fic: slow burn (stargate sg1)
STATUS: Complete
SUMMARY: Slow burn, watching the world turn from my arms. Ten years, five moments.
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATIONS: Daniel/Janet
SPOILERS: 2010
SOUNDTRACK: "Sunsets" (Powderfinger), "Across The Universe" (The Beatles), "Honey And The Moon" (Joseph Arthur), "The World Outside" (Paloalto), "Throwing Fire At The Sun" (Heather Nova)
ARCHIVING: Do not archive. Please ask.
NOTES: This story was originally written over two years ago, however the necessary rewrites were only completed recently.
THANKS TO: mandysbitch for the betas (both then and now).
WORDS: 4,968
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Don't sue.
Copyright anr; March 2006.
* * * * *
Slow Burn by anr
* * * * *
* 2000: sunsets over the beaches from now on *
The Aschen want to see everything, go everywhere and meet everyone, much to the governments' displeasure. There's national security to consider, after all, and non-disclosure orders and a thousand other, mostly political, reasons to nay-say the idea.
But these are the Aschen, their newfound saviours, and when the feet-dragging goes on too long they simply make it a condition of their treaty, and seventy minutes after that declaration, Daniel finds himself hovering outside Janet's office at two-am on a Friday.
He knows she's in there: she's been pulling all-nighters ever since the Aschen handed over their anti-cancer vaccine documentation last week.
He knocks once and goes over the list of reasons he has for inviting her (they might need a doctor; Hammond wants an SGC officer to accompany him and Sam can't and Jack won't come; he's going to need company that isn't alien or politic; he'd really like that company to be hers; they might need a doctor) while he waits.
And waits.
He knocks again and hears a thump, a curse, and finally an, "enter."
She's straightening folders and shuffling paperwork as he walks in, but the red imprint on her cheek and her semi-glazed eyes tell him she certainly wasn't working a moment ago. He smiles and adjusts his glasses.
"Hey," he says.
"Daniel, hi." Her smile is tired, but real, and he wonders what she knocked over when he accidentally woke her.
"Working late?"
"Oh, yeah." A rueful expression now as she gestures to the multitude of print-outs. "There's just so much to go through -- their advances are incredible. I mean, did you know they have a cure for Alzheimer's? And the Ebola virus? Not to mention their anti-HIV vaccine and --"
He listens patiently as she marvels at the Aschen's medical repertoire and thinks she will love Hawaii. Then he wonders if she's ever been before. There's so much he doesn't know about her.
"-- and hell, Daniel. If this is all for real -- I mean, really, really for real -- I'll soon be out of a job!" Her bright grin tells him she's not entirely put out by the idea.
He can't help but grin back. "Really, really?" he teases and she looks away briefly, a wry flush on her cheeks.
"Anyway," another quick shuffle as she tries to reign back her excitement (he wants to tell her not to -- she's cute when eager), "what can I do for you?"
He clears his throat and runs throughs his reasons again quickly. They might need a doctor: check.
"Wanna get lei'd?"
* 2003: limitless, undying love which shines around me like a million suns *
There are numerous advantages to saving the world, but Daniel likes this one the best. Forget no more disease, or war, or poverty... all of those are great, no doubt about it, but not one of them can compare to waking up in the morning and finding her beside him.
It's sappy and mushy and a whole bunch of other words that end in -y, but after two and a half years of dating on the side, of being too busy to spend any extended time with the woman he's pretty sure he's fallen in love with, he doesn't really care. Not if it means this.
This with her hair all tousled, and a pillow imprint on her cheek, and a strap of the tank-top-thingy she wears to bed sliding off one shoulder. This with her body warm beside his, and her foot brushing his shin, and the tiny, little frown that appears when he shifts and a beam of sunshine hits her face.
"Too early," she mumbles, rolling away from him and burrowing further into the covers, and he grins, almost laughs, because if it's anything, it's late, and the fact that they're here, still in bed, when yesterday (and last week, last month, last year) they were too busy to sleep until dawn... well, that's awesome all by itself.
For not the first time, he thanks the universe for sending the Aschen their way.
Sitting up, he brushes the backs of his fingers against the curve of shoulder still visible above the edge of the sheet. "Janet?"
"Mmm?"
"Coffee?"
He gets a sleepy moan for a response and takes that as a yes.
"'Kay. I'll be back." No reply at all this time, as he rolls out of bed and heads towards the bedroom door, and he wonders if coffee will be enough to rouse her. Maybe he should make her something to eat as well? He's not sure he's awake enough himself to try for something ambitious, like eggs or pancakes or anything that involves actual cooking, but a bit of toast could be do-able. He wonders if she has any jelly.
"Hello, Daniel."
One foot into the kitchen, and he freezes. "Uh --"
"Nice boxers."
Somehow, he manages to swallow his surprise and find his voice. "Aren't you meant to be at school?" he asks, and then winces at how accusing that sounds.
Cassie just shrugs, her back to him as she sits at the kitchen table, flipping through a magazine. "Spring break, remember?"
"Right." He takes another step inside, and then another. "Right." He's nodding just a little too much, he realises, and forces himself to stop. "So, uh, hi?"
"Hi." Great. Now she sounds like she's laughing at him.
This shouldn't be so damned awkward, he thinks, caught half-way between the door and the kitchen counter. It's not like he and Janet have ever hidden the fact that they've been seeing each other, on and off, for the past couple of years. And this is certainly not the first time he's bumped into Cassie, in their house, with Janet persona non grata.
It is, however, the first time he's done so after just crawling out of bed, with his clothes still spread over the master bedroom floor, and with no intention of leaving anytime soon.
"So I take it the party last night went well?"
"What? Oh. Yeah." He's at the sink now, putting water into the kettle and looking for mugs. "The President thought we were long overdue for a celebration, now that the last of the System Lords have been dethroned."
"Long live the Aschen," Cassie intones, faux-reverently, and Daniel smiles.
"Something like that, yeah." As he waits for the kettle to finish boiling, he watches Cassie push away from the table, and bring her dishes to the sink. "So, any plans for break?"
She shrugs. "Oh, you know. The usual." He watches her rinse her bowl and cup and stack them into the dishwasher. "Hanging out with my friends, catching up on my Lit Studies reading, making sure you don't fuck my mom over..."
It takes a moment for the last item on her itinerary to sink in and, when it does, his jaw drops. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." He watches her dry her hands, and then lean back against the kitchen cupboards. "I mean, it's quite simple, really: you hurt her and I'll hurt you. Slowly. And creatively."
"Okay," he says, evenly. He refuses to feel intimidated -- or, worse, frightened -- by a nineteen year old girl who wouldn't willingly hurt a fly. This is Cassie, for heaven's sake. And while his response is neither an agreement nor disagreement to her statement, she seems to take it as the latter anyway.
"Careful, Daniel," she says lightly. "I don't think you really want to mess with the girl with superpowers."
He freezes, briefly, and then forces himself to relax again. "Nirrti cured you," he says, trying for a smile, "you don't have them anymore."
Her eyebrow arches. "Don't I?"
Nineteen. Harmless. He is not frightened.
Before he can tell her that, though, there's the sound of shuffling footsteps in the hallway and a moment later Janet wanders into the kitchen, still tugging her robe on. "Morning, sweetheart," she says, brushing a kiss across Cassie's forehead as the girl moves back towards the kitchen table. "I thought you weren't getting in until this afternoon?"
Cassie laughs, her tone light years away from the serious, don't-mess-with-me, voice she'd used on him a moment ago, and rolls her eyes. "It is the afternoon, mom," she says.
Both he and Janet glance at the kitchen clock automatically. "Huh," says Janet, before shrugging. With a smile, she takes the coffee he doesn't quite remember making and follows Cassie to the table. "So, Daniel and I thought we'd take you out to dinner tonight. Celebrate your coming home and all. That is, unless you've already made plans with Amy?"
"Nah, she's not getting in until tomorrow, so dinner sounds good. Where we going?"
As he listens to them pick a restaurant, and then suddenly start organising the rest of the weekend, it occurs to him that he should probably be worried, or concerned maybe, by how efficiently they're including him in their plans. They only finished saving the world a couple of days ago, after all. They've only just now realised they have time for things other than ending world hunger and fighting an intergalactic war... surely there should be more of an adjustment phase?
Then Janet glances up, and smiles over the rim of her coffee mug at him, and he realises he doesn't really care what they do, or don't do, as long as it means more of this.
He smiles back.
* 2005: and right now the sun is trying to kill the moon *
It's late when he finally arrives home. Too late. Janet is sitting at the kitchen table, a coffee mug in front of her, and he tries not to wince at the look of calm of her features. Christ, he thinks, not tonight.
"Busy day?"
He nods as he loosens his tie and fetches a glass of water.
"There's dinner for you in the oven."
"I grabbed a sandwich at work." Quickly, he adds, "sorry."
"I went by your office today," she says, ignoring his apology. "I thought we'd have lunch together."
He was in Minnesota, trading insults with the man he once considered his best friend. "I'm sorry I missed you then," he says. "That would have been nice."
"Maybe tomorrow?"
"I can't, I have to go to the Volien system in the morning -- I'll be there all day."
Without responding, she stands and leaves the kitchen. Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair and puts his glass in the sink. Shit.
He follows, of course, and finds her in the bedroom, turning down the covers. With another sigh, he toes off his shoes.
"I'm sorry I was late," he says.
"You're always sorry." Pillows are thumped aggressively; he flinches sympathetically.
"I'll make it up to you. Take you out to dinner -- we haven't been to Zargo's for awhile...?"
"That's because you're always working."
He swears under his breath and removes his tie altogether. "I can't help that, Janet. You know what I do is --"
"He's dead."
The interruption is left-field and he stops mid-action. "What? Who?" Sudden dread churns his mind with the possibilities: it can't be Jack -- he just saw him. Teal'c, maybe? But he thought he was on Chulak...
"General Hammond."
He swears again, and strips down to his boxers as his panic switches to irritability. "Janet, please. Not tonight."
"Yes, tonight. A year ago tonight, in fact, and just because you'd like to --"
"To what? Huh? To what, Janet? Forget? Even if I wanted too -- which, just so we're clear, I don't -- you won't let me!"
"Now wait just a min--"
"No, you know what I'd like? I'd like it if we could go one month -- hell, how about a week! -- without his death being rubbed in my face like there was something someone could have done about it! It was a heart attack, Janet and you really need to --"
"Oh, you're right. How silly of me to think that today might be an opportune time to bring it up. I mean, just because I have the time to visit my partner's office in the hopes of lunch and, maybe, company at the cemetery... hell, obviously I'm a terrible person!"
"A, I never said that and b, don't blame me because you've nothing to do each day. Some of us still actually have jobs to go to, you know! Cào!"
It's a low blow and he knows it.
Her face whitens and his pillow is suddenly across the room. "The word is fuck, Daniel. F, u, c, k. Fuck. And if you can't say it in English then don't bother fucking saying it at all!"
For a second he considers asking her when she learnt Chinese before deciding it's simply not worth the effort. Tight-lipped, he crosses the room and retrieves his pillow. It's almost two and he has to be up again in four hours.
"Look," he says, trying for patience. He went too far and he is sorry. "Can we just not do this now?" He shifts his discarded suit to the chair beside the dresser and climbs into bed, removing his glasses.
She stands beside the bed still, glaring at him. "You have a better time in mind?"
"Tomorrow." God, anytime but now. "I'll come home early and..." She snorts. "I will!"
"Sure." Her tone is derisive but she gets into the bed and turns out her light.
He does the same and faces her back. "I promise, Jan," he says, putting a hand on her shoulder.
She shakes it off. "Don't make promises you won't keep."
They used to be so good together, he thinks. In the beginning... hell, in the beginning they were perfect. Now all they seem to do is fight. He misses the woman he fell in love with and wishes he knew how to make everything better again.
"I'll keep it," he says, "I'll be here."
"Oh yeah? And what if I'm not?"
Shit -- not this again. Fed-up, he rolls away from her. "Where the hell else would you be?"
She's still asleep when he leaves in the morning and when he gets home the next day, two hours later than he'd originally planned, she's gone.
Fuck.
* 2007: there's a world outside of you *
Sam and Joe end up throwing a combined anniversary/we-just-signed-world-seven-to-the-confederation party in October of '07 and he mingles politely. There seem to be more Aschen than humans in attendance but that's probably his imagination.
Watching Janet and Sam, from the relative safety of the opposite side of the living room, he tries to work out how long Sam and Joe have been married for. Two years? Three?
Three, he decides. He and Janet were still together then.
He wonders if he was meant to bring a gift tonight.
He wonders what kept Teal'c from attending, and then thinks he should probably schedule a trip to Chulak sometime soon.
He wonders where the bathroom is.
"Hors d'oeurve?" asks a voice to his left and he looks up to see Cassie holding a plate of little... somethings.
"No," he says, wrinkling his nose, "thank you."
"Your loss," she says, shrugging, and pops one into her mouth. "Nice tie."
He looks down automatically (he thought he did pretty well with this one, actually). "Thanks."
Another hors d'oeurve disappears from the plate as he wonders what Sam and Janet are talking about. As if on cue, Cassie says, "Sam and Joe have decided to start cooking."
He blinks. "Excuse me?"
She nods towards the two women. "Overheard them talking about it in the kitchen. Sam's hoping to have a bun in the oven by Christmas."
He tries not to choke. "Cassie!"
She grins and selects another appetiser, sniffing it dubiously before returning it to the plate. An Aschen approaches, unsmiling but obviously interested in the food, and without even looking she says, "sod off."
"Cassie!" he says again, watching the Aschen back away. "Did Oxford teach you no manners?" He's careful to sound disapproving and not amused.
"Must have missed that elective," she says and wanders away without saying goodbye.
He shakes his head and decides to go find the bathroom.
On his way back to the party, of course, he bumps into Janet.
"Hi," he says, a little cautiously.
"Hi."
"How've you been?"
"Fine, fine. You?"
He tries not to make too much eye-contact, since he's pretty sure that's what screwed up their forty-five minute ultra-polite conversation about the weather at Cassie's graduation last year, and nods. "Good."
"That's good." Now she's nodding too.
"Yeah. Good."
An awkward silence develops; he tells himself not to fidget.
"So," she says suddenly, "I'd better --" she nods towards the kitchen and he leaps at the excuse offered.
"Yeah, me too..." His nod is directed towards the front door.
"Oh. You're leaving?"
He wonders if that's regret he hears in her voice. "Busy day tomorrow," he says.
Her posture straightens and she smiles politely. "Well, it was nice to see you again, Daniel," she says.
He nods. "Same."
She inclines her head and turns to walk away. Unthinkingly, he reaches out and takes her hand. She freezes.
"Jan..." he says softly and the look she gives him over her shoulder is so very, very unsure. He hates that he can make her look like that. "I'm sorry."
He's not sure what for. Maybe everything.
Her hand turns in his and for one brief moment the touch is real and familiar. God, how he's missed it... missed her.
"Me too," she says quietly, and then she smiles, properly this time, and pulls away.
He watches her disappear into the kitchen and then turns and leaves himself.
Cassie's outside, sitting on the porch railing and smoking a cigarette. "Lovely," he says, slipping into his coat, "I didn't know you smoked."
She shrugs and taps ash into the bushes. "I've had all my shots."
"That's hardly a good reason to take up a bad habit."
"Never said it was the reason."
He leans against the railing and watches the smoke from her cigarette curl lazily through the air. "So how is merry old London?"
"Wet. How's wherever-the-hell-you've-been?"
"Fine. Did you get the Meteoran choker I sent you for your birthday?"
"That leather and stone thing?" He nods. "Yes. Very cool, by the way. Thanks."
"You're welcome."
They share a small smile. She smokes her cigarette with far too much poise -- he'd feel better if she were hacking up a lung or two on each exhale.
"Avoiding Mom still?"
"No."
"Liar." She flashes a quick grin in his direction which he refuses to return. "Want my advice?"
"Will I like it?"
"Of course not: it's advice." He tries not to smile. "Quit your job, tell Mom you're sorry and that you still love her, and then run away together. Go back to Hawaii or something and spend the rest of your lives getting laid on some semi-deserted beach."
He coughs loudly and shoots her a bemused look. "What ever happened to 'hurt my mother and I'll hurt you'?"
Cassie shrugs and flicks the cigarette butt into the garden. "The two of you did too good a job fucking each other up over the years. Didn't need my help after all."
"You know, I think I preferred it when you were an over-protective teenager."
"You just don't want me talking about you two doing the --"
"Cassandra!" He holds up his hands pleadingly. "Please, for a love of all things, do not finish that sentence."
She smirks. "Prude."
Four years at Oxford and she's still just a smartass. He sighs and throws up his hands. "I give up." She hits him. "Ow! What the hell was that for?"
"Ever think that maybe giving up is part of your problem?"
He frowns and rubs his arm, definitely feeling a knuckle imprint there. "Since when were you a psych grad?"
"Not the point. Can I borrow fifty bucks?"
His eyes narrow. "What for?"
"Drugs."
Her blithe grin is a shade too annoying; he gives her a hundred. "Thank you, Daddy."
He lets her hug him but says, almost by rote: "I'm not your father, Cass. You shouldn't call me that."
"Closest I've ever had here," she says into his shoulder before pulling away, "so I'll call you whatever the hell I want."
Sighing, he gives her a push towards the house. "Get back inside," he says, "and this time play nice."
"With the gloomy-looking wanks? I think not," she says, and he is not going to smile at her description of the Aschen, he really isn't. She walks over to the door. "You going?"
He nods. "Early meeting tomorrow -- I'll need my beauty sleep."
"Liar," she accuses him again and this time he does smile. At the door, she pauses. "Hey, Dad?"
He sighs loudly for effect. "Yes?"
Her grin is entirely too devilish. "Hawaii."
He rolls his eyes and waits for her to close the door before walking away.
* 2010: you and me and everyone, throwing fire at the sun *
They celebrate and talk and make plans for dinner. He tries not to cringe at her dig about their careers, and later when she talks about Hammond's death, but soon realises she's not picking a fight, just stating what they now consider to be facts. What a difference three (five?) years makes.
Then strategies are developed, a plan of attack orchestrated, and when they leave Jack at the restaurant two nights later, his palm is in the small of her back. He's missed this Janet terribly and it's so very good to see her again.
"Stay with me tonight?" he asks at the nearest teleport, and she sighs and looks away.
"Daniel..."
"Please."
Morning too soon and he's alone when he wakes. Groaning, he throws back the covers (and hears water running in the bathroom -- so not alone then, after all) and sits on the edge with his head in his hands. He doesn't think he can do this.
He doesn't think he can watch her die.
The shower hisses loudly; over it, just barely, he can hear the cadence of her voice as she sings (she's still as tuneless as ever).
He holds no illusions of a fairytale ending today: the security around the 'gate is impregnable and they have all proved, time and again over the years, that they're incapable of happily-ever-afters. So he scribbles a quick note to Teal'c, in Goa'uld, before she finishes in the bathroom and considers crossing his fingers for good measure. It certainly couldn't hurt.
"Whatcha doing?"
She's towelling dry her hair as she walks back into the room, body damp and fresh and gloriously nude. He wonders how long they have.
"What? Oh, nothing. Just a, y'know, goodbye, for, um --" Suddenly he's remembering that he's never been very good at deliberately lying to her. "It's just in case," he says instead, folding the piece of paper twice and pressing hard on the creases. "Will you give it to Teal'c for me?"
"Of course." She takes it from him with a compassionate smile, fingers brushing his briefly. He shudders and catches her wrist before she can fully walk away.
"Come back to bed," he says.
"I can't. I still have to go home and change." She looks at the clock on his bedside table and frowns. "Sam's expecting us at the lab, Daniel. We can't be late."
He shakes his head; feels a little desperate suddenly. "Stay," he says quietly, reaching up and touching her cheek, "please."
She wavers and he pulls her down to the mattress, covering her body with his, before she can say no.
"Daniel!" But she's laughing as she says it and he kisses her hungrily, hands tracing every inch of her flesh. He has so much to remember and there's still so very much that he doesn't know.
"When did you decide to open your own practice? And when did you learn Chinese? And why aquamarine? And --"
"What on -- oh -- on Earth are you talking about?"
Her left breast is the tiniest bit smaller than the right; he gives it extra attention and tries to slow down his thoughts.
"Your office," he says, nipping at her collarbone. "When did you decide to open it?"
She frowns. "Um, two years ago? Three? I don't really remember to tell you the truth."
"But you like it, right? It's what you still want to do -- be a doctor?" He remembers all too well how happy she was at the idea that the Aschen were going to make her profession obsolete... and then how depressed she was when that actually happened.
"Sure." She shakes her head and smiles, rolling them over so she's on top. "I mean, at least it gives me something to do now," she adds, shrugging a little.
"I'm sorry," he says, finding the mole on the top of her collarbone. He loves that mole. "I know I wasn't there when you needed me to be, and --"
She kisses him, hard and quick, but her tone is soft. "Don't be -- it's all ancient history now, anyway."
He wants to say, but history is all we have, only her hand has trailed south, and when she palms him his eyes roll back into his head, and he realises that's not true. They still have this.
This with her hand warm around him, and his on her breasts, back, ass. This with the little gasps she makes when he finds her sex and spells out her name in Hebrew. This with their limbs tangled and bodies shifting and skin flushing, and the way he can't help but close his eyes as he sinks into her.
He opens them again quickly, not wanting to miss a thing.
"Tell me something."
She blinks and wraps her arms around his neck. "Tell you -- oh -- tell you what?"
"Anything." His cheek glides against hers. "Something I don't already know."
"Daniel, what...?"
"Please."
"But -- oh -- I -- fine." Her eyes close and her neck arches; he takes the opportunity to memorise the taste of her skin. "I once cheated on a history final."
He actually stops and leans back a little, surprised. "Really?"
One eye cracks open, then the other; a sheepish look firmly in place as she nods.
Of everything she could have said... "I never would have guessed that."
She shrugs a little. "It's not something I'm particularly proud of. I was young -- a sophomore -- and history was, you know, really boring --"
"Well, I suppose all -- hey!"
A wide grin. "Daniel, I'm teasing." She pauses and quirks an eyebrow. "I was a freshman."
Laughter, then, as he mimes outrage and grabs at her shoulders, her waist, tickling and kissing and moving again; loving every single aspect of this moment, here, with her. This will be his final memory, he thinks unexpectedly, shuddering, this will be what he'll be thinking of in a few hours, when it's time. Them, like this, laughing and touching and -- oh -- yeah.
"JanJanJanJanJan." He chants her name into her hair and kisses her eyebrow, her cheek. Holding on so tight.
"God," she says, moans, incoherent and beautiful, "love you."
Remembering: coffees in the SGC, late at night when they couldn't sleep. Sunsets and lei's in Hawaii; their first kiss and all those that followed. Her, Cassie and him -- a family of sorts. Her fingers in his hair and her smile, God, her smile. The mole on her shoulder and her favourite colour (aquamarine) and her inability to body-surf...
So much he's not allowed to forget but mainly, always: this.
"I love you too."
Not enough time for her to shower again afterwards, and he finds that strangely affecting, knowing that she will leave Earth with the scent of them still imprinted on her skin. Then waiting at the front door, as she finds her bag and slips into her shoes, her hand on his arm for balance.
"Janet..." he says, and stops. He realises then that he doesn't even know how to do this; that he doesn't know how to say goodbye to her.
Truth be told, he never has.
She sees his expression and shakes her head. "Don't." She looks away to run her fingers through her hair and he's glad, suddenly, that he doesn't own a hairdryer, that she can't pin it all back. "This isn't goodbye, Daniel," she says to his reflection in the hall mirror. "Not yet. Teal'c and I are going to come back through that 'gate and help you guys save the day." She turns and looks up at him, her hand touching his as her smile becomes unbearably gentle. "We have forever."
Not, he thinks, if Teal'c does what's asked of him in the note and stops her from returning.
But he's not going to tell her that -- can't run the risk of her changing Teal'c's mind, of her being there, of her falling being the last thing he sees -- so he returns her smile as best he can and squeezes her fingers. "Right," he lies. He swallows hard against the lump in his throat. "Forever."
A final smile, a final touch, and her palm slides against his as she pulls away. He watches her step over the threshold, and into the bright, bright morning sunshine, and follows her out, thinking: you, you will survive.
He can live with that.
* * * * *
The End.
FEEDBACK: Always appreciated. *g*
MISSING SCENES: Three Years From Now
SUMMARY: Slow burn, watching the world turn from my arms. Ten years, five moments.
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATIONS: Daniel/Janet
SPOILERS: 2010
SOUNDTRACK: "Sunsets" (Powderfinger), "Across The Universe" (The Beatles), "Honey And The Moon" (Joseph Arthur), "The World Outside" (Paloalto), "Throwing Fire At The Sun" (Heather Nova)
ARCHIVING: Do not archive. Please ask.
NOTES: This story was originally written over two years ago, however the necessary rewrites were only completed recently.
THANKS TO: mandysbitch for the betas (both then and now).
WORDS: 4,968
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Don't sue.
Copyright anr; March 2006.
* * * * *
Slow Burn by anr
* * * * *
* 2000: sunsets over the beaches from now on *
The Aschen want to see everything, go everywhere and meet everyone, much to the governments' displeasure. There's national security to consider, after all, and non-disclosure orders and a thousand other, mostly political, reasons to nay-say the idea.
But these are the Aschen, their newfound saviours, and when the feet-dragging goes on too long they simply make it a condition of their treaty, and seventy minutes after that declaration, Daniel finds himself hovering outside Janet's office at two-am on a Friday.
He knows she's in there: she's been pulling all-nighters ever since the Aschen handed over their anti-cancer vaccine documentation last week.
He knocks once and goes over the list of reasons he has for inviting her (they might need a doctor; Hammond wants an SGC officer to accompany him and Sam can't and Jack won't come; he's going to need company that isn't alien or politic; he'd really like that company to be hers; they might need a doctor) while he waits.
And waits.
He knocks again and hears a thump, a curse, and finally an, "enter."
She's straightening folders and shuffling paperwork as he walks in, but the red imprint on her cheek and her semi-glazed eyes tell him she certainly wasn't working a moment ago. He smiles and adjusts his glasses.
"Hey," he says.
"Daniel, hi." Her smile is tired, but real, and he wonders what she knocked over when he accidentally woke her.
"Working late?"
"Oh, yeah." A rueful expression now as she gestures to the multitude of print-outs. "There's just so much to go through -- their advances are incredible. I mean, did you know they have a cure for Alzheimer's? And the Ebola virus? Not to mention their anti-HIV vaccine and --"
He listens patiently as she marvels at the Aschen's medical repertoire and thinks she will love Hawaii. Then he wonders if she's ever been before. There's so much he doesn't know about her.
"-- and hell, Daniel. If this is all for real -- I mean, really, really for real -- I'll soon be out of a job!" Her bright grin tells him she's not entirely put out by the idea.
He can't help but grin back. "Really, really?" he teases and she looks away briefly, a wry flush on her cheeks.
"Anyway," another quick shuffle as she tries to reign back her excitement (he wants to tell her not to -- she's cute when eager), "what can I do for you?"
He clears his throat and runs throughs his reasons again quickly. They might need a doctor: check.
"Wanna get lei'd?"
* 2003: limitless, undying love which shines around me like a million suns *
There are numerous advantages to saving the world, but Daniel likes this one the best. Forget no more disease, or war, or poverty... all of those are great, no doubt about it, but not one of them can compare to waking up in the morning and finding her beside him.
It's sappy and mushy and a whole bunch of other words that end in -y, but after two and a half years of dating on the side, of being too busy to spend any extended time with the woman he's pretty sure he's fallen in love with, he doesn't really care. Not if it means this.
This with her hair all tousled, and a pillow imprint on her cheek, and a strap of the tank-top-thingy she wears to bed sliding off one shoulder. This with her body warm beside his, and her foot brushing his shin, and the tiny, little frown that appears when he shifts and a beam of sunshine hits her face.
"Too early," she mumbles, rolling away from him and burrowing further into the covers, and he grins, almost laughs, because if it's anything, it's late, and the fact that they're here, still in bed, when yesterday (and last week, last month, last year) they were too busy to sleep until dawn... well, that's awesome all by itself.
For not the first time, he thanks the universe for sending the Aschen their way.
Sitting up, he brushes the backs of his fingers against the curve of shoulder still visible above the edge of the sheet. "Janet?"
"Mmm?"
"Coffee?"
He gets a sleepy moan for a response and takes that as a yes.
"'Kay. I'll be back." No reply at all this time, as he rolls out of bed and heads towards the bedroom door, and he wonders if coffee will be enough to rouse her. Maybe he should make her something to eat as well? He's not sure he's awake enough himself to try for something ambitious, like eggs or pancakes or anything that involves actual cooking, but a bit of toast could be do-able. He wonders if she has any jelly.
"Hello, Daniel."
One foot into the kitchen, and he freezes. "Uh --"
"Nice boxers."
Somehow, he manages to swallow his surprise and find his voice. "Aren't you meant to be at school?" he asks, and then winces at how accusing that sounds.
Cassie just shrugs, her back to him as she sits at the kitchen table, flipping through a magazine. "Spring break, remember?"
"Right." He takes another step inside, and then another. "Right." He's nodding just a little too much, he realises, and forces himself to stop. "So, uh, hi?"
"Hi." Great. Now she sounds like she's laughing at him.
This shouldn't be so damned awkward, he thinks, caught half-way between the door and the kitchen counter. It's not like he and Janet have ever hidden the fact that they've been seeing each other, on and off, for the past couple of years. And this is certainly not the first time he's bumped into Cassie, in their house, with Janet persona non grata.
It is, however, the first time he's done so after just crawling out of bed, with his clothes still spread over the master bedroom floor, and with no intention of leaving anytime soon.
"So I take it the party last night went well?"
"What? Oh. Yeah." He's at the sink now, putting water into the kettle and looking for mugs. "The President thought we were long overdue for a celebration, now that the last of the System Lords have been dethroned."
"Long live the Aschen," Cassie intones, faux-reverently, and Daniel smiles.
"Something like that, yeah." As he waits for the kettle to finish boiling, he watches Cassie push away from the table, and bring her dishes to the sink. "So, any plans for break?"
She shrugs. "Oh, you know. The usual." He watches her rinse her bowl and cup and stack them into the dishwasher. "Hanging out with my friends, catching up on my Lit Studies reading, making sure you don't fuck my mom over..."
It takes a moment for the last item on her itinerary to sink in and, when it does, his jaw drops. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." He watches her dry her hands, and then lean back against the kitchen cupboards. "I mean, it's quite simple, really: you hurt her and I'll hurt you. Slowly. And creatively."
"Okay," he says, evenly. He refuses to feel intimidated -- or, worse, frightened -- by a nineteen year old girl who wouldn't willingly hurt a fly. This is Cassie, for heaven's sake. And while his response is neither an agreement nor disagreement to her statement, she seems to take it as the latter anyway.
"Careful, Daniel," she says lightly. "I don't think you really want to mess with the girl with superpowers."
He freezes, briefly, and then forces himself to relax again. "Nirrti cured you," he says, trying for a smile, "you don't have them anymore."
Her eyebrow arches. "Don't I?"
Nineteen. Harmless. He is not frightened.
Before he can tell her that, though, there's the sound of shuffling footsteps in the hallway and a moment later Janet wanders into the kitchen, still tugging her robe on. "Morning, sweetheart," she says, brushing a kiss across Cassie's forehead as the girl moves back towards the kitchen table. "I thought you weren't getting in until this afternoon?"
Cassie laughs, her tone light years away from the serious, don't-mess-with-me, voice she'd used on him a moment ago, and rolls her eyes. "It is the afternoon, mom," she says.
Both he and Janet glance at the kitchen clock automatically. "Huh," says Janet, before shrugging. With a smile, she takes the coffee he doesn't quite remember making and follows Cassie to the table. "So, Daniel and I thought we'd take you out to dinner tonight. Celebrate your coming home and all. That is, unless you've already made plans with Amy?"
"Nah, she's not getting in until tomorrow, so dinner sounds good. Where we going?"
As he listens to them pick a restaurant, and then suddenly start organising the rest of the weekend, it occurs to him that he should probably be worried, or concerned maybe, by how efficiently they're including him in their plans. They only finished saving the world a couple of days ago, after all. They've only just now realised they have time for things other than ending world hunger and fighting an intergalactic war... surely there should be more of an adjustment phase?
Then Janet glances up, and smiles over the rim of her coffee mug at him, and he realises he doesn't really care what they do, or don't do, as long as it means more of this.
He smiles back.
* 2005: and right now the sun is trying to kill the moon *
It's late when he finally arrives home. Too late. Janet is sitting at the kitchen table, a coffee mug in front of her, and he tries not to wince at the look of calm of her features. Christ, he thinks, not tonight.
"Busy day?"
He nods as he loosens his tie and fetches a glass of water.
"There's dinner for you in the oven."
"I grabbed a sandwich at work." Quickly, he adds, "sorry."
"I went by your office today," she says, ignoring his apology. "I thought we'd have lunch together."
He was in Minnesota, trading insults with the man he once considered his best friend. "I'm sorry I missed you then," he says. "That would have been nice."
"Maybe tomorrow?"
"I can't, I have to go to the Volien system in the morning -- I'll be there all day."
Without responding, she stands and leaves the kitchen. Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair and puts his glass in the sink. Shit.
He follows, of course, and finds her in the bedroom, turning down the covers. With another sigh, he toes off his shoes.
"I'm sorry I was late," he says.
"You're always sorry." Pillows are thumped aggressively; he flinches sympathetically.
"I'll make it up to you. Take you out to dinner -- we haven't been to Zargo's for awhile...?"
"That's because you're always working."
He swears under his breath and removes his tie altogether. "I can't help that, Janet. You know what I do is --"
"He's dead."
The interruption is left-field and he stops mid-action. "What? Who?" Sudden dread churns his mind with the possibilities: it can't be Jack -- he just saw him. Teal'c, maybe? But he thought he was on Chulak...
"General Hammond."
He swears again, and strips down to his boxers as his panic switches to irritability. "Janet, please. Not tonight."
"Yes, tonight. A year ago tonight, in fact, and just because you'd like to --"
"To what? Huh? To what, Janet? Forget? Even if I wanted too -- which, just so we're clear, I don't -- you won't let me!"
"Now wait just a min--"
"No, you know what I'd like? I'd like it if we could go one month -- hell, how about a week! -- without his death being rubbed in my face like there was something someone could have done about it! It was a heart attack, Janet and you really need to --"
"Oh, you're right. How silly of me to think that today might be an opportune time to bring it up. I mean, just because I have the time to visit my partner's office in the hopes of lunch and, maybe, company at the cemetery... hell, obviously I'm a terrible person!"
"A, I never said that and b, don't blame me because you've nothing to do each day. Some of us still actually have jobs to go to, you know! Cào!"
It's a low blow and he knows it.
Her face whitens and his pillow is suddenly across the room. "The word is fuck, Daniel. F, u, c, k. Fuck. And if you can't say it in English then don't bother fucking saying it at all!"
For a second he considers asking her when she learnt Chinese before deciding it's simply not worth the effort. Tight-lipped, he crosses the room and retrieves his pillow. It's almost two and he has to be up again in four hours.
"Look," he says, trying for patience. He went too far and he is sorry. "Can we just not do this now?" He shifts his discarded suit to the chair beside the dresser and climbs into bed, removing his glasses.
She stands beside the bed still, glaring at him. "You have a better time in mind?"
"Tomorrow." God, anytime but now. "I'll come home early and..." She snorts. "I will!"
"Sure." Her tone is derisive but she gets into the bed and turns out her light.
He does the same and faces her back. "I promise, Jan," he says, putting a hand on her shoulder.
She shakes it off. "Don't make promises you won't keep."
They used to be so good together, he thinks. In the beginning... hell, in the beginning they were perfect. Now all they seem to do is fight. He misses the woman he fell in love with and wishes he knew how to make everything better again.
"I'll keep it," he says, "I'll be here."
"Oh yeah? And what if I'm not?"
Shit -- not this again. Fed-up, he rolls away from her. "Where the hell else would you be?"
She's still asleep when he leaves in the morning and when he gets home the next day, two hours later than he'd originally planned, she's gone.
Fuck.
* 2007: there's a world outside of you *
Sam and Joe end up throwing a combined anniversary/we-just-signed-world-seven-to-the-confederation party in October of '07 and he mingles politely. There seem to be more Aschen than humans in attendance but that's probably his imagination.
Watching Janet and Sam, from the relative safety of the opposite side of the living room, he tries to work out how long Sam and Joe have been married for. Two years? Three?
Three, he decides. He and Janet were still together then.
He wonders if he was meant to bring a gift tonight.
He wonders what kept Teal'c from attending, and then thinks he should probably schedule a trip to Chulak sometime soon.
He wonders where the bathroom is.
"Hors d'oeurve?" asks a voice to his left and he looks up to see Cassie holding a plate of little... somethings.
"No," he says, wrinkling his nose, "thank you."
"Your loss," she says, shrugging, and pops one into her mouth. "Nice tie."
He looks down automatically (he thought he did pretty well with this one, actually). "Thanks."
Another hors d'oeurve disappears from the plate as he wonders what Sam and Janet are talking about. As if on cue, Cassie says, "Sam and Joe have decided to start cooking."
He blinks. "Excuse me?"
She nods towards the two women. "Overheard them talking about it in the kitchen. Sam's hoping to have a bun in the oven by Christmas."
He tries not to choke. "Cassie!"
She grins and selects another appetiser, sniffing it dubiously before returning it to the plate. An Aschen approaches, unsmiling but obviously interested in the food, and without even looking she says, "sod off."
"Cassie!" he says again, watching the Aschen back away. "Did Oxford teach you no manners?" He's careful to sound disapproving and not amused.
"Must have missed that elective," she says and wanders away without saying goodbye.
He shakes his head and decides to go find the bathroom.
On his way back to the party, of course, he bumps into Janet.
"Hi," he says, a little cautiously.
"Hi."
"How've you been?"
"Fine, fine. You?"
He tries not to make too much eye-contact, since he's pretty sure that's what screwed up their forty-five minute ultra-polite conversation about the weather at Cassie's graduation last year, and nods. "Good."
"That's good." Now she's nodding too.
"Yeah. Good."
An awkward silence develops; he tells himself not to fidget.
"So," she says suddenly, "I'd better --" she nods towards the kitchen and he leaps at the excuse offered.
"Yeah, me too..." His nod is directed towards the front door.
"Oh. You're leaving?"
He wonders if that's regret he hears in her voice. "Busy day tomorrow," he says.
Her posture straightens and she smiles politely. "Well, it was nice to see you again, Daniel," she says.
He nods. "Same."
She inclines her head and turns to walk away. Unthinkingly, he reaches out and takes her hand. She freezes.
"Jan..." he says softly and the look she gives him over her shoulder is so very, very unsure. He hates that he can make her look like that. "I'm sorry."
He's not sure what for. Maybe everything.
Her hand turns in his and for one brief moment the touch is real and familiar. God, how he's missed it... missed her.
"Me too," she says quietly, and then she smiles, properly this time, and pulls away.
He watches her disappear into the kitchen and then turns and leaves himself.
Cassie's outside, sitting on the porch railing and smoking a cigarette. "Lovely," he says, slipping into his coat, "I didn't know you smoked."
She shrugs and taps ash into the bushes. "I've had all my shots."
"That's hardly a good reason to take up a bad habit."
"Never said it was the reason."
He leans against the railing and watches the smoke from her cigarette curl lazily through the air. "So how is merry old London?"
"Wet. How's wherever-the-hell-you've-been?"
"Fine. Did you get the Meteoran choker I sent you for your birthday?"
"That leather and stone thing?" He nods. "Yes. Very cool, by the way. Thanks."
"You're welcome."
They share a small smile. She smokes her cigarette with far too much poise -- he'd feel better if she were hacking up a lung or two on each exhale.
"Avoiding Mom still?"
"No."
"Liar." She flashes a quick grin in his direction which he refuses to return. "Want my advice?"
"Will I like it?"
"Of course not: it's advice." He tries not to smile. "Quit your job, tell Mom you're sorry and that you still love her, and then run away together. Go back to Hawaii or something and spend the rest of your lives getting laid on some semi-deserted beach."
He coughs loudly and shoots her a bemused look. "What ever happened to 'hurt my mother and I'll hurt you'?"
Cassie shrugs and flicks the cigarette butt into the garden. "The two of you did too good a job fucking each other up over the years. Didn't need my help after all."
"You know, I think I preferred it when you were an over-protective teenager."
"You just don't want me talking about you two doing the --"
"Cassandra!" He holds up his hands pleadingly. "Please, for a love of all things, do not finish that sentence."
She smirks. "Prude."
Four years at Oxford and she's still just a smartass. He sighs and throws up his hands. "I give up." She hits him. "Ow! What the hell was that for?"
"Ever think that maybe giving up is part of your problem?"
He frowns and rubs his arm, definitely feeling a knuckle imprint there. "Since when were you a psych grad?"
"Not the point. Can I borrow fifty bucks?"
His eyes narrow. "What for?"
"Drugs."
Her blithe grin is a shade too annoying; he gives her a hundred. "Thank you, Daddy."
He lets her hug him but says, almost by rote: "I'm not your father, Cass. You shouldn't call me that."
"Closest I've ever had here," she says into his shoulder before pulling away, "so I'll call you whatever the hell I want."
Sighing, he gives her a push towards the house. "Get back inside," he says, "and this time play nice."
"With the gloomy-looking wanks? I think not," she says, and he is not going to smile at her description of the Aschen, he really isn't. She walks over to the door. "You going?"
He nods. "Early meeting tomorrow -- I'll need my beauty sleep."
"Liar," she accuses him again and this time he does smile. At the door, she pauses. "Hey, Dad?"
He sighs loudly for effect. "Yes?"
Her grin is entirely too devilish. "Hawaii."
He rolls his eyes and waits for her to close the door before walking away.
* 2010: you and me and everyone, throwing fire at the sun *
They celebrate and talk and make plans for dinner. He tries not to cringe at her dig about their careers, and later when she talks about Hammond's death, but soon realises she's not picking a fight, just stating what they now consider to be facts. What a difference three (five?) years makes.
Then strategies are developed, a plan of attack orchestrated, and when they leave Jack at the restaurant two nights later, his palm is in the small of her back. He's missed this Janet terribly and it's so very good to see her again.
"Stay with me tonight?" he asks at the nearest teleport, and she sighs and looks away.
"Daniel..."
"Please."
Morning too soon and he's alone when he wakes. Groaning, he throws back the covers (and hears water running in the bathroom -- so not alone then, after all) and sits on the edge with his head in his hands. He doesn't think he can do this.
He doesn't think he can watch her die.
The shower hisses loudly; over it, just barely, he can hear the cadence of her voice as she sings (she's still as tuneless as ever).
He holds no illusions of a fairytale ending today: the security around the 'gate is impregnable and they have all proved, time and again over the years, that they're incapable of happily-ever-afters. So he scribbles a quick note to Teal'c, in Goa'uld, before she finishes in the bathroom and considers crossing his fingers for good measure. It certainly couldn't hurt.
"Whatcha doing?"
She's towelling dry her hair as she walks back into the room, body damp and fresh and gloriously nude. He wonders how long they have.
"What? Oh, nothing. Just a, y'know, goodbye, for, um --" Suddenly he's remembering that he's never been very good at deliberately lying to her. "It's just in case," he says instead, folding the piece of paper twice and pressing hard on the creases. "Will you give it to Teal'c for me?"
"Of course." She takes it from him with a compassionate smile, fingers brushing his briefly. He shudders and catches her wrist before she can fully walk away.
"Come back to bed," he says.
"I can't. I still have to go home and change." She looks at the clock on his bedside table and frowns. "Sam's expecting us at the lab, Daniel. We can't be late."
He shakes his head; feels a little desperate suddenly. "Stay," he says quietly, reaching up and touching her cheek, "please."
She wavers and he pulls her down to the mattress, covering her body with his, before she can say no.
"Daniel!" But she's laughing as she says it and he kisses her hungrily, hands tracing every inch of her flesh. He has so much to remember and there's still so very much that he doesn't know.
"When did you decide to open your own practice? And when did you learn Chinese? And why aquamarine? And --"
"What on -- oh -- on Earth are you talking about?"
Her left breast is the tiniest bit smaller than the right; he gives it extra attention and tries to slow down his thoughts.
"Your office," he says, nipping at her collarbone. "When did you decide to open it?"
She frowns. "Um, two years ago? Three? I don't really remember to tell you the truth."
"But you like it, right? It's what you still want to do -- be a doctor?" He remembers all too well how happy she was at the idea that the Aschen were going to make her profession obsolete... and then how depressed she was when that actually happened.
"Sure." She shakes her head and smiles, rolling them over so she's on top. "I mean, at least it gives me something to do now," she adds, shrugging a little.
"I'm sorry," he says, finding the mole on the top of her collarbone. He loves that mole. "I know I wasn't there when you needed me to be, and --"
She kisses him, hard and quick, but her tone is soft. "Don't be -- it's all ancient history now, anyway."
He wants to say, but history is all we have, only her hand has trailed south, and when she palms him his eyes roll back into his head, and he realises that's not true. They still have this.
This with her hand warm around him, and his on her breasts, back, ass. This with the little gasps she makes when he finds her sex and spells out her name in Hebrew. This with their limbs tangled and bodies shifting and skin flushing, and the way he can't help but close his eyes as he sinks into her.
He opens them again quickly, not wanting to miss a thing.
"Tell me something."
She blinks and wraps her arms around his neck. "Tell you -- oh -- tell you what?"
"Anything." His cheek glides against hers. "Something I don't already know."
"Daniel, what...?"
"Please."
"But -- oh -- I -- fine." Her eyes close and her neck arches; he takes the opportunity to memorise the taste of her skin. "I once cheated on a history final."
He actually stops and leans back a little, surprised. "Really?"
One eye cracks open, then the other; a sheepish look firmly in place as she nods.
Of everything she could have said... "I never would have guessed that."
She shrugs a little. "It's not something I'm particularly proud of. I was young -- a sophomore -- and history was, you know, really boring --"
"Well, I suppose all -- hey!"
A wide grin. "Daniel, I'm teasing." She pauses and quirks an eyebrow. "I was a freshman."
Laughter, then, as he mimes outrage and grabs at her shoulders, her waist, tickling and kissing and moving again; loving every single aspect of this moment, here, with her. This will be his final memory, he thinks unexpectedly, shuddering, this will be what he'll be thinking of in a few hours, when it's time. Them, like this, laughing and touching and -- oh -- yeah.
"JanJanJanJanJan." He chants her name into her hair and kisses her eyebrow, her cheek. Holding on so tight.
"God," she says, moans, incoherent and beautiful, "love you."
Remembering: coffees in the SGC, late at night when they couldn't sleep. Sunsets and lei's in Hawaii; their first kiss and all those that followed. Her, Cassie and him -- a family of sorts. Her fingers in his hair and her smile, God, her smile. The mole on her shoulder and her favourite colour (aquamarine) and her inability to body-surf...
So much he's not allowed to forget but mainly, always: this.
"I love you too."
Not enough time for her to shower again afterwards, and he finds that strangely affecting, knowing that she will leave Earth with the scent of them still imprinted on her skin. Then waiting at the front door, as she finds her bag and slips into her shoes, her hand on his arm for balance.
"Janet..." he says, and stops. He realises then that he doesn't even know how to do this; that he doesn't know how to say goodbye to her.
Truth be told, he never has.
She sees his expression and shakes her head. "Don't." She looks away to run her fingers through her hair and he's glad, suddenly, that he doesn't own a hairdryer, that she can't pin it all back. "This isn't goodbye, Daniel," she says to his reflection in the hall mirror. "Not yet. Teal'c and I are going to come back through that 'gate and help you guys save the day." She turns and looks up at him, her hand touching his as her smile becomes unbearably gentle. "We have forever."
Not, he thinks, if Teal'c does what's asked of him in the note and stops her from returning.
But he's not going to tell her that -- can't run the risk of her changing Teal'c's mind, of her being there, of her falling being the last thing he sees -- so he returns her smile as best he can and squeezes her fingers. "Right," he lies. He swallows hard against the lump in his throat. "Forever."
A final smile, a final touch, and her palm slides against his as she pulls away. He watches her step over the threshold, and into the bright, bright morning sunshine, and follows her out, thinking: you, you will survive.
He can live with that.
* * * * *
The End.
FEEDBACK: Always appreciated. *g*
MISSING SCENES: Three Years From Now