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Let your hook always be cast. In the pool where you least expect
it, will be a fish. Ovid.
PART 2: UNDER THE ROCKS ARE THE WORDS
Jack is sitting on the steps of my back porch, loose and relaxed, a beer just
about the only thing he's vaguely focused on. His Air Force driver is out there
someplace waiting for him but Jack doesn't care.
"Thanks," I tell him gratefully, slumping down on the step below his.
"Thanks for what, Joe? For ruining your life?" he asks quizzically, grinning.
"I got my life back." More, maybe, because I don't have to hide in stories
anymore. I can talk to Charlene about what's real and what's not and I know
she'll believe me now. Having proof – having Jack come here – was what made the
difference.
"But you had to give up the stone."
There's a faint question in Jack's voice, a slyness in his sidelong look. I
guess I don't have to tell him what I'm thinking. He knows about wanting it all.
He knows about compromise.
"You had to give up something too," I remind him. All the things we've talked
about, explained, mysteries solved, knots untangled – I feel like I've set the
world to rights and yet I still don't dare bring up the name. Jack knows I know,
but will he let me talk about it? I need to talk. As much as anything else I've
learned about Jack O'Neill, felt I've lived through with him, this is outside of
my experience. Truly alien. "Someone."
For a second there, I think he's going to tear my head off, but then he shrugs
and drinks some more of his beer.
"There's no point denying it," I caution him, even though he hasn't.
"Everything going on in my life and that showed?"
Jack isn’t eaten up with this life we've shared, not the way I am. My life –
it’s just relaxation to him. Whimsical. I haven’t consumed him the way he's
consumed me. I figure there wasn't room. Jack has his own drives.
"Daniel...shone," I explain earnestly.
There. It's out. I've said the name and Jack doesn't react, except in rolling
his beer can between his hands. And he doesn't look at me anymore.
"When he died, I was – I guess devastated was the only word for it. I mourned
Daniel, you know?"
I don't think Jack wants to know and I can hardly blame him. Even for me, who
lived through it, it's still hard to fathom. All that grief, the weight of
Daniel's loss breaking me down for months and it wasn't only second-hand grief,
it was Jack under control, writing it up for public consumption, for the
reports.
A pale imitation for sure, but my feelings – Jack's feelings – are so strong, I
love Daniel too. Jack's love took over my life, my feelings. Grieving for a man
I only knew through Jack's eyes and Jack's mind while my own wife slipped away
from me.
I'm jealous. What Jack has, I should be so lucky.
I tell him this and he shrugs again. Drinks more beer.
What I can't say to him is that of all the terrible and wonderful things I've
lived through Jack, loving Daniel is what I'll never recover from. I never
thought that way, I never looked at a guy. Maybe not feeling the desire is what
allowed me to see the truth of his love. I understood what Jack was feeling –
what I was feeling through him – probably long before he did. The physicality –
the gut-punch Daniel is to Jack, I'm clear of that. I feel the love. Not so
different than what I feel for my wife, and a strength and constancy that
seduced me, suckered me right into loving Daniel too. For my own sake.
I doubt I'll ever get over Daniel. I could never tell Jack how complete that
love was, how it bled right out into my life. Jack was my hero for sure, but
Jack lives through Daniel. At times, he's all there is.
The thought of living in my own head – living without them – frightens me. You
can't have one without the other and now I'm losing them both, I wonder what's
left that's truly me. I don't remember the man I was or the man Charlene wants
in me and I don’t know the man I'm going to have to be.
"I'm smarter than you too," I snap at Jack, irritated by his stubbornness. He
has it easy compared to me, if only he could be brought to see it. "I had to
lose everything to understand what I had, what it meant to me. Charlene and
Andy, they're my life. I lost them, I hit bottom and I came up fighting. I came
to you, Jack. I came to figure things out, put things right." I look at him
pleadingly. "That shouldn't be the difference between us. I shouldn't be the
fighter here."
Not when Jack's love and Jack's grief were part of what made me fight. I
couldn't be without my wife. I couldn't live without love - not again. The gulf
between Charlene and me, the damage that's been done to us, it's all so much
greater than anything that lies between Jack and Daniel. If I can do it, plain
old Joe from Indiana, if I can fight for love, I know Jack can. And because he's
been a hero to me, I can't bear to let him leave without getting him to try. He
has to hear me.
"I'm not you, Joe," Jack asserts without any comprehension of just how much of
him is in me. "I'm not free to do what I want."
"Whose mind have I been reading the past seven years?" I argue heatedly. Jack
might not be free, but he does whatever he wants. And I know Daniel is
what he wants. For me to have accepted that, after my first schizophrenic
Freudian nightmare, I know.
"I'm not free to do this."
He gets up with a calm deliberation that tells me this is it. It's over. Because
he's lying to me and he's lying to himself, I won't be seeing him again, I won't
be seeing into him again. I gave up the stone to get my life back. My family. I
got my house, my shop – everything else, I have to build. Including myself.
Charlene is hearing me for the first time. She's still with her mom and dad, but
she's letting me talk and she's listening. The door is open now. Some day,
she'll be home. It's all I want. All I need. My family.
Maybe my life is small and insignificant – relaxing, even. But I'm better off. I
guess I had to live Jack's life to know it.
And maybe...maybe I'm glad I don't have to see the rest of it.
Because the man walking out of my yard and out my life, the one he helped square
away, he's already home if only he could see it. He only has to put out his
hand. The only thing he's fighting is himself.
I drove away my love too. I can't have Jack inside of me when he realises the
tragedy.
It's done. I've just walked away from Jack. Closed the door on us. I'm back
to being a plaque on a desk to him. Johnson, CIA.
Over and done.
I thought it was about her. Samantha Carter. That she was the one in the back of
his mind, the one he couldn't quite let go of. I believed it right up until she
was standing in his yard looking at him that way.
And Jack, cornered like that, couldn't look at her.
It wasn't about her any more than it was about me. Looking back, it’s obvious
now, and the only question I'm left with is how could I have been so slow?
I knew what I was getting into, I understood the rules. The limitations. I
imposed some of them myself. I have the same priorities, the same
responsibilities Jack does. I got it.
I thought I got him.
Jack didn't encourage me to want more except by being...Jack. He gives a little,
you want it all. It's not his fault.
I mean, come on. I knew there was something, going in. And I honestly
thought it was her. Enough people were talking about it. I should've known if
he'd bend the rules a little to be with me, someone he barely knew, then after
all the two of them have been through and been to each other just as teammates,
he'd bend them a helluva lot more for her. Jack...the man I've caught glimpses
of, the man I could love...he'd risk anything for the one he loves.
That's what Sam wants. What she hopes.
She sees less than I do.
Because in the end, it all comes down to a scrappy little snapshot, years old,
that I found in the drawer with those gift shop Air Force t-shirts Jack likes to
sleep in. I didn't realise the significance of it, that the photo would be the
last thing he saw – if he chose to see – before sleeping. A small thing he could
hold on to.
The hair was longer and the face softer back then, but I know the man Jack is
joking with, has his arm around.
Dr. Jackson. Daniel Jackson.
The man who's missing, the man Jack refuses to believe is dead. He refuses so
absolutely, with such crippling need, he was capable of standing out there in
his yard today with a beer in hand while he charred meat with gusto.
I can scarcely comprehend the fury of that denial.
What makes it worse is how easily he let me go. He didn't fight or fuss or even
feel much of anything that I could see. He was sleeping with me. Now he's not.
He's not on the hook for any of it; easy come, easier go.
I didn't have any impact on him at all, did I? Didn't leave a mark.
It's no comfort at all to know Sam Carter - a woman Jack does care about
- is just as easy for him to put out of mind. I'm not eating my heart out but
Jack - Jack won't think of me again.
What is the difference here? What am I not seeing?
Did he talk about Daniel Jackson too much? Not enough? What didn't I see or hear
or know? Was there anything but the photograph and Jack's absolute refusal, his
utter inability to see that a guy he worked with, a guy he was friends with for
a long time, had died? He never shut me down so much as he never gave me an
opening. No loss, no sympathy required.
My God, I should have questioned. Death has been such a fact of Jack's life, how
could he fail so completely to encompass this one loss among so many?
I don't know him well.
I hardly know him at all.
I saw him today with Sam Carter, though, and it’s only now I understand what he
does, how he is. The side of him he didn't mean for me to see.
What he can't deal with, what he can't take, he shuts away. He shuts down. He
can't deal with Sam's, for want of a better word, her crush on him, so he
ignores it. Sam is in his face and he's still ignoring it. Trying to force her
to deal with him on his terms.
He leaves you nowhere to go. He's good at this.
What does Jack do to Daniel Jackson? How does Jack deal with him?
When I think about it, and boy do I wish I could think of something – anything –
else, I see Jack does talk about Daniel. He talks about Daniel in passing, idly,
humorously, a fact and at times a frustration of his existence. I thought it was
because Daniel was just a guy, just a friend, but in actuality it's because
Daniel is always there. Jack can put some things away from him, he can
shut off some people, but Daniel isn't one of them. Maybe he's the only one.
I guess I sat neatly enough in a small, no-strings box labelled 'affair.' I
didn't require any effort on Jack's part. He was great with the deal we made. He
was great with me. I don't know how to feel about that. It's hard to feel used
when I had such a damned good time with him and he delivered no more and no less
than he offered at the start.
My mistake.
All this time, Jack has been smart enough to hide right out there in plain
sight. Smart enough to be Daniel's friend. He's controlled but he's also
obsessed and that shows. Everyone here knows it. I was told in so many words the
day I got here the way to the general's heart was through his archaeologist.
Jack's obsession with Daniel is such a fact of existence, the SGC no longer
questions. It simply is.
With all of my training, all of my experience in the Company sizing people up,
knowing them better than they know themselves, manipulating them to my ends, I
didn't believe Jack loved Daniel. I never thought to go there. I guess that's
how Jack gets to wear his heart on his sleeve as much as he does. It's so
fucking unbelievable.
Jack and Daniel?
Jack and a guy?
Jack?
I don't know if I can believe it now, except for one thing.
Jack didn't deny it.
I never said the name. I only said he had issues. One big one in particular.
He didn't deny it.
He didn't answer my question either.
Is the Air Force the only thing keeping the two of them apart? Is it the rules
and regulations? Or is it more complicated than that? Is it Jack?
Jack likes neat, labelled, no-strings boxes but has to live with being tied in
knots by Daniel. He likes control but has to know better than anyone when it
comes to this one man how little control he truly has or he would never have
fallen for him.
Obsessed. Shut down. In love.
I wish I could feel better about getting one thing right.
He's making a very big mistake.
It's the contrast that strikes me. I was standing in the general's yard –
Jack's yard – ready, finally ready to bare my soul to him. To admit to what our
ranks and military positions should have precluded. God knows I was past the
point of subtlety. He had to know what I was talking about. How could he not
know? That woman he was with, she knew. One look at me and she knew.
He looked right back at me, though. He was steady. I don't know if he wanted to
hear what I had to say to him, but he didn't back down from it. His eyes met
mine.
So how can that not be what I'm seeing here?
This is Daniel.
This Lazarus act of his – the general was expecting it. He was ready for it. We
said the nice things and here's Daniel, waltzing through our door right on
schedule. Just like the general said he would. Naked as a jaybird. It should be
funny, because this is after all...Daniel.
Only first the general can't look at Daniel and then he can’t look away.
He's nervous.
Have I ever seen him nervous? Ever?
After all we've seen together, all we've done, this is what he can't handle?
Daniel, wrapped in an SGC flag? Daniel naked?
Daniel?
Why can't he let Daniel see that he's looking? We're all looking; there's
nothing intrinsically wrong with looking, given the circumstances. Only...the
general is acting like if he looks, it's wrong. Not us, just him. We've
all looked. Even Bra'tac has looked. But the general...he has to look away. And
when Daniel tries to catch him out, he has to make like he never looked at all.
If I were returned to him naked, if I were wrapped in that flag, his reaction
would make sense. The tugging at his jacket, his fumbling at the flagpole – so
masculine, so obvious. There would be cause, still unacknowledged between us,
but cause nonetheless. Attraction. All those unspoken feelings we've danced the
knife-edge for.
But that isn't me and this can't make sense.
It doesn't make sense.
He wasn't this way with her either. Kerry Johnson. I saw them together, first
here in his office and then in his yard. Even blindsided, he wasn't embarrassed
to be caught, didn't try for a half-convincing cover story, something I maybe
could've bought if I'd worked at it. Worked hard.
Despite the promises he made to me when dad was dying, I'm forced to conclude he
didn't try because he didn't care to. It didn't particularly matter to him if I
knew he was with someone.
Someone else.
Two women he's involved with colliding over him in his own back yard, he takes
on the chin. Steady.
What am I really seeing here? What's going on? The general has a problem with
Daniel? With Daniel, being…naked? In front of all of us, or just in front of
him?
Change the context, the protagonist, and attraction is evidenced. An involuntary
physiological response allied to an awkwardly self-conscious emotional
awareness. An inherited biological imperative and perhaps the simplest of human
equations.
Or the most complicated.
Because I can't change the protagonist any more than I can change the fact of
the general's inability to control his response to him.
To Daniel.
I don't want to think about this any more.
I'm exhausted. Accepting the fact of Dad's loss didn't prepare me for the
reality of it slamming down. So many questions I'd chosen not to ask of myself
or of him when I took him through the Stargate that first time, so many issues
left unconfronted.
My dad was cured of cancer. Naquadah flows through his veins, the corpse of an
alien parasite is wrapped around his brain stem and a deadly toxin of unknown
origin saturates every cell of his body.
I wanted to bury him with Mom, I wanted Mark to mourn him, for us to come
together as a family in Dad's passing in the way Dad and I came together so
unexpectedly in life. The Tok'ra had said their goodbyes, relinquished their
hold on Selmak and her host, and my dad was back where he belonged. He was home.
I wasn't ready to hear what Daniel had to say or to know my dad was as much a
security risk in death as he was in life. The burial he'd chosen became a
cremation, the public honours he'd earned forgone in favour of a strictly
curtailed family ceremony, every detail of which was scrutinised and supervised
by the SGC's security forces. Private was the last word I’d use for that. But
what choice did I have? Medical records, autopsy, open casket, questions and
risks. To the people in the shadows, the government agencies and private
enterprise, the ghouls and the spies, even in death Dad's body has enormous
scientific value. Secrets to be learned. Sending Dad's body through the gate to
be buried off-world was never an option. I could never rob my brother of his
chance to mourn, to say his goodbyes to Dad.
At least Mark was there, even if I couldn't answer his questions or explain why
I'd ignored Dad's long expressed wishes. My brother only knows the military
screwed his father's death in the way it had always screwed our lives. Mark left
me knowing I'd crossed the line, I was part of that agenda now. I'm not sure he
can forgive me, but I want to forgive him. I know I had a part of Dad he never
got to see outside those furtive, fleeting visits that grew fewer and further
between as the relationship between the Tok'ra and the SGC deteriorated and Dad
himself came under suspicion. I got to connect with Dad, to have him become the
father I'd always dreamed of. I know he loved me in a way Mark will never
experience or understand Dad was capable.
Weddings and funerals. Family. My dad is gone, Pete is gone and my certainties
have gone with them. It feels as if all I have left are questions and there's
some comfort here in the smaller uncertainties of fishing. When I tell the
general how good this feels, I mean it. And I do wish we'd done this years ago.
I guess I've left a whole lot of issues unresolved and Jack O'Neill is maybe my
biggest issue of all. When I look at Pete, at what we had and what I did to him,
I have to think I've fooled myself into believing I've grown and that I'm a
stronger person than I once was.
Pete knew something was wrong with me, something was off, and he thought I was
worth the risk regardless.
I'm not so sure. Not any more.
Crossing lines. Not something that comes naturally to me but I'm doing it now.
I'm watching. I've been watching since I understood there was something there,
something I hadn't seen or had seen and failed to comprehend. Something between
the general and Daniel.
I figure I haven't been too subtle about this either, because one night, far
later than either of us should have been on base, Kerry Johnson walked into my
lab and told me frankly at least she wasn't the only one. She's watching too,
watching and wondering.
I wonder if she aches the way I do? If she has these dark, empty spaces in her
life where people and love used to be? I loved Pete and I lost him. I gave up on
everything we had, everything we could have been. I didn't want that to mean I
was giving up on life, on the potential for happiness, but I'm only now starting
to feel the loss. The loneliness.
Pete hoped I would get what I want but do I even know what that is?
It's not this. Not...watching.
Daniel has on these really old jeans, old and worn. They're shredded at the knee
and tight at the thigh, disappearing under a frayed camouflage jacket he must
have taken from the base. He's not dressed the way any of us are used to seeing
him and I'm not the only one who's curious. When Daniel comes out onto the dock
to give us our beers, the general makes sure to turn, to look, not just take.
It bothers me that I see this. It bothers me even more Kerry Johnson sees it
too. That wasn't an affirmation I was ever looking for.
Daniel goes to sit with Teal'c and busies himself with rod, line and beer. He
doesn't talk much and that's not something we're used to from him either. He
doesn't look at the general and the general doesn't look at him, so why do I
feel I've faded into the scenery?
It's not something I want to put to the test. I don't want to talk and not be
heard.
The crisp afternoon slips away from us in silence no one feels inclined to
break. The general only sees his line arcing out over the water. I know what
fishing is and let it take me, focusing on the rhythm of it, the easy
physicality. A long and quiet afternoon but by the end it feels natural. I feel
a part of things again.
Dinner is thrown together; any and every bad thing the general can toss on a
barbecue, eaten just as it comes, the four of us gathered companionably around
the table out on the deck.
"It's a sweet spot," the general observes, looking around him with vast
satisfaction.
"There are no fish in this pond and the woods surrounding it swarm with
mosquitoes," Teal'c contradicts somewhat bitterly.
As the highest, rarest treat on the mosquito food chain, he gets to sleep out
the feeding frenzy in one of the cabin's two bedrooms under specially rigged
netting. The general has threatened to tuck him in at least twice today.
As the girl, I get to sleep in the other room.
The general will be sleeping in the living room with Daniel. Somehow, I don't
think he's drawn the short straw. He made such a fuss to get the couch for
himself, I suspect his sleeping bag will be on the floor right alongside
Daniel's. It’s the kind of game the general plays, the kind that always winds up
with him getting exactly what he wants.
I hate that I'm thinking like this, thinking about the difference between
courtesies Jack O'Neill genially extends to his guests and the perfunctory
arrangements for comfort he perpetually aims in Daniel's direction. It's more
fun to abuse Daniel, to see him put out and sniping. It almost hides the fact
the general can't see Daniel as a guest.
The line is barely visible, you have to look, I mean really look, but it's there
just the same. A fine line dividing Daniel from everyone else.
Dinner is good, our mood is good, and conversation flows as fast as the heady
red wine. The Zero Point Module that came to us so unexpectedly from a team of
archaeologists in Egypt is uppermost on Daniel's mind. We've already talked this
over exhaustively, weighed up every pro and con, every possible scenario of best
use for the ZPM. The decision has already been made. The ZPM is going to
Daedalus and Daedalus is going to the Pegasus Galaxy. To Atlantis.
We're still talking about it only because Daniel wants to go to Atlantis too. He
wants it as much as he's ever wanted anything. He's made no secret of this, just
as the general has made no secret of his absolute refusal to allow it. When
General O'Neill was overruled by General Hammond, he fretted and fumed at
everyone over everything, especially his stolen chair.
I did try to talk to him about Daniel, I always do try, just as he always
deflects and obfuscates. His appropriated seating was the centre of his
three-ring crisis, not the loss of our archaeologist. Sgt. Harriman was mourned
volubly while Daniel was never mentioned. Daniel who?
And I did try.
I guess this is another line, another unspoken rule. Jack O'Neill's feelings
about Daniel Jackson are private. His and his alone. He's talked about
his feelings for Charlie more than he's talked about them for Daniel. His dead
son is an area of his life I'm allowed to know on some level, to share in a
limited way, but not his relationship with our teammate, our mutual friend?
This is not empirical evidence. Not quantifiable or measurable. I can scarcely
see past my own faulty judgements, flawed assumptions and biases of the past, my
own needs and hopes, but there is the balance of probability.
In all my doubts and my questions, my quiet surveillance of the past days, there
is a slow bleed of truths I would never have chosen to face, each telling me
that in all probability, General Jack O'Neill wants Daniel Jackson. Wants him in
a way he didn't want Kerry Johnson.
Or me.
My loss of appetite is almost as abrupt as my departure, but they let me go. I
buried a relationship and a family in less than a week. Even by SG-1's
standards, I caught a tough break. It's enough they don't ask questions. Cold to
the bone, I want only my bed, closing the door between me and them, burrowing
under the blankets to huddle and shiver.
I think I sleep. I find my bed is pooled in shadows but I don't remember it
getting dark. I was cold before but now I'm hot and thirsty. I need to pee.
Brush my teeth. I have my routines, needs and comforts I'm rigid about. That I
don't feel right without. Pete would have said rigid in a wonderful way but he
loved me more than he should have. He made too many allowances.
Because the cabin is quiet, I'm quiet. The moon is high and Teal'c has his
rituals too. When I pause to check on him, I see candlelight creep from under
his closed door. He can't find the trance-like state that so defined who he was,
how his mind and his body functioned, he can't go that deep any longer, but he
can't give up on Kel'No'Reem entirely.
There's a fire warming the room but the back door is open and a soft breeze
stirs and freshens the air. The general is outside, standing watchfully a little
way from the house. I see him as I ease closer. I see Daniel too, sitting alone
on the dock. He thinks he's alone and his head is bowed. Even from this
distance, I can see how low he is, slack and unfocused where he should be
bright, coiled and energetic.
I wish I could go to him. Reach him, instead of intrude.
I can't be seen unless the general turns around and I know I haven't been heard,
but my presence seems enough to break a spell. He's going to Daniel. Before I
can stop myself, I'm following him, right up to the window. I'm pulling back the
drape before I realise what I'm doing and then I panic, backing up
instinctively. I forgot Daniel so fast it frightens me. I hit a warm,
solid wall that holds me in place. Teal'c, who's had my back too often for me to
dream of fighting him now. If he's looking...watching...if he wants me to see?
I want to see.
Framed in moonlight, the general sits down close by Daniel and talks to him. He
talks until Daniel straightens his spine, lifts his head and practically spits
in his eye. His hand is on Daniel's shoulder then. Both of Teal'c's are on mine,
the only heat I feel as chills grip my chest. Daniel won't allow himself to lean
into the general's touch but Teal'c doesn't give me a choice. He's here for me,
whether I want him or not.
Jack is there for Daniel. He touches Daniel's face so gently my throat tightens.
He puts his arms around Daniel, holds him tightly, protectively, very close to
him. Much too close. I want so badly for this to be just about friendship, for
Daniel to keep on fighting him, but my friend has had his losses too. He's so
tired, too tired to fight when Jack is there for him, right there. Haltingly, he
puts his head down again, puts his head right on Jack's shoulder.
I didn't know Daniel could. I doubt Jack knew, but he wants it. He's eating it
up.
As Daniel's arms come around Jack, I can't breathe and the chills are shaking
me. I don't need to see this. I don't want to see. I don't have the will
to stop looking, to close my eyes or break away.
Whatever Jack meant this to be, he's losing it now. Because Daniel needs him.
Daniel has admitted his need, given in to it. Jack's hands can't be still on
Daniel. He's rubbing Daniel's back, his shoulders, his hair, soothing, fingers
stroking in a slow, greedy slide from sympathy to sex.
Daniel doesn't stop him. He could, there's no doubt he could, but he chooses not
to. Jack's hands are on him, where he wants them to be, coaxing the trouble from
him.
Their bodies are eloquent long after words fail them.
I feel sick and I'm no longer sure Teal'c has my back. Not for this. Not to make
me watch them falling this way.
In my time alone on Prometheus, in my dreams, Jack told me this wasn't about
him, he wasn't that complicated. What he told me – what I told myself - it was
the truth, wasn't it? Unvarnished, unwanted. If he loved me, if he wanted me, I
should have known. Without doubt. It should have been me he turned to, me his
eyes would seek out in any crowd. He would want me with him. Listen to me. Let
me in.
I've tried to tell him, tried to cross the line with him. The best he can do
with that is let me expose myself to him the way I have? Let me try to come to
him again and again, wearing myself out, lingering on alone in this uncertainty
only because he doesn't want to deal with it? With me?
I feel nothing but doubt so I go back to what I know. To science. To evidence.
The balance of probability here is that while Jack cares for me, while he can
promise to be here for me always and mean it, he doesn't care enough to tell me
how he feels. To tell me no and tell me why. I'd like to believe it's because he
can't lie to me, but mostly, I think it's easier on him to let me go right on
making a fool of myself than to give me an answer. The truth.
He cannot, he will not tell me the truth. I don't know if he can tell Daniel or
if he can even tell himself. He knows who he wants and why, but can he accept
it? Admit it?
The unbelievable truth.
"I believe O'Neill has finally exhausted all his avenues of escape," Teal'c
observes mildly.
"You knew?" I demand hoarsely, breaking away.
Teal'c lets me go, but it's his room and confrontation he steers me to.
Immovable and quite without pity for my pain and confusion, he's still able to
be kind to me, draping a blanket around me, getting me water. Sitting close and
affecting not to see me shake.
"O'Neill has been enamoured of DanielJackson for as long as I have known him,"
he answers me calmly when he's ready. Or when he thinks I'm ready.
"He's a good liar." I sound as hollow as I feel.
Teal'c gives a measured, thoughtful nod. "To himself, certainly."
"He can't do this!" I burst out. The truth is out there, but I may never be
capable of anything but railing at it.
"Nor can you," Teal'c reminds me dryly.
"I'm serious!" I argue hotly.
"As am I."
"The general can't have feelings for a – for a man," I stutter. "It could
cost him everything. His whole career. His reputation. Maybe even his
life! He could wind up in prison."
"Do you object to homosexual relations?" Teal'c enquires.
"That's none of your business!"
Teal'c nods as if my refusal to answer to his intrusiveness makes complete sense
to him. "I see you share the well-documented prejudices of your military," he
decides.
"None of your business."
"Tell me, Colonel Carter," Teal'c urges. "Is your objection to any man loving
and desiring another? Or merely to General O'Neill loving and desiring another?"
"My personal beliefs are not on trial here," I inform him stonily.
"Nor are those of General O'Neill, a fact for which your military allows."
"Only on paper," I snap. "Believe me when I tell you if this got out it would
ruin the general's career. He would lose the respect of the men."
"He has not lost mine. Nor has DanielJackson," Teal'c replies. "Have they lost
yours?"
I'm not answering that. I'm not on trial here. I owe Teal'c neither explanation
nor justification. My moral code is every bit as complex and difficult as his
own and he has no more right to question my beliefs than I have to question his.
He should know this!
"The general can't be with Daniel," I insist, returning emphatically to the
point.
"You are not so inflexible where your own desires are concerned, Colonel
Carter," Teal'c reminds me coolly. "Your true objection here is that General
O'Neill loves DanielJackson and not you. Were O'Neill to return your regard,
DanielJackson would without question guard your feelings and remain your friend,
as I hope you will remain his."
Do I have to be paranoid to hear the unspoken threat here?
"May I remind you, Colonel Carter, that it is you and not DanielJackson who has
pursued O'Neill?"
While O'Neill was pursuing Daniel Jackson.
"I'm well aware of how compromised I am, Teal'c." I can't believe how rough I
sound, how close to losing it I am. "I'm equally aware the general did little or
nothing to either put me off or set me straight. As often as I've tried to talk
to him, he's listened, he's told me..." My voice breaks. "Told me he knows."
"O'Neill has not been honest with you as you have not been honest with him."
Teal'c looks at me sternly. "Did you not give your word to him that your
feelings would remain private and with your admission of it, the emotional
difficulty you had experienced was at an end?"
I meant it. At the time I meant it completely. I don't know why I couldn't let
go, why I always turn full circle back to him. I can't move on. Something is
crippling me, keeping me locked in this pattern, keeping me needing. Dependent.
In the final analysis, is Jack O'Neill any different than me? Wanting the one
person he can't have but can't let go? I know him well enough to be sure he
didn't choose to love Daniel or to want him the way I have to believe he does.
The difference can't be that he's more honest than me, if only with the person
he loves. More honourable than me. That he's fought his feelings instead of
wallowing in them as I've allowed myself to.
I won't let that be the truth here. I can't. I've brought down enough
humiliation on my head, given enough cause Teal'c can tear me down like this and
believe it's the right thing to do. The general and me, we're not that
different. We care too much – and we don't care enough. The only real chance I
ever had with him was the one I passed on five years ago. I wouldn't give up
SG-1 for him. I couldn't.
I wish I could have given up on him. I went after a man who can't even let me
use his name. Not because of the rules or the regs but because of our ranks.
Because that's what I am to him. I'm a soldier. A subordinate. He'll care for me
only so long as it's on his terms.
And I'm still justifying to myself, aren’t I? Still fawning over the emperor's
amazing new clothes.
Kawalsky used the general's name. That was allowed. That didn't feel wrong.
It’s wrong when I do it. I have a place in his life, a line I can't cross. He
never said love. Never felt love. Not the kind that would ever let me use his
name and have it feel right.
I always thought that distance was there, insisted upon, to disguise his
feelings. All it ever hid from me was the lack of them.
My part in this is done.
It's not just that I can do better, be better.
Daniel didn't do this, not to himself and not to me. He's my friend. And
his life is about to change because of Jack O'Neill, even more than mine.
Because Jack means everything with Daniel and Jack isn’t fighting. Not any more.
He's done.
Part 1 | Part 2 |
Part 3
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