Work Text:
I scream myself awake.
I finally regain a sense of where I am. I am back in my room at the SGC. The good news is, the room is soundproofed. The bad news is, no one can hear me.
That means no one will burst in on me in my shame
That means no one can come to my assistance.
But somehow, someone always does come. . There's a knock at my door. I'm not surprised. It's five o'clock in the morning; he shouldn't even be here. I don't know how he knows, he just does. It's almost as if he possesses extra-sensory-perception. He laughs and calls it his Danny-sense. I shrug into my robe and answer the door. I was right. It's Jack.
I wish I could remember more, for his sake. I'm fairly confident that I know most of what was before my uh, blank spots. I know we were at one time best of friends, best of lovers. I know he was the one who released me, and I know he was lonely because of it.
"Hey." He says unnecessarily. He's holding a cup carrier and a white paper bag. It said Starbucks on it.
"Hey. Come in." I reply unnecessarily. "What are you doing here at this hour?"
"I work here, remember." He grins at me, totally unrepentant as he sets the goodies down on the table and we pull out the chairs. "Did you have a rough night? You look like shit."
I rub my eyes, knowing that they're still red and puffy from my nightmare. "I'm fine." He passes out the pastries and looks at me critically.
"Yeah, tell me another one. You had a screamer, didn't you?" He says seriously.
"It was just a dream. I'm fine." Denial is not just a river in Egypt.
"Daniel," Jack cleared his throat and harrumphed around. "Look, we've known each other a long time…you may not remember everything, but I do." He laid his hand on mine. "Why don't you come and spend the weekend at my place. At least there I can wake you up out of these nightmares. Here…" he gestured around the room. "Here you have to wake yourself up."
"Jack, there's nothing…"
"Okay, it's settled. I'll pick you up on my way home tonight. At my yielding nod, he smiles and munches through his apple turnover. When we've both finished off our breakfast, he comments about his full schedule and says that he'd see me this evening.
My day progressed as I had planned. I was working on a translation for SG-2. Lou Ferretti had come and visited with me several days earlier. His team had picked up a group of miniature stele from a planet several months ago. The linguists that had worked on them had decided they were ceremonial in nature and of no intrinsic worth. Lou said that he had a hunch that there was more to them than had been discovered. I had started to reexamine them and while working, I perceive the phallic symbolism in the small ceramic icons. They remind me of Jack. But, somehow, everything reminds me of Jack.
Sam says that he didn't show a lot of emotion. What she doesn't understand is that when Jack shows no emotion is when he's the most affected by something. When he's cursing, and yelling, that's nothing…don't worry...he's doing that to relieve stress...or impress you. But when he's quiet, that's when you have to watch him. He doesn't speak of his real feelings...the ones he doesn‘t want you to know.
You have to watch for the signs. The focus of the eyes, the carriage of the head, the slump of the shoulders, all speaks of his mood and intentions. I remember that much. I remember him.
I remember seeing the depth of despair when I first met him those long years ago. I thought that he had flat eyes, like a snake. But I learned that the look was that of a hunted, wounded animal seeking its own death. ‘You go. I’m staying to complete my mission, to make sure this thing goes off‘.
Then, later after Abydos, there was the sad look, the look that assured me that he understood my loss. The eyes were no longer locked shut. They were searching, discerning, and comforting. ‘Come on, lets go to my house...it’s not a home, but it’s where I stay’.
There was the protective look; eyes sharp and flinty like an eagle’s, his actions those of an expert with a mission to perform. My team, my people, my kids, beware...don’t touch, I bite!’ That one lasted the longest, for several years.
Next, came the caring look. Concern, prudence, compiled with humor and warmth, the eyes glowing with affection; like a momma bear or a she lion. We were cosseted, protected, bitched at. It was sort of fun...for a while.
Then, it changed. I’m not sure when...just one day I looked into those liquid windows and saw...passion. Emotions that I had never thought to see or feel again washed across me. They ignited my soul, they swept through my body, and it blazed in those eyes with a flame so hot it seared me. I couldn’t stand against it. The siren’s call beckoned and I followed.
We fell screaming, and burning into flames so hot we exploded. It was thirst, desire, hunger, pain and ecstasy. We were mad for each other to the point of injury. Biting and scratching and clawing and hurting and lusting. A divine madness that only the maenads of Dionysian rites could have understood. It lasted longer than it was possible.
But fires that hot cannot burn forever and after awhile, where there had been flame became embers, our shared heat became tepid. We were together but not touching, we fucked but did not love. Our sparks came from disagreements...lightening strikes of anger and frustration. His expressive eyes became old, tired and jaded. It was not hate nor dislike as much as it was passivity and uncaringness. I was no longer innocent; he was no longer honest. We were used up and there was nothing left between us. We were like two punch-drunk fighters after the bout; we were together but too tired to move.
Here now is where my memory is gone. I suppose I should be grateful for the kindness. I’ve read the reports; I’ve heard the tales. For some reason I cannot explain, I exposed myself to high doses of lethal radiation. Sam has said it was to save a world. Teal’c has told me it was an act of great courage. I almost think it was an escape from a life no longer worth living.
Jack will not speak of it. No...that is not correct. He cannot. He’s tried, for my sake and perhaps for his own, to tell me what happened. He always starts the same. ‘I left you alone...’ But I was not alone, I was with Jonas Quinn. But to Jack, I was lost... abandoned... the man he left behind...the lover he failed...the innocence he betrayed. He sees it as his failure, his mistake, and his miscalculation that exposed me to the burning rays and the certain horrible agonizing death.
Of this I have no recall. Here begins my un-life of non-existence. I am told I ascended and lived in the non-corporeal world of the Ancients aka the glowy folks. That I returned to help my friends and I appeared to both Jack and Teal’c. Jack says I saved his life, helped Teal’c retain his sanity and then I tried to save my poor lost Abydos...and failed...again... miserably.
My next conscious thought was on Vis Uban, the planet of my casting out. I was alone and lonely, cold and miserable. The kindly people there found me, fed me, clothed me, saved me, returned me to my place.
My place of warmth, acceptance, freedom and love.
For I have again found love...in the very place I lost it. I found it in my world, my life and my Jack O’Neill. We are both alive now. His eyes show me the difference. Now they are full of honor, trust, belief, faith and love.
And I know mine have changed also. They now show respect, hope, confidence and conviction. We now love because of who we are, not in spite of what we may be.
It is now evening. He is again sitting at my table watching me. He knows now that he cannot protect me from who I am. I know now that I cannot save him from what he is. We can only love and accept each other because we do...because we can...because we must.
My life is restored to me. He has also returned. We have learned that there is only what we do and are. Our love is our gift to each other. I do not seek him for self-gratification, I go to him because being with him is both of our pleasures. He does not come here to slake his needs but for the beauty of our joining. We have learned together that what we have is a precious gift that requires nurturing, loyalty, and efforts from both of us. Negligence, selfishness and egotism will cause the purest gold to tarnish. It is our job to polish the metal of our love with the cleanser of trust and faith.
I will. We must.