any deepening of
their relationship. He told himself he didn't want that, it
wasn't that way, but the voice in his head spoke by rote, lacking all
conviction and his eyes returned again and again to Daniel's face.
Kate was engrossed, developing her photographs, so Daniel had been
despatched with orders to eat and rest, otherwise he’d have her to
answer to. He was drawn along the landing by the cadences of
Jack’s voice. They’d lost him an hour ago to a querulous
complaint from Ruth.
He hesitated, then cautiously crept into the open doorway. Jack
sat in the fragile chair by Ruth’s bed, holding a claw-like hand in a
comforting clasp, patiently reading.
"’Sing, Carrie!’ Laura said hurriedly. So Carrie began to sing, then Mary’s sweet soprano came in.
On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand
And cast a wishful eye
On Canaan’s bright and shining strand."
Daniel found himself staring at Jack's face, a little breathless at the
tenderness he saw. Jack's was a strong face and handsome, lived
in, lined, humorous and as vivid as his personality. It was a
face Daniel knew better than his own, one he'd seen ugly with anger,
harsh with contempt, sly with humour and sarcasm. There was so
much Jack felt and hid and it was only in moments like this, when he
was with certain people or when he was unwary, his true warmth
shone. Daniel was attracted to all these qualities in Jack, to
all his contradictions and his complex humanity. He had always
been.
Jack looked up, shooting a comically long-suffering look at Daniel, waving the book in evidence.
Daniel took the hint and left him to it, wondering if he’d ever get to
the bottom of Jack. He’d done nothing but complain about and to
Ruth all weekend and yet here he was, reading her a children’s story
without a hint of reluctance, giving it his all, just because she
wanted him to.
Jack was so good at giving of himself, at sharing comfort, it seemed
churlish to refuse it. Jack thought of others, he cared for them,
but his care also spoke to a deep need within him. Daniel
couldn’t bear to have a wound touched, but he also couldn’t deny Jack
anything he could give him as a friend. If Jack needed to share,
it behoved Daniel to accept without making Jack work so hard for
it. SG-1 were family after all, as real to Jack as this
family was becoming to Daniel. Maybe it wasn’t the American dream
nuclear family, but it was pretty good nonetheless. It just meant Jack
had three kids, one of whom was twice as old as him, one twice as smart
as him, and one he got to enjoy himself hugely treating like a kid
whenever he could get away with it.
Three kids? Well, three point five if you counted Junior.
Feeling he was falling deeper in it every moment he spent in this
house, Daniel went downstairs to find Joe, wanting to ask about Jack,
when he was young, before he was a soldier. It seemed Jack barely
remembered that person, had buried him. Joe would know, and he
would talk, in a way perhaps Kate wouldn't. Joe teased, but he
saw a man when he looked at his son, while Kate saw and felt for her
darling boy.
Joe looked up from his newspaper when Daniel went into the kitchen, his
lined, tanned face softening into a warm, genuine smile which reminded
Daniel irresistibly of Jack. There was a certain look he got, a,
a melting warmth in his eyes which went with this smile. Seeing
the self same look on Joe's face shocked him into belated recognition
this was a smile Jack only ever had for him. He couldn't imagine
how he'd never seen this before. Jack was, Jack was different
with him.
Daniel felt the worth of this, guessing Joe's reserve went as deep as
Jack's. There was a line Jack let no one cross, a line he drew
emotionally. On one side, he kept his buddies, at a safe,
discreet distance. On the other, there was, really, there was
only Daniel.
"Slipped your leash, son?" Joe asked teasingly.
Joe's seemingly casual affection reminded Daniel immediately of General
Hammond. What sounded unthinking was far from it, for both men.
"Feel like taking a look at my workshop?" Joe offered, clearly taking
advantage of Kate's absence, telegraphing a wary glance at the open
doorway behind them.
"I'd be honoured," Daniel said sincerely, accepting the implied
compliment. A man's bond with his tools was near sacred.
He'd made a good impression, somehow, and he was grateful for
that. There was nothing more painful than effort at liking.
It could never be missed. Perhaps that was why he was so
sensitive to the faint but discernible shift in his friendship with
Jack. Something was causing them both to lose their balance,
making them both work just a little bit, and he wished he knew what it
was.
He followed Joe out onto the wide deck, not slowing his pace, but going
ahead to poke around, check things out, exciting bursts of alien colour
in baskets, pots, beds. He saw a lot of structure in the garden,
a lot of depth to colour and texture, pleasing lines which drew the eye
first one way and then another. He babbled on almost at random
about what he liked, enjoying the way Joe would light up and launch
into a detailed explanation, or would deflate and frown, questioning
any creative choice insisted on by the nagging, absent Kate.
There were more complex, knowing rivalries than that between parents and son.
"You're still in love," Daniel blurted out, then felt ridiculous.
Joe didn't rush to answer, he never did, he merely went on walking with
his usual care, a reflective face and a warm, broadening smile.
"We feel more all the time," he decided, "not all of it good," he added
with a rueful chuckle. "There are times I could kill Kate, times
she drives me right out of the house. We fight and mean it,
knowing which buttons to push, which words hurt the most." Joe reached
out, hugging Daniel's shoulder as they walked. "The truth is,
we're so tangled up, I'm not sure anymore where one of us ends and the
other begins. Kate isn't part of my life, she's part of me."
"I've never had that. I've never known that emotional depth,"
Daniel faltered, more moved than he could adequately express.
He'd never had the time, never loved anyone long enough to learn to
know them the way Kate and Joe knew one another. Daniel was
always adjusting. Sometimes, he thought his stubbornness came
from the many compromises his life had caused him to make just to get
by. He was never entirely sure of his place and his values were
his core, his certainty.
"You're looking in the wrong place," Joe advised him with gentle conviction. "Give it time, Daniel. It'll come."
"It's not a priority." Daniel shrugged deprecatingly. He
did just fine on his own, and preferred it that way, when Jack let him.
"Life has a nasty habit of surprising us, son," Joe commented with fond
exasperation. "People have been trying to explain that since they
could walk upright and string two grunts together to form a
sentence. Where do you think religion, mythology, philosophy and
science came from?"
"I'm sorely tempted to answer that, Joe. I could. I could
answer that." Daniel stuffed his hands under his armpits and
tried hard to look at all the pretty flowers. "Talk about
throwing down a gauntlet," he grumbled.
"You're a good boy." Joe patted him. "And you could always take a later flight."
"We're talking days, not minutes."
"We have webcam."
Joe took a key from his pocket and unlocked the door of his workshop, a
small, solid, single story building with plenty of windows and
light. Daniel followed him in, looking around with interest at a
vast array of impeccably organised tools and equipment, little of which
he could identify, crammed into every conceivable nook and
cranny. The totality should have been chaotic but it was
perfectly ordered, the things used most found easily to hand.
"I tinker," Joe noted modestly.
"I wouldn't describe it that way." Daniel leaned against the
workbench beneath the window, looking around. "Jack isn't
creative, at least, he doesn't have that consuming drive."
"He never was," Joe grinned. "He liked living things best of all,
he liked always to be outdoors. He was nuts over animals,
especially dogs. He was always out of the house, up a tree, on
his bike, in the lake or on the dock."
"I'd love to tell you I don't mean to pry." Daniel swung himself up to sit on the bench as Joe carefully sat on his stool.
"That's okay," Joe said easily. "Pry away. The one thing we never tire of in this house is talking."
"Jack liked the outdoors?"
"He roamed around in a pack with his buddies, would stay outside as
long as we'd let him. He fished and swam, hiked, climbed,
hunted. All the usual stuff boys did growing up in rural
Minnesota."
"He never really embraced school?" Daniel prompted.
"Oh, he was bright enough."
"He's very good at hiding at that," Daniel noted with a sigh.
"Always was," Joe said dryly. "It used to drive us nuts.
We'd talk with his teachers and hear about a different boy than the one
we knew. Jack was always sociable, always looking to have fun,
more interested in hanging out with the other kids than in anything he
was supposed to learn. He got by in his classes, always did just
enough to get the grades he needed, but he didn't care and it
showed. He had a lot of charm, though, enough his teachers liked
him even if he was a smart-aleck pain-in-the-ass."
"What about sports? Did he excel at those?" Daniel was trying to
puzzle out what attraction school had had for Jack, what had made it
bearable, if not necessarily enjoyable for him. He wasn't quite
ready to accept Jack could be so ruthlessly pragmatic. He'd
chosen the Air Force, which Daniel knew prided itself on the intellect
and sophistication of its career officers, and placed great value on
continuing education and training. If Jack loathed learning as
much as he professed to, then he had the greatest discipline of anyone
Daniel ever knew to subject himself to lifelong learning, to not just
succeed but excel so far as the Air Force was concerned, without taking
any joy in the process at all.
"I always used to think he liked the teams more than the sports," Joe
remarked. "I don't think that's a bad thing and ultimately, the
Air Force didn't either. Jack was never the star, he never had
that kind of talent for any specific sport, but he played most team
sports and was good at everything he did, he was tough and aggressive,
he was smart, and when he talked, the other guys listened. He had
a real way with him."
"He still has it now. That belief and commitment to a team would
mean a lot to the Air Force," Daniel agreed. "There's a special
skill in leading a unit, in drawing the best from people in terms of
their talents and commitment, in trusting those under your command
enough to let them do their thing. Jack is the best at that."
Joe was smiling at his enthusiasm. "He's still a smart-aleck pain-in-the-ass," he translated without difficulty.
"Yes."
"With charm."
Daniel was a trifle embarrassed it showed.
"I think our boy was smart enough to learn early on in life that playing dumb was the smartest thing he could do."
"I think I agree with that assessment, Joe."
"He cared about people, though," Joe said reflectively, looking up at
Daniel. "I think it worked for him as much as that charm of
his. He would stick up for anyone who needed it and never faulted
anyone who couldn't fight that I recall. It was only on paper he
was ordinary, Daniel. He always did stand out, he had something
about him which was different from anyone else. He was buddies
with a lot of different boys, he had time for 'em all. His mother
was proud of him for that, for not letting anyone tell him who he
should like or what he should do to fit in. I used to think he
made the other boys fit him."
Daniel had long experience of Jack's charisma and the unexpected
benefits it reaped. One of the greatest of them was Teal'c's
presence on SG-1 and the friendships he shared with each of them.
"Jack had a lot of flaws but there was always good in him. He
knew what a coward was and it wasn't the boy who couldn't fight or
believed it wrong to, it was the bully, the boy who got others to do
the dirty work for him. He would not abide that."
"You sound as if that isn't a random example," Daniel prompted, finding
all of this familiar, reassuring even. No one could know Jack
better than Joe and Kate did and it made him feel more confident in his
own perceptions of his friend to know they were shared.
"Oh, my boy got into some fights, alright." Joe shook his head heavily at the memories.
"He won't leave anyone behind," Daniel offered. "It's one of his
core values, part of what makes him who he is. It's not something
the Air Force hammered into him, it comes from Jack and he believes it
so completely, he influences everyone around him."
Joe nodded thoughtfully at that. "That's about the long and short
of it," he agreed with a smile. "He almost got himself expelled
one time, fighting, and it was only the fact he took on a gang that
kept his butt in school."
Daniel had taken on gangs, he remembered being taunted, being harrowed,
being quiet at first and when that didn't work, he would fight back
with words, baffling the rising aggression when he could. He
stood his ground and he measured strength differently from most of the
boys he knew. Dignity was important to him, more important than
pride. At times he felt as if he spoke a different language than
anyone he knew. It was Jack O'Neill who understood him, who
communicated understanding more than he ever did agreement. And
yet, for all their seeming opposition, the radically different
expression of their beliefs, at their heart, they were the same.
"Don't hate me for saying this," Joe grinned. "But it makes Kate
and me happy that Jack knows a man like you and to see for ourselves
how much you value him."
"He's my friend."
"That's real important to us." Joe began a careful climb to his
feet. "Jack always had all the time in the world for the kids he
hung out with, he brought them home and we fed them after practice, let
them hog our TV and wreck his room, but it always seemed to us there
were a lot of kids he knew, too many for any of them to be close.
The house was always full but he never did have that one boy, the one
he could talk to."
"Not everyone does," Daniel said quietly. He'd never thought of
it in quite these terms but he was glad their friendship was as unique
to Jack as it was to him.
Jack had finally gotten Ruth off to sleep. He was going to have
to hurt Daniel severely if it got out Colonel Jack O’Neill had been
reading Laura Ingalls Wilder, but it could have been much worse.
Ruth was also excessively fond of Winnie the Pooh, particularly the
small, cute pinkness that was Piglet.
He took the stairs down two at a time, magnetically attracted to the
smell of food. Every time Daniel slowed down, somebody fed
him. When he got into the kitchen, he found Daniel at the table
with Joe and Jack’s bowl. Daniel was handling the bowl with
sensitive fingers, painting what Jack recognised as hieroglyphs.
"Jack!" Joe looked up with a big grin. "We wanted a memento of
Daniel’s stay with us, so he’s decorating your bowl, instead of Kate."
"What are you writing, Daniel?"
"As joy is not without its alloy of pain, so neither is sorrow without
it's portion of pleasure." Daniel smiled gratefully up at Jack
for a moment.
Jack touched Daniel’s shoulder for a moment. Then he pointed at another set of meaningless squiggles. "And this one?"
Daniel smiled at Joe. "A house has the character of the man who lives in it."
"What was that first one again, Daniel, the one for Jack?" Joe asked, imperfectly concealing his gratification.
"By knowing one reaches belief. By doing one gains conviction. When you know, dare."
Jack coughed slightly, surprised by an ambush compliment. "What about Mom?" he asked gruffly.
"Men need images. Lacking them they invent idols. Better then to found
the images on realities that lead the true seeker to the source."
Jack could follow that one well enough too; Daniel was complimenting more than just her painting.
"Do you have one for Ruth?"
Daniel gave him a sneaky look. "Know the world in yourself. Never
look for yourself in the world, for this would be to project your
illusion"
That one went right over Jack’s head. "And what about
yours?" He couldn't help but wonder just why it was Daniel kept
all of this insane crap in his head.
"Each truth you learn will be, for you, as new as if it had never been written."
Jack couldn’t help the slow smile spreading across his face, reaching
out to ruffle Daniel’s hair as he headed over to the coffee pot.
This was a true enough sentiment for Daniel, still bouncing around the
galaxy ready for any and every new experience when he was allowed
to. "Anyone for coffee?" This was always a rhetorical
question where Daniel was concerned.
Joe was examining the bowl with reverent hands. "Cut Daniel some of the
coffee walnut cake while you’re at it. He’s looking peaky again."
Jack grabbed the cake and didn’t bother to suppress his grin.
Daniel definitely had a way with him, especially around susceptible
O’Neills, even if he was the only one not to know it.
"Daniel?" Kate looked up questioningly as Jack strolled into the attic.
"I fed him twice and put him down for his afternoon nap." Jack shrugged
off Kate’s approving nod and started inspecting the drying photographs,
ignoring her agitated clucking and shooing.
"He’s looking better."
"He's feeling better, I think."
"You love him, don’t you?" Kate’s voice was calmly certain.
Jack figured it was only asking for more trouble than even he could
handle to deny it. "Sure," he said lightly, admitting this
to the only person he would. "Best friend I ever had."
Friendship was what he wanted, what Daniel believed they shared.
There was no room for anything more and he knew it. He knew it on
every conceivable level. It shocked the hell out of him that he
could even think, that it would occur to him for a second…
Friendship. That was all there was. That was all there could be.
Kate busied herself pegging out the rest of her photographs. "You drive him absolutely crazy, you know," she twinkled.
Jack grinned, responding automatically to her bantering tone. "Every day, in every damn way I can think of."
"He’s a sweetheart, Jack. I don’t blame you for being overprotective."
Jack acknowledged the hit with a wry grimace. "Pot and kettle, Mom?" he
asked dryly. "I'm swimming around the same damn gene pool,
remember?"
Kate winked. "You know it," she beamed, admitting to pride where
there was no one around to see her being all maternal and mushy.
"Watch and learn, kiddo, watch and learn." Then she sighed.
"I suppose you’ll be stealing him away from us just as he’s getting
nicely settled? All packed? What time is the flight?"
Jack suddenly found a view of the garage utterly fascinating. "Nine am tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"I, well, he looked so damn peaceful I hated to. Er. I
called the general, okay, got him to re-schedule the briefing.
And you can just wipe that smug look off your face," he snarled
without turning around. A moment later, arms snaked around his
waist and he found himself unable to resist an exuberant hug which
actually came close to lifting him off his feet..
"We get to keep him!" Kate crowed.
"Just one more night. He’s thirty-four, Mom. You don’t get custody," Jack pointed out mean-spiritedly.
"Sez you!"
Jack hid a grin and waited patiently.
"Of course, we’ll miss you too," Kate said obediently after a
perceptible pause, sounding like a child which had just been slyly
smacked to get it to say thank you.
Even without looking around, Jack knew perfectly well she was laughing all over her face. "Et tu, Mom."
"The two of you are close," Kate commented, squeezing him that bit harder.
Jack covered her hands with his own, smiling as her face came to rest against his back. "Daniel is a good friend."
"I see that," Kate agreed. "Your father and I were talking how it
only took you about forty years to grasp the essential difference
between 'buddy' and 'friend'."
"I never was a quick study," Jack tossed out dismissively, trying to lighten the tone.
"Quick is not the issue, son. The issue for you has always been
trust. Daniel is about the last person I'd peg as your
friend." She sounded as if this pleased her rather than not.
"We're more alike than you know."
"If you'd let me finish," Kate said a trifle coldly. "I was going
to say, on the surface, Daniel doesn't look like the obvious choice for
a friend. I have eyes in my head, though, and I see how he brings
out in the best in you."
"Mom!" Jack cringed. "Gimme a break, here."
"I'd love to hear a bookie quote the odds on that." She waited,
giving him the usual chance to retaliate in kind, and when he didn't,
gave him a cuddling squeeze. "Daniel gets you talking."
There was wonder in her voice and something else. "I've never
seen that before."
That stung Jack. He knew exactly what she meant and there wasn't
any defence he could offer up against it. He knew, no one better,
he couldn't talk to anyone. He never had. Except, now, he
could. Couldn't stop himself, if the truth were told. Like
all the things choking him up inside, all he'd left unsaid, just needed
the right trigger.
"Daniel is special."
Daniel was different than anyone, more troubling, more consuming to Jack than anyone had the right to be.
"I guess I'm trying to say you have a bond with him, Jack, and I'm happy to know you have someone."
His mom didn't mean this the way it sounded, she couldn't, but he took it hard, almost jerking away.
Kate caught at his hands, held them in her own, held him. "The
heart is a lonely hunter. I heard that someplace, can't remember
where. I never knew what it meant, not really, but life happens
and some meanings come clear. You can't always make a choice,
Jack. That's all it means. I don't know why you couldn't
talk to Sara when you loved her as much as you did. You don't
know it either, I guess. You can't change it, though. You
can't go back. There's no comparison, there are only Sara and
Daniel, your wife and your friend. Don't hate yourself because
you didn't talk to her, that it was beyond you, be grateful you can
talk to him."
"You were on my side," Jack recognised abruptly, seeing for the first time there was a side to take.
"You're our son."
Kate didn't think in terms of just herself, Joe was so strong a
presence in who she was. Jack was part of them too, without the
barriers and defences which broke his marriage. It disturbed him
Daniel was inside of his defences too. He didn't want to talk
anymore, didn’t want to think, so he fired a question almost at random,
a distraction. It galvanised Kate.
"I’ve got nothing planned for dinner!" she panicked on cue. "We
have no food! You’ll have to go to the market. Now!"
When Jack didn’t move quick enough for her, she slapped him on the rump
and got demanding. "Show some hustle, boy! Got an archaeologist
to feed."
A firm hand propelled him out the door and kept up the pressure until
they got to his bedroom. Kate snuck in for a quick maternal peek
at Daniel, and seemed very much inclined to linger and admire, making
Jack scowl at her ferociously. He mouthed savagely, "Don’t wake
him up!"
He was pretty sure her equally silent response was "Phooey!", then she
leaned down and deliberately kissed Daniel’s brow. Only then did
she sneak back over to him, looking insufferably pleased with
herself. Jack escorted her from the room with cold dignity, then
they both checked in on Ruth.
Both of them were sleeping safe and sound.
It had taken very little persuasion to convince General Hammond to give
them the extra night. He’d only had to paint a pithy word picture
of how hard it was to keep Daniel awake, him being so stuffed full of
Mama O’Neill’s divine home cooking and all.
The general was toast, a distinctly paternal chuckle proving to Jack
his respected C.O. was rather enjoying the image of Daniel being spoilt
rotten by all the O'Neill's of the Windy City. His mental picture
of Jack's dear grey-haired old mother was a product of his Texan
upbringing, an image Jack felt it was cruel to deprive him of with any
inkling of the truth
His order to continue to compel Dr. Jackson to rest and recuperate by
any and all means necessary was certainly well within Jack’s power to
deliver. The sensible thing would've been to take Daniel home on
schedule, give himself a chance to get his head straight. He
failed to resist, though, which was his problem. He always did.
His mom grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him down for a
kiss. He kissed her back, understanding he was reading more into
what she said than she intended, was letting it get to him too
much. His mom had never had time for macho posturing and always
talked straight. She was talking about friendship, he was just
hearing more.
"Daniel." Jack gently shook Daniel’s shoulder. "Come on,
Danny, time to wake up. Feeding time. Again."
Daniel jumped, gasping, looking around him blindly until he focused on
Jack, his head dropping back to the pillow. "I fell asleep
again?" he said, bewildered. "I don’t believe this."
"I’ve been drugging you, in the vain, despairing hope of shutting your
yap for longer than two minutes," Jack said as cheerfully as he could,
not sure if Daniel needed to talk and wanting him to have an out.
"Thanks," Daniel said witheringly.
"S’what friends are for."
Daniel scrambled up and then seemed to run out of steam, standing there by Jack, looking helplessly around the room.
Oh. That was a good point. Impossible to find your glasses
when you needed your glasses in order to…Jack spotted them on the linen
chest and grabbed them before Daniel had to start a systematic search
of every flat surface in the room.
Daniel took them but made no move to put them on.
"Are you okay?" Jack asked, his hand already reaching out.
"I don't know." Daniel's face showed his uncertainty. "I'm
thinking about so much I never expected." His breath huffed
impatiently. "I feel as if I've exchanged one set of problems for
another, no, no, not problems, that's not the right. Um.
What I mean is, I see something I never had any expectation I'd know
and I feel, I feel." He frowned at Jack. "I don't know how
I feel."
Jack was right there with him on that.
"I feel good and yet," Daniel struggled for a word which fit. "Exposed."
"It's family," Jack shrugged. Daniel's gaze flinched and he
realised too late what the word meant, a loss as great, as little
healed as his own.
Daniel pulled away from him without a word, not angry, but tired. Too tired to say what he felt.
Cursing his ineptitude, Jack followed him out at a more leisurely pace,
giving him some distance, waiting where he was the first thing Daniel
saw as he emerged, slightly damp around the edges, from the
bathroom. He nodded a small, perfunctory acknowledgement of
Jack's apologetic look, then they headed off downstairs together.
Still punchy and out of it, Daniel shot Jack several puzzled glances, trying to work out what was wrong with this picture.
Jack took pity on his evident confusion. "General Hammond gave us
an extra night. The mission briefing has been put back until
14:00 hours."
"Oh. That’s good," Daniel rallied somewhat, looking
affectionately at Jack. "I’ve been thinking you looked tired for
a while. The extra rest will be good, I think."
Jack could hardly believe Daniel’s magnificent disregard of the facts. "There’s just no fooling you, is there?"
"No."
Jack heroically forbore to point out just who it was had spent most of
his visit horizontal and let Daniel actually walk into the kitchen
before he made a point. "Daniel?"
"Hmm?"
"Shoes."
Kate froze and then peered round. Her eyes focused at floor level
and she brightened visibly. "Don’t bother on my account,
sweetheart."
Daniel hesitated, held out a bare foot, wriggled his toes thoughtfully,
then bashfully sat down. He sniffed appreciatively. "What are we
having? Can I help?"
"Chicken en croûte. Jack says you like chicken. You can
help by eating. I’ve been admiring the bowl you’ve both done for
us. Going to take it in to my art class, glaze it and fire
it. Can’t risk it getting damaged," Kate chattered
a-mile-a-minute as she began to set the food on the table.
Jack thought Daniel needed a few more visits before he learned.
When his mother wanted help, she extracted it from you against your
will. Otherwise, you sat on your ass and did as you were
told. Kate wasn't admitting to age. She hated reminders,
she hated to feel less than she was, and she lacked the capacity for
compromise his father had. It was one thing among many for them
to worry over and fight about. Part of what made them who they
were. His parents weren't perfect, but there were ways, over
time, he could make them see sense.
"Speaking of the bowl, we've decided we’ll keep it right here on the
kitchen table where we can all see it," Joe told them happily.
"Although Ruth is very disappointed you didn’t put any dirty jokes on
it."
"Speaking of the old," Jack took in the look in his mother’s eyes and
smoothly finished with a more innocuous name than he'd intended, "dear,
where is she, anyway? Still not well?" He got up and headed
over to grab a few beers. When his head was safely buried in the
refrigerator, he called out casually to his dad. "You call the
doc?"
"Grab the lemonade for Daniel while you’re in there, sweetheart," Kate
instructed. And don’t worry, Ruth is fine. She’s just tired
from all the excitement, that’s all."
Jack slammed the refrigerator door with his butt. "Did I say I
was worried?" he argued. "I’m just - Wipe that smirk off your
face, Daniel. Smugness is one of your least attractive character
traits."
"That's a staggering accusation coming from you, Jack," Daniel
retorted, then he turned his attention to the chicken.
Beautifully tender white meat, crisp golden pastry. He gestured
at Jack with his fork, managing to sound surprised. "Tastes like
chicken."
Kate eyed them in bewilderment. "What’s so funny about chicken?"
Jack grinned. "Long-running, kind of pathetic in-joke."
"Did I mention Ruth has some of the family photo albums in her room,
Jack? I saw some amazing pictures. Wonder what they’d give
on base for pictures of a naked Jack O’Neill, sprawled all over a fur
rug, clutching his teddy? Sam’s in the market for the ultimate
screensaver."
"You’ll never make it out of Chicago alive, not with those pictures."
Joe looked smug. "He doesn’t need to, son. Daniel scanned
them and emailed them while you were reading to Ruth. Quite a
large selection on a similar theme took his eye, isn’t that right,
Daniel?"
Daniel nodded vigorously round a mouthful of chicken. "I think in the last one you were about, oh, what was it, Joe?"
"Seventeen."
Daniel was innocence personified. "Ruth’s favourite picture. The one that inspired her to start calling you Manly."
"He was always big for his age," Kate said fondly. "Were you?"
she asked Daniel directly. "What were you like when you were a
boy?"
"Kate!" Joe straightened up. "For cryin' out loud! I knew
you couldn't get through this visit without needing to pry. Leave
Daniel alone," he ordered, something of a snap in his voice. "Let
him eat his dinner in peace." He glanced at Daniel as if to say,
'see what I mean?' then looked to Jack for support.
"You never do talk about your childhood," Jack said slowly, wondering if he were pushing it.
"There's nothing to tell." Daniel seemed surprised they would even ask.
"An answer guaranteed to make Mom twitch with curiosity until you put her out of your misery."
"I was a quiet child, I think," Daniel offered by way of a palliative.
Jack checked out his mother's reaction to this. "She's looking
for more." She looked like she was prepared to come right over
the table to get it too, by the throat if necessary. His mother
was unflinching when it came to tough love.
"I was a loner. I still. Um. I never really made
friends." Looking around the table, Daniel wasn't sure how this
sounded to them and tried to explain. "It took me a long time to
be able to make that connection with someone, to let them in, and there
never was time for that. I was always moving on."
"Moving on?" Joe asked, then flushed apologetically, mortified by this lapse into Kate-like vulgar curiosity.
Jack was thinking how fast he and Daniel clicked when they met, how
they managed to reach each other. Part of it was the
circumstances, part of it just them, who they were, he guessed.
They were opposites in many ways, but in others, in the essentials,
they were the same, they felt the same even if what they thought and
how they got there was different. It was near impossible for him
to quantify just what it was which drew them together, which held them
as it did, but they were stuck. He wasn't sure either of them
could walk away if they tried anymore than he was sure what it was
which made them both reach out and touch in the first place when it was
so unlike either of them.
"I was fostered," Daniel explained, aware he was upsetting Kate.
She had a look on her face which suggested she was mad at the world and
he hadn't said a thing yet about how it was for him, how it made him
feel. The very notion of fostering was offensive to Kate.
It was the same look Jack had if Daniel ever talked about Nick and a
reason he talked about so little else. People were too quick to
decide for him how he was supposed to feel in order to suit them and
the worst of it was their well-intentioned pressuring of him to conform
to their outrage. "To cut a long story short, my parents were
killed in an accident while we were setting up a museum exhibit in New
York, I was taken into the care of social services and fostered."
He got through this by rote, as he always did when it was unavoidable,
refusing to inject melodrama into the bare facts.
"You weren't adopted?" An uncertain Kate was looking to Joe for support.
"Nick, my grandfather, was travelling the world. He couldn't take
responsibility for a child," Daniel said straight-forwardly. He
thought of the way the O'Neills had taken in Ruth when she needed them
and made her their own. He knew they didn't, couldn't understand
Nick. There were times Daniel felt, hoped, he would make
different choices. He didn't want what he loved to become an
obsession, he wanted it to be his choice, not a compulsion he couldn't
control.
"Isn't the goal of childcare services permanency?" Kate was
mystified. "If your grandfather couldn't take you, surely there
was someone else?"
"I was fostered," Daniel repeated.
"Kate!" Joe said warningly before she could speak again.
"How could anyone not want you?" Kate asked anxiously, her eyes pained and incredulous.
"I wasn't a communicative child," Daniel said carefully.
"Kate, that's enough." Joe's quiet sternness stopped her in her tracks, her mouth at half-mast.
"It's okay," Daniel tried for casualness.
"No, it's not," Jack disagreed. He always did, whether he spoke up or not.
"It was a long time ago."
"Daniel."
He looked up at Jack. "I had parents. I never
accepted." He stopped, and tried again, speaking to Jack as if he
were the only one in the room. "I was co-operative, I was quiet,
I worked hard in school, I read. I loved to read, to lose myself
in that. I had my own world, Jack, a different world than any of
them knew and I kept it for myself. I stayed in my room and I was
no trouble but I never."
Becoming aware of the silence, the intense, feeling scrutiny, Daniel
shifted uncomfortably before he went on, feeling obligated to finish
and wishing he'd never started.
"I had my parents and even though I knew, I didn't need to be told they
weren't coming back, I didn't let go. I adjusted, I think."
Daniel, looking down at his plate, missed the sorrowing looks exchanged between Kate and Joe.
"I went in and fit myself to what and who I found in every new
situation, I gave no problems and I was always, I imagine I was always
alone." Daniel knew this sounded bleak but in his own head…"I
didn't care. It wasn't me. I wasn't myself again, except in
my mind and my books, until I was sixteen and they finally let me
go. I'm sorry," he apologised as if he felt the need.
"There's nothing more to it than, than disappointment. I'm not
hiding anything, there's nothing there to hide. I just don't
think about it."
He tried not to, to leave it always behind him. When he couldn’t,
when he had to think, there was one question he would ask of himself, a
question he couldn't answer. Did anyone want with him what he saw
so clearly here, around him at this table? Permanency? A
family? Did anyone want him? Did he leave anyone behind,
loving him, a little? He didn't know. Why didn't he?
Was he so distant, so difficult? Did he hurt anyone?
"You were hurt, son," Joe promised, his heavy hand reassuring on Daniel's wrist..
For a moment, Daniel was disoriented by the soft words so closely
mirroring his own, thinking he'd spoken those most private feelings
aloud.
"You were hurt the worst way a child could be, Daniel," Joe went on. "You were young and you were left alone."
Younger than Charlie when he died, Jack thought, watching Daniel's
difficult, resistant face as the folks charged in where he didn't let
anyone tread. He was not prepared for this kind of emotional
pressure and Jack felt for him, even though his parents were dragging
out of Daniel things he wanted to know as well.
"Everything you loved, everything you knew was taken from you," Kate
said gently. "I've seen the impact loss can have on a child,
Daniel. It cuts the heart out of them, leaves them
hopeless, adrift, even worthless. In place of security and a love
they trusted, there's doubt and blame, despair and great anger."
"Foster parents know the situation going in," Kate went on, her face quiet. "Their
responsibility is for the welfare of the child they care for. I
could be hopelessly idealising but isn't the point of this what foster
parents can give, not take?" She wouldn't wait for an
answer. "If you weren't able to settle, if you weren't able to
love, then trying to hold you would only do more harm than good."
She smiled suddenly at Jack. "Your children love and worship you,
they hurt you, they exhaust you, they thrill and charm and irritate and
stun you. It's no one thing, it's all of those things and more,
and most of all it's love, it's what you can give, which you hope is
far more than you take."
"There were no promises, Daniel," Joe told him softly, squeezing him
for emphasis. "No expectation other than the foster parents doing
their best for you, not themselves.
"I'm sorry," Daniel flushed miserably. "I didn't mean to upset
anyone." Or give the family permission to overwhelm him with the
strength of their views on his personal life. Jack was the one
who - he didn't talk, though, not like this. Daniel wasn't quite
sure what he was apologising for, except maybe losing control of the
situation.
"Don't be sorry. I'm only glad you could trust us enough to share
this with us," Kate promised him, reaching out to give his hand a
little admonishing shake.
"I don't know why I," Daniel fretted.
"Emotional blackmail," Jack said gloomily. "They're past masters. Trust me, they went easy on you."
"Easy?"
"It was your first time."
Daniel's mouth came open, air snuffed in a perplexed little gasp.
Feeling a certain sympathy, Jack reached across to him and rubbed his
back.
"It gets worse," he promised. "You never said what you were like
when you were small," he went on, going for a distraction while the
folks absorbed Daniel's bleak little childhood in silence.
"You never said what you were like either and I asked first," Daniel retorted.
"Daniel was a darling," Kate decided, her fond eyes far away.
"Just like he is now." She snorted unkindly as the three men
reared back as one from this unexpected feminine volley, visibly
appalled.
Jack wasn't sure if he understood Daniel more now, or less. He
did have this impression of heartless, neglectful money-grubbers
refusing to take Daniel in. The parent in him loved - he could
see - it was impossible for him to understand how anyone could not love
Daniel. It had never occurred to him fostering was all Daniel was
prepared to take.
He knew the man and there were times he could see the boy, quiet,
withdrawn, painfully anxious. Unsure of himself and his place in
the world, holding on to what he knew, longing for all he'd lost.
To be wrenched away like that, to be so helpless, it had cut to the
heart of who Daniel was. There were insecurities, a questioning
that he was trusted, always with the questions, of himself, of
everything.
Jack would love to meet that little boy because he saw echoes in the
man. Daniel was responsible for who and what he was because no
one else had stayed with him. Jack and SG-1 were pretty much it
for him.
"You're easy to love, darling," Kate promised, her eyes soft with tears
as she put her arms around Daniel and kissed him. "We're keeping
you," she added, "so no trying to get away."
"I w-w-wasn't," Daniel stammered, thrown by her passionate conviction
and the sinking realisation he was doomed to be her 'darling'
forevermore.
Kate kissed him again.
"I feel a lot better knowing Jack has someone like you around," Joe agreed. "You're welcome here, son, for your own sake."
Kate was lingering, her face against Daniel's arm. Feeling, well, he wasn't sure what he was feeling, he took her hand.
"Jack is actually pretty annoying, so come without him next time, if you like," she coaxed him.
"What would be the fun in that?" Daniel asked in surprise, looking up
again at Jack, who fitted these people in ways he fit no one else, his
necessary connection to the seductive whole. "I can't imagine."
Oddly, Kate began to smile, taking this extremely insulting, Daniel
realised belatedly, sentiment quite well. She shot a look at Joe,
a hint of challenging satisfaction only he could read, then the two of
them smiled in unison, for a moment leaving Daniel and Jack behind in
their moment of mutual, exclusive understanding. They didn't need
to speak; the look was enough.
For the first time, Daniel was conscious of a twinge of jealousy, a
longing for something he felt he would never have. He had his
parents, he had his wife. He was married. Part of him would
never move on from Sha'uri and even a year after her death, he didn’t
know yet how big a part that would be. He was lucky that all his
friends, his family of SG-1 all knew loss and shared his grief with
him, Jack most of all.
Jack was always the one who understood, the one who didn't need to be told. Daniel was lucky to have him.
Daniel curled up against the pillows. "Siler has this really
great software program which can add morphing effects," he prompted
provocatively, still feeling they got into some unexpectedly emotional
ground over dinner and wanting to keep things upbeat. They were
supposed to be on vacation. The crises and Jack's inevitable
questions could wait a day, he hoped. He was ruefully aware of
Kate and Joe revealing a weakness which Jack wouldn't hesitate to
exploit. "We can start with you as a newborn and morph you from
one year to the next."
Without warning, Jack pounced, slid his hand around the back of
Daniel’s neck, fingers probing for just the right spot and squeezing,
causing Daniel to yelp in a very satisfactory manner.
Jack forced Daniel flat, hissing maliciously, "It’s hell being
ticklish, huh, Dannyboy?" Then he knelt on Daniel’s back and kept
up a light, kneading pressure on the hot spot, waiting for the next
verbal volley and enjoying the mixture of laughter, whining and pleas
for release.
Daniel’s voice was muffled in the pillows but still defiant. "Got to have the right music. How ‘bout the theme to?"
Jack pulled up Daniel’s T-shirt. "I’m warning you! Don’t say it or you get the ribs."
There was a brief silence. Jack sat with his hand poised.
"The theme to."
Jack mercilessly sent his fingers dancing over Daniel’s ribcage. Made him squirm.
"Li-little-h-hou-house. Jack!"
Daniel was wriggling wildly under him. Jack paused for a second, hand ready to strike. "Give up?"
"Ontheprairie."
Jack retaliated with a precision run on a specific spot under Daniel’s
arm which made him scream with laughter into the pillow. He
didn’t keep it up for too long, there was always a very fine line
between fun and pain for the ticklish.
Naturally, the instant he had his breath back, Daniel had to raise the
stakes. "We could add a rollover for the screen, Ruth could pick
the spot."
Jack shifted his weight and went for the kneading pressure on a spot on
Daniel’s side, just below his ribcage. Daniel reflexively curled
into a ball, desperately trying to get away from the bombardment,
shuddering and gasping out between giggles, "Tou-tou-touch."
Jack launched an all out assault, multiple targets, made Daniel howl, and then lost his grip during the lively struggle.
Daniel almost made it off the bed before Jack grabbed him again.
"Touchheretoenter!" he yelled defiantly. Then he rolled madly and
the world tilted crazily, ending in a bone jarring thud.
"OOF!"
Eyes closed, Daniel lay absolutely still. He was afraid to
look. "Jack? Are you, um, okay?" It seemed inadequate
after that thud.
There was a very long silence.
"No," Jack groaned painfully. "How ‘bout you?"
Daniel was losing it, stuttering with suppressed laughter.
"Fi-fine. I see-seem to h-have." Daniel took a deep breath
and tried to get it out in one go, "landedonsomethingsoft." Then
he laughed so hard his abused ribs ached.
Jack rolled Daniel onto his back and pinned his wrists to the
floor. "You just had to fall off the bed, didn’t you?" he
hissed indignantly. "And you just had to land on me, didn’t
you?"
Wriggling ineffectually, Daniel managed to pull himself together
slightly. "I’ve got no sympathy. Serves you right for
throwing your weight around."
Jack froze. He glared down menacingly into unrepentant eyes. "For the last time, I do not have a weight problem."
"I don't know about that," Daniel grumbled, writhing, trying to throw him off.
Jack let him get so far, then shoved him back, cat and mouse.
Daniel's wide blue eyes were laughing and indignant at once, seeming
full of light, and all the breath was punched from Jack's chest, his
body hot and singing with wanting, heart pounding, his face falling
towards Daniel's.
The door was flung open. A small, terrible figure barged in. "For
cryin’ out loud! What the heck is going on in here? You
sound like a herd of elephants from downstairs!"
Close to panic, Jack scrambled away, blanking his mother's scolding,
reaching out automatically to pull Daniel to his feet. He looked
into his face and as quickly away, not certain what he saw there.
If Daniel had seen or, or felt anything from him, if Daniel knew?
There was nothing he could say, no excuse he could offer. Jack
wanted him. He knew it now. Couldn't dance around it with
euphemism any longer. He wanted sex with Daniel.
He put out the light with shaking hands and climbed into bed like an
old man, a man whose life was crumbling round him. He stretched
out stiffly, lying still and jumping out his skin, aware of Daniel's
increasingly quizzical looks. What could he do? There
was nothing he could do. Nothing he was allowed to want or could
have. Nothing.
"Jack?" Daniel's hand touched his arm, burning him.
"Get some sleep, Daniel," Jack ordered gruffly.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No. Not you," Jack promised, snapping it out with more emphasis
than . "Just let it go, huh? I'm tired tonight. I'm
tired."
Daniel stretched out at his side, watching him and wanting to help.
It took everything Jack had not to turn his back. He lay stiff
and close to resentful, unable to think coherently, unable to
plan. He could only react, to his shock, most of all to Daniel's
presence, his skin pricking with arousal, a shiver deep inside him so
intense he felt cold.
Despite his concern for Jack, exhaustion beat Daniel. He slept
and flowed into Jack as if he belonged there, holding him with an ease
he never had when he was conscious. Jack reached up, curling his
hands over the arm hugging his chest, Daniel's skin warm against his
palms.
They danced around their feelings, never admitting how they felt,
though it showed in many small ways they couldn't help. They
loved each other, they were friends who needed, friends who touched
each other in ways neither had imagined possible until they met.
Most everything Jack lacked, he found in Daniel and he knew it was the
same for them both.
He and Daniel were tangled up, so much a part of one other they didn't
see it, the way it was with his parents. They each pushed into
places they'd denied others, even denied to themselves, and there was
no separating them. Jack couldn't function. He looked at
Daniel for the first time in a while, seeing his face slack and
contented, a comfort there he never showed that Jack remembered.
He let Daniel in too close, his own choice, impossible now to pull
away, to hurt Daniel, impossible to push for what he wanted. This
was his problem. He would bury it.
Sitting with Jack on his right and Joe on his left at the head of the
table, Kate and Ruth opposite, Daniel nursed his coffee with real
gratitude, watching the O'Neills in their element, wolfing down crisp
bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, waffles, pancakes, honey-sweet biscuits
and their trademark insanely tangential conversation. They never
got enough of each other, never lost interest, poking, prodding,
persuading until they were in, until they knew.
No one here was admitting to sadness, there was verve and energy,
warmth and pleasure, teasing humour, a serene, sincere certainty Jack
would be back and soon, Daniel, they hoped, with him. The family
were happy and Daniel blamed below par caffeine levels for being so
slow to understand the reason why. He doubt it had occurred to
Jack, but in the little they'd said, it was clear they worked
together. Kate and Joe couldn't conceive of Daniel in combat, in
danger, and for them that meant Jack too was safe. They didn't
say anything specific but still, he knew. There was nothing he
would say to them, but he could to Jack, later. He had to give
him the choice to correct a misapprehension he maybe wasn't seeing.
All the O'Neills were generous, drawing Daniel into their conversation,
talking about each other and Jack in ways he could contribute to, even
only with his inevitable questions. He was content, basking in a
beautiful rhythm which made a place for him. He didn't love
easily and he was never certain he loved well, but for what he was
worth, he loved the people at this table. He loved who and what
they were, what they stood for. He wanted them with a passion
which almost dismayed him, wanted them in his life.
"I'm thinking," he mumbled, mostly to himself.
"I'd be shocked if you stopped," Jack retorted, spearing a mushroom from Daniel's breakfast platter.
"Thinking what?" Kate's antenna was clearly twitching.
"Tell her before she explodes," Ruth advised acidly, her own need for caffeine in the a.m. even greater than Daniel's.
"Nothing," Daniel blurted out, belatedly remembering where his blabbermouth took him the night before. "It's nothing."
Kate shook her head sadly. "Oh, sweetheart!" she chided him.
"That's pathetic, son," Joe agreed with his wife.
"Give him another cup o' joe, he might come up with something better,"
Ruth advised, gulping down some of her own drug. "I don't like to
be so unsporting," she grumbled, apparently blaming Daniel for his
manifest inadequacy as a liar. And the fact she was almost out of
coffee in her cup. "Give him another shot at brushing you off and
while you're at it, fill this up," she ordered, imperatively tilting
her vast breakfast mug, looking like she was ready to shoot her java
direct into a vein.
"We could set you up on a drip," Jack suggested, obeying before Ruth got ugly.
"I don't want," Daniel began.
"They know you don't," Jack interrupted dampeningly, taking an interest
in the waffles now he'd actually eaten down to the point he could see
the pattern on his plate. "Take my advice, throw 'em a bone."
Daniel flashed a nervous smile at his hosts. "I had a lovely time."
They smiled warmly back at him.
"Thank you," he added conscientiously, minding his manners.
"You're welcome, darling," Kate said sincerely. "Now, what were you thinking?"
"That I had a lovely time."
Kate nodded thoughtfully. "And?"
Daniel ate some bacon.
"Nothing?" Joe said helpfully.
Daniel waved some bacon at him gratefully then ate that too.
Maybe if he kept his mouth full, nothing mortifying would sneak out of
it.
"If it's nothing, then you won't mind talking about it," Joe concluded, hospitably nudging the eggs closer.
"It was good to meet you?" Even Daniel heard his voice rise uncertainly on the question.
"You like us?" Kate made with her devastating winsome eyes.
Daniel swallowed, although he wasn't chewing at that point, and nodded. "Very much."
"Classic rookie mistake," Jack shook his head disapprovingly.
"Don't elaborate," he advised. "You only get yourself in deeper."
"Jack speaks from years of experience doing exactly that," Joe
observed, watching in fascination as Jack drizzled a little face on his
waffles with the maple syrup.
"Daniel? Darling?" Kate coaxed, dimpling at him.
"I enjoyed being here. Spending time. Here. With
you." Daniel jumped as Jack waved a hand in front of his face.
"Don't look into her eyes! You never see that snake in The Jungle Book?"
"We loved having you here with us, Daniel," Kate promised faithfully,
ignoring Jack. "And we expect to have you back with us soon,
otherwise we'll have to come get you."
"That's not an idle threat," Jack noted unnecessarily. "Once they
get their claws in you?" He shuddered, cutting an emphatic finger
across his throat.
Daniel found himself looking from Kate to Joe and back, hoping they
meant this, that they weren't being polite. He felt pathetic,
wishing they would want him around for his own sake when really, it was
because he was a friend of Jack's, the first Jack had brought to his
home, a link for Kate and Joe to a part of their son's life they didn't
know.
He realised everyone was looking at him. "I don't mind." It
was the first thing that came to him. Not the most
gracious! "I mean, thank you. I'd love - I'd like - that
would be."
"Nice?" Jack hissed helpfully as Daniel floundered.
"Nice."
Jack shrugged at his parents. "I told him he'd be bottom of the
food chain round here," he explained deprecatingly. "You can see
why."
"You were partially right," Kate winked. "For one thing, I wouldn't give up torturing my favourite victim for anyone."
"Love you too, Mom," Jack retorted, delving into the pancake stack.
"Well, if you're going to get personal, I'd have to say Daniel is adorable and you're not."
"Can you not?" Daniel winced. "You know. Say that?"
"Sweet?" Kate suggested an alternative, possibly willing to stretch a point.
"No."
"Joe, what's another synonym for Daniel?" Kate asked impulsively.
"Ours?" Joe smiled at her and she smiled back, leaning over to kiss him softly and rub her face into his.
Daniel was shocked and flaming with gratification his liking was
returned, looking around instinctively to Jack, for his reaction.
"I knew they'd be toast," was all Jack said but it was enough.
Unaccustomed, Daniel melted into a moment of unalloyed pleasure,
stammering out something incoherent which made Kate laugh and snuggle
into her husband. It wasn't often he got what he wanted and he
felt oddly vulnerable, exposed in his thrill. Everyone read him
clearly in this moment, he knew it, but he couldn't close himself off
to them. As it was for him with Jack. However deep he went,
with Jack it was never deep enough though Daniel felt Jack knew him to
the core.
Acceptance left him defenceless and it was known, it was
understood. The family put a value on him, he could see it in
their faces when he could look, it was for all which made him who he
was, even what he wouldn't have touched. It stunned him they
could know him so little and yet know him enough to offer this.
He was humbled and shaken, so grateful to have even this small piece of
who and what these people were to one another. They were making a
place for him and he knew he could not say what this meant.
"Our boy has a friend!" Kate crowed happily. "I had every confidence," she firmly informed the family at large.
"Forty-odd years, he finally brings home someone we like and has all
his teeth," Ruth announced, slightly obscurely but with distinct
approval. "Hallelujah. We knew he had to beat the odds some
time."
Jack was thinking he was driven to bring Daniel here, to see him put
down roots when he seemed so lost. The reason for his urgency was
so clear to him now and he was dismayed. He'd wanted to help
Daniel, he still did, but he'd wanted to help himself. The
Stargate and SG-1 had tied him to Daniel and Daniel to him and when it
seemed, when he thought…His parents were another tie and they would
hook in deep. On some level he knew this would happen, even when
he was lying to himself about why it was so damned important to him.
He could think about Daniel in all of this. He should.
Daniel had found something here with the folks, something Jack couldn't
take away. He was going to have to keep his feelings from Daniel
as best as he could, put down this attraction himself. It was his
problem. It had to be his alone. He meant for something
good to happen, he felt it was right Daniel should be here. He
wouldn't let it be about him, about what he wanted and he needed.
What he needed was to be a better man than that. He was a better man.
"Jack?" Daniel laid tentative fingers on his arm, sensitive to his
silence. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass everyone
all over again."
"Don't be silly!" Kate interrupted him briskly as Jack smiled jerkily
and snatched up his glass to cover. "Breakfast has always been a
minefield in this house. You'll never top the morning Jack
slumped tragically over his oatmeal and announced to us he woke up gay."
Jack sprayed orange juice across the table, choked and sputtering with
astounded indignation as everyone shouted with laughter around
him. Daniel pounded him on the back as he wheezed helplessly,
totally floored by this revelation as his mom did her 'undisputed
champeen o' the world!' act and high-fived a horribly amused Ruth.
"You think sharing a house with those two is easy?" Joe asked rhetorically. "A man needs to read minds just to-"
"Excuse me?" Kate interrupted loudly. Her attention never wavered that much.
"He also needs ears like a bat and eyes in the back of his head," Joe
finished calmly, a certain glint in his eye when he looked at his wife.
Kate was right, Daniel realised. Family was all of the things she
said, and more, it was no one thing and it wasn't necessarily
easy. It was all love though, it should be.
He felt Jack was watching him and kicked him under the table.
Eyes still watering and his face brick-red from the drubbing Kate just
dished out, Jack relaxed, and smiled a little, and kicked him back.
"You come back soon," Kate demanded, her face buried in Jack's
chest. "No hiding from me for months on end or I warn you, this
time I come looking."
"I love you too, Mom," Jack promised, lifting her off her feet and kissing her, which she loved and always argued she hated.
"I miss you," she sniffled, a distinct shimmer she couldn't quite blink from her eyes. "I think about you all the time."
"I know."
Kate tucked herself into the crook of his arm as his Dad took his hand
between both of his and said nothing for a while. Then Jack put
his arm around his Dad and they stood together., hugging him and each
other. Jack held on and let himself feel better.
He kissed them both and was scolded for being mushy.
Jack was glad his own goodbyes had been a tad more dignified. And private.
Daniel shook Joe’s hand and found himself pulled into a bearhug.
"Take care, son. Come back soon," Joe said gruffly, fighting down some unmanly emotion.
Kate was sniffing as she reached up on tiptoe and kissed him. "We’ll
miss you, sweetheart." She said fiercely to Jack, "You take damn good
care of him, you hear? Or you’ll answer to me."
Jack was unperturbed. "I always do." He watched Kate.
"Mom." He watched some more. "Mom! Let go! I
already told you, you don't get to keep him." He shook his head
in despair, looking in horror around the busy concourse. "We had
to do this at the airport? In public? Jeez. MOM!"
Kate peeled herself away from Daniel, snarling. "Alright already!"
"Thank you, thank you all. I had a wonderful time. It
was. I was. I. Um." Daniel was speechless,
blushing furiously, giving them all the benefit of his shy little smile
and blinding blue eyes, which melted hearts around the galaxy.
Jack hooked his mother’s shoulder as she headed purposefully back.
Kate looked innocent. "I was just."
"No."
"How’s the butt, hon?"
Jack froze. "You tell me, Ruth. How’s it feel?"
Jack was still whining about having the aisle seat. "Your arm gets knocked by every goomba passing by."
Daniel eyed him thoughtfully. "You’re right. It was very
thoughtless of me to obediently sit in the exact seat you picked out
for me, after rejecting three other rows in which I was perfectly
comfortable, and I’m still not buying that line about explosive
decompression," he said flatly.
Jack failed to look guilty. The last row had contained a Mrs.
Pulaski from Seattle, who had looked Daniel up and down in a manner
which reminded Jack forcefully of Hathor.
Daniel turned to the passenger in the window seat, smiling.
"Buenos días, la Hermana. ¿Espero que usted esté a
gusto?"
Jack beamed at her too. He had a special fondness for the Little Sisters of the Poor.
"I had a great time. I wouldn’t have missed it for the
world. I’m glad you lied to me and lured me here on false
pretences, Jack," Daniel said sincerely.
Jack nodded with suitably dismissive casualness. "My
pleasure. That’s what friends are for. Yadda, yadda," he
mumbled pleasantly. "And just in case you feel compelled to share
a single, solitary detail about this weekend with the world, you should
know." He paused for dramatic effect. "I’ve got a P-90 and
a shovel. I doubt anyone would miss you." He was not
surprised Daniel once more failed to stick with the script and even
pretend to look mildly threatened and knew, he just knew he was going
to have to work for months to get past the gay thing.
There was something savage in the irony but he wouldn't think about
that. Not now. He wouldn't begrudge Daniel the energy, the
spark he'd found. They both knew each other better than before,
which he hadn't expected, and he would have to settle for that.
It wasn't time to be dwelling on what he knew now about himself.
"I’m overwhelmed by your touching faith in my discretion," Daniel
announced in a deeply-moved tone. He waited a beat. "Siler
and Sam are working on the screensaver as we speak. There’s a
solid cash offer on the table from Ferretti for one of the original
prints. He’s talking T-shirts for the street hockey
play-offs." This was greeted by deadly silence. Daniel
happily added a little more fuel to the fire. "The one with the teddy."
"There are other photographs with Carter right now," Jack countered
with his sweetest smile. "Of a certain
too-clever-by-half-but-still-not-clever-enough-to-beat-my-ass
archaeologist, sitting not a million miles from me. Who’s
beginning to sweat from the look of things."
Daniel stiffened. "Which photographs?" he asked warily.
"The photographs taken by an expert in reconnaissance and surveillance,
then developed by his Mom for the cost of keeping the negatives," Jack
explained willingly, Cheshire-cat sleek. "Said archaeologist is
sprawled all over a bed in navy blue fuzzy jammies, with his T-shirt
ripped in a very interesting spot after falling out of said bed the
night before. Said archaeologist looks ‘adorable’ according to
Carter, and ‘sweet’ according to the Doc." He smirked at
Daniel. "It’s the bare feet peeping out from under the jammies,
apparently. Adds the essential little touch of vulnerability
required to make the truly discerning really work those credit cards.
Carter is creating a 'Meep Meep' sound-effect for the screensaver as we
speak. Teal’c?"
Daniel’s attempt to maintain a dignified front was congealing. "Teal’c?" Teal'c? He couldn't imagine.
Jack went for the jugular. "Teal’c just wanted to know about the
teddy. You’ll know it when you see it. Amazingly, he was
still in perfect condition even after all this time and the manoeuvring
it took to get him in touch with a very special wide load."
Daniel had a horrible feeling he knew where this was going.
"For these photographs, I understand it’s not so much a cash offer as a
bidding war. I refuse to speculate about Ferretti’s sealed bid
for ‘Daniel in his jammies #14’, but just remember there are two sides
to every T-shirt."
Daniel scowled at his best friend, team leader and bête-noir. "You’ll be on the back side, then."
Jack beamed at him. "Funny you should say that."
Kate swallowed a watery sniff and cuddled up to Joe, settling her head
on his shoulder. "Our boy is in love," she said at last.
"Do you think he knows?" Joe lovingly wrapped his arms around her, his lips gentle in her hair.
"He's close and fighting it, love. It's not what he hoped," she
said sadly. "He was never going to bring Sara home to us again, I
know, but in time? I did hope to see him with another
family. I did hope."
"We can't live Jack's life for him, Kate. We can only accept the choices he makes and be here for him."
Proud, Kate cradled her husband's cheek and they kissed lingeringly and
in tenderness. "I can accept Daniel," she promised. "I can
see why Jack loves him. Such a gentle, beautiful boy, so very
kind. He's been good for Jack for such a long time, we've known
that. Now we've seen with our own eyes Daniel thinks the world of
Jack. How can we not make room for him here, Joe? How can
we not love him when Jack needs him so much?" She smiled up at
her love. "Jack has his heart set on Daniel."
"Then he'll bring him home to us," Joe returned her smile with warm satisfaction. "Count on it."
FINIS
Back to part one of Prodigal Son |
On to part one of Passion Play
If you enjoyed this revised version of Prodigal Son,
please do write and let me know.
It was a nerve-wracking experience to say the least to re-write such a
well-known and for some, fondly remembered story. Even a simple
'thank you' or 'I enjoyed this' is an important message to send.
Thanks so much. Biblio. |
