[SG1 Fic] Lost In A Kiss (1/2)
Because people keep asking for it (and/or losing it *g*), I'm returning this story SOLELY to my LJ. I'm hoping to post a few of my other, older fics on LJ sometime soon too, but for right now this one will make due.
Title: Lost In A Kiss
Author: smb814
Rating: FR-C+ (equivalent of the old PG)
Warnings: Mild language
Category: Romance, Humor, Songfic
Pairing: Daniel/Janet
Spoilers: Minor for "Window of Opportunity"; vague, blink-and-you'll-miss-it references to "Children of the Gods," "Legacy," "Forever in a Day," "Absolute Power," and "Rite of Passage."
Season Info: Season 5
Prompt: Music (100_situations Table 5 #076)
Word Count: 11,887
Summary: A song, a dream, an obsession...a mission.
Archive: No, thank you. Please ask before you link to it, too.
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.
The song "Lost in a Kiss" was written by Brett Beavers and Steve Bogard and can be found on the Mark Wills album Loving Every Minute. Additional snippets from various songs also come from that album. All are used here without permission, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Special Thanks: To my story testers, Karen, Sheila, and Bryn, for the initial read-through and assurance there was nothing blatantly 'wrong' with this fic. You guys are the greatest. :-)
Author's Notes: This fic was originally written several years ago as a thank you for all those who supported the Stargate version of Frozen Flame, particularly after the 2001 Daniel/Janet Awards. I deeply appreciated everyone's unbelievable feedback then, and I still do now, even after the new version of that novel has been fully written. Heck, I don't even know that I ever would have finished my rewrite of Frozen Flame if it hadn't been for everyone's support and feedback. :)
The other reason this story was written, though, was as a way to save my sanity. Have you ever heard a song that you just couldn't get out of your head? One that screams, "You must write a fic about me!"? Well, that's what happened to me when I first heard this song. The danandjan list wasn't up to the challenge, and I finally took matters into my own hands to get this darned song out of my head and into a story where it belonged. Therefore, if you don't like it...blame Mark Wills. *vbg*
BTW, if you've never heard the song Lost In A Kiss but would like to, let me know.
After three years, I still haven't had this thing officially betaed, so all mistakes and typos are entirely my fault.
©2002 by SuzieB.
0~*~0~*~0~*~0~*~0
Have you ever had one of those dreams? You know, the kind that's so vivid, so intense, and so emotional that when you wake up you're sure your life will never be the same again?
I have. Just had one last night, actually.
Now, the vast majority of my dreams are quite normal and forgettable, as most people would probably also admit if ever questioned about their dreams. Some are the typical bizarreness that's synonymous with the word 'dream': flying pigs, purple cows, Jack O'Neill taking over for the now-retired Bozo the Clown and entertaining kids on Sunday mornings with Teal'c as his straight-faced assistant clad in a sparkling clown outfit while Sam twirls around in a pink tutu and explains the mysteries of the atom to five-year-olds. Other dreams have led to brilliant breakthroughs in solving problems, finishing translations, understanding SG-1's latest alien encounter, and viewing situations in a completely different light.
Still other dreams have been gifts from others, as a way to help me understand why something must be a certain way and accept what fate has determined for me and for my loved ones. These dreams are immensely precious to me, albeit a bit disconcerting, as are the ones about my year on Abydos with Sha'uri, a pleasant time of exploration, learning, and love when everything in life had gone my way. Quite simply, I love these dreams and am pleased to say they've never been tainted bittersweet by the knowledge of how that story ended. They may leave me filled with longing when I awaken, but as long as I can still see Sha'uri at night and in my memories, I know she'll always live on, no matter how rare these dreams may be becoming.
I think I may be getting some subtle -- and not-so-subtle -- clues from my subconscious mind about why I've been having those dreams about Sha'uri less frequently. This latest dream, for example, the one that's left me reminiscing about dreams in the first place, involved Janet Fraiser, me, and one unbelievably passionate, breathtaking, and mind-blowing kiss.
I wish I could say I remember the details of this particular dream in all their glorious clarity. I wish I could say this has been coming for years now, that I've been madly in love with her since the moment we'd met and that my dream last night was a natural result of that longing to live happily ever after with Janet Fraiser by my side. I wish I could say something had happened recently that had prompted me to see her in this new light, that I'd detected some new vibes that said she was interested in me as more than a patient and close friend or that I'd suddenly had a breakthrough revelation about my feelings towards her.
I can't say that, though, on any of those counts. Never have I found myself saying, "Gee, you know what? I really want to kiss Janet Fraiser." Sure, I like her, she's a very pretty, intelligent, caring lady, and I'd do anything I could for her -- I've told her as much -- but her...me...kissing? I'm sure she's never considered doing such a thing. I've certainly never considered doing such a thing.
...Let me clarify. I've never considered doing such a thing...until now.
Right now I'm lying on my bed in my apartment, staring at the ceiling where the rising sun is sneaking in through the blinds and painting red, gold, and orange streaks across it. I just awoke a few minutes ago and, while it appears this is going to be a crisp, gorgeous, mid-January Saturday, I'm reluctant to welcome it in by moving. Already the dream is fading into that hazy, oft-sought for realm known as Lost and Forgotten Dreams, but the emotions connected to it are still alive and well within me...and along with the emotions is the unbelievable sensation, forever etched in my memory, of Janet pressing her lips to mine in the simple, exquisite gesture of a kiss.
The sad part, however, is that for the life of me I can't remember of how we arrived at that climactic moment. I close my eyes again and picture her face...how did we get there? What were we doing? Where were we? Were we walking in the park? No, I don't think so. Were we at a party, celebrating SG-1's latest victory over the Goa'uld? No, not that, either. Infected by a strange alien virus? Locked in a storage closet? In a car making out? Pressed up against the wall of her office groping each other like teenagers? No, no, sadly, no...God, right now I can only wish. I'm grasping at straws but, damn it, I really want to remember the rest of the dream.
After all, if I can remember the rest of the dream, my chances for turning that dream into reality rise significantly. Oh yes, that's the one thing I have figured out about this dream: I really want to try it again and see if kissing Janet Fraiser truly is the mind-blowing experience my brain apparently believes it is.
This...could easily become a problem.
Ah, forget the problem for now and just enjoy the beauty and emotions of the dream while they last, I tell myself. And just like that, the moment returns to me. Janet's face tilted up toward mine, my hands gently cupping her face, her fingers caressing the back of my neck, her brown eyes shining, her full lips toying in a seductive smile, and with her other hand gripping my shirt, she pulls my head down toward hers, and....
The phone rings.
My eyes fly open as the sound jars the memory, pulling my mind from the titillating moment, and I sigh. Oh, yes, isn't timing just grand? Whoever's calling me right now had better have a hell of a reason for interrupting this.
The phone rings again, and I groan, stretching out my left arm to grope the few items on my bed stand. Ah, there it is. I grab the receiver and pull it back to my ear, slinging my free arm across my eyes to drown out the light. Time to wake up and forget the dream, Jackson. "Hello?"
"Hey, Daniel, it's me."
My entire body instantly freezes...well, except for my heart, which has begun pounding out of control. Oh, I'm definitely awake now, adrenaline surging through me at hearing the cheerful female voice on the other end, but that 'forget the dream' idea I'd just had? Not a chance in hell. "Dr. Fraiser!"
"Janet," she quickly amends, thus declaring the tone of this call to be personal, not professional ... even more trouble brewing, eh? "Did I wake you?"
I switch the phone to my free hand and fumble once again on the nightstand for my watch...7:32 a.m. Nope, I'm not late yet so no guilt is necessary on my part. "No, I just woke up. Is everything all right?"
"Yeah, everything's great. I just wanted to let you know there's been a bit of a change."
A bit of a change? My stomach lurches. Dr. Fraiser...sorry, Janet and I are supposed to be meeting at nine to begin work on a project we've been trying to squeeze into our schedules for months. Alone. Just the two of us. Hence my sudden, overpowering desire to get today underway as I remember this. But now there's been 'a bit of a change'? Oh, shit, she's canceling. Not today, Janet, please? Today is not the day to do this to me. I need to see you right now. Please?
...Er, since when am I so eager to see her again? Oh, right, since I woke up five minutes ago.
"What kind of change?" I ask, surprised at the suspicion I hear in my voice.
"Well, it turns out Cassandra's participating in a fundraiser at the high school today and won't be home with her friends, only she 'forgot' to tell me about that until last night. So anyway, I thought it might be more comfortable if we met at my house instead of at the SGC. It's such a nice day out; why be cooped up underground all day?"
Ooh...Janet. Are you inviting me to come over to your house to work on this when no one else is around? That is such a bad idea after the dream I just had. You have no idea the enormity of the danger lurking at your door right now. You are going to regret this, and I will not be held responsible for it. As relieved as I am that she's not canceling, huge 'Warning: Danger Ahead' signs have begun flashing on my ceiling in bright neon colors. "Your place sounds great."
I can almost see her smile at the rather obvious enthusiasm in my voice. Janet smiling, her face turned upward, her lips parted, her hand on my neck, drawing my head down to hers.... "I brought the tablets home so we wouldn't have to stop at the SGC first to pick them up. You'd already left last night when she called to tell me about today, and I didn't want to wake you if you'd already gone to bed."
My dream bubble pops. Tablets? Crap, that's right -- we're meeting to go through the cuneiform tablets SG-5 found on P3Y 917 three months ago that we determined to be medical records from the now-extinct civilization's library. I was having trouble understanding all the medical terms, and Janet wanted to know what the tablets said in case they described some miraculous cures for human ailments, so we'd decided to work on it together 'the first chance we got.' Since SG-1 was on stand down for the next week and she was off duty this weekend, we'd agreed this would be a great time to get started. In the wake of my dream this morning, I'd completely forgotten about our project. That means I'll have to focus on translating and keep my mind from wandering back to this dream...as it already seems determined to do today judging from the last few minutes.
"I'll bring the coffee," I say.
"Great! Then I'll see you at nine."
"See you then," I murmur as I hear the click indicating she's hung up. I sit up, replace the phone in its cradle, sigh, and lie back down. Unless I can get my mind off of that dream -- which doesn't sound very promising if Janet and I are going to be working alone at her house the entire day -- today could very well turn out to be sheer, unadulterated torture.
0~*~0~*~0~*~0~*~0
So here I am, standing on Janet Fraiser's front porch, a Starbucks coffee in each hand and a bag with a few books slung over my back, debating how best to ring the doorbell without dropping anything in the process. It's a good thing I passed on those roses I saw in the floral shop next to the Starbucks 20 minutes ago; not only would I never have managed with all this stuff and the flowers, but they, um, probably wouldn't have gone over real well with her. A dozen red roses from one of her patients whose only reasoning is that he suffered brain damage after experiencing a dream about kissing her? No, I don't feel like ending the day in the infirmary, thank you very much. And besides, I'm trying to curtail this growing obsession with Janet and that dream kiss, not feed it like a mosquito that's just found a pretty girl wearing a tank top...which is exactly what buying flowers for her would've done.
I've finally decided on the set - one - coffee - on - the - ground - so - I - have - a - free - hand - to - ring - the - doorbell approach when the door suddenly flies open to reveal a petite woman standing on the other side. All I can do is blink several times at her, surprised by the sudden action, then stare wide-eyed and gaping as she smiles at me and takes one of the coffees from my hand.
"I thought I heard a car pull up," she says, motioning me inside out of the crisp, blue-skied morning air. "Come on in."
I, however, seem to have been afflicted by a little problem called 'I can't move' syndrome. I'd been hoping that seeing Janet would fix this developing obsession by proving those tender emotions I'd felt for her in my dream didn't translate into reality, so...why do I feel like a 16-year-old who's working on a school project with the girl I've had a crush on for weeks? Seeing her smiling at me like this has caused my heart to do flip flops and my legs to go weak. Damn it, I didn't ask my heart to do flip flops and my legs to go weak; nothing in reality instigated this change in feelings and, therefore, reason dictates that I shouldn't be feeling like this. I certainly wasn't feeling like this when I saw her at work last night.
Bad subconscious mind. No biscuit for you today.
But oh, does Janet Fraiser look good in casual clothes. It's been so long -- too long -- since I last saw her like this that I'd nearly forgotten just how good she looked outside of work. A long-sleeved, cream-colored knit shirt and blue jeans, both of which are a tad snug in all the right places, and...wow, I hadn't realized just how long her hair had grown, hanging down just past her shoulders. I'm so used to seeing her in a doctor's uniform and with her hair pinned up that this is...this is...wow.
And you know what else? I think what I'm seeing right now matches how she looked in my dream last night. Except, of course, that at the time her face had been mere inches from mine, her lips parted and swollen, her hand around my neck and pulling my head down to hers, then she was pressing her oh-so-kissable lips to mine....
"Daniel? Are you planning to stand outside all day or are you going to come in?"
I jolt back from the dream, my heart pounding and my cheeks blazing, then quickly step inside, smiling awkwardly but refusing to look at her for fear of losing control of my mind once again. Come on, Jackson, get a grip. You can do this. This is only a day thing and tomorrow you'll wake up completely normal, not...obsessing over Janet Fraiser's lips. Just focus on those tablets depicting boring medical procedures and combining chemicals you've never heard of and you'll make it through today with no problem whatsoever.
Yeah, right. And Jack O'Neill will win every science award ever offered for rewriting the theory of quantum physics. Who am I kidding? I've been at her house less than a minute and I'm already a wreck; how am I ever going to make it through an entire day?
"Sorry, I'm...not quite with it this morning yet," I finally manage, closing the door behind me as she sets the coffee down on the piano in the main room, then turns to help me remove my coat.
"Ah, I see," she says with a chuckle, hanging my coat in the closet, then leads me down the hall into her den-slash-living room where there's already a table set up for us to work at. On top of it are the tablets from P3Y 917 in a several neat stacks, legal pads and pens for taking notes, and her laptop, presumably with Internet access and a word processor for typing up the aforementioned notes. So this is where the torture...er... translating is going to take place, eh? It's a nice room, light tan with blue highlights, a gorgeous fireplace -- that looks like real marble -- along the left wall, two wooden bookshelves with knickknacks, pictures, and a collection of medical books and journals, a comfy reading chair with a lamp next to it, and, even more to my liking, no TV to cause distractions. It's amazing how much you can learn about a person just from seeing the place where they retire at night.
It's even more amazing that I've been to this house more times than I can remember for parties yet I've never really looked at it. I suppose the same could be said about this room's designer and primary dweller.
Janet claims the chair nearest the crackling fireplace and sets her coffee down on the table. That means the chair over here must be mine...the one with the perfect, unobstructed view of the other chair's occupant. Yes, I think I see what I'll be spending the day doing. My eyes lift to the clock on the mantel behind her...and suddenly widen.
It's 8:30. I wasn't supposed to be here until 9:00.
"Oh, wow...I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was this early."
She chuckles again...oh, what a beautiful sound that is -- whoa, boy, get down and behave yourself -- and slips into her seat. "Not a problem. Cassie left 15 minutes ago, and I was biding my time wondering what to do until nine anyway. I wasn't going to complain."
...Because I'm notorious for being the last to show up for a meeting-slash-debriefing anyway, distracted as I usually am by my work, so she's pleased to see me early for a change. It's one thing to be early, though, and another to be early. A half hour is a bit too early...but, damn it, I just couldn't think straight at home. I'm not sure I even bothered to look at my watch once after she'd called, eager as I'd been to get the coffee and come see her. Boy, I hope I dressed appropriately for this since I don't remember doing it.
I look down, now worried that I'm still wearing my nighttime boxers and a T-shirt, and...oh. This is...hmm. My subconscious mind apparently decided I should wear the clothes that Sam had always told me would find me a date -- or ten -- in no time if I ever wanted one, something about the blue in the shirt highlighting my eyes and long lashes. To be honest, I'd thought I'd barely been paying attention when she'd told me that, but I guess some part of me had been listening at the time, eh? Thank you so much, Sam, for your sisterly advice. I tell you, my brain has a mind of its own today...and so, apparently, does my heart since it's still racing beyond my control. But every time I'd closed my eyes this morning, all I had seen was Janet's smiling face, her hand reaching up to pull me down into the most glorious and breathtaking of....
"Daniel?"
Crap, there I go again...only this time I was staring at Janet while it was happening. I am in so much trouble today...and, even worse, this is the second time I've drifted off now in only five minutes, thus tipping her off that she should be suspicious of my actions. I really need to get my mind off of that dream...and off of the lips of the woman sitting across the table from me. Willpower, Jackson, I tell myself. That's all it takes. Focus on translating these tablets, not on these emotions burgeoning within you every time you look at her and imagine holding her close and pressing your lips to hers....
I clear my throat a bit too loudly and quickly shake my head. Good. This time I caught myself before drifting back to La La Land. Let's just hope I can keep that up now. "Um...sorry," I finally say as I realize she's staring at me as if I'd just announced it was my very merry unbirthday today. "I'm...I guess I'm just not all here yet this morning." Okay, I think I already said that -- and that really doesn't make sense considering how early I'd gotten here -- but my mind is still elsewhere; that's the best I can manage at the moment.
I chance another quick look at Janet, finding that her eyes are narrowed slightly...is that concern, confusion, or amusement I see in them, though? Maybe it's all three. Much to my surprise, I suddenly realize I want to learn what every one of her looks means: when she's happy, when she's sad, when she's worried, scared, ecstatic...or experiencing the greatest pleasure imaginable, like resting her hand on my neck, pulling my head down to hers, and pressing her lips to mine....
No, I scold myself. Don't you dare go there, especially not while you're staring at her with this blank expression on your face that screams out, "I'm a fool 4 U!" After all, how can you expect to win the opportunity to test the dream if she thinks you've lost every last one of your marbles?
Ahem, another voice in my mind reminds the more feral, insistent voice, and who said you were even trying to win that opportunity? That isn't an option. You and Janet are friends. You're just going to forget the dream altogether for fear of straining that friendship. Friends, got it? Okay?
No answer.
Okay?
...Okay.
Good. "Anyway, let's get started," I say, and across the table from me, Janet nods, her eyes still narrowed curiously. A second later she beams me another beautiful smile that sets my heart fluttering once again.
So why do I get the feeling that that voice that desperately wants me to kiss Janet had its imaginary fingers crossed when it promised to leave the sane half of my mind in peace?
0~*~0~*~0~*~0~*~0
The good news? These tablets are definitely a collection of medical records dealing with everything from cures for the common cold to as-of-yet unidentifiable plants that will supposedly eradicate cancer, much to Janet's delight. The other good news? Focusing on these tablets has, for the most part, kept my mind from drifting too far into realms where I never gave it permission to go.
Now, the obligatory bad news. Every time I run into a word I don't recognize, one that's clearly making a medical reference, I need to discuss the context of said word with Janet to determine its English counterpart...and every time that happens, my concentration on the translation drops like a brick in a submerged coral reef, something that, well, isn't exactly easy to fish out on short notice.
In the four hours we've been working on this, not including the half-hour break we just took for lunch -- sub sandwiches... without the onions, mind you, just in case that opportunity I'm not looking for arises -- I've accidentally dropped that brick well over 50 times.
"Daniel?"
Fortunately, most of those times I've caught the brick halfway to the bottom and pulled it back out without much difficulty. Lately, however, I've been finding myself getting a bit lax about it...much to my dismay when I finally wake up and realize that, oops, I dropped it again and didn't even know it. By then the brick has hit bottom and gotten caught amongst all the coral and pretty shells, and I find myself becoming entranced by the exotic fish while looking for it. Before I know it, I've forgotten all about the brick and am instead enjoying the beauty of the seascape and am searching for hidden treasures on the ocean floor once again.
Hmph. Next I know, I'll be spouting poetry for her.
"Daniel Jackson."
I know Janet's growing increasingly suspicious of me, especially after one time when the tablet in question made numerous references to mouths and lips. The information turned out to be fairly unimportant, explaining how to cure dry, chapped lips, but oh how that had set my imagination off. As a result, I'm pretty sure I had just sat there, resting my cheek on my hand while she'd explained in detail how lips could be softened by...well...to be honest, I don't remember what she'd said. I'd been far more interested in her lips at the time, hence the reason my mind had been coming up with its own methods of amending lip problems in completely different ways and not listening to her. Not, of course, that Janet's lips appear to be dry or chapped, although they could always be moistened...and I know exactly how to help her with that. Problem is, by that point she'd stopped talking about lips, I was still staring at hers with the goofiest of smiles on my face, and she was staring right back at me like I'd suddenly sprouted three extra heads. Even then, though, it had taken me another minute to realize I was staring, that she'd stopped talking, and that I looked, quite frankly, like an idiot.
"Earth to Daniel."
Oh, this has so been my morning...and I'm starting to understand how Jack felt after kissing Sam during that time loop, as he'd confessed one night after having a bit too much to drink. The only differences seem to be that he got over it faster than I am and that his self-torture was his own fault while mine...well, I'm still trying to figure out who or what is responsible for this.
And you know what's even worse? Once I finally realize I've been staring, my mind wandering back to the fantasy of Janet Fraiser instigating another kiss and causing a flurry of sensations as she presses her lips to mine, and snap out of the dream, a quick look at the clock reveals that I just lost five to ten minutes of what should've been perfectly good work time. I'm doing an awful job of hiding this affliction from her, and the completeness of my failure has left me royally embarrassed.
"Daniel?"
Damn, all I want to do right now is lean across the table toward her, look so deeply in her eyes that I hypnotize her into doing my will, and pull her toward me, my hand straying upward to cup her cheek, fingers caressing her silky skin, our eyes closing as our faces draw near, then a tentative touch, a taste, she leans closer, nipping my lower lip between hers....
"Daniel! "
Without warning, her voice jolts me out of the daydream and sends my pulse pounding...shit, not again. All this time my eyes have been taking in every line on her face, every fleck of gold in her brown eyes, every stray auburn hair framing her face, and, of course, every curve of her lips. I thought she'd been busy reading the notes I'd managed to translate before losing myself again...how long has she been trying to get my attention? And here we go again, my cheeks are flushed and...and...I'm still staring at her like a deer caught in the headlights. You'd better make a response, Jackson, and fix this before it becomes a real problem.
"I'm sorry, did you just say something?"
Oh, yeah, that's a good way to fix it; act ignorant of everything going on around you. Not surprisingly, Janet shakes her head in exasperation. "Look, Daniel, if you want to quit for the day...."
"No!" Whoa, that may have come out a bit too vehemently. No wonder she now has an eyebrow cocked at me. "No, I just...."
"You just what?" I'm rather embarrassed to say I don't answer her. "Daniel? Are you feeling all right?"
"I'm fine," I say, my voice no longer vehement, just...terse. We are, after all, treading on some very dangerous ground here.
She rises to her feet and...uh oh, she's walking toward me. My...um...odd behavior has apparently kicked her into full-scale doctor mode. Nice going. "Are you sure? You've been like this all day."
"No, I'm fine, Janet. Really." Please believe me, please believe me....
She stops in front of me and places her hand to my forehead...ooh, Janet, that is such a bad idea. You're asking for trouble, aren't you? It takes every ounce of my remaining restraint not to capture her hand with mine, jump to my feet, and lay a kiss on her that would....
...Guarantee I'd be slapped immediately after it. Ahem. No, I'd better pass on that. Besides, a kiss that she doesn't want wouldn't be the kind of kiss I'd want; it would be highly inconsiderate of me to just kiss her because I can no longer restrain these damned male urges to kiss a beautiful woman. And when had I decided to try kissing her again? I didn't. We're just friends. Friends, remember? Although I can't help really enjoying how her hand feels pressed to my face right now. Now if only she would lower it to my chin, tilt my head up, look into my eyes, give me a seductive smile, lean down and....
"Well, you feel a bit warm, but nothing to worry about."
Well, of course I feel warm, Janet. Between the humiliation at being caught staring yet again and the fire your touch is igniting in my skin, is it any wonder my body temperature has risen a few degrees?
"Look at me," she instructs, to which I gladly comply...although she'd better not make me look at her too long or she will regret it. "I don't get it, Daniel. What's with you today? Half the time you've been staring off into space like your mind's a thousand miles away; the other half you've barely heard a word I've said."
Staring off into space? Hardly. No, not space; I'm staring at you, Janet. My mind definitely isn't a thousand miles away, either; it's right here in your den-slash-living room, fantasizing about...well...an activity that I'll leave nameless for fear it'll drag me down into its depths again. And not hearing you? Believe me, that's not intentional. I love your voice; I just seem to get distracted every time I see your lips move, drawing my attention to their beauty and perfection and elegance and...and...definite kissabilitiness. See? I'm so far gone today that I'm even making up new words to describe you.
"You really want to know what it is?" I finally ask her.
"Of course I really want to know," she replies matter-of-factly. "You're driving me nuts trying to figure out where your mind is."
Yeah, well, if only I was a bit more positive about how 'nuts' you'd been driven, I might be tempted to show you where my mind is and hope you like the view as much as I do...but I'm hoping against hope right now. Janet Fraiser is simply too professional to take that lying down. "Okay, the truth? I had a dream last night and it's, well, driving me nuts."
"Ah," she says as if that explains everything, then a moment later she returns to her seat on the other side of the table. "Go on."
"The problem is, I remember the key events but not the details. I guess I'm just trying to figure out the rest while the dream's still fresh in my mind."
That amused smile is returning to her face as she continues watching me. "I see. Daniel Jackson obsessed with a dream...this is a new one for your records. Must've been one hell of a dream."
I'm not quick enough to catch the single laugh that bursts out of me. "You have no idea."
She arches an eyebrow at me. "So it was a good dream."
I grin at that. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, it was one of those dreams."
Her smile transforms into a full-fledged, knowing grin. "Yeah, I've had those too. Definitely. So...maybe I can help you out. You want to tell me what you do know about this dream?"
Ooh...talk about inviting the wolf in sheep's clothing in through the front door. Judging from the sneaky, wily smile I feel spreading across my lips, I bet you anything I'd never recognize myself if I saw my reflection in a mirror right now. "No."
She eyes me another moment, then laughs, grabs another tablet from the stack, and hands it to me. "Get back to work, Dr. Jackson."
"Yes, Ma'am."
0~*~0~*~0~*~0~*~0
I'm doing pretty well, believe it or not. I've made it through another hour and my mind's only drifted off on its own ten times. That's...once every six minutes. We really haven't gotten much done yet -- okay, I haven't gotten much done yet -- but at least this hasn't been a completely wasted day. As a matter of fact, all things considered, I think I've done wonderfully. So far I've made it through, let's see...25 tablets.
Out of 179. Ahem.
A new problem seems to be developing, though. See, Janet has begun staring at me. A lot. I don't know why; I don't know for how long at a time; hell, I don't even think I've been staring at her the past hour as much as she's been staring at me. All I know is that every time I look up at her, her eyes are glued to me as if she's trying to read my mind, that amused smile still playing on her lips. And, even worse, every time I pass her a tablet or vice versa, our fingers have begun touching. While it could be my nerves are just overly sensitive today and, therefore, I'm reading too much into things, I think she's doing it intentionally. In the past hour she has somehow read my mind, seen my dream, and is now pushing me to see just how much restraint I, a weak-willed man, possess. I suppose in a sense this new development is encouraging, although it's done nothing to relieve my problem and everything to aggravate it.
No, sadly, I still see no relief in sight: she'll still never let me kiss her, and I'm still struggling with this nearly irresistible urge to reach over the table and engage in a lip lock with her that'll leave us both lying catatonic on the floor for the next year. But it's all just wishful thinking; her staring is merely a result of her concern for me because she is my doctor and cares about my health, and I'm just imagining all these little touches because of course people touch when they're passing objects between them. Is it any wonder I'm now predicting that I'll end up in the infirmary by five o'clock tonight because Janet determines that I've completely lost my mind? Not that I'm terrible worried about it anymore as long as she's there with me. After all, that increased my number of potential opportunities, and that's not a bad thing. At all.
Suddenly, my gaze snaps to the mantel of the fireplace just behind her...that's odd. I've been here hours and never noticed that before, a black box sitting beside the clock. A CD player.
Wait a minute. CD player...music...song...?
"There was a song playing."
Janet's eyebrows rise as she looks over her laptop at me. "What?"
"There was a song playing in my dream."
She pushes the laptop aside and leans back in her seat, curious but amused at what must seem to be a bizarre new development in today's growing Daniel Jackson dream dilemma. "What song?"
"I have no idea."
She ponders that a moment. "I see. A song you know?"
I shake my head. "I don't think so."
"Would you recognize it if you heard it?"
Hmm. "Maybe."
Janet sighs, still observing me with that ever-present, tiny smile playing on her lips. I think she's smirking at me. Well, on the bright side, I may be miserable right now but at least I'm entertaining her in the process. "Then maybe it's a song you heard recently."
I nod slowly. "That's a definite possibility."
"Mmm hmm. So what were you listening to yesterday?"
What was I listening to...? "Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Not that I remember." To be honest, I'm not really a music person. Don't get me wrong, I like music; I just normally listen to books on tape or talk radio as I'm driving home from work, not to music. Come to think of it, the last time I heard any music was probably at the SGC, coming from an office late at night after everyone else had left. "Now where was I...?"
"Excuse me?"
I lift my eyes to her face...no, not to her face, to her lips. Shit, I am obsessed with those lips today. If I find out someone else is to blame for this never-ending obsession with Janet Fraiser, her lips, and a dream kiss, heads will be rolling. That's when it hits me. "You."
Her eyebrows shoot upward. "Me?"
"You were playing music last night when I stopped in your office to check on our plans for today."
Oh, is she amused. I've certainly figured out that look of hers by now. "Dr. Jackson, are you accusing me of causing your dream last night and, therefore, your inability to concentrate today?"
You'd better believe it, woman. "You were listening to music last night, weren't you?"
"I had a CD going while I was doing paperwork, yeah...."
Things are fitting in place about how I ended up with that blasted dream in the first place. Somehow my subconscious mind must've taken a song I'd heard in her office, the fact that she and I were working together today, and, probably even more to blame now that I remember it, a random comment dropped by Jack O'Neill yesterday when he'd heard my plans for today -- what had he said? "Ooh, Danny, working alone with the Doc when there are no needles around...that's every guy's fantasy" -- and combined them into a dream that's still driving me nuts hours later.
I guess it shouldn't surprise me how my brain pieced together those three separate incidents. Once when I was 14 and trying to figure out what to do with my life, my foster parents took me to Florida where I saw a billboard along the road advertising an alligator park. That night I dreamed I'd become an alligator farmer and had 25 alligators running around the house, eating everything in sight. The sign had barely registered with me at the time I'd seen it, but somehow it had embedded itself in my brain and manifested itself into one of the most bizarre dreams I've ever had. Even now, 20-odd years later, whenever I see an alligator -- be it real, on TV, or mummified in Egypt -- I still think about that dream. Good thing we didn't stay in Florida long or else I might've seriously considered the profession.
Daniel Jackson, Ph.D. in Alligator Farming. Hey, it could've happened.
Ahem. There's no point to that. Now, though, my human nature's feeling much more satisfied knowing three other people are to blame for causing my dream last night: the singer of whatever song I'd heard, Janet for playing it, and Jack O'Neill for telling me I should be fantasizing about today. I'm no longer entirely responsible for whatever happens next.
"So what CD were you listening to?" I ask.
"You're serious." I nod, and Janet rubs her eyes. "I don't remember what was playing when you...." Suddenly, she suddenly lowers her hand. "Wait. I was in a country mood last night. I don't suppose you remember if it was a male or female singer?"
"Try male." I may not remember the song, but I'm guessing my subconscious mind -- which, mind you, will be getting a big talking to once I get home -- is more likely to identify with a male singer. I am, after all, male and attracted to women, two facts that this dream has reminded me of all too well.
She thinks for another moment, then rises to her feet, leaves the room, and returns a minute later with a CD. "Now I'm glad I brought it home this weekend. I suppose you want to hear it and try to identify the song?"
Warnings are going off in my head. Listening to a CD that may have the song responsible for my obsession is a horrible idea, especially while Janet's in the same room with me. On the other hand, if I can get all the other details of the dream firmly in place, maybe I'll stop dwelling on it, trying to recapture everything that was happening at the time. "Yes, please. I can work with music on."
"Sure you can," she murmurs as she pushes a button on the CD player and the top pops open. "I can't guarantee the song that's bugging you is on here, but it's worth a try." I see her unsuccessfully try to hide her grin as she inserts the CD and closes the top. "Anything is worth a try if it gets your mind back on this project."
Now it's my turn to smirk as Janet turns around and retakes her seat. Hey, when being tortured by a dream, why not drag everyone else into that torture along with you? "So who is it?"
"Mark Wills. Bought the CD for the first song on the album but the rest was just as good."
Mark Wills. "Never heard of him."
She holds up the case as a siren starts off the CD and quickly gives way to drums and other instruments. Okay, the title's sappy enough: Loving Every Minute. The guy looks average enough, too...but at least now I have a name and a face to add to my hit list if it turns out he's the one responsible for my current grief.
"He's known for his story songs, songs with messages, and country covers of pop songs," Janet says.
"Ah." Okay, Janet, I may now live for watching your lips move, but it's time for silence so I can listen to the CD. She grins as if she's just overheard my mental thought -- a very scary prospect right now, if you ask me, having Janet Fraiser able to read my mind -- but, much to my relief, doesn't say another word. I return her smile, grab another tablet from the stack, and pretend to get back to translating.
On to Part 2....
Title: Lost In A Kiss
Author: smb814
Rating: FR-C+ (equivalent of the old PG)
Warnings: Mild language
Category: Romance, Humor, Songfic
Pairing: Daniel/Janet
Spoilers: Minor for "Window of Opportunity"; vague, blink-and-you'll-miss-it references to "Children of the Gods," "Legacy," "Forever in a Day," "Absolute Power," and "Rite of Passage."
Season Info: Season 5
Prompt: Music (100_situations Table 5 #076)
Word Count: 11,887
Summary: A song, a dream, an obsession...a mission.
Archive: No, thank you. Please ask before you link to it, too.
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.
The song "Lost in a Kiss" was written by Brett Beavers and Steve Bogard and can be found on the Mark Wills album Loving Every Minute. Additional snippets from various songs also come from that album. All are used here without permission, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Special Thanks: To my story testers, Karen, Sheila, and Bryn, for the initial read-through and assurance there was nothing blatantly 'wrong' with this fic. You guys are the greatest. :-)
Author's Notes: This fic was originally written several years ago as a thank you for all those who supported the Stargate version of Frozen Flame, particularly after the 2001 Daniel/Janet Awards. I deeply appreciated everyone's unbelievable feedback then, and I still do now, even after the new version of that novel has been fully written. Heck, I don't even know that I ever would have finished my rewrite of Frozen Flame if it hadn't been for everyone's support and feedback. :)
The other reason this story was written, though, was as a way to save my sanity. Have you ever heard a song that you just couldn't get out of your head? One that screams, "You must write a fic about me!"? Well, that's what happened to me when I first heard this song. The danandjan list wasn't up to the challenge, and I finally took matters into my own hands to get this darned song out of my head and into a story where it belonged. Therefore, if you don't like it...blame Mark Wills. *vbg*
BTW, if you've never heard the song Lost In A Kiss but would like to, let me know.
After three years, I still haven't had this thing officially betaed, so all mistakes and typos are entirely my fault.
©2002 by SuzieB.
0~*~0~*~0~*~0~*~0
Have you ever had one of those dreams? You know, the kind that's so vivid, so intense, and so emotional that when you wake up you're sure your life will never be the same again?
I have. Just had one last night, actually.
Now, the vast majority of my dreams are quite normal and forgettable, as most people would probably also admit if ever questioned about their dreams. Some are the typical bizarreness that's synonymous with the word 'dream': flying pigs, purple cows, Jack O'Neill taking over for the now-retired Bozo the Clown and entertaining kids on Sunday mornings with Teal'c as his straight-faced assistant clad in a sparkling clown outfit while Sam twirls around in a pink tutu and explains the mysteries of the atom to five-year-olds. Other dreams have led to brilliant breakthroughs in solving problems, finishing translations, understanding SG-1's latest alien encounter, and viewing situations in a completely different light.
Still other dreams have been gifts from others, as a way to help me understand why something must be a certain way and accept what fate has determined for me and for my loved ones. These dreams are immensely precious to me, albeit a bit disconcerting, as are the ones about my year on Abydos with Sha'uri, a pleasant time of exploration, learning, and love when everything in life had gone my way. Quite simply, I love these dreams and am pleased to say they've never been tainted bittersweet by the knowledge of how that story ended. They may leave me filled with longing when I awaken, but as long as I can still see Sha'uri at night and in my memories, I know she'll always live on, no matter how rare these dreams may be becoming.
I think I may be getting some subtle -- and not-so-subtle -- clues from my subconscious mind about why I've been having those dreams about Sha'uri less frequently. This latest dream, for example, the one that's left me reminiscing about dreams in the first place, involved Janet Fraiser, me, and one unbelievably passionate, breathtaking, and mind-blowing kiss.
I wish I could say I remember the details of this particular dream in all their glorious clarity. I wish I could say this has been coming for years now, that I've been madly in love with her since the moment we'd met and that my dream last night was a natural result of that longing to live happily ever after with Janet Fraiser by my side. I wish I could say something had happened recently that had prompted me to see her in this new light, that I'd detected some new vibes that said she was interested in me as more than a patient and close friend or that I'd suddenly had a breakthrough revelation about my feelings towards her.
I can't say that, though, on any of those counts. Never have I found myself saying, "Gee, you know what? I really want to kiss Janet Fraiser." Sure, I like her, she's a very pretty, intelligent, caring lady, and I'd do anything I could for her -- I've told her as much -- but her...me...kissing? I'm sure she's never considered doing such a thing. I've certainly never considered doing such a thing.
...Let me clarify. I've never considered doing such a thing...until now.
Right now I'm lying on my bed in my apartment, staring at the ceiling where the rising sun is sneaking in through the blinds and painting red, gold, and orange streaks across it. I just awoke a few minutes ago and, while it appears this is going to be a crisp, gorgeous, mid-January Saturday, I'm reluctant to welcome it in by moving. Already the dream is fading into that hazy, oft-sought for realm known as Lost and Forgotten Dreams, but the emotions connected to it are still alive and well within me...and along with the emotions is the unbelievable sensation, forever etched in my memory, of Janet pressing her lips to mine in the simple, exquisite gesture of a kiss.
The sad part, however, is that for the life of me I can't remember of how we arrived at that climactic moment. I close my eyes again and picture her face...how did we get there? What were we doing? Where were we? Were we walking in the park? No, I don't think so. Were we at a party, celebrating SG-1's latest victory over the Goa'uld? No, not that, either. Infected by a strange alien virus? Locked in a storage closet? In a car making out? Pressed up against the wall of her office groping each other like teenagers? No, no, sadly, no...God, right now I can only wish. I'm grasping at straws but, damn it, I really want to remember the rest of the dream.
After all, if I can remember the rest of the dream, my chances for turning that dream into reality rise significantly. Oh yes, that's the one thing I have figured out about this dream: I really want to try it again and see if kissing Janet Fraiser truly is the mind-blowing experience my brain apparently believes it is.
This...could easily become a problem.
Ah, forget the problem for now and just enjoy the beauty and emotions of the dream while they last, I tell myself. And just like that, the moment returns to me. Janet's face tilted up toward mine, my hands gently cupping her face, her fingers caressing the back of my neck, her brown eyes shining, her full lips toying in a seductive smile, and with her other hand gripping my shirt, she pulls my head down toward hers, and....
The phone rings.
My eyes fly open as the sound jars the memory, pulling my mind from the titillating moment, and I sigh. Oh, yes, isn't timing just grand? Whoever's calling me right now had better have a hell of a reason for interrupting this.
The phone rings again, and I groan, stretching out my left arm to grope the few items on my bed stand. Ah, there it is. I grab the receiver and pull it back to my ear, slinging my free arm across my eyes to drown out the light. Time to wake up and forget the dream, Jackson. "Hello?"
"Hey, Daniel, it's me."
My entire body instantly freezes...well, except for my heart, which has begun pounding out of control. Oh, I'm definitely awake now, adrenaline surging through me at hearing the cheerful female voice on the other end, but that 'forget the dream' idea I'd just had? Not a chance in hell. "Dr. Fraiser!"
"Janet," she quickly amends, thus declaring the tone of this call to be personal, not professional ... even more trouble brewing, eh? "Did I wake you?"
I switch the phone to my free hand and fumble once again on the nightstand for my watch...7:32 a.m. Nope, I'm not late yet so no guilt is necessary on my part. "No, I just woke up. Is everything all right?"
"Yeah, everything's great. I just wanted to let you know there's been a bit of a change."
A bit of a change? My stomach lurches. Dr. Fraiser...sorry, Janet and I are supposed to be meeting at nine to begin work on a project we've been trying to squeeze into our schedules for months. Alone. Just the two of us. Hence my sudden, overpowering desire to get today underway as I remember this. But now there's been 'a bit of a change'? Oh, shit, she's canceling. Not today, Janet, please? Today is not the day to do this to me. I need to see you right now. Please?
...Er, since when am I so eager to see her again? Oh, right, since I woke up five minutes ago.
"What kind of change?" I ask, surprised at the suspicion I hear in my voice.
"Well, it turns out Cassandra's participating in a fundraiser at the high school today and won't be home with her friends, only she 'forgot' to tell me about that until last night. So anyway, I thought it might be more comfortable if we met at my house instead of at the SGC. It's such a nice day out; why be cooped up underground all day?"
Ooh...Janet. Are you inviting me to come over to your house to work on this when no one else is around? That is such a bad idea after the dream I just had. You have no idea the enormity of the danger lurking at your door right now. You are going to regret this, and I will not be held responsible for it. As relieved as I am that she's not canceling, huge 'Warning: Danger Ahead' signs have begun flashing on my ceiling in bright neon colors. "Your place sounds great."
I can almost see her smile at the rather obvious enthusiasm in my voice. Janet smiling, her face turned upward, her lips parted, her hand on my neck, drawing my head down to hers.... "I brought the tablets home so we wouldn't have to stop at the SGC first to pick them up. You'd already left last night when she called to tell me about today, and I didn't want to wake you if you'd already gone to bed."
My dream bubble pops. Tablets? Crap, that's right -- we're meeting to go through the cuneiform tablets SG-5 found on P3Y 917 three months ago that we determined to be medical records from the now-extinct civilization's library. I was having trouble understanding all the medical terms, and Janet wanted to know what the tablets said in case they described some miraculous cures for human ailments, so we'd decided to work on it together 'the first chance we got.' Since SG-1 was on stand down for the next week and she was off duty this weekend, we'd agreed this would be a great time to get started. In the wake of my dream this morning, I'd completely forgotten about our project. That means I'll have to focus on translating and keep my mind from wandering back to this dream...as it already seems determined to do today judging from the last few minutes.
"I'll bring the coffee," I say.
"Great! Then I'll see you at nine."
"See you then," I murmur as I hear the click indicating she's hung up. I sit up, replace the phone in its cradle, sigh, and lie back down. Unless I can get my mind off of that dream -- which doesn't sound very promising if Janet and I are going to be working alone at her house the entire day -- today could very well turn out to be sheer, unadulterated torture.
0~*~0~*~0~*~0~*~0
So here I am, standing on Janet Fraiser's front porch, a Starbucks coffee in each hand and a bag with a few books slung over my back, debating how best to ring the doorbell without dropping anything in the process. It's a good thing I passed on those roses I saw in the floral shop next to the Starbucks 20 minutes ago; not only would I never have managed with all this stuff and the flowers, but they, um, probably wouldn't have gone over real well with her. A dozen red roses from one of her patients whose only reasoning is that he suffered brain damage after experiencing a dream about kissing her? No, I don't feel like ending the day in the infirmary, thank you very much. And besides, I'm trying to curtail this growing obsession with Janet and that dream kiss, not feed it like a mosquito that's just found a pretty girl wearing a tank top...which is exactly what buying flowers for her would've done.
I've finally decided on the set - one - coffee - on - the - ground - so - I - have - a - free - hand - to - ring - the - doorbell approach when the door suddenly flies open to reveal a petite woman standing on the other side. All I can do is blink several times at her, surprised by the sudden action, then stare wide-eyed and gaping as she smiles at me and takes one of the coffees from my hand.
"I thought I heard a car pull up," she says, motioning me inside out of the crisp, blue-skied morning air. "Come on in."
I, however, seem to have been afflicted by a little problem called 'I can't move' syndrome. I'd been hoping that seeing Janet would fix this developing obsession by proving those tender emotions I'd felt for her in my dream didn't translate into reality, so...why do I feel like a 16-year-old who's working on a school project with the girl I've had a crush on for weeks? Seeing her smiling at me like this has caused my heart to do flip flops and my legs to go weak. Damn it, I didn't ask my heart to do flip flops and my legs to go weak; nothing in reality instigated this change in feelings and, therefore, reason dictates that I shouldn't be feeling like this. I certainly wasn't feeling like this when I saw her at work last night.
Bad subconscious mind. No biscuit for you today.
But oh, does Janet Fraiser look good in casual clothes. It's been so long -- too long -- since I last saw her like this that I'd nearly forgotten just how good she looked outside of work. A long-sleeved, cream-colored knit shirt and blue jeans, both of which are a tad snug in all the right places, and...wow, I hadn't realized just how long her hair had grown, hanging down just past her shoulders. I'm so used to seeing her in a doctor's uniform and with her hair pinned up that this is...this is...wow.
And you know what else? I think what I'm seeing right now matches how she looked in my dream last night. Except, of course, that at the time her face had been mere inches from mine, her lips parted and swollen, her hand around my neck and pulling my head down to hers, then she was pressing her oh-so-kissable lips to mine....
"Daniel? Are you planning to stand outside all day or are you going to come in?"
I jolt back from the dream, my heart pounding and my cheeks blazing, then quickly step inside, smiling awkwardly but refusing to look at her for fear of losing control of my mind once again. Come on, Jackson, get a grip. You can do this. This is only a day thing and tomorrow you'll wake up completely normal, not...obsessing over Janet Fraiser's lips. Just focus on those tablets depicting boring medical procedures and combining chemicals you've never heard of and you'll make it through today with no problem whatsoever.
Yeah, right. And Jack O'Neill will win every science award ever offered for rewriting the theory of quantum physics. Who am I kidding? I've been at her house less than a minute and I'm already a wreck; how am I ever going to make it through an entire day?
"Sorry, I'm...not quite with it this morning yet," I finally manage, closing the door behind me as she sets the coffee down on the piano in the main room, then turns to help me remove my coat.
"Ah, I see," she says with a chuckle, hanging my coat in the closet, then leads me down the hall into her den-slash-living room where there's already a table set up for us to work at. On top of it are the tablets from P3Y 917 in a several neat stacks, legal pads and pens for taking notes, and her laptop, presumably with Internet access and a word processor for typing up the aforementioned notes. So this is where the torture...er... translating is going to take place, eh? It's a nice room, light tan with blue highlights, a gorgeous fireplace -- that looks like real marble -- along the left wall, two wooden bookshelves with knickknacks, pictures, and a collection of medical books and journals, a comfy reading chair with a lamp next to it, and, even more to my liking, no TV to cause distractions. It's amazing how much you can learn about a person just from seeing the place where they retire at night.
It's even more amazing that I've been to this house more times than I can remember for parties yet I've never really looked at it. I suppose the same could be said about this room's designer and primary dweller.
Janet claims the chair nearest the crackling fireplace and sets her coffee down on the table. That means the chair over here must be mine...the one with the perfect, unobstructed view of the other chair's occupant. Yes, I think I see what I'll be spending the day doing. My eyes lift to the clock on the mantel behind her...and suddenly widen.
It's 8:30. I wasn't supposed to be here until 9:00.
"Oh, wow...I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was this early."
She chuckles again...oh, what a beautiful sound that is -- whoa, boy, get down and behave yourself -- and slips into her seat. "Not a problem. Cassie left 15 minutes ago, and I was biding my time wondering what to do until nine anyway. I wasn't going to complain."
...Because I'm notorious for being the last to show up for a meeting-slash-debriefing anyway, distracted as I usually am by my work, so she's pleased to see me early for a change. It's one thing to be early, though, and another to be early. A half hour is a bit too early...but, damn it, I just couldn't think straight at home. I'm not sure I even bothered to look at my watch once after she'd called, eager as I'd been to get the coffee and come see her. Boy, I hope I dressed appropriately for this since I don't remember doing it.
I look down, now worried that I'm still wearing my nighttime boxers and a T-shirt, and...oh. This is...hmm. My subconscious mind apparently decided I should wear the clothes that Sam had always told me would find me a date -- or ten -- in no time if I ever wanted one, something about the blue in the shirt highlighting my eyes and long lashes. To be honest, I'd thought I'd barely been paying attention when she'd told me that, but I guess some part of me had been listening at the time, eh? Thank you so much, Sam, for your sisterly advice. I tell you, my brain has a mind of its own today...and so, apparently, does my heart since it's still racing beyond my control. But every time I'd closed my eyes this morning, all I had seen was Janet's smiling face, her hand reaching up to pull me down into the most glorious and breathtaking of....
"Daniel?"
Crap, there I go again...only this time I was staring at Janet while it was happening. I am in so much trouble today...and, even worse, this is the second time I've drifted off now in only five minutes, thus tipping her off that she should be suspicious of my actions. I really need to get my mind off of that dream...and off of the lips of the woman sitting across the table from me. Willpower, Jackson, I tell myself. That's all it takes. Focus on translating these tablets, not on these emotions burgeoning within you every time you look at her and imagine holding her close and pressing your lips to hers....
I clear my throat a bit too loudly and quickly shake my head. Good. This time I caught myself before drifting back to La La Land. Let's just hope I can keep that up now. "Um...sorry," I finally say as I realize she's staring at me as if I'd just announced it was my very merry unbirthday today. "I'm...I guess I'm just not all here yet this morning." Okay, I think I already said that -- and that really doesn't make sense considering how early I'd gotten here -- but my mind is still elsewhere; that's the best I can manage at the moment.
I chance another quick look at Janet, finding that her eyes are narrowed slightly...is that concern, confusion, or amusement I see in them, though? Maybe it's all three. Much to my surprise, I suddenly realize I want to learn what every one of her looks means: when she's happy, when she's sad, when she's worried, scared, ecstatic...or experiencing the greatest pleasure imaginable, like resting her hand on my neck, pulling my head down to hers, and pressing her lips to mine....
No, I scold myself. Don't you dare go there, especially not while you're staring at her with this blank expression on your face that screams out, "I'm a fool 4 U!" After all, how can you expect to win the opportunity to test the dream if she thinks you've lost every last one of your marbles?
Ahem, another voice in my mind reminds the more feral, insistent voice, and who said you were even trying to win that opportunity? That isn't an option. You and Janet are friends. You're just going to forget the dream altogether for fear of straining that friendship. Friends, got it? Okay?
No answer.
Okay?
...Okay.
Good. "Anyway, let's get started," I say, and across the table from me, Janet nods, her eyes still narrowed curiously. A second later she beams me another beautiful smile that sets my heart fluttering once again.
So why do I get the feeling that that voice that desperately wants me to kiss Janet had its imaginary fingers crossed when it promised to leave the sane half of my mind in peace?
0~*~0~*~0~*~0~*~0
The good news? These tablets are definitely a collection of medical records dealing with everything from cures for the common cold to as-of-yet unidentifiable plants that will supposedly eradicate cancer, much to Janet's delight. The other good news? Focusing on these tablets has, for the most part, kept my mind from drifting too far into realms where I never gave it permission to go.
Now, the obligatory bad news. Every time I run into a word I don't recognize, one that's clearly making a medical reference, I need to discuss the context of said word with Janet to determine its English counterpart...and every time that happens, my concentration on the translation drops like a brick in a submerged coral reef, something that, well, isn't exactly easy to fish out on short notice.
In the four hours we've been working on this, not including the half-hour break we just took for lunch -- sub sandwiches... without the onions, mind you, just in case that opportunity I'm not looking for arises -- I've accidentally dropped that brick well over 50 times.
"Daniel?"
Fortunately, most of those times I've caught the brick halfway to the bottom and pulled it back out without much difficulty. Lately, however, I've been finding myself getting a bit lax about it...much to my dismay when I finally wake up and realize that, oops, I dropped it again and didn't even know it. By then the brick has hit bottom and gotten caught amongst all the coral and pretty shells, and I find myself becoming entranced by the exotic fish while looking for it. Before I know it, I've forgotten all about the brick and am instead enjoying the beauty of the seascape and am searching for hidden treasures on the ocean floor once again.
Hmph. Next I know, I'll be spouting poetry for her.
"Daniel Jackson."
I know Janet's growing increasingly suspicious of me, especially after one time when the tablet in question made numerous references to mouths and lips. The information turned out to be fairly unimportant, explaining how to cure dry, chapped lips, but oh how that had set my imagination off. As a result, I'm pretty sure I had just sat there, resting my cheek on my hand while she'd explained in detail how lips could be softened by...well...to be honest, I don't remember what she'd said. I'd been far more interested in her lips at the time, hence the reason my mind had been coming up with its own methods of amending lip problems in completely different ways and not listening to her. Not, of course, that Janet's lips appear to be dry or chapped, although they could always be moistened...and I know exactly how to help her with that. Problem is, by that point she'd stopped talking about lips, I was still staring at hers with the goofiest of smiles on my face, and she was staring right back at me like I'd suddenly sprouted three extra heads. Even then, though, it had taken me another minute to realize I was staring, that she'd stopped talking, and that I looked, quite frankly, like an idiot.
"Earth to Daniel."
Oh, this has so been my morning...and I'm starting to understand how Jack felt after kissing Sam during that time loop, as he'd confessed one night after having a bit too much to drink. The only differences seem to be that he got over it faster than I am and that his self-torture was his own fault while mine...well, I'm still trying to figure out who or what is responsible for this.
And you know what's even worse? Once I finally realize I've been staring, my mind wandering back to the fantasy of Janet Fraiser instigating another kiss and causing a flurry of sensations as she presses her lips to mine, and snap out of the dream, a quick look at the clock reveals that I just lost five to ten minutes of what should've been perfectly good work time. I'm doing an awful job of hiding this affliction from her, and the completeness of my failure has left me royally embarrassed.
"Daniel?"
Damn, all I want to do right now is lean across the table toward her, look so deeply in her eyes that I hypnotize her into doing my will, and pull her toward me, my hand straying upward to cup her cheek, fingers caressing her silky skin, our eyes closing as our faces draw near, then a tentative touch, a taste, she leans closer, nipping my lower lip between hers....
"Daniel! "
Without warning, her voice jolts me out of the daydream and sends my pulse pounding...shit, not again. All this time my eyes have been taking in every line on her face, every fleck of gold in her brown eyes, every stray auburn hair framing her face, and, of course, every curve of her lips. I thought she'd been busy reading the notes I'd managed to translate before losing myself again...how long has she been trying to get my attention? And here we go again, my cheeks are flushed and...and...I'm still staring at her like a deer caught in the headlights. You'd better make a response, Jackson, and fix this before it becomes a real problem.
"I'm sorry, did you just say something?"
Oh, yeah, that's a good way to fix it; act ignorant of everything going on around you. Not surprisingly, Janet shakes her head in exasperation. "Look, Daniel, if you want to quit for the day...."
"No!" Whoa, that may have come out a bit too vehemently. No wonder she now has an eyebrow cocked at me. "No, I just...."
"You just what?" I'm rather embarrassed to say I don't answer her. "Daniel? Are you feeling all right?"
"I'm fine," I say, my voice no longer vehement, just...terse. We are, after all, treading on some very dangerous ground here.
She rises to her feet and...uh oh, she's walking toward me. My...um...odd behavior has apparently kicked her into full-scale doctor mode. Nice going. "Are you sure? You've been like this all day."
"No, I'm fine, Janet. Really." Please believe me, please believe me....
She stops in front of me and places her hand to my forehead...ooh, Janet, that is such a bad idea. You're asking for trouble, aren't you? It takes every ounce of my remaining restraint not to capture her hand with mine, jump to my feet, and lay a kiss on her that would....
...Guarantee I'd be slapped immediately after it. Ahem. No, I'd better pass on that. Besides, a kiss that she doesn't want wouldn't be the kind of kiss I'd want; it would be highly inconsiderate of me to just kiss her because I can no longer restrain these damned male urges to kiss a beautiful woman. And when had I decided to try kissing her again? I didn't. We're just friends. Friends, remember? Although I can't help really enjoying how her hand feels pressed to my face right now. Now if only she would lower it to my chin, tilt my head up, look into my eyes, give me a seductive smile, lean down and....
"Well, you feel a bit warm, but nothing to worry about."
Well, of course I feel warm, Janet. Between the humiliation at being caught staring yet again and the fire your touch is igniting in my skin, is it any wonder my body temperature has risen a few degrees?
"Look at me," she instructs, to which I gladly comply...although she'd better not make me look at her too long or she will regret it. "I don't get it, Daniel. What's with you today? Half the time you've been staring off into space like your mind's a thousand miles away; the other half you've barely heard a word I've said."
Staring off into space? Hardly. No, not space; I'm staring at you, Janet. My mind definitely isn't a thousand miles away, either; it's right here in your den-slash-living room, fantasizing about...well...an activity that I'll leave nameless for fear it'll drag me down into its depths again. And not hearing you? Believe me, that's not intentional. I love your voice; I just seem to get distracted every time I see your lips move, drawing my attention to their beauty and perfection and elegance and...and...definite kissabilitiness. See? I'm so far gone today that I'm even making up new words to describe you.
"You really want to know what it is?" I finally ask her.
"Of course I really want to know," she replies matter-of-factly. "You're driving me nuts trying to figure out where your mind is."
Yeah, well, if only I was a bit more positive about how 'nuts' you'd been driven, I might be tempted to show you where my mind is and hope you like the view as much as I do...but I'm hoping against hope right now. Janet Fraiser is simply too professional to take that lying down. "Okay, the truth? I had a dream last night and it's, well, driving me nuts."
"Ah," she says as if that explains everything, then a moment later she returns to her seat on the other side of the table. "Go on."
"The problem is, I remember the key events but not the details. I guess I'm just trying to figure out the rest while the dream's still fresh in my mind."
That amused smile is returning to her face as she continues watching me. "I see. Daniel Jackson obsessed with a dream...this is a new one for your records. Must've been one hell of a dream."
I'm not quick enough to catch the single laugh that bursts out of me. "You have no idea."
She arches an eyebrow at me. "So it was a good dream."
I grin at that. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, it was one of those dreams."
Her smile transforms into a full-fledged, knowing grin. "Yeah, I've had those too. Definitely. So...maybe I can help you out. You want to tell me what you do know about this dream?"
Ooh...talk about inviting the wolf in sheep's clothing in through the front door. Judging from the sneaky, wily smile I feel spreading across my lips, I bet you anything I'd never recognize myself if I saw my reflection in a mirror right now. "No."
She eyes me another moment, then laughs, grabs another tablet from the stack, and hands it to me. "Get back to work, Dr. Jackson."
"Yes, Ma'am."
0~*~0~*~0~*~0~*~0
I'm doing pretty well, believe it or not. I've made it through another hour and my mind's only drifted off on its own ten times. That's...once every six minutes. We really haven't gotten much done yet -- okay, I haven't gotten much done yet -- but at least this hasn't been a completely wasted day. As a matter of fact, all things considered, I think I've done wonderfully. So far I've made it through, let's see...25 tablets.
Out of 179. Ahem.
A new problem seems to be developing, though. See, Janet has begun staring at me. A lot. I don't know why; I don't know for how long at a time; hell, I don't even think I've been staring at her the past hour as much as she's been staring at me. All I know is that every time I look up at her, her eyes are glued to me as if she's trying to read my mind, that amused smile still playing on her lips. And, even worse, every time I pass her a tablet or vice versa, our fingers have begun touching. While it could be my nerves are just overly sensitive today and, therefore, I'm reading too much into things, I think she's doing it intentionally. In the past hour she has somehow read my mind, seen my dream, and is now pushing me to see just how much restraint I, a weak-willed man, possess. I suppose in a sense this new development is encouraging, although it's done nothing to relieve my problem and everything to aggravate it.
No, sadly, I still see no relief in sight: she'll still never let me kiss her, and I'm still struggling with this nearly irresistible urge to reach over the table and engage in a lip lock with her that'll leave us both lying catatonic on the floor for the next year. But it's all just wishful thinking; her staring is merely a result of her concern for me because she is my doctor and cares about my health, and I'm just imagining all these little touches because of course people touch when they're passing objects between them. Is it any wonder I'm now predicting that I'll end up in the infirmary by five o'clock tonight because Janet determines that I've completely lost my mind? Not that I'm terrible worried about it anymore as long as she's there with me. After all, that increased my number of potential opportunities, and that's not a bad thing. At all.
Suddenly, my gaze snaps to the mantel of the fireplace just behind her...that's odd. I've been here hours and never noticed that before, a black box sitting beside the clock. A CD player.
Wait a minute. CD player...music...song...?
"There was a song playing."
Janet's eyebrows rise as she looks over her laptop at me. "What?"
"There was a song playing in my dream."
She pushes the laptop aside and leans back in her seat, curious but amused at what must seem to be a bizarre new development in today's growing Daniel Jackson dream dilemma. "What song?"
"I have no idea."
She ponders that a moment. "I see. A song you know?"
I shake my head. "I don't think so."
"Would you recognize it if you heard it?"
Hmm. "Maybe."
Janet sighs, still observing me with that ever-present, tiny smile playing on her lips. I think she's smirking at me. Well, on the bright side, I may be miserable right now but at least I'm entertaining her in the process. "Then maybe it's a song you heard recently."
I nod slowly. "That's a definite possibility."
"Mmm hmm. So what were you listening to yesterday?"
What was I listening to...? "Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Not that I remember." To be honest, I'm not really a music person. Don't get me wrong, I like music; I just normally listen to books on tape or talk radio as I'm driving home from work, not to music. Come to think of it, the last time I heard any music was probably at the SGC, coming from an office late at night after everyone else had left. "Now where was I...?"
"Excuse me?"
I lift my eyes to her face...no, not to her face, to her lips. Shit, I am obsessed with those lips today. If I find out someone else is to blame for this never-ending obsession with Janet Fraiser, her lips, and a dream kiss, heads will be rolling. That's when it hits me. "You."
Her eyebrows shoot upward. "Me?"
"You were playing music last night when I stopped in your office to check on our plans for today."
Oh, is she amused. I've certainly figured out that look of hers by now. "Dr. Jackson, are you accusing me of causing your dream last night and, therefore, your inability to concentrate today?"
You'd better believe it, woman. "You were listening to music last night, weren't you?"
"I had a CD going while I was doing paperwork, yeah...."
Things are fitting in place about how I ended up with that blasted dream in the first place. Somehow my subconscious mind must've taken a song I'd heard in her office, the fact that she and I were working together today, and, probably even more to blame now that I remember it, a random comment dropped by Jack O'Neill yesterday when he'd heard my plans for today -- what had he said? "Ooh, Danny, working alone with the Doc when there are no needles around...that's every guy's fantasy" -- and combined them into a dream that's still driving me nuts hours later.
I guess it shouldn't surprise me how my brain pieced together those three separate incidents. Once when I was 14 and trying to figure out what to do with my life, my foster parents took me to Florida where I saw a billboard along the road advertising an alligator park. That night I dreamed I'd become an alligator farmer and had 25 alligators running around the house, eating everything in sight. The sign had barely registered with me at the time I'd seen it, but somehow it had embedded itself in my brain and manifested itself into one of the most bizarre dreams I've ever had. Even now, 20-odd years later, whenever I see an alligator -- be it real, on TV, or mummified in Egypt -- I still think about that dream. Good thing we didn't stay in Florida long or else I might've seriously considered the profession.
Daniel Jackson, Ph.D. in Alligator Farming. Hey, it could've happened.
Ahem. There's no point to that. Now, though, my human nature's feeling much more satisfied knowing three other people are to blame for causing my dream last night: the singer of whatever song I'd heard, Janet for playing it, and Jack O'Neill for telling me I should be fantasizing about today. I'm no longer entirely responsible for whatever happens next.
"So what CD were you listening to?" I ask.
"You're serious." I nod, and Janet rubs her eyes. "I don't remember what was playing when you...." Suddenly, she suddenly lowers her hand. "Wait. I was in a country mood last night. I don't suppose you remember if it was a male or female singer?"
"Try male." I may not remember the song, but I'm guessing my subconscious mind -- which, mind you, will be getting a big talking to once I get home -- is more likely to identify with a male singer. I am, after all, male and attracted to women, two facts that this dream has reminded me of all too well.
She thinks for another moment, then rises to her feet, leaves the room, and returns a minute later with a CD. "Now I'm glad I brought it home this weekend. I suppose you want to hear it and try to identify the song?"
Warnings are going off in my head. Listening to a CD that may have the song responsible for my obsession is a horrible idea, especially while Janet's in the same room with me. On the other hand, if I can get all the other details of the dream firmly in place, maybe I'll stop dwelling on it, trying to recapture everything that was happening at the time. "Yes, please. I can work with music on."
"Sure you can," she murmurs as she pushes a button on the CD player and the top pops open. "I can't guarantee the song that's bugging you is on here, but it's worth a try." I see her unsuccessfully try to hide her grin as she inserts the CD and closes the top. "Anything is worth a try if it gets your mind back on this project."
Now it's my turn to smirk as Janet turns around and retakes her seat. Hey, when being tortured by a dream, why not drag everyone else into that torture along with you? "So who is it?"
"Mark Wills. Bought the CD for the first song on the album but the rest was just as good."
Mark Wills. "Never heard of him."
She holds up the case as a siren starts off the CD and quickly gives way to drums and other instruments. Okay, the title's sappy enough: Loving Every Minute. The guy looks average enough, too...but at least now I have a name and a face to add to my hit list if it turns out he's the one responsible for my current grief.
"He's known for his story songs, songs with messages, and country covers of pop songs," Janet says.
"Ah." Okay, Janet, I may now live for watching your lips move, but it's time for silence so I can listen to the CD. She grins as if she's just overheard my mental thought -- a very scary prospect right now, if you ask me, having Janet Fraiser able to read my mind -- but, much to my relief, doesn't say another word. I return her smile, grab another tablet from the stack, and pretend to get back to translating.
On to Part 2....