DANIEL
I
stride into the briefing room, eyes fixed on my coffee mug as I say
casually, "Morning." It's perfect. Perfectly casual. You'd think this
was the first time I'd laid eyes on Jack today. Nothing whatsoever for
even the keenest observer to discern from our body language. Certainly
nothing to suggest less than two hours ago Jack was giving me a
thorough, full body oral examination, conclusively proving his point
this was exactly why God invented the hot shower AND why I should get
up half an hour earlier every day.
I
don't feel stupid until I tear my eyes away from my oh so fascinating
mug and realise the briefing room is empty. Oh.
Jack's
"Hey," is casual enough but he's horribly amused by my totally wasted
effort.
Cut
me some slack, Jack. You've had as many years as I've had days to get
used to this whole being in love and having almost continuous mind
blowing bone melting sex thing.
Jack
drops his amused, knowing eyes back down to the journal he's reading.
Jack?
Journal? Reading? An unlikely combination of factors.
"What's
that?"
As
I sit down, I keep staring, trying to work out what's got him so
engrossed.
"Um
- " He holds up the cover for me. 'Glimmer'. NOT a journal. One of
those rabid tabloids. He gives me a tiny, slightly embarrassed shrug.
"Teal'c's
into this stuff."
Strange.
I don't in fact see Teal'c anywhere in the room as Jack flips the
tabloid back over and picks up right where he left off when I
interrupted him. He settles back in his seat, already reading.
"I
don't get it."
I'm
not wholly convinced. I start to open my files but my eyes keep
wandering back to Jack. Possibly it's Terra Incognita, the magnetic
allure of the unknown.
"A
great week is in store for you."
He
doesn't get it but he's reading bits aloud to make sure I don't get it
too. That's Jack, always so thoughtful and considerate of others. So
willing to give of himself, no matter what the personal cost.
"You'll
be going on a trip."
I'm
staring in bemusement at a lurid headline when the accompanying
photograph suddenly leaps into focus. This face is so wildly out of
place, it was just a blur of planes and angles. This must be some
mistake. This man does not belong in this context.
I
lean forward, disbelieving. "Let me see that." I'm not mistaken. It
can't be, shouldn't be, but is. I snatch the tabloid from Jack's grasp.
"Okay."
Jack's
sarcasm barely registers. I feel like sure ground is gaping open up
beneath me.
"Oh
my God."
"What?"
Jack says curiously.
"He's
dead." Impossible. I thought there'd be time - I thought...
"Who?"
Concern creeping into Jack's voice. Guess my face is something he can
read too.
"My
archaeology professor."
The
world has just tilted crazily, taking every semblance of emotional
balance with it. Professor Jordan is dead, but he's dying again right
in front of me, dying in print, a glittering, respected career reduced
to a lurid headline in a squalid, soul tarnishing rag feeding the
paranoia and bigotry of the unquestioning masses for a buck fifty.
Forgive
me if I can't appreciate the entertainment value just now.
Killed
in an explosion at his lab. Archaeologist. Accident. Of course. Like
word association. Archaeologist. Accident. Curse. The Curse of Osiris
in this instance. Killed.
I
never got to tell him - he died - DIED, thinking I was a failure, a
disappointment, an embarrassment. Laughing stock. His support of me the
only blemish on an otherwise distinguished career.
Paragon
to pariah in a single paper. With my lecture as the pièce de
résistance. My swansong. Credibility and career slain by my own
hand. Didn't even get to go out in a blaze of Quixotic glory. More of a
whimper, in the quiet, soul destroying humiliation of a slowly emptying
room and the excoriating PITY of my peers.
"Daniel."
I
listen to all kinds of warnings in Jack's voice but I'm not able to
hear him. I feel heat flooding my face, then I feel the heat of his
hand gently cover mine. Can't tear my eyes from the page.
"Daniel?"
I'm
fine. Fine. A little - just the shock. Yes. I'm fine. Absolutely. Just
can't seem to get my tongue into gear here.
"Give
me a minute. I'll have the briefing re-scheduled, then we can talk."
I
have to swallow what feels like a coil of barbed wire in my arid
throat. "I'm fine."
Jack
tells me, not unkindly, "Crap."
I
read the article yet again. My third attempt and I still can't
comprehend the morass of invective, innuendo and inaccuracies. I don't
resist as Jack suddenly looms up in front of me and pulls me to my feet.
"Your
place or mine?"
Jack
whisks me back to my office with more speed than dignity and shuts the
door with a snap. Then he grabs me and hugs the crap out of me. My
attempt to stop him kissing me is even less convincing than my attempt
to push him away. He just hugs me that bit closer, kisses me that much
more deeply and strokes my back soothingly.
After
he stops kiss - okay, after I stop kissing him - I of course find
myself addressing the least important issue, saying in a distinctly
accusatory manner, "You promised you - " I catch the satirical gleam in
his eye and sulkily amend, "WE promised we wouldn't - How, exactly, do
you think you could explain what just happened if anybody had walked
in?"
Jack
closes his eyes and moans, "Carter - Carter. Oh God - Oh - OH GOD!
Daniel? CRAP! Sorry, kid. Sorry. Gotta go easy on the medication."
"Under
no conceivable circumstances would that work for even a nanosecond."
"Cut
me some slack. Somewhere there's a me who got away with the Space
Monkey thing." Jack tosses that out as he hops up onto my desk, sending
several fragile scrolls skittering towards the floor. With the ease of
long practice, I nimbly catch them and tenderly escort them to a place
of safety. By the time I get back to him, he's lightly juggling a
coprolite from P3R179.
"This
rock feels weird."
"Piece
of shit." I correct.
Jack
looks wounded. "All right already, I'll be good. No more kissing you
where I know you can't scream for help."
I
lean against my workbench and leave him playing with 10,000 year old
fossilised excrement. "What was that about the Space Monkey thing?" I
AM curious. This was the very moment I realised just how much Jack
cared for me. I might have wished to make this very welcome discovery
without the large, fascinated audience and the - name - but this WAS
one of the happiest moments I've had in my life. I'd never been a
'best' friend before!
"You
wanna hear my theory?"
There's
a look of fatuous pleasure on Jack's face. He's about to hit me with
O'Neill pseudo-science, I can tell. Some bizarre, dangerously
compelling and utterly unanswerable crock of coprolite. It's moments
like this make me wonder just why I never noticed the trifling detail I
was in love with him.
"No."
I say baldly. Emphatically. "N-O."
Jack's
eyes go puppy on me, "Harsh. Very harsh. It's a GOOD theory. Makes more
sense than that crap Carter is always dishing out."
I
find myself softening involuntarily. Jack has his own way of helping me
deal with things. Instead of standing here weeping my heart out on his
shoulder, which was my first instinct, I've had my face kissed off and
now he's deliberately annoying the hell out of me. I don't know what
I'd do without him.
"I
need another one of your theories like I need a hole in the head.
Speaking of which - I don't know how you dare, after your graphic
demonstration of chaos theory. A colonel claps his hands in one part of
the SGC, unleashing a chain of events which results in an inoffensive
archaeologist, with whom said colonel now professes to be in love,
ending up in the infirmary under Janet's tender care for two
interminable days. With concussion. You remember? After the 'fall'."
Jack
doesn't bother to answer the unanswerable. "It's my Space Monkey theory
of alternate realities."
I
have to sit down. I still feel like somebody stepped heavily on my
aorta, but now that out-of-control, giddy, helpless feeling has the
familiar, comforting flavour of Jack. He looks insufferably pleased
with himself. The sirens could learn a thing or three from my colonel.
He knows he's got me. I'm caving because I'm conserving all the
strength I'm going to need to fight him when he insists on attending
the funeral with me. I wave a helplessly acquiescent hand.
Jack
jumps up and assumes a stance I recognise as his caricature of me being
'informative'. His 'Dr Jackson' has brought the house down at every
single Christmas party we've had since we started. He tries it on this
year, it's 'look but don't touch' for a week.
"I've
been thinking about how realities diverge," he says proudly, "In every
reality where I don't have you, I'm dead."
"HAVE
me?" As in OWN me? Like a pet?
He
rushes on past my remark. "Admittedly, so is everyone else. Trying not
to draw conclusions from that. Also, I'm a humourless Roger Ramjet up
to the point where I buy the farm. Tactically speaking, we wander into
another alternate reality, I need a quick way to test whether I'm an
asshole or not. Trust me, we'd need to know. Figure I can get the intel
with one quick question. 'Space Monkey mean anything to you?' If the
answer is a firm negative, or there are any hints I'm doing the nasty
with anybody but you, we gate the hell out of there ASAP. Sound
reasonable?"
I
nod weakly. It could have been worse. He could have just pounced on the
alternate Daniel and -
"The
alternative would be to just oil you up and hurl you naked at the
alternate me, but I wouldn't be surprised if he caught you anyway,
asshole or not, so I scratched that one."
He
does it on purpose. He does. He thinks I talk too much, so he actually
sits down and deliberately comes up with ways and means to paralyse my
vocal chords as often as possible.
"That
got me thinking about things that are the same in all the realities.
Like the raid on Apophis' ship. The reunion scene must have played out
in a lot of realities. But somewhere, one of us had to have the idea
first, then all the rest of us did it and just chalked it up to - "
"Temporary
insanity?"
"Relief."
Jack says coldly. "Somewhere, one Jack actually did what every other
Jack bit down on hard and stuffed back in the deepest darkest corner of
his psyche wondering where the hell THAT came from."
"What?"
"What?"
"'That'?"
"What
that?"
"Exactly."
Jack
looks confused but ploughs on regardless. "The original Jack just did
it. Grabbed you and stuck his tongue down your throat."
My
Jack radar has been honed by years of continuous practice but this one
- I can't argue with the fearful logic. Jack does have the brass balls
to do exactly that, if he wanted to badly enough. However, he's also an
honourable man who would never do that, not in a million years. Every
single Jack might have wanted to, even for a moment, which is very
flattering - and slightly worrying - but none of them actually did. I'm
not heartless enough to crush what has obviously been a pleasant
daydream. It takes me a moment to find my voice again, but I manage to
say tartly, "Not so much don't ask, don't tell, as don't sell the
bootleg gateroom footage, huh?"
Jack
agrees solemnly. "Best seller. Especially the part where Ferretti
yells, 'I'm gonna need a bigger gun'."
My
imagination shudders back from a montage of appalling images. He's
grinning ear to ear. It's irresistible. I find myself grinning back.
"So
when and what time flight we catching to Chicago? Oriental Institute,
right? That's where you studied. Top of the heap. Elite. In with in
crowd. Golden boy."
Devious
bastard. I glare at him, to no effect whatsoever. Of course he 's read
my file. He knows exactly what reception I'm likely to get if I go back
to the Institute. Guess this little diversion wasn't just about me
regaining my equilibrium, it was to give Jack time to plan his attack.
He teases me relentlessly and creatively about anything and everything
he pleases. Occasionally, this fools the unwary into thinking they can
do the same, and someone will make a derogatory comment which Jack will
amiably tolerate for about a heartbeat before doling out merciless
destruction. They never do it twice.
Looking
at him now, I see he's spoiling for a fight. It's written all over his
face. And this is even before he knows about Steven. Jack will promise
to behave himself and then cut Steven into tiny pieces first time he
gives vent to some perfectly understandable feelings. Understandable
from Steven's point of view, anyway. Jack knows my theories are
absolutely vindicated, Steven doesn't. Knowing he can't say so will
only hone Jack's cutting edge.
"You're
not going."
I
think of Steven and shudder.
"Absolutely
not."
And
then there's Sarah. I get to introduce my possessive, psychotically
overprotective new lover to my equally possessive, intense old lover?
At Professor Jordan's grave side? When Sarah and I broke up - our
parting was not sweet sorrow.
Jack
is very good at reading people. So good, we trust our lives to his
skill. Jack is also, not to put too fine a point on it, crazy about me.
Regrettably, he does not appreciate it AT ALL if anybody else hints at
similar appreciation. He gave the waiter on 'The Date' HELL just for
smiling at me while serving me a second espresso I couldn't remember
ordering. His conviction that everyone on the planet is after my body
does have its engaging qualities, but not on the rare occasions when he
is proven correct. A mere three times in three da- er - skating over
thin ice here, obviously extraordinary circumstances, better drag
myself back to the point.
He's
already obsessing over Alex. In the interests of self-preservation,
I've been utterly spineless and failed to tell him Alex has asked me
out on a date. Explicitly. Several times. Alex has slightly
misinterpreted my taking Jack home that night. Short of telling him
outright Jack is doing me every chance he gets - and to be honest, far
more frequently than I was even remotely prepared for - I'm not sure
how much more strongly I can hint him off. I'm convinced that with
rivalry so much on his mind, Jack will take one look at Sarah and KNOW.
If
I'm to get to the bottom of Professor Jordan's death I'm going to need
the help and co-operation of the hostile 'geek' and the ex. Jack
rampaging all over the Oriental Institute will not help in any way.
Jack
is doing the arms folded, disapproving colonel. Decision made. Obey me.
He's going to require delicate handling.
"You
aren't coming, Jack. I know you want to be there, and I want you to be
there," I lie without a tremor, "but it isn't practicable. What
possible reason could Colonel O'Neill have for handholding Dr Jackson
at the funeral of a man he's never even met, who is, moreover a
distinguished representative of a profession for which said colonel has
expressed his loathing on numerous memorable occasions?"
I
read the thoughtful look on Jack's face and head him off at the pass,
"I swear, if the words 'sensitive', 'distressed', 'vulnerable', 'you
know what he's like' or any facsimile thereof pass from your lips to
General Hammond's ears you will be sleeping alone for a month."
A
variety of intense emotions chase themselves across Jack's face.
"A
MONTH. Not a day less, Jack, I swear."
"I
could -"
"No."
"Just
ask for some leave and -"
"No."
"Not
say what it's for."
"No.
A month."
Jack
realises I mean it. He shoots me a hostile look and I get another solid
dose of disapproving colonel. It occurs to me he's entirely capable of
letting me go, then asking for leave when I'm not here to stop him,
turning up at the cemetery in his dress blues muttering something about
being in the neighbourhood and having the honeymoon suite at the Four
Seasons, in case I'm interested.
"I'm
only thinking of you, Daniel."
He's
trying the big puppy eyes on me again. Uh-uh.
"Surely
you can last a few days without - "
Jack
snarls, betrayingly, "This has NOTHING whatsoever to do with sex. If I
can get through a drought lasted years, I think I can manage a few days
without shtupping you."
I
apologise. "Sorry, Jack, my mistake." He looks mollified, so I add
innocently, "Although you haven't actually managed more than a few
HOURS without - "
"Daniel!"
Jack
eyes me with dislike, but he's not budging. I realise I'm going to have
to get him out of my hair long enough to speak to General Hammond on my
own. Alex is a big boy. He can take it. I wander over to the computer
and start a search for Chicago flights, saying chattily, "Did I mention
Alex asked me out on a date?"
There's
a certain quality of stillness behind me. Jack says, carefully, "Did he
now?"
"Several
times. He's fairly persistent." So persistent in fact, I'm coming to
the conclusion my little display at dinner bagged me TWO lovesick
colonels.
"Really,"
Jack says flatly, "Won't take no for an answer?"
Actually,
no. My resolutely turned back and silence speak eloquently enough for
me.
Jack
eases down from my desk, reaches out and turns me to face him, eyes
searching.
"Nothing
I can't handle when I get back, Jack. Really. Just leave it alone."
"I
don't - "
I
cup his jaw in my hands and pull him to me for a kiss. His
participation is as enthusiastic as ever, hands slipping around to
tangle themselves into my hair and keep me close while his tongue slips
into my mouth, gently exploring. When he does eventually let go, it's
only to nuzzle his forehead against mine.
"Sorry
about the professor," he says softly.
"I
appreciate that. He - he was a good man, a good teacher and a better
friend."
"If
you're not back by Friday, I'll come and drag you back. I'm warning
you, better not eat any asparagus while I'm not around to keep an eye
on you."
Jack-speak
for I love you and that's the only reason you get to go. He gives me a
little shake by the scruff of the neck, then saunters over to the door.
"Jack?"
He
turns and gives me his patented 'don't start with me' look.
"You
said no. He doesn't get it. So I'm just going to go down there and
explain it to him. Until he does get it."
He'll
have great difficulty. Alex is in New York overnight. I should know. He
wanted me to go with him. I don't think there's any chance of the
quiet, intellectual friendship I was hoping for. Alex wants to have sex
with me. In fact, he told me he can't stop thinking about having sex
with me. In this very office, he described a couple of the ways he
particularly couldn't stop thinking about, neither of which Jack has
tried yet. This depressing development could seriously affect his life
expectancy, once Jack realises how explicitly Alex is stating his - er
- wishes.
For
the moment, he makes a useful decoy. By the time Jack works out Alex
isn't hiding in some forgotten corner of the base I'll be on my way to
Chicago.
I
call after him, "Feed my fish."
"To
what?"
I'm
sure I heard that incorrectly.
I
wait until I'm sure he's not going to sneak back and then haul ass to
the general's office. I emerge triumphant half an hour later,
overwhelmed by the general's sympathy and understanding of all the
difficulties of my situation. I found myself telling him far more than
I could tell Jack. It would only have made Jack all the more determined
to be by my side, ready to take on all comers. I was granted all the
personal time I need, travel plans were made for me and best of all, a
brief noncommittal mention of 'friction' between colonel's O'Neill and
Devoe bore instant fruit. The general fully appreciates the potential
for disaster, even though he hasn't the least clue about the source of
the friction. George, bless his heart, promises to keep them apart
whatever it takes.
JACK
This
isn't exactly the dock of the bay, but I'm sure wasting time. With a
vengeance. And with the only member of my little family who couldn't
come up with an excuse to get out of being here. Here with me, which is
the kicker, apparently.
I'm
not sulking. Merely ruminating. Reflecting. Deliberating.
Daniel
snowed me royally over Devoe. I admire how beautifully he played me,
but I'm still pissed as hell. I fully intend to take it out on both him
and Devoe soon as I get back. It's not because I'm hurt he didn't want
me around. I'm not. Not in the least. Just because he couldn't have
made it more OBVIOUS - No.
It's
because he was so damned devious. There's only room for one devious
lover in a relationship and the position is filled. Daniel is supposed
to be the one spending his every waking moment wondering about me and
what I'm up to. This was an integral part of our friendship. I see no
reason whatsoever to mess with a winning formula now we're lovers.
This
isn't the only worrying trend. In our little discussion vis a vis the
funeral, Daniel made sure to point out a couple times he didn't think I
could last without the sex. I cannot have him going round thinking all
he has to do to get his own way over every little thing is cut off my
access rights and I'll surrender with a whimper. Especially as it's
true. As soon as he waved the no sex card I - well - I caved. Can't
wriggle out of that one.
As
for the quantity issue, he should be flattered. We've barely gotten
started. I haven't had enough of Daniel naked to even take the edge
off. And with all the whimpering, moaning, sighing, groaning and
begging he's been doing, he clearly has no complaints whatsoever about
the quality. I can last three days without sex, no sweat -
unfortunately - even if I can't last three hours without thinking about
sex. It's a guy thing.
Okay.
Okay. It's a Daniel thing.
I
can't have him thinking that, though. Not for a country second. Hence
my current locale. Unavailable. Inaccessible. Incommunicado. Minnesota.
All
things considered, I'd rather have been in Chicago. I distracted him
'cause I couldn't stand that stricken look on his face, then
unfortunately he distracted me right back. I just never got a chance to
tell him I wanted to take him home to meet the folks.
Daniel
ever asks me how come I knew I was in love with him when he didn' t
know he was in love with me, I'm pleading the fifth. It took him
longer, but at least he worked it out on his own. I didn't realise just
how much time and energy I spent thinking about Daniel, how often I
talked about him. I still remember the exact moment I knew. Well, when
someone pointed out the humiliatingly obvious.
I
was sitting at the kitchen table, Chez O'Neill, fighting Mom for the
last piece of coffee walnut cake, Dad wrestling with the crossword, as
usual. I said something about Daniel selling his soul for coffee and
Dad just said casually, "So when do we get to meet this boy you're in
love with?" Never even looked up from his crossword while he was taking
me out at the knees. Mom crowing because I was blushing. Hadn't done
that since I was about fourteen. I kept opening my mouth to deny it but
the words choked me. Mom made some crack about guppies.
All
in all, they took the news better than I did. They'd had longer to
think about it, for a start. Once the first shock of them double
teaming me was over, I could even thank them for letting me in on it. I
showed Mom a picture of Daniel and she wolf-whistled. Offered to fight
me for him. No chance. On my best day I wouldn't take on Kate O'Neill.
Neither of my doting parents thought I stood a cat's chance in hell.
Too old, too straight, too military. Not too bright and not too pretty,
either. They were stunned when I called them and gloated, 'Guess who's
sleeping in my bed?'. They were also thrilled for me and heartily sorry
for Daniel. It's lucky I don't take stuff personally.
If
Daniel wasn't so stubborn we'd be making nice with the folks right now.
The folks will spoil him rotten, that's a given. They're even more
susceptible than I am. They're vaguely aware their forty four year old
son landing himself a boyfriend isn't something they should be doing a
victory dance over, but they're happy at any sign Jack Plays Well With
Others. After Charlie - they know exactly how much I owe my present
state of well being to Daniel. They've got nothing but time for a man
who saw me at my absolute worst and still became my friend at the
lowest point in my life.
Took
Mom about a nanosecond to figure out what - or rather who - I'd spent
most of my night doing. I couldn't get off the goddamn phone quick
enough. It takes a lot to scare me, but my dear old mother is top of a
short list that do it for me every time. At no point in my life will I
be up to discussing my sexual technique with Mom, just because she's
been reading up and wants a few facts confirmed. I hung up as soon as
she started talking about tantric something or other.
If
Daniel was here I wouldn't be sitting on the dock. We'd be in the
cabin, making love for the fourth or fifth time, maybe trying the
tantric something or other. He's not here, just the Jaffa of Doom
looming at my side. Won't even deign to pull up a chair. I can't have
Daniel in the flesh, so all I can do is sit here and think about him.
And try not to let my mind dwell on the flesh part too much.
Speaking
of flesh, I hear another whine and a splat. The mosquitoes are clearly
into Jaffa to Go. I haven't had so much as a nibble.
With
all the time on my hands and complete lack of conversation from the big
'T', I've managed to make one decision. I've decided Daniel having his
own apartment will only encourage him to make good on threats to
deprive me of my quality time. Much harder to manage when you're both
sleeping in the same bed. He naturally gravitates to the warmest spot
in the bed, i.e., to me. I just have to hang on to him once I've gotten
him in my clutches. Await developments. Always ready to lend Danny a
helping hand.
I'll
do it in easy stages. It'll be a while before he works out he's moving
out of his apartment and in with me. I don't do the sharing thing. He's
mine.
There
is one minor problem - He's got feelings for his fish. It's not I 'm so
insanely jealous I can't even share him with his own fish, but, still,
just idly speculating here.
Do
I know anyone who'd say, pick the lock and drop a toaster in the tank?
For a negotiable fee. It's that or I have to give 'em house room. I
can't have fish. They're non-pets. Shit with fins. You can't do a damn
thing with them except watch them swim around in their tank. Whoop de
doo. Give me a dog any day. First time I get bored I'll be propped up
in front of the tank with my rod. I doubt Danny would see the funny
side.
Electrocution
- Yeah. It is. It's going too far.
There
has to be a more humane way to do it. Maybe I could hit up Doc Fraisier
for some good drugs. Send them off happy to the great aquarium in the
sky.
Or
how about I 'Free Willy' them? Next long weekend we get, I can take
Danny to Maui, set the fish free in their natural habitat.
Or
maybe I could track down some kind of miniature shark Danny doesn't
know about, introduce it to the food chain, step back and let Mama
Nature do some high speed small scale natural selection type stuff.
Cool. I like that one. Survival of the fittest. Daniel will -
"There
appears to be no fish here, O'Neill."
It
speaks!
"'T'.
It's not about the actual fish - themselves. The fish are not important
in this context. It's about fish-ING. The act of fishing itself."
I
lazily cast my rod, hopefully oozing relaxation rather than 'I want MY
archaeologist and I want him NOW' lust, which is closer to the way I'm
feeling at any given moment.
"I
see."
Jeez.
Could he sound any LESS enthusiastic?
I
hear a beep. An unmistakeable beep. I stiffen. Look slowly round. And
down. Then up.
"You
didn't?"
Could
I have made it any more clear to Dan - General Hammond - we weren' t to
be disturbed for three whole days? How can I prove to him - not the
general - I'm not so pathetically needy I can't last three days without
him if he can call me up and chat to me any time he feels like it? He's
supposed to be the one feeling needy and cut off, dammit. He' s
supposed to think I'm happy as a clam here, without him, not hanging on
with bated breath for a bootie call.
"By
request of General Hammond." Teal'c refuses to look at me.
I
drop my rod, turn and fish around in the bag. I suppose, if Daniel's
gone to the trouble of phoning me and all, it's only polite to answer.
He might be missing me. He might want to know what I'm wearing. I
wonder if I can get Teal'c outta my hair for a while?
One
last scowl up at Teal'c for appearance' sake.
Bet
Daniel's never had phone sex before. He's got a definite way with words
- and an impressive aerial.
Might
not even be Daniel. I can't be thinking about phone sex and talking to
General Hammond. Not at the exact same time.
If
it is Daniel, I can't have him thinking I'm DESPERATE to hear the sound
of his voice or sitting here fantasising obsessively about making love
to him while he's wearing nothing but his boonie or anything...
"No
way." I mutter, delving about in the bag and finally laying hands on
the damned phone, which I flip open. "What?" I say laconically.
"Is
Teal'c there?"
I
say coldly, "Yes, Daniel. He's right here. Please hold."
I
hand the phone up to Teal'c without another word. Is he fucking KIDDING
me? What am I, Teal'c's answering service? The help?
"DanielJackson."
I
sit, simmering, listening to Teal'c's side of the conversation.
"We
have caught nothing. We are fishing."
Et
tu, Teal'c?
And,
yeah, big guy, how come you got all the time in the world to chit chat
with 'T', while your lover, i.e., ME, doesn't even rate a 'hi'? Guess
you're not fantasising about ME in a goddamn boonie, no way no how.
No
phone sex, huh?
Teal'c
smacks another mosquito. Serves him right for dissing the fishing.
"Banish
to oblivion."
Well
said. Couldn't have put it better myself. Talk about out of sight out
of frigging mind.
"If
you require assistance, I would be more than happy to return to the
SGC."
For
Chrissake! What am I? Some embarrassing social disease people don' t
want to be associated with? I scowl up at Teal'c and strain to hear
Daniel's voice. Just in case. He might be saving the best for last,
might be asking for - oh. He can take it from here. That's it. That's
all.
"Are
you certain?" Teal'c sounds as close to desperate as I've ever heard
him.
Sonovabitch!
Both of them! I smack him on the arm. "Gimme that!" I reach up and
snatch the phone. Daniel. Hah. This morning you were screaming 'Oh God,
oh yes, Jack, yes, Oh GOD!' and now you can't work up the energy to
even speak to me. Two can play at that game.
I
say emphatically, "Goodbye, Daniel," and maliciously enjoy the
increasingly desperate, pathetically abbreviated squeaks. "Ah no no
wait wait listen er - " Singing a different tune now, huh, darling? I
hang up. Then I extract the batteries with care and deliberation and
throw them away before handing the phone back to Teal'c.
Screw
you, 'T'. You can damn well stay here and fish in pond which has no
fish. Run interference with the mosquitoes for me. I'm not suffering on
my own.
Daniel
is SO going to pay for this. I'm gonna keep him naked and horizontal
the entire weekend. I got another two days to survive and that gives me
plenty of time to work out how to have him make it up to me. For
starters, I think he'll look cute in my Class A cap.
DANIEL
Sam
covers the tomb entrance while I carefully load one of the sedative
darts into the tranquilliser gun. I'm barely aware of Janet's
comforting presence at my side. I can't believe how bad things have
gotten or how fast they got this way. God, sorry, Sam. Sorry. It's not
about trust. Not you. Me. I - I just want Jack. Need him.
Steven
a murderer? Steven killed Professor Jordan? I can't - My career is in
the toilet so far as he knows, his is in a Porsche and still, STILL
he's sick with jealousy. I can see why he could - still can't believe
he did. My fault. Mine. My work is vindicated and it's enough to send
him over the edge. How could he hate me so deeply and I - I didn't know.
My
fault. Professor Jordan, the curator, the lab technician. Three
innocent people dead because of me. Only me. Steve doesn't have to hate
me. Managing to hate myself plenty just now. Enough for both of us.
Can't believe I want the alternative to be true. Steven being a
Goa'uld, being condemned to deathless subjugation - Christ, that's the
upside? 'Cause that way Osiris lets me wriggle right off the hook I'm
writhing on.
Sam
nods. Let the games begin. It's so strange doing this without Jack.
Without Teal'c. Sam leads the way confidently, every cautious step
perfectly placed, eyes everywhere. I have absolute confidence in her
abilities, as she has in mine. She isn't checking behind her 'cause she
knows I'm covering her six. Janet too, as professional a soldier as she
is a doctor. We can do this. I just don't want to do this without Jack.
The
tomb is cool, sunlight shafting down through the dust. As we turn the
corner and head down the last flight of steps into the main chamber,
Sam's flashlight picks out a body crumpled to the ground.
"It's
Steven."
Sam
swiftly kneels beside him, alert for any motion. "I'm not sensing
anything. He's not Goa'uld."
I
can't disguise my dismay. Fifteen years with Professor Jordan - fifteen
years of friendship and support, weighed and found wanting against the
inexorable rise of Steven's career? Professor Jordan's life a smaller
price to pay than admitting I was right? How could Steven be so far
from what I believed him to be?
Janet
checks him over carefully as he regains consciousness. What happened
here? He's so pale beneath the blood beading his lips and throat.
"Steven."
I say anxiously. Have a reason, Steven. Please.
Janet
looks up at me. "He's bleeding internally."
What
the hell HAS happened here? He's been attacked, brutally. Have I been
too quick to judge? He needs my help, either way. I reach out to him,
gently. "Steven, it's me."
"Daniel."
His voice is weak, thready, eyes clouded with pain, but he's alert.
"What
happened?" I still don't want it to be you, Steven. If it's Osiris, we
can help, we can - if it's you -
"I
took the amulet."
No.
I don't want to hear your death bed confession, dammit. I want to hear
I was WRONG.
"It's
over ten thousand years old. Your theory was right all along. I' m
sorry."
S-sorry?
Sorry you were wrong? Am I then wrong? If I am, it'll be the BEST news
I've - He groans wrenchingly under Janet's careful ministrations. I
look quickly at her as she says, "Just - just take it easy, okay? I
need you to hold still."
Janet's
frustration sounds in every syllable. She can fix this, but not here.
Not here.
He's
resisting. I know it hurts, just - just let her - "It's okay, she' s a
friend." He hears me, manages to calm himself. I'm reaching him. It's
getting harder and harder to see him as a cold blooded murderer, lying
here, so open, defenceless. Suffering. I hate to put him through this,
but we MUST know. "What about the jar?"
"Huh?"
Steven
is totally bewildered and I'm not far behind him. "The Osiris jar. Did
you open it?"
"No."
His
quiet, emphatic tone is enough to convince me. He's in too much pain to
dissemble. "Why did you come here?"
"I
figured out the amulet was a key. There's a - a chamber."
I
look up. The tomb has been stripped. There's nothing here but the - The
altar. Of course - the chamber must be concealed behind the altar. It's
classic Goa'uld camouflage.
"I
wanted to make the discovery."
I'm
torn between relief and aching pity. Every word from Steven is forcing
me to accept he didn't murder Professor Jordan. I'm so glad he doesn't
have that burden, when he's carrying so much baggage already. He
couldn't accept I wasn't the unutterable failure I realise now he
wanted me to be, couldn't even be happy for Professor Jordan's sake I'd
been vindicated. He was consumed by the need to beat me. If he only
knew how little I care. It's never been about beating people, just
about the pursuit of knowledge for it's own sake. Jack could tell him a
thing or two about that.
Steven
is passing out again, the breath sighing from his lips. Janet looks at
me gravely. "Daniel, we have to get him out of here."
Jack
would kick my ass for letting my mind wander this way, a habit he's
dedicated years to eradicating. We still don't have any answers about
Osiris or who left Steven to die this way. "Steven, who did this to
you?"
I
hear stately, measured footsteps behind me.
"I
did."
Sam
spins, rising, gun already braced and ready to fire; Janet is up too. I
scramble to my feet raising the tranquilliser gun and face - "Sarah?"
Osiris
activates the ribbon device and the explosive burst of energy hurls
first Sam, then Janet, crashing against the chamber wall. I fire
immediately but Osiris deflects the dart with a subtly controlled
blast. Jack's voice is almost tangible in my mind, urging me to see
only Osiris, to kill in order to live. I hear ya. I scramble
desperately for my pistol, fingers clumsy with haste, managing to draw
it but not to fire as Osiris reaches out Sarah's hand and crushing
pressure at my throat forcibly removes my ability to choose my own fate.
"Daniel
Jackson."
I'm
dangling from the relentlessly tightening grip, fighting for breath
that won't come, Sarah's face and Osiris' voice wavering before me. I
helplessly drop the pistol. Jack. Letting you down. Hard to - can' t...
"You
seem to know much of the Goa'uld, much more than any other human I have
encountered since my awakening. Now, tell me. Where is the Stargate?"
My
hand may as well be just resting on Osiris' hand for all the strength I
can muster to fight. The brutal pressure eases enough to permit speech.
"I
don't know what you're talkin' about." I KNOW I never mentioned the
Stargate to Sarah.
Sarah's
icy face tightens as Osiris hurls me to the ground, the impact forcing
the rest of the little precious air from my lungs. I lie there, unable
to move - speak - think - every part of me straining to draw in breath.
"Insolence."
Cold.
This - Osiris is so cold. Calculating. God. Osiris all the time. Not
Sarah. Osiris. How? So controlled. Deliberate. Sarah wanted - if not
for Jack I - God. I'm not going to die crawling on my belly. Jack would
hate that. He'd want me up on my feet hurling insults and attitude.
Knees. Knees enough for you, Jack? Best I can...
"This
temple was once filled with worshippers."
Osiris
stands regal, sunlight shafting down and burnishing Sarah's hair with
gold, outlining every curve under the flowing white robe.
Okay.
For Jack I can do laconic, even with burning lungs and desperate waves
of dizziness. "Yeah, well, times have changed." Keep rubbing my throat
like it can help. Ha ha.
"So
I have observed. Where is my brother Setesh?"
And
now for the entertainment portion of my death. "Ah, you mean Seth? He's
dead." Speaking of which - got the other dart, got no gun. Have to get
closer. I don't think pathetic and helpless is much of a stretch
dramatically but I try to crank up the vulnerability as I crawl
forward. "We - er - we killed him." I cock a thumb in Sam's direction.
"You
LIE."
"No
- no - we also killed Ra and Hathor. And - erm - who else? Erm -
Sokhar." I KNOW the throat rubbing thing doesn't help so why is my hand
back up here? Rubbing. Jack kissing it better would be just fi -
"Then
you have done me a great favour. I will rule without opposition."
"No.
No. You won't rule at all. See, we don't worship false gods anymore."
"You
have come far, it is true, but you are still weak. Even now you are
torn between your desire to kill me and your concern for my host. She
who freed me from my long sleep."
Sarah
was in the lab with Professor Jordan. Osiris killed the Professor to
cover his tracks. I didn't know - didn't see any sign of Osiris in
there but it must have been. The whole time. Sarah would have fought -
she would have said - done - something. If she could - Osiris, then,
manipulating me through Sarah's memories. Played me beautifully. Just
rolled over and died, good old Daniel, trusted the mature, mellow
friendship she - HE - offered. God, oh God. Heartsick. Sarah.
Osiris
strides towards me, all sensual confidence. "What do you know of my
queen?"
I
drop my hand to my waist, try to make it look like I'm holding myself
steady. Need a little time. Got to get Osiris close enough to use the
dart. Draw him in.
"Um
- she was trapped like you. We have the jar."
My
voices rises a little, emphasising what is frankly not much of a
threat, but the best I can do. I'm trying to bluff with no cards, here.
"Where
is it?"
Osiris
is looming over me now.
"I'm
not gonna tell you." Don't QUITE have Jack's panache but I do passive
resistance pretty well.
"You
are mistaken."
This
Goa'uld is terrifyingly calm. Controlled.
Oh.
Oh yeah. HERE we go again. Here - CHRIST. The energy pounds into my
skull, pain crashing through me, should be heat but it's icy cold, a
spear of core ice driving through my brain - unbearable - pulsing -
excoriating - not Sarah - nothing of her in this - not HER - gone -
deal with it - My fingers closing agonisingly slowly over the dart.
Can't fuck this up. One shot deal. Jack will kill me if I get myself
killed.
"Where
is my queen?"
Deadly
deliberate.
Me
too. I ease out the dart.
"Tell
me."
Flip
the cover free and stab viciously, deeply into Osiris' side, grunting
with the effort of using a leaden hand feels like someone else not
related to me in any way is driving right now.
Off
- thank CHRIST. I'm already tumbling forward as Osiris flinches back.
Groaning? Me. Oh. Make that noise for Jack too, but more fun his way.
Ways.
"What
is this? What have you done?"
Only
my balled fists stop my skull from smacking into the chamber floor. I'm
down. Staying down. What is this? Er - Osiris go night-night - Ah,
Christ. CHRIST. I cannot lose my lunch in front of - no. No. Sullen,
paralysing, pulsating - oh God, Jack. Hurts. Hurts.
"You
will pay for this impudence."
Tremors
in the chamber, me, everywhere. Brain pulverised in my skull, leaving
me breathless, nauseated. Down not out. Need to be - out. Just a
second's respite. A moment. My hands wrap protectively around the top
of my head, pushing down, trying to match the pressure pummelling up
from the inside, trying for an out.
"Make
no mistake. Osiris will return, and the rivers of the Earth will run
red with blood."
Missing
you already.
Even
through the roaring in my ears I hear the unmistakeable sound of
transport rings activating and then shot after shot as someone vainly
empties a clip.
Pounding.
Head and - hand. Not helping. No. Maybe if I cut out the middle man and
pound my pounding head...
"You
all right?" Sam's voice. Sam's arm, gentle across my shoulders.
Jesus,
God, no! No. "Oh yeah. Yeah. Think I'm - " We take a break in this
ambitious sentence to gasp at the sheer effrontery of this sentiment, "
- getting used to that thing." Yep. Just as searingly agonising every
damn time. Love to stay and faint but there's a doctor in the house.
I'm not taking on this doctor. No way. I'm sick. Self-preservation gets
me upright.
"Where's
Osiris?" Janet. Oh God. Gotta stay up. She doesn't miss a thing. Only
got one patient here, Janet, and he ain't me.
"Gone."
Sorry,
Sam. I - I tried. Let you down. Let Sarah down. Jack...
"Steven."
I can only see out of one eye. That's new. I press the heel of my hand
to it, like that will make a difference.
My
only operational eye vaguely makes out Janet checking on Steven. "If we
get him out of here right now, I think he'll make it."
The
hand didn't work. I try shaking my head. My sight isn't up to par
without my glasses anyway, but Janet is not long going to miss the fact
it's only in fact fifty percent operational. I do not count the sparks
currently pin wheeling in front of the good eye. I think I can work
around those.
I
manage to lift my head long enough to tell them, "Then I guess we'd
better think up a story to tell him," but that's all she wrote. I droop
forward onto my forearm, rest for a moment, then turn and sit. I'm past
caring what Janet thinks. I drop my head and cradle my hands around it
protectively.
The
cacophony of competing pains and anxieties clamouring for a full
nervous breakdown at my earliest convenience cancel themselves out.
White noise. I only have strength for one incoherent thought.
Jack
is going to make me pay for this until my dying day. I'll pay and I'll
pay and I'll pay. Then he'll make me pay some more for the hell of it.
I foresee months of 'I damn well told you so' and 'if you'd listened to
me in the first place' and 'last time I ever let you out of my sight'
and...
JACK
"Carter?
You look like crap!"
"It's
nothing, sir. Had a high-speed butt to wall interface. Janet too. We're
fine. I'm just on my way back from the infirmary. Colonel Devoe kindly
offered to sit with Daniel."
"What
the hell happened? Is he all right?" Cut to the chase, Carter, for
Chrissake.
"He's
been ribboned again. Janet's just observing him as a precaution, sir."
Carter's voice and face are soothing.
At
least she got to the important stuff. "He was at a goddamn funeral! I
knew I shouldn't have let him outta my sight."
"This
didn't happen at the funeral, sir. We've been to Egypt in pursuit of
the Goa'uld, Osiris. Professor Jordan, the museum curator and a lab
technician were all murdered to cover his tracks. Dr Rayner was badly
wounded; he's in the American Hospital in Cairo. That's not the worst
of it, though. Poor Daniel. After losing Sha'uri - Osiris took Dr
Gardner as his host. He's lost two women he cared about to the Goa'uld.
Osiris ribboned Daniel and escaped, threatening to return and, I quote,
'make the rivers of Earth run red with blood'. Charmed, I'm sure. We
didn't have a clue Sarah was Osiris until we found Dr Rayner
unconscious on the floor of the temple. This Goa'uld is very subtle and
dangerously disciplined. Sarah tried to milk Daniel for information,
playing on their past relationship, and must have been Osiris the whole
time." Carter shudders.
Damn
him to hell anyway. THIS was why he didn't want me there. Didn't want
Colonel Psycho to go ape with the ex, huh, big guy? As soon as I get my
hands on him, I am going to use them to KILL him.
What
is it with Daniel and the Goa'uld? What is it with Daniel and lovers
for that matter? One ex, one very much current and one wannabe on his
hands, all in one day.
"Why's
the Doc keeping him in?" I'm already heading for the elevator. Devoe,
who can't take no for an answer, has been left alone with MY
archaeologist? He'd better have his hands in his goddamn pockets, he
wants to live.
"You
know Daniel. There are any number of mild medical conditions a creative
doctor can use to have him where she can keep an eye on him for as long
as she can get away with it."
"General
principles, huh?" Janet's about to lose custody.
Carter
grins suddenly, "She's insisting he's in shock. General Hammond took
very little convincing to put his foot down quite firmly and order
Daniel to take the full three days medical leave. Janet was willing to
stretch a point and send Daniel home, if anybody was willing to stay
with him, be strict about keeping him in bed. With SG-11 grounded until
they're at full strength, Colonel Devoe said he'd be happy to - Sir?
Sir!"
I'm
already accelerating, calling back over my shoulder, "Find Teal'c and
fill him in. Find out what, if anything, he knows about this Osiris.
Write it up and go home. You did good."
SonovaGODDAMNbitch!
Devoe is dead this time. Dead for sure. I don't slow down until I'm in
the infirmary. I hear the familiar soft, cultured tones. I saunter in,
not looking at all like I just set a base record for reaching the
infirmary.
Daniel
is slumped against the pillows looking pale and exhausted and
distressingly vulnerable. He lights up when he lays eyes on me. A sight
to gladden the stoniest heart. Bless. Funny thing. Still want to kill
him.
"Jack."
I
wait for the nurse to finish doing to Daniel whatever it is she's doing
and quietly close the door behind her.
"You
look like shit. I'm taking you home and putting you in my bed and I
want it clearly understood I will NOT be letting you out of my sight
ANY time soon. EVERY goddamn time I turn my back you pull some STUPID
stunt could get you KILLED. Where's Devoe? He lay a finger on you? Spit
it out, Daniel. I'm NOT in the mood."
He
gives me a shocked look. "He w - wouldn't. He didn't."
Daniel
is clueing in I'm angry. The smile falters. Then he just wilts, my eyes
following him all the way down. Only when I'm sure he's fully aware of
the extent of my displeasure and he's looking at me with apology and
not a little guilt do I snatch him into my arms. Crap, kid. Where do I
start?
I
hold him away from me, seeing the raw spot where the ribbon device has
burned his flawless skin, shadows bruising the achingly clear blue
eyes, the pallor. The goddamn finger marks marring his throat. He's
rigid with tension and apprehension. I've made point number one
forcefully. I'm furious with him for being so goddamn wilful and he's
utterly in disgrace for almost getting himself killed. Time for point
number two.
"I
love you. I'm going to put you over my knee and paddle some sense into
you as soon as you're up to it, and don't think for a SECOND you're
getting out of talking about this. I'm not having you doing the silent
just fine and dandy routine on me - " I've spoken more kindly to people
I've killed.
Daniel
gives me a wavering smile and lays his weary head on my shoulder. Point
number two equally forcefully made. Welcome home, kid. I engulf him and
hold on, my hands making those sweeps of his spine seem to have the
most calming effect on him.
I
hear the door and my glare freezes Devoe in his tracks. His eyes on me
are bleak, but he doesn't budge while he checks Daniel is fine. The
naked hunger and longing in eyes riveted to Daniel tell me there's a
shit load of stuff going on HERE Daniel hasn't been 'worrying' me with
either. I know perfectly well he'll find genuine emotion much harder to
deal with than straightforward sexual harassment, which is what I
thought this was until a few seconds ago. I was convinced Devoe was
looking for sex. Hot, 'lasts as long as he's posted here' sex, but
still - sex. I'm shocked when Devoe smiles. He's - happy - Daniel has
what he needs, even if it's not coming from him. Fuck's sake, the man
is falling in love! He's seeing stars, not to mention picket fences.
I
reject outright any thought of reporting the merest breath of a hint of
sexual harassment. Given the special place Daniel holds in Hammond's
affections, the general would bounce Devoe farther, faster and harder
than even I could dream of. Only a total bastard would do such a thing,
and still, it's only the fact Daniel would never forgive me staying my
hand. Daniel is ridiculously tender hearted. This is not something I
have to worry about, except vicariously.
Quick
and clean won't do here. I do have to deal with this myself. I won't
permit Devoe to cause Daniel a moment's pain or anxiety, so 'Just call
me Alex' has ME looming up in his immediate future. I do not admire
persistence in this case. I'm beginning to suspect a touch of wanting
the forbidden fruit may be creeping in to Devoe's thinking. Either that
or prolonged exposure to Daniel is doing to him exactly what it did to
me. You get a little taste, you need a little more. Then you need a
whole lot more. A self-fulfilling prophecy, or, on my bad days, what
Daniel calls al'ishk, a sickness of wanting.
Soon
as I've got Daniel back on his feet, Devoe will get a house call. I'm
here for him. I have just the medicine he needs, if he's to avoid
contracting this potentially fatal sickness. One colonel mooning around
the SGC starry eyed over Daniel is enough. Devoe is going to get my
help to reach a mature understanding of the situation and make the
rational decision. Otherwise, I'm going to rip his nuts off.
I
don't have to make an embarrassing scene. Janet whisks into the doorway
and despatches Devoe with a single glance. Nobody messes with the Doc
in her own domain. She then closes the door behind her and eyes me
hugging Daniel with mild approval.
Not
for the first time I'm profoundly grateful for my long history of
hugging the crap out of Daniel at the most inconvenient of times and in
the most public of places. The whole damn base knows Colonel O'Neill
pretty much dotes on every move young Dr Jackson makes. Nothing out of
the ordinary here. I unhurriedly let Daniel go and he flops down as if
his spine can't hold him up.
Janet
also reads the freezing disapproval on my face and this hits the
Hippocratic spot too. I guess I must look suitably quelling because she
gives a measured, approving nod and says clearly, "I've got a long list
of instructions on his care and feeding. I'm relying on you to be
ruthless about keeping him in bed AND making sure he doesn't sneak any
work in just to take the edge off. When I say bed rest I MEAN bed rest."
There
is a very haughty sniff from somewhere round pillow level.
The
Doc 'n' me exchange a look of complete understanding and empathy. She
can tell Daniel's charms are NOT going to work their magic on this
occasion. The ONLY distraction Daniel is going to have from paralysing
boredom is me. He can talk to me or he can lie there and pout. I want
every single worry he's got weighing on him aired and put down ASAP. He
's been alone for so long, in some ways it's hard for him learn to
share himself again. I've no sympathy with his touchingly gallant
self-reliance, and three days of having him utterly at my mercy ought
to sort that right out. I'm going to run him through a steep learning
curve, polish up those rusty inter-personal communication skills.
Touching lightly on the ex, this Rayner guy, the Professor, the
murders, being frustrated as hell he can't ever tell a bunch of sheep
with PhDs he's RIGHT and they're WRONG, and, last but by no means
least, EXACTLY what Devoe's been trying on that I'm not to know about
for Devoe's protection.
I
turn to Janet and say heartlessly, "Does he get to walk out of here
under his own steam? He looks like hell. Maybe a chair?"
Daniel
snaps bolt upright, a furious rejoinder dying on his lips as he meets
my unforgiving eyes. He turns slowly and gives Janet a pleading look
which she affects not to see. She looks impressed. This is a first,
Daniel thinking she's the soft option.
Her
lips twitch but she manages to say gravely, "I think he'll be better
off in a chair. His vision hasn't returned to normal. He couldn't see
out of his right eye until a couple of hours ago."
My
gaze returns slowly to my wayward lover. "Blind?" I enunciate crisply.
Daniel
lies down again, body language doing it's best to suggest he has some
choice in the matter. A shadow in the doorway alerts us to Teal'c' s
inimitable presence. I take one look and ease off the bed and out of
the master's way. As does Janet, with a little choke of unprofessional
laughter as she closes the door behind her.
Daniel
clearly interprets one quirked eyebrow and a sombre, "DanielJackson,"
as the Gettysburg Address of disapproval and disappointment, Teal'c
style. No escape there, either, kid.
"I
asked if you required assistance," Teal'c says mildly.
Daniel
rallies slightly. "I didn't at the time."
"Three
murders?" I say witheringly.
Daniel
launches a spirited counter attack. "I tried and tried to get back in
touch. There was no answer. None."
"The
cell phone ceased to function when the power supply was forcibly
removed and disposed of."
Oh,
SHIT. I clue in a little late in the game. All that disapproval and
disappointment? NOT aimed at Daniel. Oh. Gotcha. Yeah. This is going to
hurt, right?
Daniel
sits up slowly and impales me with a disbelieving look. "Jack? You
BROKE the phone? Why?"
Teal'c
presses him gently back down to the bed, saying kindly, "You are
injured. You must rest. I have much to say to Colonel O'Neill. If you
will permit, I will speak for us both."
Daniel
snuggles down on to the pillow and waves a 'be my guest' hand at
Teal'c. I make a time out gesture. It's not like Daniel not to fight
his own battles. I shoot over and check his brow. He's clammy.
"You're
really not well. Should I get the Doc back in here?" I leave my hand
where it is, soothing him.
He
just shakes his head a little. "You got that headache you get before
you throw up?" That's what this is. Shoulda known. "Hit the lights,
Teal'c. Scoot over, Daniel." I sit down beside him, and start to gently
massage his forehead. Helps better than any painkiller. With the light
at more manageable levels I can start to work on relieving some of the
crushing pressure at his temples. He did his best to put words to this
indescribable pressure for me once, said it was like someone standing
on top of his head, weighing him down, while the pressure inside tried
to punch its way out.
I
realise my hands are shaking just a little. "Better?" I ask him gently.
"A
little."
"Just
be still, let me. "
We
sit in silence, the big macho colonel tenderly massaging his lover's
temples with shaking hands, occasionally just resting them across his
brow, to soothe him with the heat I'm generating. That helps too. I'm
largely oblivious to Teal'c's presence. Or maybe I just trust him too
much and Daniel needs me too much to mind him seeing this.
"It
is a beginning." Teal'c's eyes are very gentle when they rest on Daniel
but cool when he meets my gaze.
I
don't cease the gentle circles my fingertips are working around Daniel
's eyes but I brace myself. Teal'c is not going to spare me. He loathed
the fishing and I was lousy company. The cost of my childish display is
one I expect I will be repaying in full in the manner of his choosing,
when he's ready, but in the meantime I guess I can expect him to tear
me off a strip. I just hope it's a metaphorical strip and he does it
quietly. Danny is just starting to relax a fraction, here.
"DanielJackson.
After a sullen silence punctuated only by your call, O' Neill then
became distressingly verbose and spoke of you incessantly for two
interminable days."
Ouch.
There are so many subtle insults in there I'm not sure which one to
safely tackle first. "Incessantly?"
"Indeed."
Teal'c intones with flat finality.
I
decide discretion is the better part of avoiding annihilation and step
up the massage. I can't help but notice the tiny smile Daniel isn't
bothering to try to fight.
"I
believe he missed your presence."
Daniel's
smile grows just a little wider.
"As
did I." Teal'c offers up the graceful compliment, clearly hitting the
spot with Daniel. Then he says smoothly, "I believe the answer to O
'Neill's childish destruction of the cell phone was pique."
"Pique?"
I say with quiet, yet profound indignation. I'm not touching childish.
Teal'c
explains kindly, "A feeling of anger or vexation caused by wounded
pride, resentment of a slight - "
"All
right already, you don't need to draw us a picture." I try to cut him
off before we get the full, humiliating Webster's definition and a
quick trot through the more amusing synonyms.
Daniel
sighs. "That feels good, Jack. Getting better."
I
brighten up. "Yeah? Carter's the one with the knack for it, but - you
know, so long as it's doing you some good," I say unconvincingly. I 'm
thoroughly enjoying myself despite the blows raining down on my ego.
I'd like to think Daniel is trading up. I normally just get to do the
recuperative fishing stuff. Carter does the cookies and the infirmary
TLC. I get to watch and criticise but she's never trusted me with the
actual hands on. I'm meanly glad I sent her home. Teal'c always reads
to him. It's stuff the medical staff just never think to do. Small
stuff that makes all the difference to Daniel. I'm just starting to
relax back into it when Daniel fakes me out.
"I
LIKE to see the big picture."
"O'Neill
was most - upset - you did not appear to wish to speak with him,
DanielJackson," Teal'c obliges promptly.
Daniel
opens his eyes and gives me a long, disappointed look I have the
greatest difficulty meeting.
"YOU
hung up on ME."
I
foresee a long talk about colonels and archaeologists and unreasonable
jealousy in the not too distant future.
"I
must sincerely request that you do not again abandon Colonel O'Neill to
his own resources for such a protracted period. Next time, I may not be
so forgiving of his separation anxiety."
I
feel a tidal wave of heat surge across my entire face. Separation
anxiety for Chrissake! Sounds even more pathetic and needy than - er -
pathetic and needy.
I
feel a slight tremor beneath my hands. Daniel is shaking. With not very
suppressed laughter.
Teal'c
regards these signs of resuscitation with calm approval.
"I
will leave you now, trusting you will put O'Neill out of my misery."
Thanks.
Really. Just step over the mangled corpse of my dignity and don't let
the door hit you in the ass on the way out. Brothers, huh? How sharper
than a serpent's tooth.
Teal'c
saves the lowest blow to last. "DanielJackson? O'Neill expressed strong
sentiments over the future well-being of your fish. I believe you must
do all in your power to assuage these 'sentiments'."
My
jaw drops. Teal'c leaves me with a subtly malicious look and I'm
desperately wondering just how drunk I was and what the hell else I
said to him. I've got a terrifying feeling those weren't the only
strong - sentiments - I expressed.
Daniel's
head sort of snuggles up into my now limp hands and he dredges up the
first genuine smile I've seen from him since I got back. He's very
committed to his fish. I smile back, it's wavering a little, true, a
'don't mind me and my little fantasies of first degree piscicide, just
insanely jealous' waver. It's the softness in his eyes. I could no more
- Crap.
Danny's
eyes should come with some kinda government health warning. Danger:
hazardous to sanity, self-discipline and good judgement. Prolonged
exposure will result in irresistible urge to please. Spine will
dissolve on contact if attempting to disappoint. In an emergency, cave
instantaneously, move heaven and earth to fulfil expectations, kiss
better.
"I'll
start looking at places for the tank, don't worry. The fish will be
just fine." I don't know how God doesn't strike me dead for sheer
effrontery. "Shelves, too. For all your - stuff."
"Thank
you. It's very considerate of you."
It
isn't. He gets pissy as hell when I break things and he'll always be
leaving rare, fragile artefacts wherever I least expect them if I don't
give him a little corner for his clutter.
"Some
of my books are very old and rare. They need humidity and dust control
as well as special lighting. As do some of the artefacts. I think we
should get the company who did the work on my apartment round to give
us an estimate and do the work on your house if I'm to keep any of my
things there."
Maybe
I could build an extension.
I
decide to clear the air between us while he's all tender hearted over a
tank of fish I want dead and of which I have just gained joint custody.
"So we're even, then? You should have let me go with you to the funeral
in the first place and I shouldn't have dismantled the phone however
hurt my feelings were."
The
soft glow in Daniel's eyes is replaced by the fine sparkle of temper.
"EVEN? You were so JEALOUS I needed to speak to Teal'c you destroyed
the phone? And you were wondering why it was I wouldn't let you come to
the funeral! Asked AND answered, Jack. I could just picture the scenes
you would have made the moment you ran into Steven and Sarah. You were
spoiling for a fight, don't deny it."
"This
is not about blame, Daniel." I say with superb conviction, firmly
ignoring Daniel's outraged gasp.
DANIEL
I
cannot believe he - how dare he? I'm almost stammering at his audacity
- "Jack? You know I really, TRULY love you?"
Jack
gives me a wary look, then he relaxes and his eyes go all soft. "Yes."
"Right
now, I really, TRULY have to wonder just why the hell I do."
He's
done nothing BUT blame me, from the very moment he walked through the
door. I ruthlessly suppress my urge to palliate my severity as his face
falls. I know perfectly well he was scared to death at the thought of
having come so close to losing me - and Sam and Janet of course -
knowing it was largely his own fault he wasn't there, and, being Jack,
naturally he transferred the culpability firmly onto me.
I
swallowed his utterly unjustified tirade without a murmur, knowing he'
d apologise and make it up to me once he'd vented and calmed down. He's
not a total shit. He's just JACK. This is what selflessness gets me.
He's had ALL the slack I intend to cut him. He's got some SERIOUS
making up to do.
I
say in a shy little voice, "I'm going to need some help dressing."
Good. I'm confusing the hell out of him. He likes to assist me with my
clothes, mostly because I can't get out of them fast enough to suit
him. He's pathetically easy to distract. "Would you call me a nurse,
please, and I'll see you topside in about fifteen minutes."
"A
nurse?" His voice is rising as he gains the first glimpse of the abyss.
"I thought - "
I
know exactly what he thought. Three days of romping make-up sex, Jack?
I hardly think so. He's forfeited his rights to my person for the
immediate future. I need my rest. Doctor's orders.
I've
executed part one of my plan with military precision, and now I'm
sitting demurely in the passenger seat of the Explorer, with a
gratifyingly anxious, uncertain colonel casting longing looks at me
whenever he thinks he's getting away with it.
I
still feel distressingly limp and exhausted, and possibly I am a little
pale. I no longer have the headache I have before I throw up. I have
the headache I have after I throw up, which I of course managed to do
when we were on the road. Jack dealt with the whole humiliating episode
by the side of the road with impeccable sensitivity and patience, which
naturally cranked up my annoyance levels no end.
I'm
also cold. Shivering in fact. I'm not entirely successful in disguising
it from Jack.
"Nearly
home."
Speaking
of which - I've had a chance to put together a throwaway comment from
several days or half a lifetime ago, a pointed comment from a Jaffa who
is a mutual friend of ours and a sickly smile from less than an hour
ago.
"I've
been thinking about my fish. About where I'd like the tank. I do have
some choice in the location?" I ask gently.
Jack
is so relieved by my first attempt at verbal communication since I
asked him with heartfelt sincerity to just let me die, right there, by
the side of the road, he takes that without a blink. "Sure, Danny.
Sure. Whatever you want."
"You're
certain? I don't want to put you out - I just want a quiet little
corner where I can keep an eye on them."
Jack
brightens visibly. "NOT the living room, then?"
I
heartlessly lower the boom. "No. The bedroom."
I
can almost read Jack's mind. He immediately pictures the fish WATCHING
us while we make love. The wicked flee when no fish pursueth, hmm,
Jack? The prick of a guilty conscience? Jack is clueing in this is the
only prick he's going to be feeling for quite some time. Unless my mood
improves significantly.
He
waits until we have negotiated the turn into his drive before answering
in a wooden little voice, "Fine. That's just - it's fine."
Liar
Liar - I glance down - pants definitely on fire.
As
I turn to get out of the car, a quelling hand on my arm and a stern
voice I normally hear only in the field stop me. "Wait! I'll come round
and get you. You're still woozy."
"I
can mana - "
"I
can carry you, if you'd prefer?"
One
glance tells me he'd damn well do it, too. I give in with the best
grace I can muster, knowing he's likely to do it anyway and the hell
with the number of extra days celibacy it might earn him, if I sulk too
obviously.
He
opens my door.
"Such
a gentleman."
There's
a sudden gleam in his eyes I don't understand. He gives a chuckle and
says, "Officer too."
When
I gain my feet, my head swims unpleasantly. Jack simply drapes his arm
around me and leads me, unresisting, to the front door.
He
lets us in and resets the alarm while I lean up against the wall. "You
need to eat something."
I
shudder uncontrollably as my stomach rebels at the mere thought.
"Daniel.
Your blood sugar is in your shoes right now. Toast. Nothing more
comforting than toast."
He
leads me down the steps into the living room and smoothly divests me of
my jacket, hands seeming to be on automatic pilot. I'm nestled on the
sofa under a blanket and he's lighting a fire by the time I identify
the source of this coaxing kindness. It's the ease of long practice,
twelve years of practice to be precise. I've teased him mercilessly
about his mother hen with all the brakes off mode, but I realise now
Jack's nurturing instincts haven't atrophied, merely redirected. I've
slipped into another part of his psyche perhaps even he isn't fully
conscious of. When his hand checks my brow for fever for what is way
more than one too many times, I just smile up at him and say, "Toast
sounds good."
I
eat my toast as meekly as I drink the milk he heated for me without
being asked. I'm surprised he knows exactly what helps to settle my
nausea; milk has the opposite effect on most people. I guess he's been
paying more attention than I ever realised. I do feel marginally more
human when I finish.
He
eyes the shivers I can't suppress, frowning. "Let's take a bath."
"A
bath?"
He
laughs as he hauls me to my feet, tells an imaginary audience,
"Apparently it's okay for us to have SEX but when it comes to sharing a
bath, he's shy."
I'm
not shy. Not at all. I just had no plans whatsoever to get naked
anywhere near a sneaky, underhanded colonel with no morals and
extraordinary powers of persuasion.
"Fully
fitted. I've got a little duck and everything."
My
eyes widen with astonishment, "A DUCK?"
"A
little duck," he corrects. "It squeaks. I'll just grab some candles
while you grab the towels."
Is
he trying to seduce me or lull me into a false sense of security in
order to extract information? I ask with extreme caution, "Jack, are
you being ROMANTIC?"
He
takes the stairs two at a time. "Depends. Tell me after you've seen
what I've got in mind for the duck."
The
huge tub is already filling by the time I slip into the bathroom. I 'm
wrapped in an enormous fluffy towel. Jack is cautiously sniffing some
tiny bottles but he rolls his eyes at the sight of me wrapped up like a
mummy. He is gloriously naked. A few treacherous hormones take a keen
interest.
"I'm
cold." I say defiantly. "I am not shy or body conscious." He looks
disbelieving. "I'm not. Nakedness has its place, just not - "
"Not
in the bathroom, huh?"
I
glare at him but refuse to play into his hands. I hold on to my towel.
"We'll
use this one. Vetiver."
"Vetiveria
zizanoides," I say automatically. Essential oils? "Distilled from the
roots of a scented grass native to India. Smells earthy, with a hint of
lemon. Good for emotional trauma - " I trail off.
Jack
says mildly, "It's the least objectionable smell. My Mom bought them
for me after my last visit home. I'm not drawing any conclusions from
the fact the entire hand-picked selection is good for relieving stress,
just because Mom said they were happier to see me going than they had
been to - They say hi, by the way. And thanks."
"Who?
What for?"
"The
folks. The one and only Kate and Joe O'Neill." He gives a malevolent
chuckle. "They know ALL about you and they said to be sure to tell you
you're throwing yourself away. You could do much better. That's thanks
for trading down, I think."
"They
actually said I was throwing myself away?" I'm fascinated and slightly
indignant.
"Yep.
There might be a weird alternate reality where they worship the ground
the alternate me walks on but frankly, I find it hard to believe.
Whatever else might be different, I'm comforted to know there are a
billion Kate O'Neill's out there calling up their beloved only son and
dispensing sage advice on how to keep a drop-dead gorgeous young
archaeologist fully satisfied between the sheets and I can only hope
the billion other me's have more success shutting her up than I did."
Jack
eyes my appalled confusion with grim satisfaction. "Blow by blow.
Literally. Welcome to the family, Daniel. They're gonna eat you alive."
He also takes ruthless advantage of my dazed state and neatly extracts
me from the towel. When he climbs into the tub and holds out an
imperative hand I meekly acquiesce.
By
the time he has us settled to his satisfaction, I'm one hundred percent
in favour of this latest variation on the patented Jack O'Neill
bearhug. My head is on Jack's shoulder, his arms are wrapped around my
chest and his legs are tangled with mine. His toes are taking a keen
interest in my toes. There's a lot of stroking going on down there. I
start to relax just a tad.
What
with the barely there mood music, the candles, the hot scented water
and of course the duck, which squeaks every time one of us stirs it
with a foot, I'd have to say Jack does romantic very well. VERY well.
He's - er - he's a rock at my back. Or, more accurately, at my butt.
And - um - a LOT of stroking going on now. I don't mind the hugging but
he's wandering below the waterline here. I pointedly remove his
questing hand and a sigh gusts against my hair. Maybe that's because
he's kissing it. His arms tighten around me, gentle fingers covering
the bruises on my throat, then cupping my jaw.
I
don't want to leap to any conclusions here so I don't ask the question
until I've removed the same exploratory hand for the third time from a
part of me he knows perfectly well is strictly off-limits. "Are you
trying to seduce me?"
"Which
answer will get me the week on the couch?"
"That's
for me to know and you to die of frustration."
"You
started this. You kissed me first."
"What?
Is that the best line you can come up with? It was only a week ago,
Jack. I was provoked, by YOU - "
"A
week?" The familiar siren tones.
What?
What does he - is he saying there was ANOTHER first time? I feel giddy
and out of control. Just Jack being Jack. He wouldn't have said if
there wasn't a question - I don't remember a thing. Must have been - oh
no. No.
I
moan feebly, "I didn't." I put my head in my hands, "Oh God. How -
when?"
Jack
says calmly, "Did I say a word?"
I
groan again, piteously. "You didn't have to."
"Quit
your worrying. It wasn't the end of the world. You were very -"
What?
Sexy? Passionate? Hot? "What?"
Jack
tilts my face to him and smiles at me, eyes soft. He says gently,
"Sweet."
Bastard.
"SWEET?" I snarl, unable to adequately express the depth of my
loathing. "Sweet." Typical. Classic Jackson. "Did you kiss me back?"
"I'm
only human."
"When?"
"Daniel,
it wouldn't do you any good to know."
I
think about that for all of two seconds. "When?"
Jack
sighs. "After that business with Nick and the crystal skull."
Oh!
That. Still rankles. "I would have worked through the night for YOU."
Jack
groans, "Don't start with me, Daniel. That's what you said last time."
"Well..."
"Let's
just say I was profoundly grateful you didn't follow me to my room that
very night on the base and then let's leave it alone."
Oh.
Oh! "So how'd I end up kissing you?"
Jack
says very distantly, "You needed some reassurance. Kept touching
everything. Including me."
Including
lips. Hence - 'sweet'. Rather forgetting my original point, I mourn,
"You were 'nice' to me, I'll just bet you were. What a waste." Bet he
patted 'Dear Little Drunken Daniel' on the head and tucked me up
chastely in bed. And left me. Bastard.
Jack's
face melts into a grin. He just shakes his head at me. What's done is
done. Not worth fretting over it now. He then presses home his
advantage and both hands slide down to encourage my hormones to betray
me. They don't take much convincing, especially when he starts licking
that spot behind my ear. I've no backbone at all.
JACK
Daniel
can't resist tangents. I get him every single time. I've got him now,
thank God. I realise I've insinuated myself into the part of his life
he keeps the most private, the most guarded. The 'I WILL be fine' part.
The nervous shivers he couldn't hide from me, the heavy, resistant
silence in the car. I don't quite know what I did, but something gave
once I got him home. Still resistance, but it's playful now.
He's
letting me touch him at last. Okay. Now I've pushed it a little. Can't
think of a better way to warm him through. He's swelling beneath my
fingers, but I release him when he slowly nudges my hands away. He's
not quite ready to let me THAT close. Closing the gap though, as he
turns his head and gives me a sweet little kiss before he remembers
he's supposed to be all haughty and distant.
"I'm
throwing you a bone," he says, apparently feeling some explanation is
owed for this temporary lapse.
I
can't let a great cue like that pass me by. I leer at him dreadfully
and my hand pounces back below the waterline, closing eagerly on his
erection.
He
gives a little gasp and then tells me sternly, "I said BONE, Jack. Drag
your mind out of the gutter, if you please."
There's
a magic spot on the underside - if I can find the EXACT - yes, here,
he's moaning - I just have to rub little circles with my finger and it
does more for him than all the energetic tugging two enthusiastic hands
can muster. Daniel is very sensual, incredibly sensitive to touch. I'm
devoting almost all my free time to finding out which parts of him
respond best to exactly what kind of touch. Sometimes it's fingers,
sometimes lips, or tongue. His hands, for example, love the feel of my
hair. It's a hell of a job and I'm just goddamned glad I get to do it.
Daniel
cut me an inch of slack when he got into this bath. I've taken exactly
six feet. His hand reaches back down to mine. I'll stop if he moves my
hand again. Don't want him 'giving in' because I've turned him on. I
keep up the gentle rubbing as his left hand hesitates and then slowly
settles on top of mine, the other reaching up behind him to clasp the
back of my neck and tangle in my hair. It's looking like he's letting
me keep him.
I
eagerly take the kiss he offers up to me, accepting the invitation of
his parted lips, reaching in to stroke his tongue as I hug him closer
to me, hoping he'll feel he's at the centre of everything, that he can
trust me and let go. Daniel lies very still, only the long sensitive
fingers clenching rhythmically over mine and the kisses he reaches for
continuously tell me I'm doing this just right. Gentleness and patience
to burn, that's all it takes to please him. Even in sex, he won't take
the quick, easy way.
He's
flushed, sweat spiking the hair at his temples, eyes closed, biting his
lips. Totall | 
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