SG-1 Fic: All Over But The Crying, by kuonji (NC-17) [without italics]
This is an alternate version of my Stargate SG-1 fic, All Over But The Crying. It contains the exact same text, with the formerly italicized portions un-italicized, for ease of reading. Click here for story summary, etc.
All Over But The Crying [without italics]
by kuonji
He cradles the object in his hands to his chest, just out of his reach. Out of Daniel's reach.
He's talking out loud. He's out of control. He's been out of control for a long time.
"Yes, you have. It's okay. You're sick. Let me help you."
Lies. They're all lies. He won't help. He'll leave. Daniel will leave, and he'll never get him back. Daniel's eyes are so pleading and blue. They're wet. Did he make them that way?
"Yes, yes you did. But it's okay. You can make it up to me. I'll be fine, if you'll just hand it over. Please." He swallows hard. Daniel swallows hard, and he can see the throat move, see the Adam's apple bobbing.
Has he given him water today, yet? He can't remember anymore. He can't take care of him anymore.
"That's right. I might die, if you don't let me get help for you. For us both. I will die. Do you want that?"
No! Daniel can't die. Daniel is everything. Daniel is his. Daniel can't leave him. No!
"Shhh, you won't lose me. I won't leave you, if you'll let me help."
No!No!No!No!No!
"It's okay. Wait, just listen!"
Nonononononononono...!
"God, Jack! What do you want?!"
He loves him. He loves him more than anyone else can, and he can't lose him. He loves him so much. He'll kill anyone who tries to take him away. He'll kill himself. He'll kill Daniel. He won't lose him. He won't!
"You're not going to lose me. I-- I love you, too, Jack. You hear me? I'm saying, I love you! I. Love. You."
It's a lie, he knows. It's the ultimate lie. This is the one thing that had always been refused him, no matter how he cajoled or threatened. Even knowing that, he can't help it. He responds.
"Daniel," he sobs.
He reaches out one hand, and Daniel reaches out one hand, and their fingers touch just the slightest bit before Daniel takes the phone away and is lost to him forever.
[[[[[]]]]]
"Request denied, Jack. How many times do we have to--"
"General--"
"We are not going to 'nuke' an entire civilization simply because they made a mistake! No matter the consequences. Now, I promise, if you can give me one reason -- one good, solid reason that has nothing to do with your own personal agenda -- to break ties with the Tevican people, who are, I remind you, a valuable ally, I will consider it. But until then, Colonel, I consider you out of line, and I refuse to hear any more about it. Do you understand?"
Jack dug the heels of his hands into his eyebrows, wishing he could just keep on pushing and mash in his entire skull. But the General was waiting for an answer, and miracles didn't come to people like Jack O'Neill.
"I'm sorry, sir," he finally managed to grind out, keeping his head down. "I just need--" Retribution. Closure. Ten bottles of aspirin. A flogging followed by a bullet through his head. "I'm sorry."
When the General spoke again, his voice had gentled. "You've been through a lot, Jack."
"I've been through a lot, sir?" He couldn't help the snide tone, even as he shot the General his most incredulous glare. His fists clenched so hard his arms started shaking.
"Yes, you have. I don't deny that Dr. Jackson--"
"Permission to be excused, sir!" Jack shot to his feet so fast his chair tipped crazily backwards before thumping back into place. The edge caught the back of his calves on the way down, but he didn't let it disturb his picture-perfect salute.
General Hammond gave not the slightest indication of surprise. From the corner of his eye, Jack saw him lower his head to his clasped hands as he said, "Permission granted."
Jack shouldered the SF shadowing him on the way out.
[[[[[]]]]]
He unlocks the closet door and eases it open. He's awakened and alert already, staring at him in what must be confusion. It doesn't matter. The moonlight reflecting off of the narrowed eyes is as lovely as ever.
Wordlessly, he gets to his knees and pulls him in. He rubs his face into those sweet-smelling locks, starting to grow scraggly with time. He breathes in his scent, and he pets the body that belongs to him. He runs his hands over the heavy links that bind the lean, handsome neck, assuring himself with their solid weight.
Pulling him with him, he lays down on the floor.
He's frustrated lately. So many things are causing him stress, forcing him to lose his temper. Here, though, he feels peace. He has control. All he wants is to sleep wrapped up in him, wrapped up in the one thing that he can unfailingly call his own.
The body in his arms is stiff. He's not relaxing. That's understandable. He's confused by the break in routine.
He runs his fingers through his hair. He pulls the strong back against his chest, and he puts one hand over the soft, vulnerable genitals. "You're mine," he reminds him, reassuring them both.
Instead of settling down, he stiffens even more. He bends his head away and spreads his legs apart. What the fuck.
Angry, he rolls over and crushes him, chest to chest, to the ground. "Stay still," he snarls, staring a threat into those wide eyes. Heavy, deep breaths work their way around the gag. His words are obeyed, but he is still very obviously not with the program.
He thrusts his naked groin against his, showing him that he's soft. Sex isn't what he wants. Go to sleep, goddammit.
He closes his beautiful blues. Maybe he understands what he wants, finally. Maybe they can be like they'd used to, catching each other's eyes across the room and simply knowing. When had that gone away?
He curses in surprise when he feels hands fumbling with his dick. He jerks away. "When did you turn into such a slut?" he demands.
The eyes snap open. They frown. Then they look lost again. He hates that look. He'd thought they'd learned to understand each other better these past few weeks, not the opposite. What the hell is wrong?
All right. "If it's a fuck you want, then it's a fuck you'll get."
He can't get it up right now, but the dildo's right outside the door. It takes only seconds to retrieve it.
"Hands and knees, you damned slut," he orders. He sees red when, instead of following orders, he spreads his hands, as if to placate.
Is he being provoking on purpose? Just like everyone else in the whole damned universe.
He drags him up, and, seizing a good piece of flesh, twists hard. He hears whimpers of pain, and hands flutter next to his but are rightfully afraid to interfere with the punishment.
When he releases him, he ignores the shudder of relief and repeats, "Hands and knees," in a much quieter voice. He feels only vaguely satisfied when his words are obeyed immediately.
The dildo's lubed and ready, and he rams it home without preparation. He knows that he's had enough practice by now that there won't be damage. It does, however, cause pain.
He stands, leaving him gasping and shaking on the floor. Hands go to his ass, hovering around the abused area. He growls, furious anew. He wouldn't dare...?
"That better still be in there in the morning," he warns. He can't believe he has to make the order directly.
He kicks the door closed and locks it with a savage turn. He punches his pillow furiously before collapsing back into his bed.
Alone.
[[[[[]]]]]
The Seven Eleven was empty at this hour. That suited Jack fine. He wouldn't even be here if he weren't badly in need of shaving supplies.
He snagged a bag of Fritos and a pack of gum before rounding to the toiletries section. Everything was wildly overpriced here, of course, but the drugstore was twice as far away. Jack didn't want to be out of the mountain for longer than necessary.
His hands moved on automatic, grabbing what he needed. He dumped his purchases on the counter, where a red-headed, freckled teenager rang it up with somnolent attitude.
He frowned as he watched the kid bagging his stuff. "Wait a minute." He snatched up the bottle that had caught his attention.
Baby oil.
He didn't even use the stuff. It brought back too many memories of before a gunshot had ruined his life. Why would he have picked this up?
A memory, not of a little boy, but of a man, came to mind. Jack was pouring oil into his hands, then spreading it over a wide chest, stopping to fondle the nipples. The man cringed away, not at the obscene touch, but at the loathsome words Jack was whispering in his ear.
"Hey, you want it or what?" The irritated question snapped Jack back to the present.
He wasn't sure what he answered, but he left the store empty-handed. He had to sit in his truck for ten minutes before his hands steadied enough to drive.
[[[[[]]]]]
He hands over the folder without saying a word, even though he's dancing with joy inside. He's rehearsed this moment of triumph a dozen times. This is the beginning of freedom and bliss. He's tired of the building frustration he's been working under.
Projecting the proper mask of weary resignation, he hangs his head and massages his temples. He doesn't even have to fake that part. He's been having headaches lately. Nothing that twenty-four hours a day with his Danny won't fix, he's sure.
"Colonel, I can't accept this."
He's caught off guard. "What are you talking about, General?" He has to accept. Whom does the fat pig think he is? His temper flares, and he has to work to keep his face passive.
"Sit down, Jack."
Chafing at the unforeseen hold-up but aware of his position, he does.
"I understand what a strain you've been under. Losing Dr. Jackson has been a great loss to all of us. However, Colonel O'Neill, you are an essential part of the SGC. I'm not exaggerating in the slightest when I say that we would not be here today if it were not for your heroic actions and your presence here. I would like for you to reconsider this."
He wants to jump to his feet and demand that the General listen. He'd already had the celebration all planned out for tonight. He had never expected such a hitch in his plans as this.
But he doesn't want to draw suspicion by making a scene. He can't have all the care he's put in so far to go to pieces now.
"General, with all due respect, I've made up my mind." He's proud of himself for keeping his voice even.
The General considers him for long enough that he shifts nervously in his seat. "I'll table it for one week. You take a look at all the good people still around you. Say your goodbyes, if you feel you must, but I'm hoping you'll have changed your mind by then."
He considers his options carefully. Refusing the General's inconveniently heartfelt request would go against what everyone thinks they see in Jack O'Neill.
Would it hurt to stay a little longer?
He's going to have to risk it.
"All right, General. But only one week, and then my answer is final."
He leaves the office unscathed, but he's antsy inside. For the first time, he feels off-balance. Threatened.
[[[[[]]]]]
"How does it feel to be back at work, Colonel?"
Jack didn't let his passive face twitch. "Feels like I never left," he intoned. That was the irony of it. After three days in the infirmary to take care of the last dregs of withdrawal, Jack had been able to (allowed to) return to work immediately.
Counting the time that he had been presumed dead, Daniel had been out of the mountain for nearly a month.
"That's true. You haven't been outside the mountain since the incident was resolved."
Resolved. Such a tidy, mild word.
"I've been outside. I was just down to the gas station yesterday."
And hadn't that been a peach.
"You haven't been home."
"Nope."
"Colonel, you can't stay on base indefinitely."
"Why not? I've got food, water, a gym and paperwork -- everything a healthy, modern guy needs to thrive. And let's not forget the titillating social interaction." He waved a hand between himself and the man seated across from him, file folder and notepad in hand.
McKenzie seemed unfazed.
"Yes, speaking of that. You and General Hammond had a talk yesterday, didn't you?"
Jack covered his surprise by blowing it out, exaggerating. "Whoa, there, Doc. You a shrink or an intelligence operative?"
"Neither, actually. I'm a psychiatrist, if you please." Jack smirked. The defensively prim response was just what he'd been angling for. "Of course, my profession has no bearing on this. Tell me, what did you talk about with the General?"
Jack scowled. "Don't you know, already, Mr. Telepathy?"
"Actually, I don't, although I'm sure you don't believe me. General Hammond said that you were quite agitated."
"Agitated. Yeah." He'd wanted to blow up a planet. It'd seemed like a reasonable idea at the time. Still did, at odd moments. He didn't want to dwell on that.
McKenzie sat forward on his high-backed leather chair. "Colonel, I'll be frank. I don't think we're achieving... rapport. I would like to help you." He looked sincere about that, even. Go figure. "You still have the choice, Colonel. Would you prefer to take counseling with someone off-base?"
"No." Jack's answer was firm. It wasn't that he had any high confidence in McKenzie. He just didn't need one more person knowing about this mess. "How's Dr. Jackson, by the way?" he asked abruptly. He hadn't been able to bring himself to ask anyone not bound in doctor-patient confidentiality.
It played well as a diversion, too.
McKenzie frowned slightly as he replied. "I'm not the one he's talking to."
"C'mon, you're the head psyche guy of the SGC. You've gotta know something about Daniel? How's he doing?"
"Even if I had any information regarding his treatment, you know it would be confidential."
Jack did know that. McKenzie knew that he knew that, too. They were both just yammering to fill up the time. Five sessions of drivel, and after this one, McKenzie either gave him the stamp or Jack got the boot.
For the first time in Jack's life, he didn't care which it was.
"I wanted to blow the motherfuckers up," he said.
McKenzie looked about as shocked as Jack felt. Hell knew why. Changing MOs on a dime should be something he'd gotten used to with Jack. Apparently, the whole soul-baring thing was much more shocking than the ho-hum sociopathic tendencies.
"The Tevicans, you mean?" McKenzie clarified.
Jack spread his hands. "Who else?"
"And how do--"
"It's displaced anger, projection. Repression. Whatever you call it, I know. The thing of it is, I could knock out a dozen people here and get through the gate with a chest full of firepower. I'm still deciding whether or not to do that."
McKenzie didn't look startled. His game face was back on. "Why haven't you done it yet?"
"Nerves. Common sense sneaking back up on me. Don't want to disappoint everyone. Again." Jack couldn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth.
"Why do you think you want to do it in the first place?"
Jack flicked some dirt from under a nail. That was an easy one. Revenge. Release.
But what came out of his mouth was, "Because then? Nobody would disagree with locking me up and throwing away the key."
Son of a bitch.
[[[[[]]]]]
"C'mon, kids. Eat up. It's not every day you'll see me splurge like this."
Carter takes only a sip of her pomegranate juice, but Teal'c raises his fork obediently. "You are not indulging in your smothered buckwheat waffles, O'Neill," he observes.
"I'm pacing myself," he replies.
In truth, he's far from hungry -- for food. Adrenaline's coursing through his veins like fire. He's going home tonight to fuck his Danny for the first time. It's a big step forward in their relationship.
He's going to love it.
"Have you heard anything more about Daniel?" Carter asks.
Impatience burns up at the interruption to his fantasies of tight, clenching heat. He uses that feeling, expanding it in his curt reply. "They're a bunch off idiots with their heads up their asses."
"There is no news, then?" Teal'c interprets.
He throws the big guy a casual glare. "What do you think?"
Nobody calls him on his overt rudeness. They love their fantastic, heroic leader. They make good lackeys, though they don't hold a candle to his Danny.
Five years ago to the day when his Danny had truly become his, the two of them had formed an inseparable bond. The woman and the Jaffa aren't a part of that and never will be.
"I'd feel so much better if we were sure," Carter agonizes out loud. "It just seems so stupid, after everything we've been through. We've manipulated wormholes and traveled through time, and we can't even--"
He hurries to cut that off. He's afraid that he'll blurt something out otherwise. "Can't what, Carter? Prevent me from leaving Daniel alone in the middle of the night?"
Carter shuts her yap, finally. Guilt is an amazing tool.
"Sir, no one blames you. It was--"
"It was three miles back to his place, through rough terrain," he cuts her off. He hams it up with a violent swig of his beer, the alcohol buzzing through him like sex. He slams the bottle down and wipes his mouth slow, until he can control his grin. "I should have stayed with him."
He had stayed. He'd undressed his pliant prize, and left his scent on every inch of him. Then he'd put him away safe. His.
"Daniel Jackson is capable of traveling long distances in a variety of circumstances."
"He'd had some drinks." Only the last one had been drugged. He'd been adorably tipsy -- and trusting -- enough by then to never tell the difference. Just the memory of those bright, shiny eyes makes his throat dry. His tight voice makes his lines perfect: "He was drunk off his rocker. I should have seen that. Wanted to think a while by himself, my ass."
The beauty of it is, the remote hilltop had been one that his Danny had shown him in the past. It'd been an amazingly perfect set-up.
One of them makes some remark without content. He grunts in rote acknowledgement, and he spends the rest of the meal on auto-pilot. He's drunk with anticipation.
His Danny is waiting for him.
[[[[[]]]]]
Jack gripped the edge of the doorway, anchoring himself against the world spinning out of control into madness.
He wasn't sure what had brought him here. The scent alone was enough to overwhelm him, old parchment and the dust of millennia strong with history. He could almost imagine the hum of the computer, the scritching of a pen on notebook paper. The clean line of a muscular back curved over in concentration, snapping straight at the knock on the doorway.
"Oh, oh right. Dinner. Just a minute, Jack."
"O'Neill."
Jack spun around at the hail, hands instinctively raised for defense. The big man filling the hallway only raised an eyebrow, in that way he had that made you feel like a doofus no matter what you were doing.
"Teal'c. Whatcha doing here?"
"I am observing you."
Well. That was blunt. "You didn't get the memo? They don't think I'm a security risk anymore."
Teal'c tilted his head in lieu of a shrug. "I am only wondering what you mean to do here."
"I was just..." Jack gestured uninformatively at the interior of Daniel's lab.
"I would not suggest you enter, O'Neill."
"Wasn't planning to." He took a step sideways just to make that clear. He locked his hands behind his back, still a bit quaky from the sense memory the place gave him.
"Daniel Jackson would not appreciate you being here in his absence."
The tone was mild, but Jack knew a warning when he heard one. He held very still, searching for an appropriate response, hyper-aware of the size of Teal'c's hands and the muscle in his shoulders.
Teal'c. His buddy. His confidante. The guy he trusted more than anyone in the universe.
He'd seen Teal'c kill a lot of people. Jack reminded himself that it was never more than deserved.
"I suggest lunch," Teal'c said.
Jack let himself breathe more easily, though the tingle of danger was still present in Teal'c's watchful gaze. "Yeah, good idea."
When he turned toward the elevators, Teal'c followed easily alongside. "The commissary grows tiresome."
Jack raised an eyebrow, still wary. He didn't venture to speak.
"I believe you owe me a meal, O'Neill."
"No, I don't," Jack argued, automatic. He relaxed another fraction. Teal'c trying to bum a meal was probably a good sign. People didn't generally ask to dine with scum.
"Indeed you do. As we were disembarking from the stargate onto Tevica, you said that we needed to visit the Pancake House, because of the Thursday Special."
"What? Didn't I take you and Carter a couple of weeks ago?"
"You are mistaken, O'Neill. That man was not you."
Teal'c calmly pressed the call button UP as Jack stared at him. They stood side by side in silence for a handful of seconds.
Jack cleared his throat. "You just want a free lunch, don't you?"
Teal'c inclined his head but said nothing. The elevator dinged, and Teal'c swept a gentlemanly hand toward the opening doorway. Jack muttered, as he stepped through, affectionately rueful,
"You goddamned sneaky Jaffa."
[[[[[]]]]]
"What's this?" He shivers at the almost-touch.
She's found one of the presents his Danny had left him this morning.
"That's private," he responds crisply. He marshals his face, hiding his arousal. The best lies are mostly truth.
"Well, I should clean it and run some tests anyway, if you don't mind?"
"There's no need." He shrugs his shoulders, appearing flippant. "C'mon, Doc. I'm on vacation. If it weren't for this physical, I'd be out of the state by some pond by now."
She looks pensive, shaking her head minutely. Both of them know he's staying not for her, but for his Danny.
Of course, what she thinks she knows is not the entire truth.
"Cassie asked about you the other day." She tries to distract him with words as she swabs the bite mark with a piece of moist cotton.
"You don't need to do that," he repeats, catching her arm and squeezing just hard enough. Anything of his Danny's is staying with him. She has no right to take it away.
She discards the cotton with a huff but looks him in the eye. "Colonel," she says, in a private 'doctor voice'. "Human bites cause more virulent infections than animal bites do. I'd like to at least examine it more closely."
"It's fine," he says, leaving no room for dispute. "And it won't happen again." He doesn't mind if his Danny marks him again, if he fights. But no one else would understand.
She takes his hand, looking serious and soliciting. "I know you're having a hard time, Colonel. I just want to make sure you don't lose perspective. Not all high-risk behavior involves explosives, you know."
He lets out a bark of laughter at the joke, glad for an excuse to release his amusement. She doesn't understand a thing.
At her recoil of surprise, he schools his face into a suitable look of grudging contrition. "Thanks, Doc. I'll be careful."
His Danny's the safest -- and only -- partner he wants.
[[[[[]]]]]
"Your blood work is still clean," she said. "As far as I can tell, everything is normal."
Jack shrugged, unsurprised. Nothing had been abnormal after his return from Tevica either.
"How are Daniel's follow-ups?" he asked. Janet gave him a hard look.
He had no right to the question, as both he and Dr. Frasier well knew. Daniel was no longer a member of his team. But he had to know.
"Just tell me if he's going to be okay." O'Neill didn't beg by nature, but by god for this he could learn. "Please."
Her face softened.
"I suppose it's only fair, since Daniel's asked about you, too." A shock of warmth zinged through him at that. "He's bouncing back, Colonel. It sounds trite, but just getting a lot of sunshine and relaxation is all he needed. Physically. Now, mentally..."
Sure, Jack had taken good care of his 'pet', fed him and kept him hygienic. What had hurt Daniel's body the most had been the constant strain of mental stress. Any stray bruises and other injuries had just been icing on the cake.
"Carter?"
She looked surprised that he knew. "Sam keeps him company sometimes, yes."
"Are they sleeping together?"
"Excuse me?" Even Janet's shocked reply couldn't completely suppress the hot stab of pure regret he felt, at the thought of Daniel jumping into a woman's bed.
"Forget I said that."
"Colonel, I think I need to demand an apology on both Major Carter's and Dr. Jackson's behalf." The small-statured medical officer put her hands astride her hips. She looked so holier-than-thou, Jack wanted to laugh in her face.
"You can't demand squat," he spat. "If you'd been doing your damned job, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. What the hell are you trying to do now, except cover your own ass?"
Frasier could keep doing all the pointless tests she liked. None of it changed the fact that she'd missed the problem when it'd been right under her nose.
Janet's lips thinned. "We all made mistakes, sir. I take my large share of it. But that doesn't give you the right to make inappropriate comments about your friends."
Friends. Yeah. After what he'd done, Jack harbored no illusions regarding his social network.
Jack threw his hands in the air. "Oh, c'mon. Daniel's a civilian, and he's not on the team anymore. He and Carter can fuck if they want to."
Janet crossed her arms and replied from behind a paint-pealing glower, "Colonel, I am taking into account that you've had an extremely difficult time lately, which is why I haven't called the SFs yet. For your information, Dr. Jackson has allowed me to inform you that Dr. McKenzie and I have cleared him for light duty off-world. He'll be coming back to work, on Thursday, with SG-1."
That took the wind right out of Jack's sails. He could tell that Janet knew it, too. He appreciated the fact that she looked not smug, but only matter-of-fact.
He wiped his hands over his face. He was a mess. "I'll be looking forward to that," he said, dully.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
[[[[[]]]]]
The body quivers in his hold, and he tightens his left arm in response. The better to feel the delicious tremors, of course. But also to keep him safe.
His right hand wields the razor blade with perfect precision, mowing another neat stripe down his Danny's left cheek.
He likes his Danny's face clean-shaven and exposed.
He can feel the tension in Danny's body. The tight-wound fear.
"I'm going to fuck you today," he whispers conversationally in one ear. The hand splayed across his Danny's chest feels the heartbeat race. There's no other reaction. His Danny's a smart one.
He's taken the gag out for this, but there's been no rules broken. Yet. He's learning.
"I'm getting you all prettied up for me to enjoy later," he says. He licks the ear he's speaking into, then drives his tongue inside the hole. "Going to be just like this." He begins to pant, imagining the act. He presses his groin into his Danny's bare back, continuing to tongue-fuck one perfect, whorled ear.
Danny tries to squirm away, shivering against the edge of the blade. He's panting as well, and it's easy to imagine that it's with passion for Jack.
His Danny doesn't know it, but he's only going to use his fingers today. He doesn't want to push too fast. That would ruin the fun.
Of course, when any rules are broken, that's when he has license to do more.
Every step is a little bit more, teaching his Danny how to love him. Danny's strong-willed, and strong-bodied, fighting back as often as giving in. He measures out each session. Patient. Hungry. Always just short of fully satisfied. It's worth it.
His Danny is unbelievable. He's better even than he'd always dreamed.
[[[[[]]]]]
The house had that unlived-in smell. There was a layer of dust on the TV remote. All his appliance clocks were two hours and sixteen minutes slow from a rolling blackout that must have occurred in his absence. The lettuce in his refrigerator was crispy; the spaghetti sauce was growing mold.
He started with the living room, vacuuming and dusting. The kitchen was a messier job, bagging spoiled food and mopping up weeks-old stains. Bathrooms were easy. The guest bedroom hardly required effort.
It was three in the afternoon by the time he stood outside the master bedroom.
For a fidgety, apprehensive, exhausting five minutes, he considered how much work his yard needed. In the end, however, he felt he owed it to himself to get this over with.
Stepping into the room felt surprisingly normal. His bed was made, and the afternoon sunlight streamed in, fresh and flawless. It was only when he turned toward the closet that the illusion broke apart.
The door had been broken in, and he swore softly as he pulled it farther open.
Reaching for the light switch to the absent light fixture did no good, of course, but through the splintered doorframe, he could catch the glint of metal. A padlock lay just inside, the bar truncated and shiny with having been cut.
A small, dark object beside it revealed itself to be a simple stopwatch. He'd given it to Daniel to time his mandatory exercises with. At some point, it must have been started. It was blinking, now, the numbers 99:59:59 mocking him. Time had run out, they seemed to be saying.
Too late. Too late.
A chain hanging from the back wall snaked across the carpet. Jack remembered the heft of the slick, welded links.
It'd cost him $26.89 at the local hardware store. It was meant to be used for tying out heavy dogs. By no stretch of the imagination was it close to what had held them in various prisons off-world, but against a lone, nude man -- even a strong and desperate one -- it had been more than enough.
He moved farther in to touch the base of the chain. He'd attached the last link into a solid iron half-ring on a steel plate. He'd shot the ring into a wall stud with seven quarter-inch steel butterfly screws. One for each gate symbol, he remembered thinking to himself in amusement.
Daniel had mutilated his nails trying to tear them out, the ninth day. There was no longer any mark of that on the white drywall. Jack had cleaned up both his pet and the room he lived in with efficiency.
Clutching the stopwatch to himself, he jerked the door closed, leaving him in the dusk-dark. He sank down against the far wall, trying to see what Daniel had lived for three weeks. Hands moving of their own volition, he lifted the chain from the floor and wrapped it around his neck, tight to choking.
How many times had he humiliated, had he terrorized, had he raped his friend, here in this room?
The taste of Daniel's skin was still there in his memory. He still remembered what Daniel looked like, naked and begging. He could imagine Daniel's face, twisting up when he cried. He could recall Daniel's ass, parted on display. Daniel -- proud Daniel, with his sarcastic temper and good heart -- hung his head in shame as he readied himself for his 'master' to fuck.
Jack heard a sob, and he knew it was his. In the hot, close room, the smell of sex and human fear still hung. Ten sessions with McKenzie so far, and it was a five by five closet that made him pour out his heart.
I love you, too, Jack. You hear me? I'm saying, I love you!
What hurt the most, what he'd never admit to anyone, was, he'd once comforted himself that he had the slightest chance. He'd once had the freedom to fantasize, to catch the blues of his friend's laughing eyes, or the curve of a wet backside. At night after a full day, he'd been able to bask in secret, hazy what-ifs of a future with Daniel Jackson.
Now he didn't have the right to breathe the same air.
[[[[[]]]]]
Danny grunts softly at the sound of the padlock bolt clicking home. Jack pockets the key for disposal tomorrow in a public area.
It's done. Danny is truly his now.
He gazes down at the long body laid out on display. He's already kissed every square inch with his lips and fingers. Danny has no more secrets from him.
Danny groans again, and the sound shoots pure unabated lust through him. He reaches for his zipper. He can't resist. He doesn't need to anymore. He'd stopped himself earlier in the shower, but he's with Danny now.
Jack moans as he pulls himself out. His eyes take in his Danny hungrily as his hands work in rough pulls. Next time, it'll be Danny's slender fingers on him. Next time, he'll be able to see Danny's pretty blues.
As if he's heard his thoughts, Danny's eyes slit open. The muscles in his abdomen tense as he evidently attempts to rise. The effort only makes him groan anew.
"Ah, Danny," he gasps, reacting to the seductive sound. He slides his thumb around the tip of his dick, imagining an ample, talkative mouth there.
Danny's wandering gaze meets his. Tongue still thick with the drug, he mumbles, "Jack?"
That's enough to tip him over the edge. With an aching grunt, he feels his climax shudder through him. He licks his lips in primal satisfaction as he marks his prize with his essence.
"Wha...?" Danny manages to lever himself to his elbows, grimacing with the effort. Jack sees the moment when he registers his own nakedness.
He stiffens all over, and his eyes skitter up to focus on Jack's face, then his crotch, where Jack's still milking out the last drops. He looks down at his own chest. He raises one hesitant hand and runs his fingers through the mess there.
Danny's beautiful face pulls tight in a horrified expression. His eyes snap up to Jack's, suspicious. "Who are you?"
Leaving his pants open to the air, Jack puts his hands down on either side of Danny's head. "You know who I am. You're a part of me. You're my missing piece. You belong to me."
"Jack..." Danny frowns. He coaxes in his 'hostile natives' voice, "I think we need to go back and talk to Dr. Frasier."
He chuckles. "I'm touched. But we're both fine."
When Danny opens his mouth again, he claps one hand over it. He squeezes, feeling the fine cheekbones beneath his thumb and fingers. "First rule: No talking."
Danny struggles for a second, then twists and lashes out. He frees himself from Jack's grasp, but his wrist is given a sharp crack for retaliation. The drug's making him slow, and Jack is confident now that Danny's his, he'll never leave him.
Jack doesn't punish him too hard. Danny still has a lot to learn. Besides, the sight and feel of his body, tight with rebellion, makes him hard.
There will be rules, of course, but Jack won't be too upset when Danny breaks them.
He pulls him close by the chain around his neck. Danny's hands come up reflexively to protect his throat. His striking eyes round in panic as he explores the metal tether and collar with his hands and eyes.
"Jack, what's going on?"
He tugs the chain again, sharp and painful. "What did I say the first rule was?" he reprimands his charge.
He flips Danny over with a snake-strike move. He keeps the chain tense as he grinds his knee into Danny's back, keeping him still. With his free hand, he fondles the tense buttocks. He slides a gentle finger down the valley between.
"Let me show you what happens when you break the rules."
[[[[[]]]]]
The General considered Jack silently for a few seconds, then sighed. He opened a drawer on his right side and brought out a plain, white envelope that he placed on the desk between them. "Dr. Jackson asked that I give you this, in the case of your resignation."
Jack stared at the innocuous-seeming item, unable to bring himself to touch it. It was something of Daniel's, was all that was running through his mind. He couldn't bear to put his hands on it.
"Colonel?"
Shuddering a preparatory breath, he snatched the envelope up in one movement. It didn't burn his hand, as he'd superstitiously expected. He tore the seal open and, under the General's eye, hesitated only a second before pulling out the single sheet of legal pad paper, ragged in the top right side where it hadn't torn quite properly.
The note was simple, written with a black felt pen in large, scrawled script that Jack could recognize in his sleep: Jack, you've saved a lot of lives. You've saved more than just lives. You're a good man, and we both know that. Stay at the SGC. Keep doing your job. I need you to do that. That can be your penance, if you want it to be. --Daniel Jackson
A P.S. had been added to the margin of space at the bottom: If you're found dead at your house with a gun in your hand, you have no idea how pissed I will be.
He felt a smile out of nowhere that he had to fight down. It wasn't too hard when he remembered why he was holding this letter. He folded it neatly and replaced it in its envelope. When he made to hand it back, General Hammond shook his head. "You keep that, son. Just tell me what to do with these." He gestured at the papers in front of him.
Jack stared at the envelope in his hands. His gut clenched.
"Toss 'em."
[[[[[]]]]]
The last shelf rips out with a satisfying crack. Cheap particle wood, it can't withstand a hefty hammer and a strong pair of arms. Jack adds the remains to the pile of detritus just outside his closet, then he stands back to admire his work.
The three shelves that had once held his old photographs and forgotten appliances and souvenirs have been cleared and summarily destroyed. The junk has gone in the garbage where it belongs. The wood will go to a recycling center at the edge of town.
One of the two clothes-hanging poles has also been removed. What clothing he can fit has been piled in with his underwear in the chest of drawers. Necessary pieces of the remainder have been boxed for the garage, and the rest donated anonymously away.
He'd had to pry the struts out and finally deform the pole itself to get it out. It had been seeing how sturdy it was that had given him the idea to leave the other one in.
What is left is an empty five by five by seven foot tall room, with carpet, light, and a means for exercise. A lock on the door rounds the whole thing out. It's everything Jack needs. It's perfect. It's obvious.
He can't believe he hasn't thought of this before.
Whistling, he carts the trash away to his truck. He passes by the phone, and on impulse he snaps it up and punches out a number from memory.
--Daniel Jackson.--
"It's me," he says.
--Um, hi, Jack. You're... cheerful.--
"Yup." He is. Cheerful. Excited. Gleeful, even. "Are you ready for tomorrow night?"
--Yes, Jack. I put it on the calendar and everything, just like you told me to... the other four times you've called. Don't you have something more important you need to be doing?--
Nothing's more important than you, he wants to say. But Daniel wouldn't understand. Not yet. "Did you circle the date?"
--Circled. Highlighted. Stars drawn around. Did you want me to tie a string around my finger while I'm at it?-- Despite his apparent irritation, Daniel sounds amused.
"If you think it will help," he replies, warmth rising in his gut when he hears Daniel groan. He's bursting to tell Danny-boy what he's really planning, but he knows that he has to keep it a surprise.
--See you tomorrow, Jack.--
"Tomorrow." He caresses the phone once before hanging up.
He wends his way back to put the finishing touches on his handiwork. He unpacks the chain that he'd purchased yesterday at the hardware store. The clinking of the metal is peculiarly musical. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes, losing himself in the smooth links and cool weight.
It will be so good.
When he opens his eyes, his gaze falls on the ceiling.
On second thought, he considers, the light should go, too.
[[[[[]]]]]
"Colonel."
Jack looked up at the clack of a food tray across from him. He followed up the black regulation-clad arms to narrow shoulders and close-cut blonde hair. "Carter." He couldn't quite hide his surprise.
Carter hadn't been the one to put the tranq in his thigh, but she'd led the team, and she'd been the one to go in alone with the bolt-cutters. They hadn't spoken since that day -- if you could call screaming invectives 'speaking', that is.
"How are you, sir?"
Awkwardness hanging heavy, he replied, "I'm fine. How are you?"
She seemed to sense the inanity of it as well. Bypassing the topics of weather and asking how his food was, she cut to the chase: "Janet said you were upset."
"Someone's always saying that," he griped. He averted his eyes from her cup of jello, trying not to think of lips stained with orange wrapped around his cock.
"Sir, with all due respect," -- god he hated those words, they never bode well -- "she's been feeling guilty enough herself."
He decided to just cut that off at the pass. "We had words. I was out of line. I'm sorry."
She seemed a bit derailed by his quick capitulation. "I understand how you must feel, Colonel."
He sighed audibly. "It wasn't my fault. I've been through a lot." When she did the twitchy bird-thing with her head that she always did when surprised, he added, "That's what you were going to say, wasn't it?"
She stared at him with her too intelligent, too compassionate blue eyes. She leaned closer. "How are you really feeling, sir?" she asked in a low tone.
Jack considered getting up and leaving. Frankly, though, it seemed like too much effort. And if he were going to continue working in the complex, he'd have to get through this talk sooner or later.
Besides, it was pumpkin pie day.
He met her eyes with the steel of three years in special ops and four months in a desert hell.
"I feel like I've tortured my friend and had my team do the clean-up."
She wasn't even fazed. "You weren't in your right mind."
Oh, please. "If you really believed that, you wouldn't have been avoiding me for the past two weeks."
He saw that he'd struck the mark on that one. She frowned and glanced away, then back, obviously uncomfortable. "Okay, I was a little... shocked. Guilty, too. I've had more time to think about it, though, and I think it's no different -- essentially -- from anything else that's happened to us."
"Oh, really?"
"I've tried to kill you before," she said, frankly. "I've tried to have sex with you, too."
He'd forgotten about that. He waved his hand in dismissal, impatient. "That was... mind control, viruses, what-have-you. This was me. Everything I did was because I wanted it."
"Teal'c has killed plenty of innocents while not mind-controlled. You've never held that against him."
"That's different."
"How?"
"He had to keep his position. He saved what people he could." Jack had understood that, from the first. That was one of the reasons he and Teal'c had hit it right off. They saw the pains in each other of sacrificing their own souls.
"But he wasn't drugged. It was his choice."
"He wasn't torturing his friends."
"Do you know that, sir?"
He didn't. Not for sure. Teal'c didn't talk that much about himself. They just accepted each other for what they were. But anything he'd done as First Prime Jack trusted would have been for good reason -- not to satisfy his own sick urges.
"And what about Daniel?" Carter asked.
He flinched at just the name. Damn. "What about him?"
She raised a thin brow. "P3R-636."
"What?" He never could figure out how everyone else memorized planet designations. Was there some mnemonic he was missing out on?
"The planet with the sarcophagus. You, me, and Teal'c almost died there."
Oh. "Daniel got us out in the end."
She didn't respond. She didn't need to. Daniel could very well have left them to rot -- out of plain, mind-altered ignorance.
He sighed. "Trust me, Carter. It's not the same." She didn't know about him. No one did, and he planned to keep it that way.
She copied his breathy exhale. "Whatever the case may be, sir, nobody except yourself blames you for what happened."
He leaned his head on one fist, tired. He was surrounded by people blindly determined to think the best of him. "That's something you should probably ask the victim, don't you think?"
She pursed her lips. "Think about it this way, sir. You're both victims, in a way."
"Oh for crying--"
"And Daniel doesn't blame you, either."
The breath whooshed out of his lungs like he'd been sucker-punched.
She hadn't said it like McKenzie did, like it was a poultice of a platitude. She'd said it like she knew it from Daniel's own mouth.
He couldn't resist asking: "Are you and he... together?" And here, he'd never considered himself a masochist.
She didn't stall, didn't draw it out. God, he loved a solid 2IC. "Not the way you mean, sir."
He sagged in relief. What was wrong with him, anyway? It shouldn't even be possible to be jealous about someone you'd only ever had by calculated coercion.
He got it together enough to remember something important. He hadn't had a chance to say it yet.
"Congratulations, by the way." When she looked puzzled, he said, "Lieutenant Colonel."
It'd been a long time coming. Him retiring from SG-1 was probably what had finally tipped the promotion. Her coolheaded effectiveness while taking down her commanding officer and rescuing a valuable civilian consultant couldn't have hurt either.
Carter smiled warmly. "Thank you, sir."
He shook his head and stared at his water glass. "You deserve it."
[[[[[]]]]]
The clack of a tray next to him in line distracts him from his contemplation of dessert.
"Hi, Daniel," he beams, glad to see his archaeologist.
Daniel smiles back. He looks rumpled and adorable. "How are you feeling?"
"Oh, I'm fiiiine," he replies. He decides on the lemon custard. "Custard?" he offers. Daniel's smile widens but he shakes his head.
"No, thank you." He takes a plate of assorted cheese instead. They scoop up their trays and scare up a table for two next to the far wall. "Have you seen Sam today?" Daniel asks, around a mouthful of teriyaki chicken. "She wanted to--"
"Sam, Sam, Sammy-Sam, Sam," he interrupts. "Would you like green eggs and ham?" he sing-songs.
He sees Daniel smother another smile. God, he loves to see those. "Still, uh... 'euphoric', huh?"
"Oh, yeah," Jack agrees. "Just ask him." He gestures over his shoulder at the SF guarding him. The placid-faced man does not respond. Those marines have iron training. "Hey!" he says, suddenly recalling the thought he'd had this morning. "Do you know what next Wednesday is?"
"Umm, no?" Daniel's eyebrows are an invitation.
"I'll give you a hint." He sits up straighter and adopts a befuddled expression. "Why is the military so interested in 10,000 year old Egyptian tables?"
Daniel continues to look blank for a moment, and then it clicks. "Oh, you're kidding me. You remembered the date? Really?" He looks enormously pleased, even as he's shaking his head. "Tablets, Jack. Egyptian tablets." Jack feels a surge of affection.
"We should have a celebratory dinner." It's a fabulous idea. He's been having all sorts of those since he got back from Tevica.
"Sure. Will they let you off the base by then?"
Jack shrugs. "If they don't, we'll have..." He searches his memory for the Wednesday menu. "Meatloaf?"
Daniel snorts into his glass. "How about I bring takeout from that Japanese place you like? I'll ask Sam to break out the good beer she's got stashed away, take Teal'c out for a whirl to pick up a DVD for after."
"Noooo," he disagrees, feeling his face form itself into a pout. "Just you and me."
"Oh." Daniel looks taken aback, but not unhappy. "Okay."
Jack nods his head, emphatic. "Just you and me," he repeats.
Daniel is his.
[[[[[]]]]]
Jack walked briskly toward his office directly from the locker room. He was determined to be safely ensconced in paperwork before he could have any chance of running into his team today.
His former team, that is.
He was not going to run. He was going to do his job, as promised. He could work in the same facility as the man, the friend, he had abused. All in a day's work. He could do this.
He might not even run into him today. It was only Daniel's first day back.
Voices from up the hall stopped Jack in his tracks. He froze for a precious second, then ducked around the corner, swearing under his breath. Of all the luck. He looked left down the hall of offices, then right towards the elevators and possible escape.
A familiar laugh rose and fell behind him. Unable to resist, he peered around for one last look.
Jesus God.
Daniel was in his blue BDUs, the ones that brought out his eyes. He looked fit and relaxed, confident. Happy. In one hand was a cup of coffee. He gestured with the other, making an unheard comment that had Carter punching his arm and Teal'c smiling. His hair was cut short again, and there was a new tan to his skin, and -- Jack would burn forever in hell -- he looked gorgeous.
Jack squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head sharply from side to side. He had no business staring like a voyeur.
As if to bring that point home, a heavy blow from the side sprawled him to the floor, knocking him breathless. He rolled with the force, catching an impact against the wall.
"Colonel O'Neill! I'm so sorry." Sergeant Siler. Jack told himself firmly that the unassuming mechanic would never attack him with purpose. Siler shifted the machinery in his arms, clearly looking for a way to help Jack up without dropping his tipping load.
He needn't have bothered, because at the moment, Jack's legs wouldn't hold him even if he did get upright.
SG-1 had been drawn towards them by the commotion, and Daniel had stumbled to a stop not two yards away.
Daniel's eyes were wide behind his glasses, and his hands were floating a few inches away from his sides. He looked like he was getting ready to fight, or run for his life.
Carter and Teal'c shifted. Jack recognized the move easily. It was subconscious, the closing of ranks around a member of the team. Against Jack. He was proud of them.
Jack waved Siler away, making it an order when the apologetic man lingered too long.
He had no right to order Carter and Teal'c away, though. Now they were alone, Jack had the wild image of them holding onto him while Daniel punched. He wouldn't fight back if they did.
They didn't move, however, as frozen as Jack was as Daniel did nothing but stare down at him. He licked his lips, and he twitched when Jack tracked the movement with his eyes. Finally, he stepped forward and offered his hand. Jack knew it wasn't just one man getting another one off the floor.
It was intentionally symbolic.
It was ridiculous, was what it was. No amount of ritualistic hogwash could possibly heal what was between them now.
But Daniel was all about rituals. And whatever Daniel wanted from Jack now, he would get. Besides, Daniel was a smart guy. Maybe he was right, and they still had a chance in hell.
Jack reached out one hand, and Daniel reached out one hand, and their hands clasped together as Daniel pulled him up.
[[[[[]]]]]
"That was a rush," Jack says, feeling buzzing and brand-new as he hops out of the pod-like contraption. He wiggles his arm experimentally. Still attached. Still alive. Both pluses, as far as he's concerned. "Hey, we'll take a dozen of these."
His team's around him, looks of glad relief on their faces. Two of the Tevicans are there as well. One is the minister, who had been giving them the tour of the factories, and the other is a tall, high-strung man with a large nose. The latter is in a white uniform that practically screams, Doctor.
"Are you feeling discomfort?" he asks.
"Um, just a little... tingly." Jack shakes out his body. "It's like standing next to an electric wire."
The worry lines smooth out on the doctor's face. "Ah, that is quite normal. You will also notice feelings of euphoria for approximately one week. It's no cause for concern. That is only your body's reaction to the accelerated healing process."
"So basically, you're going to be high?" cuts in a familiar voice. "God help us all."
He chucks Daniel's head. "If you don't tell General Hammond, I won't." Daniel ducks away with a scowl, but his hand comes up to touch shyly where Jack's had.
"Glad to have you back with us, Jack."
END.
A/N: If you've a mind to reread this, you might try reading the present-tense (formerly italicized) portion backwards, then looping around to read the past-tense forwards. Just a thought. :D
A/N: I realize there seem to be a couple of not-quite-tight threads left over. This is because there was supposed to be a fourth story to complete the arc. I'm a little 'Closeted-out', though. I think it actually ends all right here, but then, I thought the first two ended well where they did, as well. I'd be happy to hear your opinion. :)
A/N: This ate my brain for eleven days and is by far the longest thing I've ever written. Feedback is love!
ETA: If you'd like to attempt the italicized version, click here for the original. :D
All Over But The Crying [without italics]
by kuonji
He cradles the object in his hands to his chest, just out of his reach. Out of Daniel's reach.
He's talking out loud. He's out of control. He's been out of control for a long time.
"Yes, you have. It's okay. You're sick. Let me help you."
Lies. They're all lies. He won't help. He'll leave. Daniel will leave, and he'll never get him back. Daniel's eyes are so pleading and blue. They're wet. Did he make them that way?
"Yes, yes you did. But it's okay. You can make it up to me. I'll be fine, if you'll just hand it over. Please." He swallows hard. Daniel swallows hard, and he can see the throat move, see the Adam's apple bobbing.
Has he given him water today, yet? He can't remember anymore. He can't take care of him anymore.
"That's right. I might die, if you don't let me get help for you. For us both. I will die. Do you want that?"
No! Daniel can't die. Daniel is everything. Daniel is his. Daniel can't leave him. No!
"Shhh, you won't lose me. I won't leave you, if you'll let me help."
No!No!No!No!No!
"It's okay. Wait, just listen!"
Nonononononononono...!
"God, Jack! What do you want?!"
He loves him. He loves him more than anyone else can, and he can't lose him. He loves him so much. He'll kill anyone who tries to take him away. He'll kill himself. He'll kill Daniel. He won't lose him. He won't!
"You're not going to lose me. I-- I love you, too, Jack. You hear me? I'm saying, I love you! I. Love. You."
It's a lie, he knows. It's the ultimate lie. This is the one thing that had always been refused him, no matter how he cajoled or threatened. Even knowing that, he can't help it. He responds.
"Daniel," he sobs.
He reaches out one hand, and Daniel reaches out one hand, and their fingers touch just the slightest bit before Daniel takes the phone away and is lost to him forever.
[[[[[]]]]]
"Request denied, Jack. How many times do we have to--"
"General--"
"We are not going to 'nuke' an entire civilization simply because they made a mistake! No matter the consequences. Now, I promise, if you can give me one reason -- one good, solid reason that has nothing to do with your own personal agenda -- to break ties with the Tevican people, who are, I remind you, a valuable ally, I will consider it. But until then, Colonel, I consider you out of line, and I refuse to hear any more about it. Do you understand?"
Jack dug the heels of his hands into his eyebrows, wishing he could just keep on pushing and mash in his entire skull. But the General was waiting for an answer, and miracles didn't come to people like Jack O'Neill.
"I'm sorry, sir," he finally managed to grind out, keeping his head down. "I just need--" Retribution. Closure. Ten bottles of aspirin. A flogging followed by a bullet through his head. "I'm sorry."
When the General spoke again, his voice had gentled. "You've been through a lot, Jack."
"I've been through a lot, sir?" He couldn't help the snide tone, even as he shot the General his most incredulous glare. His fists clenched so hard his arms started shaking.
"Yes, you have. I don't deny that Dr. Jackson--"
"Permission to be excused, sir!" Jack shot to his feet so fast his chair tipped crazily backwards before thumping back into place. The edge caught the back of his calves on the way down, but he didn't let it disturb his picture-perfect salute.
General Hammond gave not the slightest indication of surprise. From the corner of his eye, Jack saw him lower his head to his clasped hands as he said, "Permission granted."
Jack shouldered the SF shadowing him on the way out.
[[[[[]]]]]
He unlocks the closet door and eases it open. He's awakened and alert already, staring at him in what must be confusion. It doesn't matter. The moonlight reflecting off of the narrowed eyes is as lovely as ever.
Wordlessly, he gets to his knees and pulls him in. He rubs his face into those sweet-smelling locks, starting to grow scraggly with time. He breathes in his scent, and he pets the body that belongs to him. He runs his hands over the heavy links that bind the lean, handsome neck, assuring himself with their solid weight.
Pulling him with him, he lays down on the floor.
He's frustrated lately. So many things are causing him stress, forcing him to lose his temper. Here, though, he feels peace. He has control. All he wants is to sleep wrapped up in him, wrapped up in the one thing that he can unfailingly call his own.
The body in his arms is stiff. He's not relaxing. That's understandable. He's confused by the break in routine.
He runs his fingers through his hair. He pulls the strong back against his chest, and he puts one hand over the soft, vulnerable genitals. "You're mine," he reminds him, reassuring them both.
Instead of settling down, he stiffens even more. He bends his head away and spreads his legs apart. What the fuck.
Angry, he rolls over and crushes him, chest to chest, to the ground. "Stay still," he snarls, staring a threat into those wide eyes. Heavy, deep breaths work their way around the gag. His words are obeyed, but he is still very obviously not with the program.
He thrusts his naked groin against his, showing him that he's soft. Sex isn't what he wants. Go to sleep, goddammit.
He closes his beautiful blues. Maybe he understands what he wants, finally. Maybe they can be like they'd used to, catching each other's eyes across the room and simply knowing. When had that gone away?
He curses in surprise when he feels hands fumbling with his dick. He jerks away. "When did you turn into such a slut?" he demands.
The eyes snap open. They frown. Then they look lost again. He hates that look. He'd thought they'd learned to understand each other better these past few weeks, not the opposite. What the hell is wrong?
All right. "If it's a fuck you want, then it's a fuck you'll get."
He can't get it up right now, but the dildo's right outside the door. It takes only seconds to retrieve it.
"Hands and knees, you damned slut," he orders. He sees red when, instead of following orders, he spreads his hands, as if to placate.
Is he being provoking on purpose? Just like everyone else in the whole damned universe.
He drags him up, and, seizing a good piece of flesh, twists hard. He hears whimpers of pain, and hands flutter next to his but are rightfully afraid to interfere with the punishment.
When he releases him, he ignores the shudder of relief and repeats, "Hands and knees," in a much quieter voice. He feels only vaguely satisfied when his words are obeyed immediately.
The dildo's lubed and ready, and he rams it home without preparation. He knows that he's had enough practice by now that there won't be damage. It does, however, cause pain.
He stands, leaving him gasping and shaking on the floor. Hands go to his ass, hovering around the abused area. He growls, furious anew. He wouldn't dare...?
"That better still be in there in the morning," he warns. He can't believe he has to make the order directly.
He kicks the door closed and locks it with a savage turn. He punches his pillow furiously before collapsing back into his bed.
Alone.
[[[[[]]]]]
The Seven Eleven was empty at this hour. That suited Jack fine. He wouldn't even be here if he weren't badly in need of shaving supplies.
He snagged a bag of Fritos and a pack of gum before rounding to the toiletries section. Everything was wildly overpriced here, of course, but the drugstore was twice as far away. Jack didn't want to be out of the mountain for longer than necessary.
His hands moved on automatic, grabbing what he needed. He dumped his purchases on the counter, where a red-headed, freckled teenager rang it up with somnolent attitude.
He frowned as he watched the kid bagging his stuff. "Wait a minute." He snatched up the bottle that had caught his attention.
Baby oil.
He didn't even use the stuff. It brought back too many memories of before a gunshot had ruined his life. Why would he have picked this up?
A memory, not of a little boy, but of a man, came to mind. Jack was pouring oil into his hands, then spreading it over a wide chest, stopping to fondle the nipples. The man cringed away, not at the obscene touch, but at the loathsome words Jack was whispering in his ear.
"Hey, you want it or what?" The irritated question snapped Jack back to the present.
He wasn't sure what he answered, but he left the store empty-handed. He had to sit in his truck for ten minutes before his hands steadied enough to drive.
[[[[[]]]]]
He hands over the folder without saying a word, even though he's dancing with joy inside. He's rehearsed this moment of triumph a dozen times. This is the beginning of freedom and bliss. He's tired of the building frustration he's been working under.
Projecting the proper mask of weary resignation, he hangs his head and massages his temples. He doesn't even have to fake that part. He's been having headaches lately. Nothing that twenty-four hours a day with his Danny won't fix, he's sure.
"Colonel, I can't accept this."
He's caught off guard. "What are you talking about, General?" He has to accept. Whom does the fat pig think he is? His temper flares, and he has to work to keep his face passive.
"Sit down, Jack."
Chafing at the unforeseen hold-up but aware of his position, he does.
"I understand what a strain you've been under. Losing Dr. Jackson has been a great loss to all of us. However, Colonel O'Neill, you are an essential part of the SGC. I'm not exaggerating in the slightest when I say that we would not be here today if it were not for your heroic actions and your presence here. I would like for you to reconsider this."
He wants to jump to his feet and demand that the General listen. He'd already had the celebration all planned out for tonight. He had never expected such a hitch in his plans as this.
But he doesn't want to draw suspicion by making a scene. He can't have all the care he's put in so far to go to pieces now.
"General, with all due respect, I've made up my mind." He's proud of himself for keeping his voice even.
The General considers him for long enough that he shifts nervously in his seat. "I'll table it for one week. You take a look at all the good people still around you. Say your goodbyes, if you feel you must, but I'm hoping you'll have changed your mind by then."
He considers his options carefully. Refusing the General's inconveniently heartfelt request would go against what everyone thinks they see in Jack O'Neill.
Would it hurt to stay a little longer?
He's going to have to risk it.
"All right, General. But only one week, and then my answer is final."
He leaves the office unscathed, but he's antsy inside. For the first time, he feels off-balance. Threatened.
[[[[[]]]]]
"How does it feel to be back at work, Colonel?"
Jack didn't let his passive face twitch. "Feels like I never left," he intoned. That was the irony of it. After three days in the infirmary to take care of the last dregs of withdrawal, Jack had been able to (allowed to) return to work immediately.
Counting the time that he had been presumed dead, Daniel had been out of the mountain for nearly a month.
"That's true. You haven't been outside the mountain since the incident was resolved."
Resolved. Such a tidy, mild word.
"I've been outside. I was just down to the gas station yesterday."
And hadn't that been a peach.
"You haven't been home."
"Nope."
"Colonel, you can't stay on base indefinitely."
"Why not? I've got food, water, a gym and paperwork -- everything a healthy, modern guy needs to thrive. And let's not forget the titillating social interaction." He waved a hand between himself and the man seated across from him, file folder and notepad in hand.
McKenzie seemed unfazed.
"Yes, speaking of that. You and General Hammond had a talk yesterday, didn't you?"
Jack covered his surprise by blowing it out, exaggerating. "Whoa, there, Doc. You a shrink or an intelligence operative?"
"Neither, actually. I'm a psychiatrist, if you please." Jack smirked. The defensively prim response was just what he'd been angling for. "Of course, my profession has no bearing on this. Tell me, what did you talk about with the General?"
Jack scowled. "Don't you know, already, Mr. Telepathy?"
"Actually, I don't, although I'm sure you don't believe me. General Hammond said that you were quite agitated."
"Agitated. Yeah." He'd wanted to blow up a planet. It'd seemed like a reasonable idea at the time. Still did, at odd moments. He didn't want to dwell on that.
McKenzie sat forward on his high-backed leather chair. "Colonel, I'll be frank. I don't think we're achieving... rapport. I would like to help you." He looked sincere about that, even. Go figure. "You still have the choice, Colonel. Would you prefer to take counseling with someone off-base?"
"No." Jack's answer was firm. It wasn't that he had any high confidence in McKenzie. He just didn't need one more person knowing about this mess. "How's Dr. Jackson, by the way?" he asked abruptly. He hadn't been able to bring himself to ask anyone not bound in doctor-patient confidentiality.
It played well as a diversion, too.
McKenzie frowned slightly as he replied. "I'm not the one he's talking to."
"C'mon, you're the head psyche guy of the SGC. You've gotta know something about Daniel? How's he doing?"
"Even if I had any information regarding his treatment, you know it would be confidential."
Jack did know that. McKenzie knew that he knew that, too. They were both just yammering to fill up the time. Five sessions of drivel, and after this one, McKenzie either gave him the stamp or Jack got the boot.
For the first time in Jack's life, he didn't care which it was.
"I wanted to blow the motherfuckers up," he said.
McKenzie looked about as shocked as Jack felt. Hell knew why. Changing MOs on a dime should be something he'd gotten used to with Jack. Apparently, the whole soul-baring thing was much more shocking than the ho-hum sociopathic tendencies.
"The Tevicans, you mean?" McKenzie clarified.
Jack spread his hands. "Who else?"
"And how do--"
"It's displaced anger, projection. Repression. Whatever you call it, I know. The thing of it is, I could knock out a dozen people here and get through the gate with a chest full of firepower. I'm still deciding whether or not to do that."
McKenzie didn't look startled. His game face was back on. "Why haven't you done it yet?"
"Nerves. Common sense sneaking back up on me. Don't want to disappoint everyone. Again." Jack couldn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth.
"Why do you think you want to do it in the first place?"
Jack flicked some dirt from under a nail. That was an easy one. Revenge. Release.
But what came out of his mouth was, "Because then? Nobody would disagree with locking me up and throwing away the key."
Son of a bitch.
[[[[[]]]]]
"C'mon, kids. Eat up. It's not every day you'll see me splurge like this."
Carter takes only a sip of her pomegranate juice, but Teal'c raises his fork obediently. "You are not indulging in your smothered buckwheat waffles, O'Neill," he observes.
"I'm pacing myself," he replies.
In truth, he's far from hungry -- for food. Adrenaline's coursing through his veins like fire. He's going home tonight to fuck his Danny for the first time. It's a big step forward in their relationship.
He's going to love it.
"Have you heard anything more about Daniel?" Carter asks.
Impatience burns up at the interruption to his fantasies of tight, clenching heat. He uses that feeling, expanding it in his curt reply. "They're a bunch off idiots with their heads up their asses."
"There is no news, then?" Teal'c interprets.
He throws the big guy a casual glare. "What do you think?"
Nobody calls him on his overt rudeness. They love their fantastic, heroic leader. They make good lackeys, though they don't hold a candle to his Danny.
Five years ago to the day when his Danny had truly become his, the two of them had formed an inseparable bond. The woman and the Jaffa aren't a part of that and never will be.
"I'd feel so much better if we were sure," Carter agonizes out loud. "It just seems so stupid, after everything we've been through. We've manipulated wormholes and traveled through time, and we can't even--"
He hurries to cut that off. He's afraid that he'll blurt something out otherwise. "Can't what, Carter? Prevent me from leaving Daniel alone in the middle of the night?"
Carter shuts her yap, finally. Guilt is an amazing tool.
"Sir, no one blames you. It was--"
"It was three miles back to his place, through rough terrain," he cuts her off. He hams it up with a violent swig of his beer, the alcohol buzzing through him like sex. He slams the bottle down and wipes his mouth slow, until he can control his grin. "I should have stayed with him."
He had stayed. He'd undressed his pliant prize, and left his scent on every inch of him. Then he'd put him away safe. His.
"Daniel Jackson is capable of traveling long distances in a variety of circumstances."
"He'd had some drinks." Only the last one had been drugged. He'd been adorably tipsy -- and trusting -- enough by then to never tell the difference. Just the memory of those bright, shiny eyes makes his throat dry. His tight voice makes his lines perfect: "He was drunk off his rocker. I should have seen that. Wanted to think a while by himself, my ass."
The beauty of it is, the remote hilltop had been one that his Danny had shown him in the past. It'd been an amazingly perfect set-up.
One of them makes some remark without content. He grunts in rote acknowledgement, and he spends the rest of the meal on auto-pilot. He's drunk with anticipation.
His Danny is waiting for him.
[[[[[]]]]]
Jack gripped the edge of the doorway, anchoring himself against the world spinning out of control into madness.
He wasn't sure what had brought him here. The scent alone was enough to overwhelm him, old parchment and the dust of millennia strong with history. He could almost imagine the hum of the computer, the scritching of a pen on notebook paper. The clean line of a muscular back curved over in concentration, snapping straight at the knock on the doorway.
"Oh, oh right. Dinner. Just a minute, Jack."
"O'Neill."
Jack spun around at the hail, hands instinctively raised for defense. The big man filling the hallway only raised an eyebrow, in that way he had that made you feel like a doofus no matter what you were doing.
"Teal'c. Whatcha doing here?"
"I am observing you."
Well. That was blunt. "You didn't get the memo? They don't think I'm a security risk anymore."
Teal'c tilted his head in lieu of a shrug. "I am only wondering what you mean to do here."
"I was just..." Jack gestured uninformatively at the interior of Daniel's lab.
"I would not suggest you enter, O'Neill."
"Wasn't planning to." He took a step sideways just to make that clear. He locked his hands behind his back, still a bit quaky from the sense memory the place gave him.
"Daniel Jackson would not appreciate you being here in his absence."
The tone was mild, but Jack knew a warning when he heard one. He held very still, searching for an appropriate response, hyper-aware of the size of Teal'c's hands and the muscle in his shoulders.
Teal'c. His buddy. His confidante. The guy he trusted more than anyone in the universe.
He'd seen Teal'c kill a lot of people. Jack reminded himself that it was never more than deserved.
"I suggest lunch," Teal'c said.
Jack let himself breathe more easily, though the tingle of danger was still present in Teal'c's watchful gaze. "Yeah, good idea."
When he turned toward the elevators, Teal'c followed easily alongside. "The commissary grows tiresome."
Jack raised an eyebrow, still wary. He didn't venture to speak.
"I believe you owe me a meal, O'Neill."
"No, I don't," Jack argued, automatic. He relaxed another fraction. Teal'c trying to bum a meal was probably a good sign. People didn't generally ask to dine with scum.
"Indeed you do. As we were disembarking from the stargate onto Tevica, you said that we needed to visit the Pancake House, because of the Thursday Special."
"What? Didn't I take you and Carter a couple of weeks ago?"
"You are mistaken, O'Neill. That man was not you."
Teal'c calmly pressed the call button UP as Jack stared at him. They stood side by side in silence for a handful of seconds.
Jack cleared his throat. "You just want a free lunch, don't you?"
Teal'c inclined his head but said nothing. The elevator dinged, and Teal'c swept a gentlemanly hand toward the opening doorway. Jack muttered, as he stepped through, affectionately rueful,
"You goddamned sneaky Jaffa."
[[[[[]]]]]
"What's this?" He shivers at the almost-touch.
She's found one of the presents his Danny had left him this morning.
"That's private," he responds crisply. He marshals his face, hiding his arousal. The best lies are mostly truth.
"Well, I should clean it and run some tests anyway, if you don't mind?"
"There's no need." He shrugs his shoulders, appearing flippant. "C'mon, Doc. I'm on vacation. If it weren't for this physical, I'd be out of the state by some pond by now."
She looks pensive, shaking her head minutely. Both of them know he's staying not for her, but for his Danny.
Of course, what she thinks she knows is not the entire truth.
"Cassie asked about you the other day." She tries to distract him with words as she swabs the bite mark with a piece of moist cotton.
"You don't need to do that," he repeats, catching her arm and squeezing just hard enough. Anything of his Danny's is staying with him. She has no right to take it away.
She discards the cotton with a huff but looks him in the eye. "Colonel," she says, in a private 'doctor voice'. "Human bites cause more virulent infections than animal bites do. I'd like to at least examine it more closely."
"It's fine," he says, leaving no room for dispute. "And it won't happen again." He doesn't mind if his Danny marks him again, if he fights. But no one else would understand.
She takes his hand, looking serious and soliciting. "I know you're having a hard time, Colonel. I just want to make sure you don't lose perspective. Not all high-risk behavior involves explosives, you know."
He lets out a bark of laughter at the joke, glad for an excuse to release his amusement. She doesn't understand a thing.
At her recoil of surprise, he schools his face into a suitable look of grudging contrition. "Thanks, Doc. I'll be careful."
His Danny's the safest -- and only -- partner he wants.
[[[[[]]]]]
"Your blood work is still clean," she said. "As far as I can tell, everything is normal."
Jack shrugged, unsurprised. Nothing had been abnormal after his return from Tevica either.
"How are Daniel's follow-ups?" he asked. Janet gave him a hard look.
He had no right to the question, as both he and Dr. Frasier well knew. Daniel was no longer a member of his team. But he had to know.
"Just tell me if he's going to be okay." O'Neill didn't beg by nature, but by god for this he could learn. "Please."
Her face softened.
"I suppose it's only fair, since Daniel's asked about you, too." A shock of warmth zinged through him at that. "He's bouncing back, Colonel. It sounds trite, but just getting a lot of sunshine and relaxation is all he needed. Physically. Now, mentally..."
Sure, Jack had taken good care of his 'pet', fed him and kept him hygienic. What had hurt Daniel's body the most had been the constant strain of mental stress. Any stray bruises and other injuries had just been icing on the cake.
"Carter?"
She looked surprised that he knew. "Sam keeps him company sometimes, yes."
"Are they sleeping together?"
"Excuse me?" Even Janet's shocked reply couldn't completely suppress the hot stab of pure regret he felt, at the thought of Daniel jumping into a woman's bed.
"Forget I said that."
"Colonel, I think I need to demand an apology on both Major Carter's and Dr. Jackson's behalf." The small-statured medical officer put her hands astride her hips. She looked so holier-than-thou, Jack wanted to laugh in her face.
"You can't demand squat," he spat. "If you'd been doing your damned job, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. What the hell are you trying to do now, except cover your own ass?"
Frasier could keep doing all the pointless tests she liked. None of it changed the fact that she'd missed the problem when it'd been right under her nose.
Janet's lips thinned. "We all made mistakes, sir. I take my large share of it. But that doesn't give you the right to make inappropriate comments about your friends."
Friends. Yeah. After what he'd done, Jack harbored no illusions regarding his social network.
Jack threw his hands in the air. "Oh, c'mon. Daniel's a civilian, and he's not on the team anymore. He and Carter can fuck if they want to."
Janet crossed her arms and replied from behind a paint-pealing glower, "Colonel, I am taking into account that you've had an extremely difficult time lately, which is why I haven't called the SFs yet. For your information, Dr. Jackson has allowed me to inform you that Dr. McKenzie and I have cleared him for light duty off-world. He'll be coming back to work, on Thursday, with SG-1."
That took the wind right out of Jack's sails. He could tell that Janet knew it, too. He appreciated the fact that she looked not smug, but only matter-of-fact.
He wiped his hands over his face. He was a mess. "I'll be looking forward to that," he said, dully.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
[[[[[]]]]]
The body quivers in his hold, and he tightens his left arm in response. The better to feel the delicious tremors, of course. But also to keep him safe.
His right hand wields the razor blade with perfect precision, mowing another neat stripe down his Danny's left cheek.
He likes his Danny's face clean-shaven and exposed.
He can feel the tension in Danny's body. The tight-wound fear.
"I'm going to fuck you today," he whispers conversationally in one ear. The hand splayed across his Danny's chest feels the heartbeat race. There's no other reaction. His Danny's a smart one.
He's taken the gag out for this, but there's been no rules broken. Yet. He's learning.
"I'm getting you all prettied up for me to enjoy later," he says. He licks the ear he's speaking into, then drives his tongue inside the hole. "Going to be just like this." He begins to pant, imagining the act. He presses his groin into his Danny's bare back, continuing to tongue-fuck one perfect, whorled ear.
Danny tries to squirm away, shivering against the edge of the blade. He's panting as well, and it's easy to imagine that it's with passion for Jack.
His Danny doesn't know it, but he's only going to use his fingers today. He doesn't want to push too fast. That would ruin the fun.
Of course, when any rules are broken, that's when he has license to do more.
Every step is a little bit more, teaching his Danny how to love him. Danny's strong-willed, and strong-bodied, fighting back as often as giving in. He measures out each session. Patient. Hungry. Always just short of fully satisfied. It's worth it.
His Danny is unbelievable. He's better even than he'd always dreamed.
[[[[[]]]]]
The house had that unlived-in smell. There was a layer of dust on the TV remote. All his appliance clocks were two hours and sixteen minutes slow from a rolling blackout that must have occurred in his absence. The lettuce in his refrigerator was crispy; the spaghetti sauce was growing mold.
He started with the living room, vacuuming and dusting. The kitchen was a messier job, bagging spoiled food and mopping up weeks-old stains. Bathrooms were easy. The guest bedroom hardly required effort.
It was three in the afternoon by the time he stood outside the master bedroom.
For a fidgety, apprehensive, exhausting five minutes, he considered how much work his yard needed. In the end, however, he felt he owed it to himself to get this over with.
Stepping into the room felt surprisingly normal. His bed was made, and the afternoon sunlight streamed in, fresh and flawless. It was only when he turned toward the closet that the illusion broke apart.
The door had been broken in, and he swore softly as he pulled it farther open.
Reaching for the light switch to the absent light fixture did no good, of course, but through the splintered doorframe, he could catch the glint of metal. A padlock lay just inside, the bar truncated and shiny with having been cut.
A small, dark object beside it revealed itself to be a simple stopwatch. He'd given it to Daniel to time his mandatory exercises with. At some point, it must have been started. It was blinking, now, the numbers 99:59:59 mocking him. Time had run out, they seemed to be saying.
Too late. Too late.
A chain hanging from the back wall snaked across the carpet. Jack remembered the heft of the slick, welded links.
It'd cost him $26.89 at the local hardware store. It was meant to be used for tying out heavy dogs. By no stretch of the imagination was it close to what had held them in various prisons off-world, but against a lone, nude man -- even a strong and desperate one -- it had been more than enough.
He moved farther in to touch the base of the chain. He'd attached the last link into a solid iron half-ring on a steel plate. He'd shot the ring into a wall stud with seven quarter-inch steel butterfly screws. One for each gate symbol, he remembered thinking to himself in amusement.
Daniel had mutilated his nails trying to tear them out, the ninth day. There was no longer any mark of that on the white drywall. Jack had cleaned up both his pet and the room he lived in with efficiency.
Clutching the stopwatch to himself, he jerked the door closed, leaving him in the dusk-dark. He sank down against the far wall, trying to see what Daniel had lived for three weeks. Hands moving of their own volition, he lifted the chain from the floor and wrapped it around his neck, tight to choking.
How many times had he humiliated, had he terrorized, had he raped his friend, here in this room?
The taste of Daniel's skin was still there in his memory. He still remembered what Daniel looked like, naked and begging. He could imagine Daniel's face, twisting up when he cried. He could recall Daniel's ass, parted on display. Daniel -- proud Daniel, with his sarcastic temper and good heart -- hung his head in shame as he readied himself for his 'master' to fuck.
Jack heard a sob, and he knew it was his. In the hot, close room, the smell of sex and human fear still hung. Ten sessions with McKenzie so far, and it was a five by five closet that made him pour out his heart.
I love you, too, Jack. You hear me? I'm saying, I love you!
What hurt the most, what he'd never admit to anyone, was, he'd once comforted himself that he had the slightest chance. He'd once had the freedom to fantasize, to catch the blues of his friend's laughing eyes, or the curve of a wet backside. At night after a full day, he'd been able to bask in secret, hazy what-ifs of a future with Daniel Jackson.
Now he didn't have the right to breathe the same air.
[[[[[]]]]]
Danny grunts softly at the sound of the padlock bolt clicking home. Jack pockets the key for disposal tomorrow in a public area.
It's done. Danny is truly his now.
He gazes down at the long body laid out on display. He's already kissed every square inch with his lips and fingers. Danny has no more secrets from him.
Danny groans again, and the sound shoots pure unabated lust through him. He reaches for his zipper. He can't resist. He doesn't need to anymore. He'd stopped himself earlier in the shower, but he's with Danny now.
Jack moans as he pulls himself out. His eyes take in his Danny hungrily as his hands work in rough pulls. Next time, it'll be Danny's slender fingers on him. Next time, he'll be able to see Danny's pretty blues.
As if he's heard his thoughts, Danny's eyes slit open. The muscles in his abdomen tense as he evidently attempts to rise. The effort only makes him groan anew.
"Ah, Danny," he gasps, reacting to the seductive sound. He slides his thumb around the tip of his dick, imagining an ample, talkative mouth there.
Danny's wandering gaze meets his. Tongue still thick with the drug, he mumbles, "Jack?"
That's enough to tip him over the edge. With an aching grunt, he feels his climax shudder through him. He licks his lips in primal satisfaction as he marks his prize with his essence.
"Wha...?" Danny manages to lever himself to his elbows, grimacing with the effort. Jack sees the moment when he registers his own nakedness.
He stiffens all over, and his eyes skitter up to focus on Jack's face, then his crotch, where Jack's still milking out the last drops. He looks down at his own chest. He raises one hesitant hand and runs his fingers through the mess there.
Danny's beautiful face pulls tight in a horrified expression. His eyes snap up to Jack's, suspicious. "Who are you?"
Leaving his pants open to the air, Jack puts his hands down on either side of Danny's head. "You know who I am. You're a part of me. You're my missing piece. You belong to me."
"Jack..." Danny frowns. He coaxes in his 'hostile natives' voice, "I think we need to go back and talk to Dr. Frasier."
He chuckles. "I'm touched. But we're both fine."
When Danny opens his mouth again, he claps one hand over it. He squeezes, feeling the fine cheekbones beneath his thumb and fingers. "First rule: No talking."
Danny struggles for a second, then twists and lashes out. He frees himself from Jack's grasp, but his wrist is given a sharp crack for retaliation. The drug's making him slow, and Jack is confident now that Danny's his, he'll never leave him.
Jack doesn't punish him too hard. Danny still has a lot to learn. Besides, the sight and feel of his body, tight with rebellion, makes him hard.
There will be rules, of course, but Jack won't be too upset when Danny breaks them.
He pulls him close by the chain around his neck. Danny's hands come up reflexively to protect his throat. His striking eyes round in panic as he explores the metal tether and collar with his hands and eyes.
"Jack, what's going on?"
He tugs the chain again, sharp and painful. "What did I say the first rule was?" he reprimands his charge.
He flips Danny over with a snake-strike move. He keeps the chain tense as he grinds his knee into Danny's back, keeping him still. With his free hand, he fondles the tense buttocks. He slides a gentle finger down the valley between.
"Let me show you what happens when you break the rules."
[[[[[]]]]]
The General considered Jack silently for a few seconds, then sighed. He opened a drawer on his right side and brought out a plain, white envelope that he placed on the desk between them. "Dr. Jackson asked that I give you this, in the case of your resignation."
Jack stared at the innocuous-seeming item, unable to bring himself to touch it. It was something of Daniel's, was all that was running through his mind. He couldn't bear to put his hands on it.
"Colonel?"
Shuddering a preparatory breath, he snatched the envelope up in one movement. It didn't burn his hand, as he'd superstitiously expected. He tore the seal open and, under the General's eye, hesitated only a second before pulling out the single sheet of legal pad paper, ragged in the top right side where it hadn't torn quite properly.
The note was simple, written with a black felt pen in large, scrawled script that Jack could recognize in his sleep: Jack, you've saved a lot of lives. You've saved more than just lives. You're a good man, and we both know that. Stay at the SGC. Keep doing your job. I need you to do that. That can be your penance, if you want it to be. --Daniel Jackson
A P.S. had been added to the margin of space at the bottom: If you're found dead at your house with a gun in your hand, you have no idea how pissed I will be.
He felt a smile out of nowhere that he had to fight down. It wasn't too hard when he remembered why he was holding this letter. He folded it neatly and replaced it in its envelope. When he made to hand it back, General Hammond shook his head. "You keep that, son. Just tell me what to do with these." He gestured at the papers in front of him.
Jack stared at the envelope in his hands. His gut clenched.
"Toss 'em."
[[[[[]]]]]
The last shelf rips out with a satisfying crack. Cheap particle wood, it can't withstand a hefty hammer and a strong pair of arms. Jack adds the remains to the pile of detritus just outside his closet, then he stands back to admire his work.
The three shelves that had once held his old photographs and forgotten appliances and souvenirs have been cleared and summarily destroyed. The junk has gone in the garbage where it belongs. The wood will go to a recycling center at the edge of town.
One of the two clothes-hanging poles has also been removed. What clothing he can fit has been piled in with his underwear in the chest of drawers. Necessary pieces of the remainder have been boxed for the garage, and the rest donated anonymously away.
He'd had to pry the struts out and finally deform the pole itself to get it out. It had been seeing how sturdy it was that had given him the idea to leave the other one in.
What is left is an empty five by five by seven foot tall room, with carpet, light, and a means for exercise. A lock on the door rounds the whole thing out. It's everything Jack needs. It's perfect. It's obvious.
He can't believe he hasn't thought of this before.
Whistling, he carts the trash away to his truck. He passes by the phone, and on impulse he snaps it up and punches out a number from memory.
--Daniel Jackson.--
"It's me," he says.
--Um, hi, Jack. You're... cheerful.--
"Yup." He is. Cheerful. Excited. Gleeful, even. "Are you ready for tomorrow night?"
--Yes, Jack. I put it on the calendar and everything, just like you told me to... the other four times you've called. Don't you have something more important you need to be doing?--
Nothing's more important than you, he wants to say. But Daniel wouldn't understand. Not yet. "Did you circle the date?"
--Circled. Highlighted. Stars drawn around. Did you want me to tie a string around my finger while I'm at it?-- Despite his apparent irritation, Daniel sounds amused.
"If you think it will help," he replies, warmth rising in his gut when he hears Daniel groan. He's bursting to tell Danny-boy what he's really planning, but he knows that he has to keep it a surprise.
--See you tomorrow, Jack.--
"Tomorrow." He caresses the phone once before hanging up.
He wends his way back to put the finishing touches on his handiwork. He unpacks the chain that he'd purchased yesterday at the hardware store. The clinking of the metal is peculiarly musical. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes, losing himself in the smooth links and cool weight.
It will be so good.
When he opens his eyes, his gaze falls on the ceiling.
On second thought, he considers, the light should go, too.
[[[[[]]]]]
"Colonel."
Jack looked up at the clack of a food tray across from him. He followed up the black regulation-clad arms to narrow shoulders and close-cut blonde hair. "Carter." He couldn't quite hide his surprise.
Carter hadn't been the one to put the tranq in his thigh, but she'd led the team, and she'd been the one to go in alone with the bolt-cutters. They hadn't spoken since that day -- if you could call screaming invectives 'speaking', that is.
"How are you, sir?"
Awkwardness hanging heavy, he replied, "I'm fine. How are you?"
She seemed to sense the inanity of it as well. Bypassing the topics of weather and asking how his food was, she cut to the chase: "Janet said you were upset."
"Someone's always saying that," he griped. He averted his eyes from her cup of jello, trying not to think of lips stained with orange wrapped around his cock.
"Sir, with all due respect," -- god he hated those words, they never bode well -- "she's been feeling guilty enough herself."
He decided to just cut that off at the pass. "We had words. I was out of line. I'm sorry."
She seemed a bit derailed by his quick capitulation. "I understand how you must feel, Colonel."
He sighed audibly. "It wasn't my fault. I've been through a lot." When she did the twitchy bird-thing with her head that she always did when surprised, he added, "That's what you were going to say, wasn't it?"
She stared at him with her too intelligent, too compassionate blue eyes. She leaned closer. "How are you really feeling, sir?" she asked in a low tone.
Jack considered getting up and leaving. Frankly, though, it seemed like too much effort. And if he were going to continue working in the complex, he'd have to get through this talk sooner or later.
Besides, it was pumpkin pie day.
He met her eyes with the steel of three years in special ops and four months in a desert hell.
"I feel like I've tortured my friend and had my team do the clean-up."
She wasn't even fazed. "You weren't in your right mind."
Oh, please. "If you really believed that, you wouldn't have been avoiding me for the past two weeks."
He saw that he'd struck the mark on that one. She frowned and glanced away, then back, obviously uncomfortable. "Okay, I was a little... shocked. Guilty, too. I've had more time to think about it, though, and I think it's no different -- essentially -- from anything else that's happened to us."
"Oh, really?"
"I've tried to kill you before," she said, frankly. "I've tried to have sex with you, too."
He'd forgotten about that. He waved his hand in dismissal, impatient. "That was... mind control, viruses, what-have-you. This was me. Everything I did was because I wanted it."
"Teal'c has killed plenty of innocents while not mind-controlled. You've never held that against him."
"That's different."
"How?"
"He had to keep his position. He saved what people he could." Jack had understood that, from the first. That was one of the reasons he and Teal'c had hit it right off. They saw the pains in each other of sacrificing their own souls.
"But he wasn't drugged. It was his choice."
"He wasn't torturing his friends."
"Do you know that, sir?"
He didn't. Not for sure. Teal'c didn't talk that much about himself. They just accepted each other for what they were. But anything he'd done as First Prime Jack trusted would have been for good reason -- not to satisfy his own sick urges.
"And what about Daniel?" Carter asked.
He flinched at just the name. Damn. "What about him?"
She raised a thin brow. "P3R-636."
"What?" He never could figure out how everyone else memorized planet designations. Was there some mnemonic he was missing out on?
"The planet with the sarcophagus. You, me, and Teal'c almost died there."
Oh. "Daniel got us out in the end."
She didn't respond. She didn't need to. Daniel could very well have left them to rot -- out of plain, mind-altered ignorance.
He sighed. "Trust me, Carter. It's not the same." She didn't know about him. No one did, and he planned to keep it that way.
She copied his breathy exhale. "Whatever the case may be, sir, nobody except yourself blames you for what happened."
He leaned his head on one fist, tired. He was surrounded by people blindly determined to think the best of him. "That's something you should probably ask the victim, don't you think?"
She pursed her lips. "Think about it this way, sir. You're both victims, in a way."
"Oh for crying--"
"And Daniel doesn't blame you, either."
The breath whooshed out of his lungs like he'd been sucker-punched.
She hadn't said it like McKenzie did, like it was a poultice of a platitude. She'd said it like she knew it from Daniel's own mouth.
He couldn't resist asking: "Are you and he... together?" And here, he'd never considered himself a masochist.
She didn't stall, didn't draw it out. God, he loved a solid 2IC. "Not the way you mean, sir."
He sagged in relief. What was wrong with him, anyway? It shouldn't even be possible to be jealous about someone you'd only ever had by calculated coercion.
He got it together enough to remember something important. He hadn't had a chance to say it yet.
"Congratulations, by the way." When she looked puzzled, he said, "Lieutenant Colonel."
It'd been a long time coming. Him retiring from SG-1 was probably what had finally tipped the promotion. Her coolheaded effectiveness while taking down her commanding officer and rescuing a valuable civilian consultant couldn't have hurt either.
Carter smiled warmly. "Thank you, sir."
He shook his head and stared at his water glass. "You deserve it."
[[[[[]]]]]
The clack of a tray next to him in line distracts him from his contemplation of dessert.
"Hi, Daniel," he beams, glad to see his archaeologist.
Daniel smiles back. He looks rumpled and adorable. "How are you feeling?"
"Oh, I'm fiiiine," he replies. He decides on the lemon custard. "Custard?" he offers. Daniel's smile widens but he shakes his head.
"No, thank you." He takes a plate of assorted cheese instead. They scoop up their trays and scare up a table for two next to the far wall. "Have you seen Sam today?" Daniel asks, around a mouthful of teriyaki chicken. "She wanted to--"
"Sam, Sam, Sammy-Sam, Sam," he interrupts. "Would you like green eggs and ham?" he sing-songs.
He sees Daniel smother another smile. God, he loves to see those. "Still, uh... 'euphoric', huh?"
"Oh, yeah," Jack agrees. "Just ask him." He gestures over his shoulder at the SF guarding him. The placid-faced man does not respond. Those marines have iron training. "Hey!" he says, suddenly recalling the thought he'd had this morning. "Do you know what next Wednesday is?"
"Umm, no?" Daniel's eyebrows are an invitation.
"I'll give you a hint." He sits up straighter and adopts a befuddled expression. "Why is the military so interested in 10,000 year old Egyptian tables?"
Daniel continues to look blank for a moment, and then it clicks. "Oh, you're kidding me. You remembered the date? Really?" He looks enormously pleased, even as he's shaking his head. "Tablets, Jack. Egyptian tablets." Jack feels a surge of affection.
"We should have a celebratory dinner." It's a fabulous idea. He's been having all sorts of those since he got back from Tevica.
"Sure. Will they let you off the base by then?"
Jack shrugs. "If they don't, we'll have..." He searches his memory for the Wednesday menu. "Meatloaf?"
Daniel snorts into his glass. "How about I bring takeout from that Japanese place you like? I'll ask Sam to break out the good beer she's got stashed away, take Teal'c out for a whirl to pick up a DVD for after."
"Noooo," he disagrees, feeling his face form itself into a pout. "Just you and me."
"Oh." Daniel looks taken aback, but not unhappy. "Okay."
Jack nods his head, emphatic. "Just you and me," he repeats.
Daniel is his.
[[[[[]]]]]
Jack walked briskly toward his office directly from the locker room. He was determined to be safely ensconced in paperwork before he could have any chance of running into his team today.
His former team, that is.
He was not going to run. He was going to do his job, as promised. He could work in the same facility as the man, the friend, he had abused. All in a day's work. He could do this.
He might not even run into him today. It was only Daniel's first day back.
Voices from up the hall stopped Jack in his tracks. He froze for a precious second, then ducked around the corner, swearing under his breath. Of all the luck. He looked left down the hall of offices, then right towards the elevators and possible escape.
A familiar laugh rose and fell behind him. Unable to resist, he peered around for one last look.
Jesus God.
Daniel was in his blue BDUs, the ones that brought out his eyes. He looked fit and relaxed, confident. Happy. In one hand was a cup of coffee. He gestured with the other, making an unheard comment that had Carter punching his arm and Teal'c smiling. His hair was cut short again, and there was a new tan to his skin, and -- Jack would burn forever in hell -- he looked gorgeous.
Jack squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head sharply from side to side. He had no business staring like a voyeur.
As if to bring that point home, a heavy blow from the side sprawled him to the floor, knocking him breathless. He rolled with the force, catching an impact against the wall.
"Colonel O'Neill! I'm so sorry." Sergeant Siler. Jack told himself firmly that the unassuming mechanic would never attack him with purpose. Siler shifted the machinery in his arms, clearly looking for a way to help Jack up without dropping his tipping load.
He needn't have bothered, because at the moment, Jack's legs wouldn't hold him even if he did get upright.
SG-1 had been drawn towards them by the commotion, and Daniel had stumbled to a stop not two yards away.
Daniel's eyes were wide behind his glasses, and his hands were floating a few inches away from his sides. He looked like he was getting ready to fight, or run for his life.
Carter and Teal'c shifted. Jack recognized the move easily. It was subconscious, the closing of ranks around a member of the team. Against Jack. He was proud of them.
Jack waved Siler away, making it an order when the apologetic man lingered too long.
He had no right to order Carter and Teal'c away, though. Now they were alone, Jack had the wild image of them holding onto him while Daniel punched. He wouldn't fight back if they did.
They didn't move, however, as frozen as Jack was as Daniel did nothing but stare down at him. He licked his lips, and he twitched when Jack tracked the movement with his eyes. Finally, he stepped forward and offered his hand. Jack knew it wasn't just one man getting another one off the floor.
It was intentionally symbolic.
It was ridiculous, was what it was. No amount of ritualistic hogwash could possibly heal what was between them now.
But Daniel was all about rituals. And whatever Daniel wanted from Jack now, he would get. Besides, Daniel was a smart guy. Maybe he was right, and they still had a chance in hell.
Jack reached out one hand, and Daniel reached out one hand, and their hands clasped together as Daniel pulled him up.
[[[[[]]]]]
"That was a rush," Jack says, feeling buzzing and brand-new as he hops out of the pod-like contraption. He wiggles his arm experimentally. Still attached. Still alive. Both pluses, as far as he's concerned. "Hey, we'll take a dozen of these."
His team's around him, looks of glad relief on their faces. Two of the Tevicans are there as well. One is the minister, who had been giving them the tour of the factories, and the other is a tall, high-strung man with a large nose. The latter is in a white uniform that practically screams, Doctor.
"Are you feeling discomfort?" he asks.
"Um, just a little... tingly." Jack shakes out his body. "It's like standing next to an electric wire."
The worry lines smooth out on the doctor's face. "Ah, that is quite normal. You will also notice feelings of euphoria for approximately one week. It's no cause for concern. That is only your body's reaction to the accelerated healing process."
"So basically, you're going to be high?" cuts in a familiar voice. "God help us all."
He chucks Daniel's head. "If you don't tell General Hammond, I won't." Daniel ducks away with a scowl, but his hand comes up to touch shyly where Jack's had.
"Glad to have you back with us, Jack."
END.
A/N: If you've a mind to reread this, you might try reading the present-tense (formerly italicized) portion backwards, then looping around to read the past-tense forwards. Just a thought. :D
A/N: I realize there seem to be a couple of not-quite-tight threads left over. This is because there was supposed to be a fourth story to complete the arc. I'm a little 'Closeted-out', though. I think it actually ends all right here, but then, I thought the first two ended well where they did, as well. I'd be happy to hear your opinion. :)
A/N: This ate my brain for eleven days and is by far the longest thing I've ever written. Feedback is love!
ETA: If you'd like to attempt the italicized version, click here for the original. :D