I swear I don’t know myself sometimes.
Because it hit me like a sledgehammer. I was reading, and he came in before the mission, and all I could think was how that vest we wear in the field makes his body look hard. Tight black material with big slabs of velcro. Could he tell I was staring? I couldn’t help it.
But when we got back, and we were gearing down, he was looking at me. He may have said something, but all I could hear was velcro ripping.
He was looking at me. As if he couldn’t help it.
.:.
He loves that boonie. No. I love that boonie on him. He does the funniest things with it. Lid up, lid down, around his neck on the cord. Does he realize that he pulls the brim down over his eyes when he’s writing in his journal? Then he starts chewing on the cord. Practically slobbers on it, he’s writing that hard. Then he sticks the wet thing up under his nose and holds it there with his upper lip. So damn cu -
What a geek.
I wonder what’s he’s writing in there.
I wonder if he ever writes about me.
.:.
He’s left his sunglasses on my journal. I know he didn’t read it, I trust him. He couldn’t read it, anyway. He can’t read Arabic, and I stopped writing in hieroglyphs after I once caught him “accidentally” translating a tablet. Clever bastard.
Stupid sunglasses, hiding his eyes. I hate not being able to see his eyes. When I can’t see his eyes, he’s all smug grin, baseball cap and gun. I need to see his eyes.
But when he does wear the sunglasses, he’s the hottest coolest man on any planet.
Damn. Yup, sticking with Arabic for a while longer.
.:.
You don’t know just how beautiful the nape of a neck is until you see it for the first time.
Wow. Short, soft hairs glinting in the sunlight, looking like silk. The skin is fresh and pale from lack of sun.
I’m standing so close I can smell his shampoo. I think my eyes even close for a moment.
“Jack! What the hell are you doing?”
“A bug,” I say, and try to cover with a brush of that nape with my fingertips.
No, I did NOT just blow on his neck.
He shivered. NICE.
“Damn, there’s another one, Daniel.”
.:.
She pursed her lips tightly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
What could he say that was appropriate? I’m sorry? That’s unfortunate? Fuck you? “No, it’s okay,” he said softly. The only light in the room was the desk lamp, mellow gold that turned her curls copper.
“And you can’t say the same to me. After how long?”
“The heart can’t be measured in time,” Daniel said, then realized he sounded inane and hackneyed.
“Fuck you,” she said, for him, to him, so perfectly calm and British, and the sound of the door cracking shut behind her was a blessed relief.
.:.
The grave was mown, the headstone glimmering in the dawning light. Jack crouched down, the photo in his hands crumpled with much handling.
“Hey, kid,” Jack said softly, fingering the picture’s edges. “I miss you.”
He listened to the soughing wind, patient and soothing. “This is Daniel,” Jack said finally, propping the picture against the headstone. “I wanted you to meet him. He’s a good man. He’s … special to me. And I think … he’d have loved you just as much as I still do.”
The wind ruffled his hair, just as he’d ruffled Charlie’s, once upon a time.
.:.
I said I wanna touch the earth
I wanna break it in my hands
I wanna grow something wild and unruly
I wanna sleep on the hard ground
In the comfort of your arms
On a pillow of bluebonnets
In a blanket made of stars
A small stone box. Within, a handful of sand; all that is left of Abydos. With a fingertip, he gently traces an “S” in the yellow grains, smoothing the lumps until he has a flat plane of granules engraved with that single letter.
I wanna walk and not run
I wanna skip and not fall
I wanna look at the horizon
And not see a building standing tall
I wanna be the only one
For miles and miles
Except for maybe you
And your simple smile
He closes the box, shakes it, opens the lid again. With that same finger, he firmly traces a “J,” amused. He could have been scribbling on his notebook in study hall.
Set me free oh I pray
Closer to heaven above and
Closer to you
Closer to you
Carefully, he closes the box, tucks it into a drawer, checks his pocket for his tickets to Minneapolis, and quietly locks the office door behind him.
~ lyrics from “Cowboy, Take Me Away” by the Dixie Chicks
.:.
Giant scrapbook, glue, ribbons, stars, sparkly markers, scissors. A huge pile of photographs.
Tongue between lips, Cassie sat at the table and, with focused, youthful precision, cut photograph after photograph, carefully pasting and decorating.
After several hours, Janet moved to inspect her daughter’s work. It took a couple of turned pages for Janet to realize who was missing. “Where’s Daniel?” she whispered, and after all this time, the name still caught in her throat.
“I left a place for him,” Cassie said firmly, pointing to all the extra spaces on the pages. “I’ll put him in when he gets back.”
.:.
“Aveo … amacuse … ” And then Daniel was silent.
Jack may not have had the knowledge of the Ancients downloaded into his brain – twice – but his lessons from the time loop came in handy now. Goodbye … beloved companion.
Impatiently shrugging off Carter’s clutching hand, Jack pressed his hand to the cool, slick material of the stasis chamber.
“What did he say, O’Neill?” Teal’c asked, his face clearly showing his shock and unhappiness.
Jack’s hand scrabbled at the unknown material as if trying to claw through to the man within. “He said,” Jack choked, “that I’m too fucking late.”
.:.
Four hands of cards and a pyramid of bottles decorated with limes and crowned with a bottle of tequila.
“I wonder how JonasQuinn is faring,” Teal’c mused, folding.
Three sets of eyes peered at him.
“Um,” gulped Sam, folding as well, then staring blankly at the TV. “Probably fine?”
Two thumps of a fist on the table. “He’s fine,” Jack said tightly as he, too, folded.
One touch of a hand on a thigh. “We’re all fine,” Daniel said softly, laying out a royal flush. Then he spread the chips into four piles so they could start the game again.
.:.
The attic was freezing and there was no order to the stacked boxes.
“I’m looking!” Daniel shouted down the ladder as he dug into a crate.
His fingers met softness. Curious, he pulled out a pair of small flannel pajamas, decorated with rockets.
Charlie’s.
Daniel’s eyes met Jack’s as the colonel crested the ladder. Jack’s face was blank as he stared at the garment in Daniel’s hands.
“Leave them there,” Jack said quietly, pulling out Christmas decorations from a different box.
“I shouldn’t have seen. I’m sorry,” Daniel whispered.
Jack stroked the pajamas, then Daniel’s cheek, and replied, “I’m not.”
.:.
Daniel always felt that he was caught between destiny and chance.
Jack always felt that he was caught between guilt and gladness.
Together, they tried not to dwell on the past, tried to live their lives with tentative hope. But it was maddeningly difficult.
Because, when they both looked back over their tangled emotional tapestry, there was something that was clearly tragic and beautiful and horrible.
That if it hadn’t been for Charlie dying, their paths would never have crossed.
And it was asking the impossible to not be joyful that life had led them to loving each other.
.:.
I love his hair, smelling of mint, soft against my lips. The dawn is edging through the windows, and I see on his temple three silver hairs. Yes, I count.
I’m floored. Has it been that long? Eight incredible, bizarre years. And here he is, in my bed, a beautiful man, compassionate, experienced and … greying.
After overcoming all the things to which I could lose him, I never really thought it would be time itself that might bring him down.
But, what did I expect?I kiss those silver hairs, thinking, “Well, at least now we’re starting to match.”
.:.
Carl Sagan. If that wasn’t amusing, Daniel didn’t know what was.
One foot on the star, he looked up, pretending he could pierce the smog that shrouded the city, see into the vastness of the universe.
Yes, there was other life in those stars. Brilliant, shining, brutal, and not beyond him. Wildest fantasies come true, given breath and breadth and substance.
But the star that drew him most strongly? The wildest fantasy that burned his blood?
Turning on that cemented star, Daniel headed back to his rented car, his plane ride, and the celestial body waiting for him at home.
.:.
“Daniel, you’re kidding me, right?”
Daniel shot Jack a glare and slammed the glove compartment closed. “Stay out of there, Jack.”
Naturally, Jack opened the compartment back up, pulled out the box and waggled it at Daniel. “You can’t be that addicted.”
Daniel grabbed the box, stuffed it back in the compartment and slammed it shut again. “You’re incorrigible.”
Jack guffawed. “Daniel, I’m this close to checking you into the Betty Ford Clinic.”
“Oh, please. I’m not that bad.”
Jack grinned as Daniel pulled into traffic. “Uh-huh. I’m not the one with chocolate-covered coffee beans in my car emergency kit.”
.:.
Palms pressed together, bodies slick with sweat, nothing to hear on this blue-shadowed night but the glide of their flesh on damp cotton.
“God,” Daniel groaned, his tongue tasting Jack’s flushed skin, the pressure behind his heart building, tightening, like the juice of a red fruit, ripe to bursting. “Jack,” he said, legs wrapping around hips, pulling Jack closer, deeper.
“Daniel,” Jack panted, their foreheads touching, their breathing synchronizing, the flesh burgeoning, bursting.
Then nothing but the fall, the exquisite release of lung and heart and emotion, the space between them sticky and white.
Daniel had never felt so free
.:.
“Daniel?” Jack asked, sitting beside him. “Remembering something?”
Daniel frowned, that tight look he always got when he tried to remember his Ascended year. “Yeah,” he said painfully. “I have .. a message, I think.” He paused for a while, fingers pressing at his temples.
Then Daniel spoke in a voice that was high, childlike, and Jack shivered in recognition. “I’m not missing anymore, Daddy,” Daniel said. “None of us are lost, because Daniel found me. I love you, Daddy. Everything’s okay.”
Daniel took a deep breath, looked up and smiled softly. “Everything’s okay,” he whispered, and kissed Jack gently.
.:.