LIFELINE   BY PHOENIX E

His voice was the beacon drawing me forward from darkness into light. His touch pulled me from the living death where I wandered alone back to life.

You came for me. I can say little else, except his name. Inside, over and over, using the sound of it to keep the demons at bay. His arms around me, lifting me up, feel them tighten, feel scalding tears, I can feel again, feel him.

I must be alive, this must be real. He is warm and strong, he is with me as they take me from this place of horror and despair. I had never thought to see him again, never expected to live and breathe again. Thought I was already dead and discarded, drifting in a murky, nightmare purgatory where all lost, forgotten and unremembered souls wander haunted by the twisted images of wasted moments and dreams.

My eyes are open. I see but do not understand. What is the nightmare, what is real - I can't tell. Nothing seems real. Except for him. His touch is real. His hands warm, vital, burning feeling and life into my cold clay wherever he touches me. Real. He is real. Only him. That's all I know.

I hear them talking, sounds with no meaning. Jumbling together, blurring, melding, swirling like a watercolour left out in the rain. It doesn't matter what they are saying, where they are taking me. He is here. I'm not afraid. I can feel him. His voice alone does not confuse me, does not blend with the others. Penetrating, carrying understanding. It's finally over. He's come for me. He won't let anyone hurt me anymore.

Then they take him away. The only touch I understand is gone, in its place so many others. Strange hands I do not know, which don't have the power to shield me from the horrors as his do. They take him away from me and what he has kept from me returns.

Reliving what was done to me is so much worse now I'm awake. Eyes open or closed; the images are the same. Not what is, but what was, coming at me, over and over as I see it, feel it, live it continuously at the obliteration of everything else. The sound of screaming, loud, insane, terrible.

Is that me? Screaming, have been screaming forever. Screaming as I fought them then, screaming as I fight them now. Hands on me, holding me down like being held down before, can't escape can't move have to get away from here before they start hurting me again. I'm in a different place but I'm still here in the place of pain with hurtful hands restraining me, waiting helplessly for the agony to begin again.

Where is he, where is he, he wouldn't let this happen to me scream his name but they still won't let me go. Sharp pain in my arm, numbing sick death spreading through my limbs going back to sleep stops the screams but won't stop the dreams….

His voice, coming for me again. It blazes in the madness, making the things tormenting me cower and flee. I follow it, reaching out for him although I can't move my arms, fighting the numbness, needing him to touch… feel my closed eyes burning, hot wet sliding out of the sides of my eyes, down my face to be caught by his fingers. Life sears in me again where his touch brushes my face. Still can't move, afraid to move need him to touch…

His fingers ghost across my eyelids, the most delicate of caresses. It is so slight and yet so very precious; it draws the full focus of my concentration. There is no room for anything else; everything recedes before my need to feel his touch.

He draws his fingers along my cheekbone, then uses them to trace the line of my jaw. Lingering, coursing with his life, does he know what he is doing, how he is drawing me back? Even though I'm now awake, I dare not move. My life depends on those fingers, on not having them forsake me.

He feathers them across my lips and I forget. A sigh escapes me sounding like a sob and I feel the fingers jerk away. God! No! Don't stop! The fear comes crashing in on me again. If he goes – like this - he won't touch me again. I'll be lost…

Try to force my eyes open, what I see is blurred and out of focus. As I fear, he's moved from my side, backing away from me frightened by what he has done, thinking he has hurt me. Can't let him leave, can't fight this without him, not strong enough how to make him understand how important he is – how much I need….

I fight, I struggle. So hard – have to do this. Now, before I lose him…

"JACK!"

I did it. I said it. Relief floods through my body, I'm almost completely spent by the effort of speaking the single word. He freezes in the middle of turning away from me, sees me, sees me looking at him, comes back oh thank god he's coming back saying my name, he knows what I need, looks around says "screw 'em", bless him for understanding, takes the straps off my arms, lifts me up and folds me into his embrace.

His arms envelop me, his life flows through me. I don't have the strength to hug him back, but I will. He says nothing, just holds me, holds me, holds me, I'm coming alive again his light calms me, drives back the darkness it'll be all right, Jack is here…

He's taking me home. I should be happy, finally out of the infirmary, well enough, according to those who claim to know about these things, to be out in the world again. I should be happy, but all I am is – terrified.

It's true things are a lot better. Compared to the way they have been, although nowhere near where they should be. At least I have enough control over myself not to scream at the drop of a hat.

I know the difference between what is real and what is swimming around in my head, still trying to drag me back into the quagmire. Can't take credit for any of it. It's partly due to these damned pills which are making me so numb I barely have the strength to breathe, but mostly its due to him. He's been my shield against the darkness, the strength I don't have, my reason to fight and my guide through the dark valley back to what is real. He has been – everything. That's why I'm so scared now, the farther we get from the mountain, the closer we get to my place.

I'm not ready for this. Not ready to be alone. Not yet. He'll take me home, he'll stay for awhile but then he'll have to go and I don't know what will happen to me when he does. I keep my eyes closed and try not to let the fear overwhelm me. I search for a way, the words, I don't know how to tell him he can't leave me yet but somehow I have to find a way.

I can feel his gaze on me, touching me from across the small space between us. Just as if it was his hand caressing me the same way his eyes do as I open mine to meet them. What I see in them gives me sudden hope and courage. Bolstered by that hope, I say his name. His eyes are warm, they say so much. Maybe – maybe he won't leave after all…

"Home sweet home, Daniel," he says. "I look out the windshield and the image greeting me is not the one that immediately sprang into my mind when Jack told me I was home.

This is – his house. I don't understand. Confused for a moment, and then – well of course. I've been 'dead' for the past six months. I don't have a 'place' anymore. Would have been all packed up, cleared away, carted off and disposed of - probably gave it all away to the Goodwill or something. Probably don't own anything anymore except the clothes I'm wearing. The ones Jack brought for me for the trip home. Which do happen to be mine, which suddenly strikes me as – strange.

Was Jack the one stuck with the job? Was he the one who had to dispose of the remnants, the one burdened with task of tying up the loose end resulting from the inconvenient ceasing of Daniel Jackson? God, I hope not. I hope none of my friends had to do that. But then, who else was there? Scant few people in this world are troubled one way or the other whether I exist or not. Still, someone had to have done it; odds are it was one or all of them. I'll have to thank them, right after I apologize for having put them through it in the first place.

So no big mystery after all, I'm here because I don't have anywhere else to go. Déjà vu…

As my mind accepts the explanation I'm aware Jack is speaking, - what he is saying – I'm wrong, I live here, I've always lived here, wait, that's not right, I know that's not right but… there's more…no – it can't be - what can he mean – Sha'uri – dead? Jack just told me my wife is dead and suddenly the world disappears from beneath my feet and I fall.

I don't fall far. He's there, Jack is there, holding me up, speaking softly to me and stroking my cheek as my mind races, trying to reconcile the confusion of what it knows with the discovery - what it knows – isn't - what is… For a sickening second an image, clearly burned in my mind of Sha'uri. Dressed in obscene Goa'uld finery, standing beside Apophis, haughty cruelness twisting her beautiful face the gold, glowing eyes of a stranger beaming hatred and disdain at me.

This would have been her fate – doomed to be a prisoner in her own body, constantly suffering, alone, forced by a monster to hurt others to hurt – me… She would have suffered unending torment. Poor, sweet Sha'uri – god forgive me, suddenly I'm glad she is dead, if her heartless extinction instead of becoming a host meant she was spared even one second of this.

There ARE fates worse than death. I am so grateful my darling did not have to know that.

I can't take it in any more, torn between my grief and my relief I allow Jack to guide me into the house. Our house. It doesn't feel familiar but I am so glad it is so.

I wish Sam and Teal'c would go home. Feel terrible wishing it, seeing the naked delight in their faces.

Sam keeps touching me as if she can't believe I'm real. She grins like a fiend, blushes, wipes away tears, touches me again, apologizes, laughs.

Teal'c won't meet my eyes as if he is afraid of what is inside him clamouring to come out. He blinks a lot. Terrible of me to wish they would go but it's all too much. It's just – what they are surrounding me with, it's too overwhelming. I can't believe it, accept it, understand why. Why I matter so much to them.

I'm stunned by the force of their joy. Almost flattened by it. I – had no idea. Truly didn't. I've allowed for the possibility, however remote, there might be one or two people who might miss me a little for awhile if I wasn't around, but I've always known what I am. One of those people who just slips through the cracks of life. That guy you know who is around somewhere in the background, part of the furniture but not particularly noticeable or memorable, never can quite remember his name, fades from existence if not in plain sight. Someone who just doesn't make much of an impact. Expendable.

They look at me like all of a sudden they just got their reason for living back and I don't know what to say so I look around, trying not to break down right in front of them I am so humbled by the gift they have just given me. I just don't deserve to be so loved and that's when I see – that's when I know what I've been seeing in Jack's eyes.

Evidence of my existence all over the room. My statues, pictures, books – god – my books… on the mantle, that stupid rock Jack picked up on P3S- 821, giving it to me after he'd painted 'Genuine Alien Arty-fact' on it, and there - one of my most prized possessions on the coffee table right in front of me.

As I reach for one of the pieces I realize he has never let me go, not for an instant, not for a second. I ask him, he lies to me about it, afraid I will see, afraid I will know, afraid I don't want what he wants to give me. He denies what we both know is the truth, but he isn't fooling either one of us.

I know why his touch heals me – why his voice has the power to exorcise the darkness. I know what he wants, why he looks at me that way.

I know I want it too.

I also know I have to get out of here before I embarrass both of us in front of the company.

He finds me lost in grief and confusion. In a place I should know but don't – and don't know why I don't, mourning a woman months dead and gone I feel I have only just lost not understanding why I don't remember losing her. He tells me more – more truths about the people I love making lies of my memories and certainties. I feel everything I have accomplished in this short time starting to slip away from me. My head is splitting; I barely know my own name. I am about to shatter. I need him…

His arms are around me, I cling to him, feeling his strength and love surrounding me it helps, but I need so much more and yet don't dare say so, not yet, we're not alone. I don't want him to leave but I send him away to send them away hoping he'll come back as he promised but not sure if he will. I know he wants to, but he's afraid of what he feels.

Yet, he always seems to know exactly what I need so I wait for him, confident in that. He knows I need him. He'll come back.

I lie shivering in the darkness, feeling it close around me. Turning off the light was a mistake, one I can't rectify now. I doubt I have the strength to rise from the bed, never mind make it across the room and back again. I certainly haven't got the strength to go to him. It's been such a long time since he left me.

I shouldn't be cold, but I'm freezing. Numbness, leeching in from the very darkness around me seeping into my bones. I struggle against it but there is more of it than there is of me. It closes over me, mercilessly beginning to snuff out the small flame the hope of him has kindled within me.

The air around me changes. I feel him move through it, coming toward me. So close, and yet…. He's here, but he's afraid. I can't let that stop me. It's not just my life I'm fighting for. I understand this in a way he doesn't yet. He will.

I call him to me - he comes. I can't let him leave; the darkness is so close. I won't lose to it now – not now that I know what I have to live for.

I pull him to me, clasping his hand to my chest. It is so warm, his touch scorching – almost too much. His brief attempt at resistance over, he climbs into bed behind me. He has no choice. He's not leaving me.

The numbness in me screams at the warm assault. He pulls me closer, his hand moves across me, sweet caress, hot, warm, languid, the desire shooting through me is so real, so strong it hurts.

Panic, love, pain, desire, fear, hope all swirl within me, welling up, needing to escape, only one way out. I turn to him, clutching him, feeling his arms tighten around me, tears falling but no release I can't – I can't get it to come out, get it to let go.

I don't want to go mad but this has to stop or I will but it's all stuck, like a huge knot inside me, getting bigger, not letting go but crushing me from the inside out. I can barely feel him anymore even though his arms are squeezing me I hear myself saying "make it go away" if he can't I'm lost…

Ohh god, yes, yes, more, I need more try to pull him closer but he makes me lie still. Don't want to need more, doesn't he understand I'll die frozen if I can't feel and then I'm dying burning as I feel his tongue in my mouth, his lips crushing mine.

I try to claim him as greedily as his hands begin to stroke me slowly, firmly… can't speak, want to scream, so numb, need to feel, scream at him, harder, touch me harder, not enough, not enough still can't feel you, hurt me, anything, make me feel…

He won't, shakes his head, kisses me again, touches me, still slowly, lightly, stroking, stroking, his hands knowing me as if they have always held the secret of what I need within them. As he kisses me above, below, trailing slick wetness across my body, his mouth marauding across me his touch roaming over me, I start to tremble, not from cold, not from not feeling, but from a wave surging through me like a switch being turned on.

Suddenly I'm ablaze, every nerve tingling, shrieking with life, with feeling, wave after wave of excitement, fire, sensation, I've lost control of my body, my limbs shake and spasm uncontrollably. Can't think, can't move, animal noises coming from me, sobs, screams, moans, grunts, whimpers - sounds I have never heard myself make before.

I can feel him now - all around me, touching me everywhere at once, how can he do this, how can he know, he knows everything, knows what I need, how could I have doubted him, feeling, feeling, oh god, it's getting better – how is this possible? He groans and growls and laughs as he sees what has become of me, his breath short, ragged and hot in my mouth as his tongue plunges deep within me, again, again, again. There is a pulsing, bright blazing deep inside me, growing, rising, coursing through me, gathering speed and oh sweet JESUS, he's - he's touching me there now, holding me, squeezing, pumping.

God! I thought I was in paradise before but as his hand closes around me, moves up and down, the fire erupts, blasting through the knot of pain, shattering it, sweeping it away. Up, up past what once was pain now is only fire and joy, up, through, out, shooting clear. I'm dying now, screaming, sobs tearing through me tears streaming, shuddering with the force of release, release…

Letting go, all of it spewing out of me with the ecstasy god god god, the bliss! The pain, all coming up and out, bursting free, head exploding, white light in my brain, his hand tightening upon me as I feel warm spurting on my stomach, can't tell where my screams end and his begin…

Alive alive alive, I'm alive. I want to scream I want to cry, want to laugh hysterically all at once. I want him to know what he has done. I can feel. God, do you know how wonderful you are?

He's collapsed on top of me, asleep. I can't sleep. I'm too excited, too grateful. I need to touch him, the way he touched me, need to revel in the new life he has given me. Realize I'm probably going to wake him up in the process but somehow don't think he'll mind.

I move him onto his back and just do what I need to do. I'm out of my mind the second I touch him. He makes a startled grunt, coming abruptly awake as my hands swarm over his chest, yanking on the swirling of hair there in my haste. Since he's awake now I kiss him, hard, deep, making him gasp and moan.

He ain't seen nuthin yet.

By the time I have him in my mouth, teasing him with my tongue, running my teeth up and down the soft, hard, swollen flesh he's laughing, crying, swearing at me at the top of his lungs. He knots a hand in my hair, pushing my head down, catching me by surprise. Not expecting so much of him all at once I gag, but I'm over it in a second, moving faster, feeling it won't be long now, certainly if the way he is cursing is anything to go by.

Such a mouth on you Jack! I'll give it something else to do in a minute, have to finish up down here first.

Swallowing I turn on him, a small stream of his seed trickling from the corner of my mouth. I kiss him deeply, giving what I have taken from him back to him. He hisses in surprise then clamps his arms around me, rolling me onto my back, pinning me beneath his weight. He kisses me back fiercely and we lie there locked together until we can't breathe.

Finally somewhat more serene I feel the sleep I could not previously find beginning to creep over me. Hear him murmur in my ear "what are you trying to do kill me" and then he is silent, still, breathing deeply. Sleep comes, a blessed sleep, a sleep with no dreams…

Early morning I am wide awake, still alive, emerging from the best sleep I've had since coming back to life. Jack is still on top of me, sprawled all over me, snoring profoundly, as profoundly as he is slumbering. Well, I can't sleep anymore, certainly don't want to wake him, he's more than earned this rest.

I decide to get up. Have a feeling, if I know my Jack, what he has in his fridge will be beer, beer, possibly some leftover, cold, stale pizza, followed by, what else - more beer. We're going to need a bit more than that if we're going to keep our strength up. So while my colonel slumbers I slip out from under him, grab a quick shower, toss on some clothes, see my hunch about the state of the provisions is correct, find Jack's keys and make a quick grocery run.

Just as well I did. Eventually Jack does wake up and realizes he's pretty hungry. Not at first, however. Too busy thinking with other parts of his anatomy immediately upon rising, so to speak, so I have to keep him away from me under dire threat of spatulation in order to finish preparing what will service the other appetite he finally figures out he has. He pouts for a bit, but as the aroma sways him in the direction of which craving he wants to satisfy first, he is grateful one of us has enough self control to cook. He eats enough for three people, then looks at me like he's still hungry. However, the bill of fare has shifted from waffles to Daniel du jour.

I make him do the dishes first.

I figured I would have at least enough time to let everything settle a bit. I figured wrong.

I keep forgetting what Jack does for a living. He's very good at what he does. I don't hear him behind me until it is far too late. Labouring under the foolish misapprehension I am actually going to be allowed to get any more than ten feet away from him I make the fatal mistake of turning my back on him and walking out into the dining room. Needless to say, I pay dearly for my folly; I am attacked from behind and thrown to the floor. Oh no. Completely defenseless. Not a kitchen utensil in sight. Whatever shall I do?

Before I can say boo my pants are down around my ankles and Jack is grinning at me like a fiend, pumping me furiously, quickly erect. I realize he is going to make me pay for what I did to him last night.

Oh. No. Stop. Don't. Don't. Don't stop…

Retribution is swift in coming and so am I. Jack shares the fruits of his labours with me with rather sloppy, slightly overwhelming enthusiasm. It's an interesting experience. So is whisker burn…

We make it to the bedroom. Eventually. By way of the whole rest of the house. Going to be finding articles of clothing all over the place for weeks. I don't care. We're like a couple of bunnies in heat. He's a crazed lunatic, but that's okay, I'm every bit as gone about him. I'm wild, I'm alive, I'm completely ridiculous but mostly – I'm grateful. He's saved my life and I'd love him forever just for that if I didn't love him already for him.

I'm back. It's his fault, so I guess that means he's stuck with me. He doesn't seem to mind. He's rude, he's crude, he's completely – wonderful. More than that, he's my lifeline. His love found me, brought me back, set me free. I plan to spend the life he's helped me reclaim saying thank you. As many times as it takes.

Don't think he'll mind that either. He tells me I have my uses. He has no idea…

Besides, he likes my cooking.

FINIS

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