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Jack replaced Daniel’s office telephone receiver in the cradle and tapped it with his forefinger. He’d only popped his head around the door of Daniel’s Pentagon office on the off-chance he’d be there. Jack just wanted to say hello, shoot the breeze, see if Daniel was still on for the party.
Jack was intending to just visit. He hadn't been intending to answer the phone. Daniel was nowhere in sight, it rang, Jack picked it up. And now, he regretted doing it. Jack wasn’t supposed to be his PA. Jack wasn’t supposed to feel his stomach lurch the way it did when he used to make night drops from transport planes over enemy territory.
Sure, he could pass on the message. No problem.
Giving the now-silent phone one last, agitated tap of the finger, he sat down in the chair behind Daniel’s desk, the dull thud of his heartbeat pounding in his ears. His eyes swept the untidy surface – pile of files, an open laptop, still signed in (god, the times he’d chided Daniel about that) one of the paperweights Cassie had made for them all many Christmases ago. His gaze finally came to rest on the photograph of Daniel on the camel. Jack had kept it safe during that long, Daniel-less year. Here it was now, sitting on Daniel’s Pentagon desk, just as it had sat on the writing bureau in Jack’s spare room for twelve months, and before that on Daniel’s desk at the SGC for the better part of a decade.
The photograph was part of the furniture, just as Daniel was. A regular, everyday part of Jack’s life.
Rising from Daniel’s chair, he took a deep breath and let it out. He had a party to go to, hands to shake, smiles to smile. Lieutenant General Jack O’Neill was signing off, checking out. He took one last look at Daniel sitting astride that damned camel. He looked so young. The image could have been from another lifetime. It was so familiar to him. Jack shook his head. With a painful clarity, he recalled checking on that picture every night of that missing year, just to make sure it hadn’t disappeared, like Daniel had disappeared. He’d talked to it, sometimes, when the hard days without Daniel’s vital presence on the team turned into harder nights without his friend.
Jack stalked out of the office without closing the door.
Sure, he’d pass on the message.
No problem at all.
>>>>>
Jack arrived at his Arlington townhouse just as the caterers were laying out the last of the food on his kitchen counter.
The kitchen, like the house itself, was small and functional. Too small, perhaps, for a retirement party but Jack didn’t want some big-ass over-the-top event in a faceless hotel; the official Pentagon farewell had been big, formal and uncomfortable enough. The house had served its purpose for the five years he had been forced to call the Pentagon and this place home, but the truth was he couldn’t wait to hand back the keys and head to Minnesota. He didn’t intend to live at the cabin permanently, but it would be the perfect place to consider his next move. He’d fish and drink beer, consider what breed of dog he’d like to share his life with, fish some more and eventually decide what to do with the rest of his days. He could take his time. He had no one else to consider, and every time he though about that fact, it made him sad.
Everyone else seemed to have someone, or something, to consider. Carter was about to gain a promotion and a husband, Teal’c was making babies with Ishta, Vala was who knew where but happy doing what she did best – creating galactic mayhem. And Daniel ... Daniel was ... Daniel, working hard, still fighting the good fight for the program and the planet, albeit usually behind a desk or in top-secret, soul-stultifying meetings.
And that left Jack. “No man is an island,” Donne famously wrote. Jack had been, once, or rather, he’d tried to become one, when he’d destroyed everything that was good in his life. He’d been lonely, angry and hell-bent on self-destruction. Then Daniel had arrived on the scene; a relentless, sometimes aggravating but always challenging presence. It would be odd, not having that presence two offices down the hallway or sitting across the living room from him on hockey nights. Daniel hated hockey, yet he always turned up, work commitments allowing, and sat, mildly amused at Jack’s raging at inept referees and over-paid, under-performing players while he read quietly or sipped beer he didn’t really enjoy. Funny that. He didn’t like the hockey, didn’t like the beer, yet still he showed up. Somehow, over the years, Daniel Jackson had become an integral part of Jack O’Neill’s working and private life. A part of the furniture. Like that fucking picture that kept flashing before Jack’s eyes.
In a moment of quiet revelation, Jack understood that all of that was about to change. He’d been so busy winding up his career, and making sure the Jack O’Neill-shaped hole in the military hierarchy would close over seamlessly, that what lay ahead, and what it would really mean, had been pushed to the back of his mind. Or subconsciously ignored.
“We’re about ready here, General,” the head catering guy (Julian, Jolyon, Justin, whatever, Jack couldn’t recall) said, crashing into Jack’s thoughts.
Jack fought to clear his head and focus on the delicious-looking spread before him. The smell was wonderful. Teal’c would love the curries, seafood and spices -- the man could eat the hottest chillies without breaking a sweat – and there were enough sticky, calorie-laden desserts to keep Carter happy for a lifetime. Wine glasses and champagne flutes sparkled and beer bottles shone with condensation. All the ingredients for his farewell party were in place. He just needed to add the guests as the final garnish.
Jack nodded his approval. “Looks great.” He picked up a pretentious-looking smoked salmon thing and popped it in his mouth. “Tastes great.”
It did, too, but it didn’t stop a sudden, deep longing for cheap beer, burned steaks and his Springs yard in summer.
Julian (or Jolyon or Justin, whatever) smiled. “The wait staff will mingle among your guests with trays of champagne and canapés on arrival and I will make an announcement when the hot food is available later.”
Everything was in place. It was perfect. Great. Everyone would love it. Everyone except Jack, because this wasn’t him, and neither was the desk job that had been slowly killing him. Still, he was finally saying goodbye to that today, so there was that.
He walked up the stairs to his bedroom and shut the door, leaning heavily against it. Closing his eyes, he rested there awhile, then undid his tie, loosened his collar and prepared to shed the uniform that had defined him for so long. As he did so, he had the nagging feeling that it wasn’t only the Air Force he was saying a final goodbye to.
That gut-plunging feeling simply wasn’t going away.
>>>>>
“Sir, where do you want these flowers?”
Jack put down the throw pillow he’d been artfully arranging on the couch and peered disbelievingly at the gigantic arrangement of sunflowers, gerberas and about a hundred other flowers that Walter was lurking behind somewhere.
“Enough with the sir, Walter. It’s Jack now. And who the hell sent those?”
Walter’s face appeared around one side of the mini florist’s shop. “Sorry ... Jack. It’s going to be a hard habit to break. The flowers are from Siler and some other people at the SGC. There’s a card, too.”
Walter handed him a large envelope. Jack opened it to find a computer-generated picture of Homer looking at the Stargate through the hole in a doughnut. Inside, there was a filthy and highly inappropriate joke about orifices and it was signed by too many people to count. Smiling to himself, Jack put the card in pride of place on the mantelpiece.
“Well, I’d have preferred a fruit basket but it’s the thought that counts,” Jack said, taking the huge bouquet from Walter. He’d need a vase the size of his mother’s antique Welsh dresser.
He was edging round the coffee table en route to the kitchen when a voice said, “Really, sir, you shouldn’t have.”
Jack lowered the flowers. Carter. Smiling her Sam I Am smile, fresh from her latest mission on the Hammond and carrying a six-pack of beer and a glitzy bag doubtless with a present inside.
“Carter,” Jack said cheerily. “Drop the sir.”
“Only if you drop the Carter,” came the quick and equally cheery reply.
“No can do. ... Carter. You’ll always be Carter to me.”
“Then I’ll take that as a term of endearment,” she said, breaking into the kind of shit-eating grin that she’d learned from Jack over the years.
It felt good, to be this relaxed around her. It hadn’t always been that way. It had been a complex thing, his team – the leader, the warrior, the scientist and the scholar. It had been a family, a dysfunctional one at times, but a family nonetheless. He missed that.
“Take it any way you want as long as you take these damned flowers too.” He shoved them towards her and she staggered slightly as she relieved him of his burden.
“They’re gorgeous,” she said, inspecting them closely.
“They’re ridiculous. Of course, I won’t say so in the thank you note.”
Jack moved off in search of a vase and Carter followed. “How go the wedding plans?” he asked over his shoulder as he motioned her to lay the flowers on the one section of clear counter space.
“Oh, you know. The guest list is getting bigger by the day and there are rumblings from Cam’s family about holding the service in San Diego. I’m holding firm on that; Mark is giving me away and providing his amazing house as the reception venue.”
“Weddings ... they’re a nightmare.” Jack shuddered involuntarily as he recalled the stress that had surrounded the arrangements for his marriage. “Sara and I felt we were getting married for everyone else by the time the ceremony rolled around.”
“Tell me about it. Thanks for the acceptance card, by the way.” Carter handed off her beer and gift bag to a passing waiter and picked up a chocolate-dipped strawberry, making disconcerting moany noises as she ate it. Mouth still half full, she mumbled, “Haven’t had a reply from Daniel yet. He’s usually so organized about these things. Guess I can corner him for an answer tonight.” She swallowed and licked her lips. “He is coming tonight?” She glanced around. “I thought he’d be here helping to set things up.”
Jack slapped her hand as she reached for another strawberry. It was for her own good. “He’ll be here. He’s busy. We think there’s big news coming from the Administration with regard to the program.”
He wanted to say more but this wasn’t the time or place. Looking at Carter, though, he saw that she got it without him having to explain anything.
“Good,” she said, leaving Jack wondering whether she meant the program finally going public or Daniel coming to the party.
“Haven’t had much time to talk to him lately,” Jack said, reaching for his first beer. “Maybe I’ll get to corner him, too.”
>>>>>
By eight o’clock, the steady trickle of visitors had turned into a flood and the house was full, with some spilling outside and braving the late-November cold in the small yard.
The atmosphere in the house was warm and slightly melancholy in the way these types of goodbyes often were. So far, Jack had promised to keep in touch with about thirty people. He knew he wouldn’t, just as they knew it, too. It had been a hell of a ride, but he was more than ready to get off.
Jack was leaving the kitchen with his third beer when Walter headed him off at the pass, armed with a piece of paper.
“Sir, er, Jack,” Walter corrected himself, “there’s a message from Teal’c. He says he’s sorry he can’t make it but Ishta gave birth yesterday. It’s a girl and they’re calling her Ka’arath. Apparently it means –”
“True of heart.”
Daniel. Jack turned to find him closing the front door, coat over his arm, still wearing his work clothes. He brought a blast of cold air in with him. The fresh night air clung to him and he shivered. Typical Daniel, brought the damned coat, just didn’t put it on.
“Good choice. The name,” Jack said, eventually.
“Yes. Very ... them,” Daniel replied, dodging artfully out of a waiter’s way. He seemed a little antsy. His blue shirt was rumpled and he’d dispensed with the tie.
“You made it. Had me a little worried there.”
“Now, why would I want to miss this?” There was an edge to Daniel’s voice, something Jack couldn’t quite put his finger on. Daniel frowned and had the grace to look aggravated with himself. “Sorry, I had a ... thing.” He waved his hand in a circular motion, as though that explained everything.
It didn’t. There was a lot of explaining in his future.
Jack gave him a long, assessing look. “Help yourself to a drink. There’s ... fizzy stuff. Or there’s a bottle of that Chablis you like. It’s hidden in the cabinet by the stove. Chilling in its very own ice bucket, of course.”
Daniel smiled. It was a smile that said, “You know me too well.” Something about that made Jack’s heart ache. “Thanks, I’ll just ...”
A young waitress took Daniel’s coat and flashed him a wide smile. “I’ll take that for you, sir. Can I get you anything?” She was flirting and it wasn’t subtle. It didn’t even seem to register on Daniel’s radar. It had always been this way. Women sent out messages that they were available and Daniel simply didn’t see them. Jack firmly believed that it wasn’t a case of Daniel ignoring them – they just bounced straight off him.
“No. Thank you.”
The woman nodded and went to stow the coat with all the others in the spare bedroom.
“Carter’s on your case.”
“Sam’s here?” Jack led Daniel into the kitchen, towards the hidden bottle of Daniel’s favorite wine.
“Uh huh. Had to pull some strings to bring the Hammond in early but I figured she was owed some time to plan the wedding.” Jack chose a wine glass, opened the cabinet door and retrieved the Chablis. He looked at the bottle. “You know, I don’t get it. Why don’t you drink this stuff, which you like, rather than the beer, which you don’t like, when you come over for hockey?”
Daniel took the bottle from him and poured himself a glass and said, “Because that wouldn’t be hockey night,” in a tone of voice that carried an underlying “well, duh.”
Jack was about to respond to that when Carter called “Daniel!” in that delighted, girlish way she had and, within seconds, Daniel was enveloped in a huge hug.
Carter pulled back to arm’s length and immediately frowned. “You look tired.”
Jack looked at Daniel. Carter was right. He did look tired. He’d looked like that a lot lately. He’d been working long hours and spending less and less time at his apartment. Jack mentally kicked himself for not calling him on it.
“Well, you know, busy, busy, busy,” Daniel said, plainly uncomfortable at the close scrutiny he was currently undergoing.
“Then you definitely need a break,” Sam said, confidently. “How about a long weekend in California next month? Special occasion. You get to wear a tux and escort a beautiful young woman named Cassandra. ”
“Yeah, about that ...”
“Reply got lost in the mail?”
Daniel sighed. “I’m sorry. I need to talk to you.” Daniel’s discomfort was growing greater by the second, as evidenced by the hand scrubbing the back of his head (always a giveaway) and the way his eyes would rest on anything in the room except the person he was talking to.
“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” Jack said, pointedly, and waited for Daniel to actually look at him. It took a while.
Their eyes locked just as Carter squealed, “Oh, my god, Cam ... you made it!” And she was off into the arms of the man she was to marry in three weeks. Jack had pulled yet more strings to get him here. Being The Man had its perks.
Insofar as they were in a room full of people, Carter’s departure meant he and Daniel were alone. They wouldn’t have long. It was now or never.
“Elise called,” Jack said, calmly, waiting for Daniel’s reaction.
When it came, it was guarded. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Asked me to pass on a message.”
Daniel’s discomfort level reached defcon one.
“Your flight to Cairo has been cancelled. She’s re-booked you for the following morning but it means you’ll miss your connecting flight to Minya. She wanted to know if you’d prefer to stay in Cairo for a couple of nights.”
“Right.”
“She said she’d email you.”
“She did.”
“Taking a vacation?”
“Jack.”
Jack decided to ignore the hint of warning in Daniel’s voice. “Back to the old stomping grounds.”
“Jack, please ...”
“I’m thinking not.”
Daniel just looked at him.
“The ticket’s one-way, right, Daniel?”
The caterer was making some announcement about the food – an upmarket version of “get it while it’s hot.” Justin, his name was Justin, Jack remembered. But as he looked at Daniel and waited for his response, the only name that was ringing in his head was Daniel ... Daniel ... Daniel.
>>>>>
The rush for the hot buffet brought Vidrine and his wife over and Jack found himself guided away from Daniel to become involved in Washington small talk. All the while, his gaze tracked Daniel, who seemed desperately unhappy and increasingly uncomfortable. His shoulders were hunched as he talked to Mitchell over chicken jalfrezi and another glass of Chablis. He seemed to want to be anywhere but here.
Jack made all the right noises to the Vidrines about meeting at their place for dinner before he left. He smiled, moved away and was immediately swept up into a conversation about the merits of fly fishing by Landry.
Daniel, meanwhile, had put down his plate of uneaten curry and was vanishing down the hallway.
Jack made his excuses to Landry and followed.
He’d finish that damned conversation if it was the last thing he did.
>>>>>
Jack found him in the study, standing by the window, tilting open the miniblinds and staring out into the street.
The study was a small room with a writing bureau Jack had inherited from an aunt, a stack of CDs piled haphazardly in the corner and shelves containing his National Geographics and aeronautics manuals. Under the window was a half-size chaise longue he’d inadvertently acquired while drunk-buying on the internet with Daniel after they’d been out celebrating the demise of the Ori. He loved the room but hated the chaise longue. Somehow though, he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of the damned thing.
Jack closed the door quietly behind him, leaving the buzz of conversation and laughter from the party blessedly muted. The only light in the room came from the streetlamp across the road. It painted sharp lines on the wall over the bed and across Daniel’s face -- Daniel’s taut, unreadable face.
“You should get back. They’ll miss you,” Daniel said, leaning heavily against the wall. He continued to peer out at nothing.
Jack leaned back against the door. “Hey, as of today, I’m gone. It’ll be good training for them. And they won’t miss me. Not one of us is indispensible. A month from now, it’ll be like I was never there.”
Daniel said nothing but Jack saw a muscle clench in his jaw.
“Will you miss me?” Jack had no idea where the question came from. It sure hadn’t been what he intended to say when he opened his mouth.
Daniel let the blind snap back into place and rolled his head to face Jack, giving him the look. “Oh, please,” he said, “when did you get so needy?”
God, he did sound needy, too, but it mattered. Suddenly, it mattered a whole hell of a lot that Daniel would miss him, and he needed to hear him say it.
“As of ... right now, I guess. Who knew?”
Even in the subdued light, Jack was struck by the intensity he saw Daniel’s blue eyes. Then Daniel’s gaze shifted away, as though he couldn’t hold that intensity for a second longer.
“Yes. I’ll miss you.”
And that was it. He didn’t expand, didn’t offer to explain.
“Well, that’s ... nice.”
“You’ve been a part of my life for more than a decade. You’re –“
“A part of the furniture?”
Daniel frowned. “I was going to say important.”
Jack let that sink in for a moment. It meant a lot. He’d never really considered his place in Daniel’s life, beyond unlikely friend. They’d relied on each other for their lives too many times to count. They watched hockey together, they argued over politics and history and whether anchovies on pizza were the devil’s work.
“Important enough that you’ll answer my question?”
Jack watched Daniel mentally replay their conversation, eventually casting back to their time in the hallway.
“Yes, Jack. The ticket is one-way.”
The cargo bay doors opened and Jack saw the ground thousands of feet below. His stomach lurched.
“When were you going to tell me? Assuming you were going to tell me.”
Daniel let out a deeply held breath. “After tonight. I didn’t want ... I didn’t want tonight to be about me.”
But it was, Jack realized. Jack’s retirement, Jack’s leaving, was as much about Daniel as it was about him. So much of Jack’s life was about Daniel. It wasn’t just sharing beers on hockey nights, or hanging out in each other’s offices, it was the bone-deep certainty of Daniel’s presence in his life. A constant. Jack had had that only once before, that sense of surety, and he’d lost it to the echo of a single gunshot. He let his head fall back against the door and closed his eyes. “Why, Daniel?” he asked, trying and failing to keep the exasperation out of his voice. He opened his eyes to see Daniel with his arms wrapped around himself. He hadn’t seen that in years.
“Because the time seemed right. You’re retiring, moving on, everyone else has moved on. I wanted to do something different. I needed to get back to being ... me. A friend of mine has been raising funding for a dig in Dahshur. I wanted in, so I provided the money, god knows I rarely spend the cash Uncle Sam so thoughtfully provides. I was planning to meet up with my friend in Minya to finalize arrangements and then go on to the dig site. I’ll be flying out just as soon as I can re-arrange the flights.”
It all sounded so plausible. Funny, then, that his body language meant Jack didn’t believe a word.
“So ... you’re moving on because I’m moving on.”
Daniel shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yes.”
“Despite the fact that the program’s going public and you’ve been tagged as liaison between the world’s governments, the military and the press, and despite the fact that you’re the obvious, the only, choice of the President and the Joint Chiefs for that job.”
“Yes.”
“You’re walking away when they’re counting on you to carry out that pivotal role.”
“Is my saying ‘yes’ getting boring yet?”
“Bullshit.”
Daniel’s eyes flashed angrily in the crowded darkness.
“Bullshit, Daniel. My time with the program is done. I’ve done what I can do. Truth be told, I was done some time ago but then the shit hit the fan with Destiny. That aside, I’ve hung around to ensure the right people are in the right places to continue what I, what we, Hammond, Hayes, the team, started. But you are so not done, and you know it.”
Daniel let out an irritated sigh. “Why are you getting angry?”
“I’m not”
But he was, and it gave him pause. He was moving on in his life. Why shouldn’t Daniel do the same?
“You’re the one who chose to retire and move on. Why shouldn’t I?” And there was Daniel echoing his thoughts, just like he so often did, and now Daniel was getting angry. The air was heavy with tension. A burst of extra loud laughter from the party was supremely incongruous.
“Because.” And Jack really couldn’t get beyond that. Because suddenly he knew the answer and he was hurtling towards the Earth without a parachute.
Daniel waited.
Jack grasped for words that wouldn’t come.
And eventually he blurted, “Because I can’t let you go.”
The words fell into a shocked silence. Jack couldn’t believe he’d just said that. And if he didn’t believe it, god only knew what Daniel thought.
“Because I’m a part of the furniture,” Daniel said matter-of-factly.
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” God, what was going on here?
“Well, that’s very helpful. Thank you.”
“Hey, being part of the furniture isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”
“Um, it is if you’re comparing me to that.” He waved a hand at the cherry red chaise longue. Jack had meant to click on the cream option.
They both huffed a laugh and some of the tension in the room dissipated.
“That was a good night, huh?”
“Yes. What I can remember of it. One of many. We’ve had plenty of good times, Jack.”
Jack didn’t say anything for a while. Eventually, he crossed to the unfortunate chaise longue and sat down. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands together and tried to gather his racing, scattered thoughts. “You’re important to me, too. You’re ... here. You’ve always been here.”
“Except for when I wasn’t.”
“Oh, you were here. Trust me. That picture of you on that camel? I took if from your office and put it on that very bureau,” Jack indicated the desk by the wall. “Talked to the damned photo every fucking night you were gone.”
“Did I ever talk back?”
“No.”
“That would have been weird. If I’d answered you.”
“I guess.”
Daniel levered himself off the wall and sat beside Jack, not touching but close. He was right there beside Jack, just like he’d been so often through the years. It felt right, Jack acknowledged. He belonged there.
“Tell me about that year. We’ve never really talked about what it was like for you,” Daniel said, softly.
Jack wanted to change the subject. Even now, eight years later, he could feel the cold vise of loneliness and rage that had squeezed the life out of him while Daniel was gone. “I was a dead man walking, Daniel. Ask anyone. Actually, don’t. I was an ass to pretty much everyone. It’s like ... nothing was right. The team wasn’t the team. We functioned but that’s about all. Every day was a Daniel-less day.” He couldn’t say any more.
He couldn’t look at Daniel. He was saying too much.
“I’m sorry I left you. I thought it was the right thing to do.”
“You were out of options.” Jack started at the sudden pain in his hands. He was clasping them so tightly his knuckles were white.
“Still. We never say goodbye easily, do we?”
Jack unclasped his hands and leaned back. “No. We don’t.”
“So,” and this sounded like Daniel going into professorial mode. “I guess we could sum this up by saying that you missed me while I was gone. Like I’ll miss you now.”
“Yeah. Guess so.”
“I think maybe that should tell us something.”
Beside him, Jack sensed Daniel tense. He had the distinct feeling they were reaching some sort of endgame but he was so out of his depth and confused at where this was heading. He knew enough, though, to realize that it was cards on the table time.
“I don’t want you to go to Egypt,” Jack said into the darkness.
“Why not?” Daniel spoke so, so softly.
Out in the living room, someone put on a Grateful Dead CD. Daniel had bought it for him as a birthday present years ago in a bid to widen his “woefully narrow” musical tastes. Daniel. Everything came back to Daniel.
“Why not, Jack?” Soft, a whisper, that familiar voice leading him to where he needed to be. Out of the riot of tumbling thoughts and emotions that crowded his mind, four words spoke loudly.
And suddenly, it seemed so easy, so natural to say them.
“Because I love you.”
He couldn’t breathe. The enormity of what he’d just said overwhelmed him. He’d always loved him, he knew that now. Daniel had been so familiar, so much a part of him that he just hadn’t seen it.
He loved him.
Jack closed his eyes. He’d said the words. It was out there. What happened from here on in was down to Daniel.
It was then that he felt a shaking hand on his jaw. Jack opened his eyes to find Daniel had shifted closer and was slowly turning Jack’s face towards him. He was smiling but it was shy, uncertain, and his eyes searched Jack’s face, seeking reassurance.
Achingly slowly, Jack responded to Daniel’s need the way he always had, with actions rather than words. He reached up with a trembling hand and cupped Daniel’s cheek. A soft, “Ohh,” escaped Daniel’s parted lips and it was so quiet that Jack suspected Daniel didn’t even realize he’d made a sound. Emboldened, Jack allowed his thumb to stroke stubble. Daniel hadn’t shaved today. The rasp of beard felt deliciously, beautifully real. It grounded him. This was real.
God.
Jack brought up his other hand and held Daniel’s face. Beneath his fingers he felt warm skin. He traced the lines around Daniel’s beautiful, emotion-filled eyes. Those lines spoke of the years they had shared, the losses, the triumphs, the fragmented sentences and fierce arguments , the tiny moments that added up to a friendship and love so deep, so necessary, that Jack couldn’t quantify it.
“I love you,” Jack whispered again, delighting in the sound of the words and what they meant.
“Yeah,” Daniel said, voice wavering slightly, his hand resting against Jack’s cheek. “I got that.”
“Good.” Jack couldn’t take his eyes off Daniel’s mouth; those full lips that were just begging to be kissed. He leaned in at the exact same moment Daniel did and they bumped noses. It should have been an awkward moment; it was something gauche teenagers did on first dates. Instead, they both started to laugh.
Unwilling to let go, Jack touched his forehead to Daniel’s and nuzzled. “Do you think we should – ”
“Try that again?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
Smiling ruefully, Jack leaned in slowly, closed his eyes and brushed his lips against Daniel’s. It was just a soft, feather-light touching of mouths but it felt heavy with the weight of everything Daniel had come to mean to Jack. I love you, I want you, I need you ran through his head like a mantra as Jack kissed and kissed. Gentle pressure became harder, and finally, in a rush of breath and a disbelieving, choked sound from Daniel, Jack’s tongue found Daniel’s.
The kiss went on and on and it said everything Jack wanted to say but couldn’t. It was bliss. It was home. He was falling, drowning, and he’d never felt safer.
After who knew how long, Jack reluctantly pulled back. His lips tingled and felt full and wet. It made him hard with wanting, and god, it had been so long since he’d felt that demanding heat. But before he had time to move in for another kiss, Daniel took the initiative. Jack’s mouth was delved, devoured. Daniel took no prisoners.
As Jack luxuriated in the intense rush of feeling that came with Daniel’s lips on his, he tried to think of what he would say when the kissing ended. But he couldn’t think, only feel, so he went with it and marveled that they were here, doing this.
Daniel met him strength for strength, in a way that was blatantly male, and that touched Jack profoundly. He hadn’t experienced this since those half-forgotten days before the Air Force and Sara. He stifled a sound of pent-up longing in the back of his throat and immediately wondered why didn’t just let it out; Daniel had to know what this was doing to him.
The kiss gentled and finally ended, although Daniel continued to pepper Jack’s lips with eager light nips and snatched brushes of lips that were filled with an astonishing tenderness.
When Daniel finally pulled away completely, Jack discovered that he couldn’t stop touching him, so he went with that, too, and allowed his still shaking fingers to trail through Daniel’s hair; there were hints of gray mixed in the with brown and red. Jack liked that. He liked how Daniel wore his years. He cupped his cheek again and smiled. There were no words for how right this felt.
Daniel also seemed afflicted by the whole “can’t stop touching” thing. Jack had the distinct impression he was being examined and touched as though he were the most precious artefact Daniel had ever unearthed.
“Wow,” Jack breathed.
Daniel licked his lips.
For a while, they simply looked at each other. Words, suddenly, seemed elusive.
“I don’t want to move,” Jack said, when the silence finally demanded that someone speak.
“Me neither.”
“This did happen, right?”
Daniel laughed quietly. “Yes, Jack. It happened.”
“Good. I’m glad. Are you glad?” God, he was babbling.
“Yeah. I’m glad.”
“Good.”
Jack’s thoughts were racing and he was answering on autopilot, not really aware of what he was saying. He tended to get that way when his world had just shifted on its axis.
“We should ...” Jack tilted his head towards the door.
“Yeah,” Daniel said, hurriedly. “Before we do, you should know. I was going away because I couldn’t face the thought that you would leave my life and I would never get the chance to tell you that I love you. There have been so many impossible things in our lives and I thought that you loving me was just another one.”
“What was SG-1’s motto again?” Jack asked. “Making the impossible possible.”
Daniel grinned and let out a long breath. He looked a different man to the tense, tired one who had walked into Jack’s house a matter of a few hours ago. Jack was just about to tell him so when there was a knock on the door.
“Sir? Er, Jack? Are you in there?” A flustered sounding Walter. “General Landry wants you to cut the cake. Sir? If you’re in there ...”
“There’s cake,” Jack whispered and raised his eyebrows in mock excitement.
“There should always be cake,” Daniel said, sagely.
“Be there in a second,” Jack called. He couldn’t resist one last, quick kiss and Daniel seemed only too willing to enjoy one, too.
Reluctantly, Jack stood up and headed for the door. “Still going to Egypt?” He had to ask.
“I thought we’d established that we suck at goodbyes,” Daniel said, also standing up. He hesitated by the chaise longue. “I’d still like to go. For a while, anyway. Maybe I can get some perspective on where I stand with the whole program going public thing and my role in it.”
“Oh. Okay,” Jack said, his heart sinking. He had plans. Plans that involved seduction and twisted sheets and lazy mornings.
Daniel crossed the room in a couple of quick strides. “But, like I said, we’re hopeless at goodbyes, so ... come with me.”
“To Egypt?”
“I haven’t re-booked the flights yet. Treat it as a retirement vacation present to yourself. You can watch me get dirty and I’ll watch you lose that Washington pallor. It’s a win-win.” Daniel’s eyes were twinkling, full of fun and mischief. Jack liked that.
Jack reached out and twined his right hand with Daniel’s. There was something he had to know before he walked out of the room.
“Were you waiting for me to buy a clue about,” he raised their joined hands, “this?”
Daniel squeezed his hand tightly. “I wasn’t waiting. I spent too much of my life waiting for things that would never happen, however much I might want them to.”
Jack’s heart ached for Daniel’s loss. Time now for happiness, for both of them.
“I wasn’t waiting, Jack. I was hoping.”
Jack raised their hands to his lips and kissed the back of Daniel’s hand. It was a promise of good things to come. He’d make the good things happen.
“I guess I should ask where we go from here?” There were so many questions Jack wanted to ask, but this one seemed the most immediately important.
“To the cake,” Daniel said, dryly.
“Smart ass.”
Daniel brought their hands up to Jack’s face and rubbed his cheek gently. “Let’s just let this play out. Egypt will give us some space and time to figure out what’s next. Okay?”
He could go with that. “Okay.”
With one last squeeze of Daniel’s hand, Jack opened the door and blinked his way into the bright light of the hallway. He felt Daniel’s warmth as Daniel followed him into the kitchen, where loud cheers greeted them and Walter proffered a cake knife.
As Jack sliced into the delicious confection he marveled that, in a day that started out all about endings, he’d found his beginning.
“Carter,” he said, handing her a plate of cream-filled sponge cake, “I gotta talk to you about that RSVP. I’m going to need a plus-one.”
ends