28 February

Seven months later

Jack stood in the kitchen, his head down, looking into the sink as he finished up the dishes. He and Daniel had had a good dinner, but there’d been very little small talk.  Daniel had gotten home late due to some big translation project, as usual, and in a few minutes Jack would be going off to bed alone.  Following their usual pattern, Daniel would undoubtedly stay up in the office until he fell asleep at the desk, and then later Jack would have to go in and prod him to get up and come to bed.  It was an all too familiar routine, and Jack was sick of it. He missed Daniel, missed talking to him, missed working with him, missed having him in bed for more than a handful of hours a night.  He missed their companionship.

His loneliness like a bitter taste in his mouth, Jack rinsed off the last handful of silverware and set them into the drainer.  He pulled the drain plug and waited for the water to swirl out so he could rinse the sink of residual suds.  His mind was on autopilot, his thoughts focused only on his situation with Daniel.

“Hey,” called Daniel from the kitchen doorway. “Have I told you how much I love your lasagna?”

He came up behind Jack and slipped his arms around his waist after leaning his cane against the kitchen counter. Those articulate hands started wandering to the tune of happy groans, and Jack felt Daniel’s teeth graze against his shoulder. Disappointment settled into Jack’s heart as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, knowing exactly what would come next.

“I miss you, Daniel,” he said softly, making no protest as his lover’s hands unfastened his jeans and pushed them down.

“Mmm, you, too,” Daniel responded in a matter-of-fact voice, kissing the back of his neck.

Jack didn’t even try to get involved, just let Daniel touch him and held onto the side of the sink, knowing how his body would react.

Daniel had the lube in his pocket, having taken it from the bedroom drawer.  He slicked up one finger, slipping it into Jack’s ass from behind. He laid the tube on the counter and reached around to Jack’s flaccid cock, squeezing it and whispering soft words of love in Jack’s ear until his body responded as it always did.

Jack leaned on the counter with his elbows now, pushing his hips backward, only half-listening to the encouraging little monologue going on behind him.  His heart wasn’t in this, but Daniel didn’t seem to notice.

For several weeks now, it seemed sex was all they had in common, coming together for nightly interludes that varied in length according to how much time Daniel had to spare in his schedule. 

Every few weeks, whenever he finished up a big project, they’d make love for hours until Jack felt as if he were the luckiest, most adored man on any planet.  But on nights like tonight, when Daniel’s schedule was packed, he’d get a quickie when Daniel was ready for it and maybe another when the alarm clock went off in the morning.  Jack was dismayed at how used that made him feel.

But now, as Daniel’s cock pushed inside him, he felt the disappointment fading, hiding in the rush of ecstasy that his lover always managed to inspire.  It felt so good, being fucked, and Daniel had learned exactly what he liked, where and how to thrust to give Jack the best ride and make him come hard and fast. 

Daniel played him like a grand piano, and it wasn’t long before Jack felt his orgasm uncoiling low in his belly.  He grabbed a dishtowel and held it over the head of his dick, grunting as he came into the cloth.

Then it was Daniel’s turn.  Faster and harder, he thrust into Jack’s ass, growling and whispering, his hands clutching at Jack’s hips, holding on until he slammed in deep, frozen in place as he pulsed and twitched in the depths of Jack’s guts.  He panted against the back of his neck, planting breathless little kisses on his shoulders.

Daniel rested on him for several moments, arms encircling Jack’s waist, sweaty cheek plastered against Jack’s nape, hands gently stroking through the hair on his chest and belly.  Then he drew away, pulling himself out of Jack’s warm body, and planting a brief kiss on the side of his neck.  Daniel snatched a couple of paper towels off the rack and gently cleaned his lover’s backside, helping to pull his pants back up into place before wiping himself and refastening his own.

“Thanks, love,” he murmured as he kissed Jack’s cheek.  “You gonna be up late tonight?”

Turning to face him, Jack’s heart leaped up into his throat at the sight of his beautiful lover, his face still flushed, sweat on his upper lip, eyes glistening with joy and pleasure.  Sated Daniel was something Jack never got tired of seeing.  But he missed him so much, it was a constant ache in his soul.  He had to make a couple of tries before he could make his voice work.  “No, I’ll be going to bed soon. You?”

“Nah, gotta get this translation done ASAP,” Daniel called over his shoulder as he moved steadily away. “Come kiss me goodnight?”

“Sure thing.” Jack looked back down into the sink.  As he examined the froth of soapsuds still clinging to the enamel, he was dully aware that their whole encounter had taken less than ten minutes.  Mechanically he turned on the tap and rinsed out the suds, took the dishcloth and dishtowel with him into the bathroom and dropped them in the laundry bin.

He took off his clothes and got into the shower, closing his eyes and gasping as he let the unheated water run over his face.  In seconds he was shaking from the cold.  It always took longer for the water to warm up in the wintertime after sitting in the frigid pipes beneath the house.

But he knew he was shaking for another reason, too.

He’d been dreaming about it a lot lately. Rough hands clutching at him from behind, yanking at his clothes. Men he couldn’t see hurting him, debasing him, humiliating him. Memories of the physical pain were still bright and sharp, even after all those years, but worst of all was his secret shame, the one thing he’d never told anyone, not even Daniel.  Especially not Daniel.  He carried it around like a knife in his gut, and now, for no reason, it was all coming back to haunt him, a living, waking nightmare.

The water coursed down his face, warmer now, feeling like a shower of the tears he couldn't shed.

That wasn’t exactly true, Jack knew. There was a reason it was all coming back now. He was having penetrative sex with Daniel. Sometimes it hurt at first, especially if Daniel were in a hurry or exceptionally aroused. He didn't hold back when taking Jack, and once Jack's arousal caught up with Daniel's, he wanted that roughness, reveled in feeling Daniel's strength and his passion. Getting it from behind was the only way they did it, since Daniel's disability limited what he could do. He was fucking Jack almost daily now, and every time Daniel entered him, every time Jack came, he thought about that shameful secret, even if only for a few brief seconds.

And hated himself.

He had steadfastly refused to feel sorry for himself, refused to cry.  All that had been a long, long time ago, in another life.  He was different now.  Everything was different, and crying about it wouldn’t help anyway.  He hadn’t done it then and wouldn’t now.  He just needed to get a grip and talk to Daniel about spending more time together, so he wouldn’t feel like such a… kosoo.

That was what they’d called him. One of many names, none of them his own. All of them shameful.

Jack straightened up under the spray. He backed up until the water was hitting him in the chest, so he could open his eyes and stare at the white tiles in the shower stall. Ice was forming in his veins, even while his skin was burning from the now-scalding water. 

The torment was almost constant now, gnawing at his insides, nagging at his consciousness, taunting him every waking moment.  It had been slowly eroding what pleasure he’d found with Daniel, making Jack feel brittle and trapped, like an animal being prodded into a cage.

He wondered about his own sanity, feeling as if he might slide off some slippery edge at any moment.  He needed to do something, but had no clue what action he could take.  More than anything, he just didn’t want to think about it. Somehow the monster seemed smaller, more manageable, as long as he could keep it pushed back in the shadows.  He was terrified that if it ever came out into the light, it might be too much for him to bear.

Numbly, Jack shut off the water and got out. He stared at his reflection in the steamy mirror, grabbing a hand towel and cleaning it off so he could look at himself. His face was still deeply tanned from all the gardening he’d done over the summer and fall.  In stark contrast to it, his hair was nearly all silver now.  It was longer than he’d worn it since he was a teenager, curling down over his nape and hanging over his forehead. He’d grown it out, thinking Daniel might like it longer, but his lover had never seemed to notice.

All Jack could think of as he stared at his hazy reflection was that his hair was now longer than Carter’s.  Longer than a woman’s.

His guts clenched. He started to shake. He reached up to the nape of his neck and stroked his long, wet hair with trembling fingers.

“I’m still a man,” he murmured to his reflection.

He closed his eyes and slipped into the familiar fantasy of fucking Daniel, of thrusting into his strong, willing body, and instantly felt a sense of peace and fulfillment. That was what he needed, to penetrate and dominate, to be a man in their bed.

But Daniel couldn’t give that to him. Daniel was the one in charge there, always the one on top, always the one fucking Jack. It was the way it had to be in order for them to be together, and Jack had willingly given that to the man he loved.  Even now, there were no regrets. 

No real regrets, but a creeping sensation of hysteria whispering against the back of his neck, trailing cold fingers up and down his spine.

Kosoo… kosoo… kosoo.

He dried off, dressed in sweats and a T-shirt and went into the kitchen for a beer. He carried it into the living room, thinking and pacing, stopping by the window to look outside at the snowy yard. When that bottle was empty he went for another, and then another, pacing and thinking, trying desperately to maintain some sense of control.

A six-pack later, he opened the door to the deck and tottered barefoot out into the frozen landscape, where everything was covered up with netting and tarps and mulch, a light dusting of snow on every bush and shrub and tree.  His garden was sleeping, completely hidden beneath the protective covers.

Was that why things had changed between them, he wondered, because Daniel couldn’t see the flowers anymore?

He stumbled back inside the house, his head reeling, his feet numb with cold. He collapsed on the sofa, staring out the windows at the shapeless yard. Some of the plants in pots and containers were wintering in the garage, he remembered through his alcoholic haze.  He went out there and started bringing them in, the most important ones, setting them in the middle of the living room floor and uncovering them.  Many were just the husks of dried leaves sticking up above the potting soil, the bulbs beneath dormant.

Daniel wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t get the message from that. He needed to see bright blooms and green leaves. The color and life were important, and all that was gone now.

Jack picked up the cordless kitchen phone and hunted for the phone book, unable to remember the florist’s number. He walked into the den, only marginally aware of Daniel’s presence, weaving as he made his way to the recliner. With a plop, he sat down in it, picked up the phone book from the bookrack on the floor beside it and started thumbing through the yellow pages, squinting to try to read through his boozy haze.

“Jack?”  Daniel was sitting at the desk, working on his laptop.

“Gotta make a call,” Jack slurred. “Gotta plaiz ‘n order.”

“You’re drunk.”

“So?”  He continued to fumble with the damned phone book, which wasn’t cooperating in the least, nearly sliding out of his lap.

“It’s almost midnight. Who were you gonna call?” Daniel got up and came over to sit near him on the brown leather sofa.

“Hel-Helen.”

“Helen who?”

Jack raised bleary eyes to his partner. “Gotta getcha s’m more flowers, Danny. So you’ll know.”

A gentle smile crinkled the corners of Daniel’s eyes. “I know, Jack.” He stood up, leaning on his cane, and reached over to tug the phone book gently from Jack’s grasp. “Come on, big guy. I think I need to put you to bed.”

“Uh-uh,” Jack protested.  “Gotta call Helen, Dan’l.”

“S’almost midnight, Jack.  Her shop is closed right now.  And anyway, I don’t need flowers to know that you love me, okay?  You don’t have to say the words or write me secret messages anymore.  I know. So come on, and let’s get you to bed, okay?”

“’Kay.” Jack was too tired to protest. He hoisted himself out of the comfy chair, got a precarious hold on his balance, and, with Daniel hanging onto his waist, managed to make it to their bedroom without smashing into a wall or doorjamb.

Daniel guided him into the bathroom and got him started brushing his teeth. “Go pee when you finish, and I’ll turn down the bed,” he ordered gently.

“Mmmm,” agreed Jack mindlessly. A pleasant haze was settling over him, partly from the booze, and partly because Daniel was with him, taking care of him, watching over him. That felt good. That was what he needed.

When he emerged unsteadily from the bathroom, he saw that Daniel was also changing for bed, and that made him smile. “Danny,” he murmured happily, and shuffled over to drape himself on his lover’s shoulders. “Come t’bed w’me?”

“I’ve got work to do, Jack,” Daniel returned quietly. He walked Jack over to the bed, pulled back the covers, and helped him between them. He gasped when he touched Jack’s icy feet. “What the hell were you doing, walking barefoot in the snow?”

“No flowers f’r you out there,” said Jack as his head smacked the pillow and rolled a little. “All gone.”

Daniel tucked the covers all around Jack and then sat down on the side of the bed with him.  He stroked Jack’s long hair, running his fingers through it, and smiled down at him.  “So you walked out in the snow barefoot because I needed flowers, huh?  Tell me again why I needed flowers.”  He leaned down and kissed Jack’s forehead.

Jack exhaled deeply in resignation, forcing his eyes open to look at his lover.  “Fucknrun,” he slurred.

Daniel’s eyebrows twitched together.  “Huh?”

Lifting one arm out from beneath the blankets, Jack waved it around like a conductor whipping up an orchestra, then let it drop onto the covers. “Wham, bam, thankya, m…” He swallowed hard, fighting off the mental images, the insulting accusation tearing at his guts. “Ma’am.”

All the humor slowly drained from Daniel’s expression. He blinked at Jack. “Fuck and run?” he asked, his expressive brows drawing together in confusion. “Is that what you said a minute ago? Is that what I did? Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

He bent down and hugged Jack for a moment. Then he sat up. “Screw it. The translation can wait. I’m gonna go shut things down, and I’ll be right back, okay? You’re way more important than anything I’ve got going at work.” He kissed Jack on the forehead again and stood up, limping briskly out of the room with his cane.

The weight of the grief Jack had been carrying lifted slightly, and his heart sang when Daniel came back a few minutes later, turning off lights and getting into bed beside him. Daniel snuggled close, wrapping his arms and legs around him, hooking his heel behind Jack’s and pulling his cold feet between his calves to warm them with his body. Daniel shared Jack’s pillow and put their foreheads together, his fingers playing in Jack’s thick hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I haven’t been paying enough attention to you lately, have I?”

He sighed when Jack didn’t deny it, but just stared at him in the deep shadows, moonlight reflected on snow making the bedroom bright enough to see clearly.

“Okay, let’s see. You’re teaching at the academy next week. The week after that, you’re taking the blankets off the garden and starting to set out some new bulbs. I’m gone the next week and then you’re off to the Pentagon to meet with the program supervisors for a couple of days. That puts us into late March, early April for even looking at taking a few days’ personal time. Think you can wait that long? If not, I’ll rearrange my schedule and we’ll do something sooner. Maybe go up to the cabin for a long weekend and let the garden wait. How about that, vidámo?”

“Love of your life, huh?” teased Jack, speaking very slowly to make himself clear. “Am I? Really?”

Daniel’s fingers were gentle as they traced along Jack’s cheek, carding through his hair and sweeping the long silver silk back over his neck beneath his ear.

Jack remembered playing with Sara’s hair like that in bed when they were married, and something inside him curled up and shuddered. He was a man. He was! Daniel didn’t think of him as if he were a woman, didn' t treat him like the woman in their relationship. They were equals.  Jack was sure of it.

“Yeah, Jack,” Daniel agreed huskily. “You really are the love of my life.” He kissed Jack, his lips tender and sweet.

Tears prickled at the back of Jack’s eyes. As Daniel pulled away from him, Jack turned his head into his pillow, closing his eyes, burrowing under the covers with all the coordination he could manage. “G’night, Daniel,” he whispered.

As Daniel kissed him again, Jack closed his eyes, willing himself into heartbroken oblivion.  In moments, he was asleep.

~~**~~

Listening to Jack’s soft breathing, Daniel lay awake on his pillow, going back over his behavior of the evening.  Jack had been in a quiet mood, but then that had been happening a lot lately. Both of them were busy at work, and the cold had been bothering Jack’s knees, but earlier he’d said he was feeling better.  Daniel had gotten no hint that Jack was anything but interested when they’d made love in the kitchen after dinner, getting nothing but green lights all the way.  Jack had wanted him; he was sure of that.

But then, Daniel had always wondered if he had a problem with reading those signals right.  He’d never had a male lover before, and so was clueless about how to approach and treat Jack.  Being a guy, didn’t Jack like a good quickie now and then, to hell with the foreplay?  Jack had gotten hard when Daniel fondled him, and he’d come with hardly any effort on Daniel’s part.  He knew that Jack loved having Daniel inside him; he’d told him so often enough.

So what was it about tonight’s encounter that had made his lover so maudlin?

Sometimes he and Jack were so in tune it was scary. At other times, one or both of them were so obtuse they might as well not be on the same planet. Tonight, evidently, had been one of those alien nights.

Jack was restless in his sleep. Daniel got up after about half an hour and went to look out at the deck.  In the darkened living room, he almost tripped over the potted plants Jack had carried in from the garage and left in the middle of the floor.  One by one, Daniel carried them back to their places, his mind turning over Jack’s mood, looking for what had set him off.

When that chore was done, Daniel went to the big living room windows and looked outside.  He could clearly see Jack’s footprints in the snow, meandering in a drunken path to the sleeping garden out back.

Still thinking, Daniel wandered back into their bedroom and eased under the covers again, resting on his back with his hands tucked behind his head, looking up at the ceiling.  In time his eyelids grew heavy, and he closed them.  At some point during his contemplation he slipped off into sleep.

Harsh panting woke him.  He turned to look at his lover and saw that Jack was lying on his back, stiff and trembling, his breath coming in short gasps.  He seemed to be in pain. Daniel reached out to touch him, stopping when he saw Jack’s eyes darting back and forth under his eyelids in the moonlight.

Jack was dreaming, his eyes moving in REM sleep, and Daniel knew it wasn’t a good idea to wake him just then. He propped up on one elbow and watched Jack’s closed lids, waiting for a sign that the dream phase was over. Jack’s lips started moving. His face tensed as if he were trying to keep silent, but a soft cry slipped out, a ragged whimper that tore at Daniel.

He called Jack's name, trying to tug him gently out of the nightmare, but his lover dreamt on. 

Suddenly Jack’s body arched upward. His eyes snapped open, and he bolted off the bed, shouting at the top of his lungs,  ”No! I won’t!”

Jack staggered against the chest of drawers and crumpled to the floor. “No more,” he growled, burying his face in his hands, swaying on elbows and knees. He lifted his head and pressed his palms against the floor, roaring with a voice that broke and shattered, “I’ll kill you all, you fuckers!”

“Jack!” Daniel cried, throwing the covers off and struggling to get up. He hopped over to where Jack knelt on the floor, bent his good knee to lower himself and fell the rest of the way when he lost his balance, landing on his left hip. Instantly he was reaching out for Jack, but his lover just pushed him away.

“Don’t touch me,” Jack warned, now at least partially awake. He pushed himself upright, set his back against the wall and slithered down it, landing hard on his butt. He winced, waking up fast.

Daniel stared at him, his heart hammering in his chest. In all the years they’d been together during uncountable nights, he’d never seen Jack react to a nightmare like this one. It had obviously been a doozie, whatever it was.

“Are you okay?” he asked tentatively, scooting as close as Jack would allow. As soon as he saw his lover flinch, he stopped moving. “Jack, what was that?”

“Bad dream,” Jack shot back breathlessly, his voice flat, barely any trace of drunken slur left. His head was still a little wobbly, and he let it fall back against the wall with a thunk, wincing again.  The eyes he turned on Daniel were wild and full of fear. “What did I say? Did I say anything?”

“You said ‘you wouldn’t’ and ‘no more’ and threatened to kill people. What were you dreaming about?” Daniel reached out, trying to touch Jack’s arm, laid across the tops of his knees, but Jack jerked away. Daniel pulled his hand back, even more upset now than ever.

“Just crazy stuff,” answered Jack, glancing down at the floor to his left, his fear fading, the gleam disappearing from his eyes. “Just a nightmare. It’s over now. I’m okay.”

Daniel’s hand waved hesitantly toward him again, then drew back. “May I… may I touch you now?” He wanted to hold Jack so badly.

For a moment Jack didn’t move. Daniel could see his throat working, trying to swallow, maybe to speak, and finally he nodded and opened his arms and legs wide. Daniel scooted between them, resting on his left hip with his bad leg extended beneath Jack's bent knee. He threw his arms around Jack and held him tightly, his forehead almost touching the wall.

“You scared me,” he whispered against Jack’s neck. “I was watching you sleep. I could tell you were dreaming, but I didn’t know it was a nightmare till you started screaming. Jack, you’ve never done that before.  You’ve never made a sound in your sleep.  Hell, you don’t even snore!” He held Jack tighter, his hands stroking restlessly over Jack's back and shoulders. “Tell me about it. Please? I want to know.”

“No,” Jack whispered roughly against his neck. They sat as close as they could get with Daniel's legs in that awkward position, chest to chest, arms wrapped tightly around each other. “Trust me on that. You don’t want to know what that was about. Even I don’t wanna know.” He kissed Daniel just beneath his ear. “I’m just so glad you were here when I woke up, because now I know it’s just a nightmare. It can’t… not anymore, because you’re here.”

Somehow, in Daniel’s heart, he’d heard Jack say, “It can’t hurt me anymore.” Daniel knew Jack was never so raw with his emotions, so whatever it was had been really, really bad.

“I’ll always be here for you, Jack,” he promised, and closed his eyes, waiting for the tremors to pass in both of them and peace to return. In time they both got back into bed and held each other closely, safe and assured that the terrible dream was gone. Gradually, wrapped up in each other, they slipped into sleep, lying close together until the alarm clock roused them to start a new day.

~~**~~

**9 March**

Nine Days Later

Right at 0800, Jack pulled into the parking lot at the nursery just as the doors were opening. The owner waved at him; he gave a nod back. He’d been there often enough over the past year to be on a first name basis with the man, and Jerry Clark had even been by their place to have a look at the developing garden a couple of times.

Now that the snow was melting and winter was breathing its last gasp, Jack had begun to uncover the hardier perennials and bulbs. It was time to start planting some new bulbs to fill out the unfinished spaces, and he was still looking for that centerpiece flower that would sit inside the handmade stone planter. There was plenty of time yet; new plants could be put in as late as May or June and still have a good growing season before the first frosts of autumn.

That private spot deep in the trees needed some thought put into it, too. Jack had ideas for an enclosure way in the back. He’d talked to Daniel about it and was planning to use panels of the same kind of camouflage netting the military stretched over helicopters and airplanes in the field to keep them from being spotted on the ground by enemy pilots.

Daniel had argued that it needed to be something more exotic and elegant, but had given no hint of what he thought might be suitable materials.  Every time Jack got on a roll talking about it, Daniel always seemed to change the subject.  Then they’d start rolling around on each other with Daniel invariably ending up on top of him, and he’d forget all about the garden for a while.

He reached up and stroked the hair poking down into the collar of his T-shirt.  Maybe while he was out, he’d get a haircut, too. Something that would make him feel more manly. Something short and military. It was time to go back to that, and maybe the earring should go, too.  He touched the little silver hoop dangling from his left earlobe.  Impulsively, he took it out and stuffed it into his pants pocket.

Jack got out of the truck and headed into the nursery, wrinkling up his nose at the smell of the fertilizer and bug poisons stacking the shelves. He waved at Jerry, who was now slipping behind the counter to stock the till, and ambled back into the greenhouse to look at new bedding plants and seed packets for annuals.

Just inside the greenhouse doors, he grabbed one of the big heavy-duty carts and pushed it down the aisle toward the fertilizer. He pulled a couple of bags off the shelf and stacked them on the cart, then moved down the row and picked a couple of bags of a different kind.  One of them was made from horse manure that smelled better, and he knew that one would be more natural than the chemical-based fertilizers.  Another couple of items, and he had the ingredients for his own special mix, which he would customize in composition for plants with differing needs.

He headed for the display of bulbs and picked up a bright orange net package with a large cardstock photo of black elephant ears on the cover. They were interesting looking, but didn’t really go with anything in his design. Putting those back, he browsed through the hyacinths, irises and gladioli, and then moved on to the seed stand.

“What looks good this year?” asked a feminine voice to his right.

Jack glanced over his shoulder at a woman he’d seen off and on last spring and summer, doing much the same thing he had been, perusing the plants.  They’d chatted a couple of times, and she’d been a little flirtatious, but he hadn’t flirted back.  Not much, anyway.  Not enough for her to take him seriously.  He’d just been being friendly, after all.  And so, probably, had she.

He gave her a nod and a little half smile and turned back to the seed packets. “Oh, I dunno,” he exhaled on a sigh. “I think I’m lookin’ for some weeds this year. Know where I can get some Shepherd’s Purse?”

“What’s that?” she asked with a surprised little laugh. She tilted her head and stepped fully around him to meet his eyes, leaning provocatively against the seed stand with one hip.

She wore a low-cut black sweater that set off her fair skin and clung to her big boobs.  Tight black jeans showed everything there was to see about her slender waist and slim hips.  She was pretty, with bleached blonde hair and light brown eyes, almost amber in color.  As Jack looked her over, he thought she might be in her early to mid-thirties.  There was no wedding ring on her left hand, so she probably wasn’t attached. Then again, he wasn't wearing one either, and he was about as “taken” as it was possible to get.

This wasn’t the sort of woman Jack normally would give the time of day.  She was too tarted-up, too obvious.  He knew the type well – probably out for whatever she could get from a man with assets; out for a good time with those who struck her fancy.  Judging from the cool, assessing look she was giving him, apparently she thought he could easily fill both categories.  He didn’t think he was giving off any vibes, really, but there was interest in her eyes.  She was certainly waving everything she had right under his nose, doing her best to get him to look. 

He felt self-conscious that he had noticed, and with a jolt of surprise in the pit of his stomach, he realized he was more than a bit titillated, too.  He inclined his head and gave her the smile he felt sure she expected.  “Katie, was it?" 

“Kathy,” she corrected, obviously slightly disappointed that he didn’t remember her name from their previous encounters last year.

Yanking his mind out of her cleavage and back to her original question, he told her, “Shepherd’s Purse is a weed, Kathy.”  He put the seed packets for phlox back into the bin.  “I need to find some, because I want it growing in my yard.”

She raised her dark-penciled eyebrows at him with a grin.  “You want weeds in your yard? What kind of gardener are you, Jack?”

“The home grown kind.”  As he stepped to one side, pushing his cart toward the seedlings and live plants, he felt a dart of guilty pleasure at the fact that she had remembered his name. 

He wanted to get away from her, a sensation just short of panic now twisting in his guts.  Something was whispering from the dark depths of his mind, prodding at him, and he didn’t want to listen. Part of him already knew what it wanted.  His dick had already taken notice and was stirring, his belly heating up as the pressure and fullness increased with the smell of her perfume, the sound of her voice, the sight of her and the knowledge that she was flirting her brains out.

His hands gripped the handle on the cart until his knuckles turned white.

Kathy followed along behind him.

He stopped by some freesia sprouts and checked the sturdiness of the base stems and color of the leaves.  He set them back down and moved on.  Part of him wanted to just turn and run back to his truck as fast as he could and get the hell out of there.  Instead, he continued looking at plants and pretending to shop, all the while hyperaware of the woman trailing along closely behind him.

Her presence clawed at his mind, even though he wasn't looking at her.  “Do you know what makes a weed a weed?” he asked, hoping he sounded casual, wanting to ignore her, but unable to do so. 

“They’re ugly?” she answered, watching him sort through the verbenas.

“Nope. They're just flowers growing out of place,” he announced, looking down his nose at the hothouse flowers. “That’s what my grandma taught me.  Even weeds can be beautiful, if you plant ‘em in just the right spot.” 

Do it, said a voice echoing in the shadows of his mind.  You wanna know, don’t you? He dragged his gaze back to her face, his mouth gone dry as pornographic pictures flashed through his mind.  Prove you're still a man.

She gave him what was obviously a smile of invitation and lowered her voice seductively.  “Are you a philosopher, Jack?” 

His voice was calm as he replied, “Nope.  Just a gardener, ma’am.”  He was falling apart right in front of her, but she couldn’t see it.  No one could, because he was always careful to keep his emotions well hidden.

Slipping her arm in his, she moved closer into his personal space and looked up into his eyes.  “Well, then, I could use your opinion, Mister Gardener.”  She towed him over to the planters, leaving his cart behind, talking to him non-stop about the plans she had for the front walk of her house.

Jack allowed himself to be led along.  He saw all the clues -- the smiles, the tilt of her head, the tone of voice, the way she brushed her breasts against his arm.  She was coming on to him big time, really pouring on the charm.  Kathy was an attractive woman, and her every gesture screamed her sexual interest in him.  She’d be so easy to get into bed.

He turned away, pretending to look at some Mexican clay pots on shelves just to his right as he felt the pressure of his response low in his belly.  If he didn’t cool it right then, he was going to get a hard-on right there in the nursery.  His heartbeat stuttered and speeded up.

Remember Daniel, he thought desperately.  He wanted to say to her, I’m taken.  Leave me alone. He tried to say the words, but they wouldn’t come out of his mouth.  God help me, I don’t want to do this! Daniel!

He pretended to look up at a pot on a high shelf.  But in his mind he could see himself on his belly on the ground, held down by many hands, feel the penetration, hear that ugly word echoing in his head.

Kosoo. Kosoo. Kosoo.

His face flushed, and he reached out to grasp the edge of the shelf, just to have something to hold onto for a moment.  He felt sick, desperate to leave, to be anywhere but with his thoughts.  He took a deep breath and muttered, “I need to get outta here.”

He looked down at her and, for an instant, pictured himself on top of her, balls-deep between her legs, squeezing her tits and pounding her till she screamed. 

Kathy smiled up at him, her amber eyes glittering, obviously reading the heat in his eyes accurately.  “Let’s go, baby,” she purred.  “My place isn’t very far.  You can look at my entry and tell me what you think of it, help me figure out exactly what needs to go in it.” 

He got the innuendo, all right, and knew he was lost.  He hated himself, but was powerless against what she was so blatantly offering.  “Yeah,” he agreed numbly.  “I can do that.  Let’s go.” 

The tiny little voice that called desperately to him to stop was abruptly silenced as he walked out behind her, leaving his loaded cart behind.  He called out to Jerry that he’d be back to finish his shopping in a little while.

He climbed into his truck and followed her for the five minutes it took to get to her townhouse.  Then he walked her inside and shut off his mind, no longer caring what his conscience was screaming. 

He had to do this.

Had to. He needed it, just this once.

And God willing, Daniel never had to know. 

~~**~~

**22 March**

Almost Two Weeks Later

Jack pushed up and rolled away from Kathy to lie beside her in her bed.  He stared sightlessly at the ceiling, the guilt and horror of their relationship eating away at him as it always did, but especially in the moments after his climaxes.  The smell of sex on the sheets was so strong it made him nauseous, but stronger still was the scent of perfume and woman.

He was clueless about what was happening to him.  In the first place, he didn’t understand why he couldn’t have been satisfied with Daniel.  And why had he even bothered coming back to this woman after that first time?  But he had.  Many times.  He couldn’t seem to stay away, no matter how much he wanted never to see her again. 

Kathy snuggled up beside him, her head on his shoulder, her right hand drifting up and down the sweaty hair on his chest and belly. He could feel her smiling against his skin, her breath coming out in slowing gasps of satisfaction. "That was great, baby," she crooned. "You do know how to get a girl off."

He said nothing, his body relaxed and boneless from his orgasm, while his mind desperately sought a way out of the trap he'd stupidly rushed into with wide-open eyes.

He’d meant for Kathy to be a one-time thing, but she’d given him her phone number after that first encounter, and every time the demons from his past threatened to overwhelm him, he’d given in and called her.  Fucking her, thrusting into her warm, willing body, gave him a kind of twisted reassurance, yet every time he walked through her door, he could feel the danger growing.

He loved Daniel so much, it made him crazy sometimes. He didn't love Kathy -- didn't even like her, really -- but she was a salve to his damaged manhood, a crutch for his broken ego, and he couldn't seem to let her go, either.

Now that he'd been seeing her regularly over the last two weeks and sleeping with her as often as he could get away, she was beginning to make noises about being included in his life.  She wanted more than a good fuck and take-out dinners at her place. That was all he’d wanted from her, and he’d hoped she’d be satisfied with what he’d given her so far. Evidently, that had changed and she was starting to think about laying claim to him.

He knew the kind of woman she was.  “Gold-digger” had been written all over her from the moment they'd met.  She was free with her body, but her body wasn't exactly free. She wanted the whole package, all the sex and material comfort he could provide, only he wasn't available. Of course, she didn’t know that, and he couldn’t tell her.

He'd even bought her a few nice gifts -- knowing that would shut her up -- which it had, for a while. 

He could feel the usual not-so-subtle prod coming again as she propped up on one elbow and looked down at him, her hair and makeup hideously mussed. Most men would think she looked sexy in that just-fucked kind of way, but there was no afterglow for him to glamorize her, just the ugly truth of what he saw, mostly about himself.

Averting his eyes, his stomach churning, Jack took that opportunity to move away from her.  He rolled over, pulling off the condom he’d used before he sat up.

Then he headed for the bathroom for a shower, to scrub off the stink of her.  "I've gotta get home and pack, Kathy," he told her over his shoulder. "My plane leaves early in the morning."

She sat up in the rumpled sheets. "When you get back, maybe we can have a little get-together to celebrate. Invite some of your friends. I'd love to meet them." 

He didn't turn around when he spoke, just continued toward the bathroom. "Maybe we can talk about that after I get back from DC.” 

Closing the bathroom door, he turned and leaned his forehead against the cool wood, silently vowing that he’d break it off with her as soon as he returned from his trip. He had to, because the self-loathing and guilt about what he was doing to Daniel was killing him.  He was caught in a fucking nightmare of his own making and was desperate to wake up.  Added to the horror of the memories from his past, he knew it was only a matter of time before something had to give, if he didn’t find some way to get his life back on track.

After a thorough scrub in the shower, he dressed and returned to the bedroom, where Kathy lay sprawled in what Jack imagined she thought was a provocative pose.  He knew what she expected, but he was damned if he was going to give it to her. Hell, he couldn't even smile and pretend he wanted seconds. All he wanted was to get out of there.

Politely, he bent down to kiss her and murmur a good-bye. She rose, slipped into her robe and followed him to the front door, tugging on his arm for another farewell kiss just before he left.  After the most perfunctory of pecks on the cheek, he turned his back on her and walked away without a word.

He felt bad about what he’d been doing to her, but he couldn’t help himself.  He’d needed what she could give him, but he was pretty sure she was using him, too -- not that any of that made it right. He was certain she didn't love him. He believed all she wanted was what she thought he could give her, and his heart certainly wasn't in the bargain.

He didn't look back as he strode to his truck.  With an impatient twist of the ignition key, the engine roared to life.  He slammed it into gear, coming perilously close to burning rubber as he pulled out of her driveway.  He was desperate to get away from her, to get home to Daniel, even though he knew Daniel wouldn't be there yet.

Heart slamming in his chest, he forced himself to drive at the speed limit, his hands trembling on the wheel. 

As he passed a barber shop, he made a quick decision, pulled a U turn and went in to get his hair cut, feeling a little better to have the military look back again. Back into the truck immediately afterward, he tried to relax a little, but the feel of her body against his wasn't going away. The memory of her tied his stomach up in knots.

Once at his house, he took another shower, washed his hair, and brushed his teeth to make sure he had every trace of her off him. Digging the earring out of his pants pocket, he dropped it in a bathroom drawer and closed it a little too hard. Jack threw the clothes he'd worn into the washing machine with lots of detergent and started the cycle to get them clean. 

Dressed again in fresh clothes, he ambled into the kitchen to start dinner.  Packing for his trip to Washington didn't take long and by the time he’d finished that, dinner was almost ready. He set the table and waited for Daniel to arrive back from the base, his mind going over and over the mess he’d made of their lives, searching for a way out and finding none.

"I'm home, Jack," Daniel called from the front door.

"In the kitchen," Jack answered, and left the dining room to start serving up their plates.  He was just setting them on the table when Daniel came into the room.  He didn't look up when Daniel came to kiss his cheek and pat him fondly on the butt.

Daniel leaned over the kitchen sink to wash his hands.  "Hey,” he said over his shoulder.  “Dinner smells great!  How was your day?"  He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and then went back out to the dining room to pull out a chair and take a seat.  He leaned his cane against the table and waited for Jack to sit down across from him.  He sat back in his chair and looked Jack over.  "I see you got a haircut."

Jack just shrugged that last comment away.  "Same old, same old, today," answered Jack wearily.  He kept his head down as he took his place at the table, picked up his knife and fork and started cutting up his steak.  "Not much new in my life, aside from the trip to the barber that was long overdue.  What’d you do today?"

He barely heard Daniel rattling on about this translation and that artifact and the cultural significance of it all.  Listening just enough to know if he'd been asked a question, Jack picked at his food and threw in a one-liner wherever appropriate, hoping Daniel wouldn’t notice that Jack hadn’t looked him in the eye all evening.  Apparently, luck was with him and his partner alternated between talking and chewing until his dinner was gone.

Much later, when Daniel was finished with his work for the night, he came to bed and settled down on his pillow with a sigh.

Jack had been reading for a while, the book tented on his chest, the bedside lamp still burning. Tonight he couldn’t get to sleep, and even the boring book hadn’t made him drowsy. There was so much on his mind Jack simply couldn’t shut it off. Now that Daniel was coming to bed, he closed the book and put it on the nightstand, turning out the light on his side of the bed.

Daniel left his lamp on, wanting to talk a little before sleep. “I wish you didn’t have to go tomorrow,” he murmured softly, turning beneath the covers to face his lover.  “The house always feels so empty when you’re gone.”  He put his hand on Jack’s chest and played with the curly hair, rubbing little warm circles on his skin.

“Does when you’re off makin’ nice with our allies, too,” Jack answered evenly.  He couldn’t look at Daniel, just lay on his pillow, hands clasped behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He felt as if he were drowning, dying inside, in so much pain he’d gone almost numb.  Something inside him was shrieking, but outside he was quiet and still.

“General Hammond would let you go off-world on diplomatic missions, too, if you wanted,” Daniel reminded him.  He scooted closer and laid his head on Jack’s chest, listening to his heart beating.  His hand smoothed over Jack’s abdomen and he sighed. “What’s wrong, Jack?  And don’t say it’s nothing.  You’ve hardly looked at me for a week or more, and I can’t remember the last time I saw you smile or heard you laugh.  Something’s eating at you, and I’d like to know what it is.”

“That would require talking,” Jack said simply.  “Which you know very well I don’t do.”

“This is something we both have to learn, vidámo.  I know we both suck at it, but we have to find ways to open up to each other.”

“We’ve been doing just fine,” argued Jack, really not wanting to get into that subject at the moment. Or ever, really. “It’ll pass, Daniel.  It’s just a mood.”

He hoped it was, anyway.  Jack felt uneasy about the whole subject.  He didn’t like lying and was disgusted with himself for cheating on Daniel in the first place. He had told Daniel ‘forever’ in that hotel room on his birthday. Daniel was operating under the belief that there was a solid commitment between them, that they were a couple and exclusive to each other, because that was what Jack had requested.

That was what he wanted.  He needed to know Daniel would be in his life always, but now it seemed Jack was doing everything he could to push the man he loved away.  He settled his arm around Daniel’s shoulders, swallowing hard, forcing down the wave of love and longing that threatened to overwhelm him.  He wanted so badly to be the kind of man who could share his feelings and give his lover what he needed.  He just had no faith that he could be that kind of man, not anymore.  He threaded his other hand through Daniel’s hair, stroking him tenderly.

A warm breath flowed across his belly.  Daniel turned his face and kissed his chest.  “I worry about you,” he murmured.  “You keep so much bottled up inside, and I want so much to help when I know you’re hurting.” Daniel rose up on one elbow and lay half across Jack, looking down into his face, squinting a little to focus without his glasses in what little light there was.  “I love you so much, but sometimes I feel like that’s not enough.”

Jack’s heart shattered at that tender declaration and the obvious devotion behind it.  “It is,” Jack whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “It’s everything, Daniel.  You’re all I need,” he told him, desperate to believe it himself.  He came up to meet Daniel halfway, the kiss carrying him back down to the pillow.  Daniel plundered his mouth, his tongue merciless in its sweet probing, his lips a satin glide that left Jack writhing, moaning and restless.

Daniel’s hands caught at Jack’s hair and ribs possessively.  Thick plates of flexed muscle pushed at Jack’s chest and shoulder where Daniel lay against him, and he reveled in the feel of that leashed power, that bulging hardness pressed against his body.  The smoothness of Daniel’s skin was a constant delight, rubbing against him, heating him up.  He was helpless against that loving assault, breaking away to gasp a breath when Daniel’s hand touched his wakening cock.

He groaned and turned his face away, eyes closed, concentrating on the feel of Daniel’s knowing hands touching and squeezing him.  Sharp teeth grasped his nipple and made him grunt with sudden, intense pleasure.  Jack undulated on the bed, unable to keep still as Daniel made his way down Jack’s body, sucking, licking and kissing, nibbling at the tender spots on his sides and lower belly, worshipping Jack with his mouth.

“Jeez, Daniel,” he panted.  Heat rushed to his dick, throbbing with need as Daniel scooted downward, flinging the covers off them as he settled between Jack’s legs.  Wet heat engulfed him and Jack arched upward into it, thrusting eagerly into Daniel’s talented mouth.  He reached down, tangling his fingers in Daniel’s long hair, holding onto his head with both hands and willing himself to relax, to make it last a little longer.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he whispered roughly.  “Oh, yeah.”  He lifted his head and opened his eyes, looking down at his cock disappearing into Daniel’s mouth and sliding back out, slick and glistening with his saliva.  Daniel’s head tipped up and his eyes opened, the blue all but gone in eyes dilated with passion and desire as Daniel looked into his lover's eyes.  Jack groaned and spread his legs at Daniel’s guiding touch, collapsing back against the pillow, closing his eyes and trying to stay calm.

Somehow, Daniel had smuggled the lube down there with him and slipped a slick finger slowly into Jack’s ass. He licked Jack’s balls, sucking first one, then the other into his mouth to the tune of Jack’s sighs of approval. Slowly, his finger probed deeper and began to twirl, making Jack writhe and gasp as he tried desperately to stay in control and make it last.

Another finger breached him, stretching him wider, probing deeper, stroking close to his prostate and sending shivers of ecstasy all through him. Jack lifted his legs, spreading them wider to give Daniel more room. A third finger slipped inside and need shot through him, making him buck and push against Daniel, gasping and groaning, driving him toward completion.

Jack lifted his head again, needing to see, to watch Daniel as he swallowed his cock.  Love burned in the blue-black depths of his eyes.  Savagely, anguish tore through Jack as he came, Daniel’s fingers thrusting fiercely into him, his cock enclosed in the wet glide of Daniel’s mouth and throat. Jack cried out, reaching for him, but his body refused to obey him and left him powerless, panting on the pillow while Daniel greedily drank the last of his come.

He closed his eyes and waited, trying to catch his breath, to think, to push his way past the demons scrabbling at the edges of his consciousness, threatening to take away the joy of that precious moment.

Daniel crawled up beside him and stretched out, his hands gently pushing at Jack, guiding him to turn over onto his side so Daniel could spoon up behind him.

“Get on top of me, Daniel,” Jack breathed. “Fuck me face to face this time.”

Doubt skittered across his lover’s expression, but he obeyed, settling on top of Jack and pushing back to try to balance himself on hands and knees. He grimaced and flopped over onto his side with a grunt. “I can’t do it that way, Jack.  I just can’t bear my weight on my bad knee.”

Jack watched Daniel settle on his side on his pillow, facing him. There was no way Jack could let Daniel fuck him from behind tonight. He just couldn’t. He needed to see his face, to be able to look into his eyes and know who was inside him. If he couldn't see Daniel's face while they made love, Jack knew he would shatter. He couldn't take that risk.

“Then lie on your back, Danny,” Jack whispered. “I’ll ride you that way.”

Daniel looked doubtful again. “What about your knees?”

“I’ll let you know. Lube up, baby.”

A quick, sweet little grin lit up Daniel’s face. He tossed the lube onto the nightstand when he was finished with it, his fingers busy applying the clear gel to his erection. When he finished, he held it upright at the base and gave Jack an even wider smile. “Mount up, cowboy.” 

Jack straddled him, rolling his hips under as he lowered himself toward Daniel’s cock. He reached back and grabbed it, guiding it into place, and closed his eyes with a gasp of pleasure as he relaxed to let it slip inside him. Slowly, carefully, he let himself down until he was sitting on Daniel’s pelvis, his dick firmly embedded in Jack's ass.

He was full.  It felt magnificent. He sat there, his hands resting on Daniel’s smooth chest, feeling his lover’s heartbeat pounding beneath his palms. He tried to search out whether his knees were protesting, but couldn’t feel anything other than his ass and Daniel’s heart beating inside him and under his hands.

“I love being inside you,” Daniel whispered, reaching up to trail his fingertips through Jack’s chest hair.  

Jack’s throat closed up. Tears prickled at the back of his eyes. He wanted so much to tell Daniel how he felt, how much he meant, but no words ever conceived could adequately cover that concept. He stared down into Daniel’s eyes and leaned forward onto his hands, arching his back and pulling Daniel’s cock almost all the way out of him, then pushed back against him and rolled his hips under to thrust him in deep again. He rocked slowly, back and forth, in and out, mesmerized by the glorious slide of flesh against slick flesh, of heat and hardness filling him up.

He watched in utter fascination as Daniel’s eyes rolled closed, lost in the grip of pleasure. Daniel groaned and sighed, moaned and whimpered as he rocked with his lover, thrusting and withdrawing in the same rhythm, lifting Jack up off the bed and sinking into it with him. Jack had never seen anything so beautiful, so erotic, and he leaned down for a brief kiss, nibbling at Daniel’s lower lip before straightening up again.

“Jack.” Daniel was close now, his hands twisting in the sheets, gripping and relaxing, looking for a way to hold on a little longer. Jack’s name was a breathless chant on his lips as he pushed up to his elbows, half sitting up, trying to get closer. Daniel's eyes opened and his teeth clamped down over his lower lip, dimples flaring in his cheeks as he strained to resist the tide of ecstasy, his eyes pleading for the mercy of making the moment last.

To Jack, Daniel was sex personified, and Jack wanted nothing more than to drive him screaming over the edge. He rode harder, faster, rotating his hips and squeezing his ass muscles, milking at Daniel’s cock until he roared and curled upward, clutching at Jack’s hips as the spasms of pleasure tore through him.

Jack watched him, stunned by the look of total abandon on Daniel’s slack face as his head lolled back on his shoulders with the ebbing tide of pleasure. His eyes rolled slowly half open, glittering and dark, black pools of passion… and all for him.

Reverently, Jack clasped Daniel’s face in both hands and leaned down for a kiss, not caring how uncomfortable the position was with his balls smashed between their bodies and his knees letting him know they’d reached their limit. This was how he wanted Daniel to make love to him, he decided. He needed to see Daniel’s face, to look into his eyes and drown in the boundless adoration he saw there.

As soon as he let go, Daniel fell back against the pillows with a groan, arms splayed out at his sides and a big happy grin on his face, his eyes closed. “Wow. That was just… wow.”

“Yeah.” Jack didn’t want to move. “I’m not too heavy?”

“Move and I’ll break something,” Daniel teased, cracking one eye open. “God, Jack. You’ve got one talented ass.” He moved one hand wearily to Jack’s thigh and stroked it fondly. “Maybe I should take off work and come with you. What d’ya say?”

“If Hammond will let you out of a week’s work, sure,” Jack agreed, not daring to hope he might actually go through with a little spontaneity. “Of course, I might not leave my hotel room, if you’re in my bed.”

Daniel chuckled. “Yeah, but I still owe you some quality time. It won’t be long now.” His grin faded and he reached out to take Jack’s hands in his, lacing their fingers together. “I miss you, Jack. Sometimes I wish we could both just retire and do nothing but each other all day.” 

The sweetness of that idea was like a warm hug, enveloping Jack’s heart. “Nah,” he returned wistfully. “You’d get bored real fast. You’ve gotta keep your mind busy. I’d be happy just diggin’ in the dirt, as long as I had you with me at the end of the day.” He pulled one hand away to reach out and trace his fingertips over Daniel’s cheek. “But the world needs you, Danny. The human race is depending on you.  I’m just the comic relief, here.”

“We’re a package deal, Jack,” Daniel whispered, “and I can’t do any of it without you.  You do know that, don’t you?”

Jack swallowed, loving the sentiment but certain that it was absolute fantasy. Daniel might really believe that, but Jack knew better. The world would travel along without a pause if Jack O’Neill suddenly vanished from it, but without Daniel Jackson… Well, he’d already been in that universe and seen where it was going. That wasn't a place he ever wanted to be again.

He’d simply been lucky enough to get Daniel back. That was a gift of cosmic proportions, and he’d done his best to make things right. Only being who he was, he had managed to screw it up anyway.

"I'll let you keep thinking that, Danny," Jack responded after a long pause. With a sigh of resignation, he dismounted and stretched out beside the man he loved, cuddled him into his arms and listened to the whisper of Daniel's breathing as he fell asleep.

Jack fought off the demons for as long as he could, but as soon as he drifted away, they began to creep out of the shadows and stalk his dreams, tormenting him with memories he could no longer bear. He awoke with a scream choked back at the last moment, sweating and panting, and rose from the bed to stand by the window and look outside, hoping he could make it through another moment, and then another, and then one more.

That was how he was going to have to survive now, from one breath to the next.

He dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, threw on some shoes, and padded out of the bedroom, through the house and outside, into the moonlit backyard.  It was still cold out, but he didn’t care.  New shoots were starting to come up from some of the crocus bulbs and in another month they’d be flowering, the first of many new blooms to come.  The garden gave him hope that somehow, everything would happen in its own time, that the bleak winter in his soul would pass and the torment would slip into the dark recesses of his memory.

He bent down to heap the mulch over the tops of the bulbs and covered them up a little more, tucking them in for the remaining cold.

He stood out in the chilly darkness for a while, his arms wrapped around his chest to preserve what body heat he could.  He threw his head back, gazing at the same stars among which he and Daniel had once traveled.  They made him feel small, insignificant, but he knew he wasn’t.  He knew he was significant, important, in Daniel’s eyes.  If he could just hold on a little longer, he thought, everything would be all right.

After several minutes, he ambled back inside the house.  Checking the clock, he decided to give up on trying to get more sleep.  He started the coffee, getting a jump on the day that would see him catching a plane for a destination across the country, leaving his lover behind just when Jack needed him most.

~~**~~

**30 March**

Eight Days Later

Fitting the key into the front door lock was no easy task, considering Daniel had a twenty-pound bag of potting soil under his left arm, two suits on hangers dangling from his mouth, and a cane in his right hand along with the keys.  It took a little more fumbling and dropping the cane before he could wrestle the door open.

He quickly stepped around the corner to disarm the security system, dropping his cane again in the process.  Trying not to fall over, Daniel balanced on his good leg, leaning one hand against the wall, gathering himself and trying to decide how to move on from there.

“Hello,” called a cheery voice from the doorstep.  “Are you a friend of Jack’s?”

Startled, Daniel dropped his keys on the floor and quickly pulled the hangers from his mouth.  “Um, yes.  I’m Daniel.  Daniel Jackson.”  He hopped sideways so he could see the woman better.  He moved over to lean against the doorframe for balance and support.  “Jack’s not home.  Can I help you with something?”

The woman flashed him a bright smile from the doorstep.  She was nice enough looking, dressed as she was in tight jeans and a tank top that left little to the imagination, the dark natural color showing at the roots of her bleached hair.  His first impression was ‘cheap blonde,’ but he tried to shake that off and avoid labeling her. 

She extended her hand toward him.  “Well, hi.  I’m Kathy Pierce.  It’s nice to meet you, Daniel.  Can I help you with some of that?”  She reached inside just enough to pick up his cane and his keys and hold them out to him.

Setting the potting soil down just inside the door, Daniel draped the suits over his arm.  He took his keys and stuffed them into his pocket, and then accepted the cane from her with a grateful smile.  “Thanks.”  He was always wary about letting strangers into the house, especially when Jack was gone, so he decided to keep her out on the porch, at least until he knew what she wanted.

“You're welcome,” she assured him, her eyes sweeping over him, clearly assessing him.  “Have you and Jack been friends for a while?”  She gave a nervous chuckle.  “I mean, you’ve got a key to his place, so you must be close.”

Daniel started to feel a little uncomfortable, since she obviously was digging for information.  He didn’t know who this woman was, but he probably ought to cool her interest in his lover quickly.  “Yeah, we are,” he admitted frankly, thinking he should make plain right away exactly what their relationship was.  “Very close.  We're—“

“So, Jack’s not married, is he?”  The woman’s face grew suddenly serious and she leaned closer, not waiting to hear a detailed description of their living arrangement.  “I wondered, you know, because he hasn’t introduced me to any of his friends or brought me to his house.  I…” 

Daniel froze.  He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think.  This woman couldn’t possibly mean what he thought she was implying.  Could she?

“…I was starting to wonder if, maybe, he had a family. A wife.” 

His throat and mouth felt as if they were caked with dust.  He pulled himself up to his full height and glared at her, willing himself to be calm, to hold on until he knew exactly what the hell was going on with this woman. “Uh… No, Jack’s not married.  He’s just a very private man. He’ll…” Daniel swallowed reflexively, tears coming to his eyes.  He blinked them away.

Daniel's heart seized up in his chest, aching at the very real possibility that Jack might have been seeing her on the side.  Daniel had believed he and Jack were exclusive. They had talked about it, and Jack had promised his heart forever. He still loved Daniel -- he was dead sure about that.  No one could fake the look in Jack’s eyes when they were intimate.  So why was this woman coming around, asking if Jack were married?

He had to find out, had to tuck his emotions away and see what he could get out of her, without letting her know who she was questioning.   Keeping his face impassive, he switched mental gears, allowing the cool, calm, professorial diplomat in him to take over.

“I’m sure he’ll introduce you around when he’s ready,” Daniel assured her politely.  He bowed his head, leaning heavily on the cane, struggling to maintain control.  He felt as if a rug had been pulled out from beneath him, his whole world suddenly tilting.  His balance was shaky and he put too much weight on his bad knee, pain shooting up into his hip and down to his toes.  He sucked in a breath and wobbled, nearly falling over.

“Oh!  Are you okay?” she asked, reaching out to steady him.

He backpedaled out of her reach, raising his free hand to ward off her help.  “I’m fine,” he snapped.  “Please!  Don’t touch me.”

Daniel forced himself to straighten, taking a deep breath to start the interrogation.  He pushed his lips into a grimace that he hoped passed for a friendly look.  “So, how long have you and Jack been seeing each other?”

She smiled coquettishly.  “Three weeks.  We met at the nursery, of all places, sometime last year.  We talked off and on, but the first time we saw each other this season, he was all over me.”  Kathy giggled happily, her eyes dancing.

That pinpointed a time for Daniel to look back over Jack’s behavior for clues, right about when he'd stopped wearing his earring, and then later, cut his hair. He’d gone quiet and lost his sense of humor about the same time. Daniel had known something was wrong between them.

He just didn’t think it would be… this.

“It’ll take a little longer for Jack to start showing you off.  Just be patient.” He couldn’t believe he was saying that to this woman.  His insides were shredding, and he was encouraging her!  It was a necessary tactic, to get at the information she had to offer.  He’d played the diplomat often enough over the last eight years that he was an expert at it.  “I guess you two have been going to your place, then, huh?  Your favorite haunts.”

He knew she was far from the sort of woman Jack usually ogled.  His initial assessment of ‘cheap blonde’ intensified and the more he talked to her, the more he was certain that she was coarse and easy.  He couldn’t imagine what Jack had seen in her.

“Yeah.  I made him dinner the night before he left for DC on that business trip.  It was kinda early,” she grinned, sexy memories glimmering in her eyes, “but that was okay.  We said a nice, long, hard goodbye, and I think he’ll be calling me as soon as he gets off the plane when he comes home.”  She winked at him triumphantly.  “Don’t let that gray hair fool you.  He can put most younger guys to shame in the sack.” 

She laughed brightly, obviously thinking she’d said something clever, but Daniel was sickened by her crudeness.

Her total lack of class was startling.  Daniel was stunned, aghast at how completely he’d been fooled.  Jack had fucked this woman the day he left, then come home and wanted Daniel to fuck him immediately afterward.  Daniel had happily driven the bastard to the airport, none the wiser.  Jack had been screwing them both. 

Daniel wanted to tell her the truth, that he was Jack's lover.  He wanted to see the look on her face when she knew what an asshole Jack truly was underneath all the sexy charm.  That, however, would have been an act of vengeance.  Daniel loved Jack so much, he didn’t want revenge for what Jack had done to him.

All he wanted, he suddenly knew, was out.

He straightened up, studying her through half-closed eyes, down the length of his nose, his insides turned to ice, cold rage gripping his heart.  “Yes, I’m sure he’ll call you soon,” Daniel said softly.  He was so angry he wanted to slap her, kick her ass off the porch, and slam the door after her, but he maintained tight control of his temper.  It was Jack he was truly furious with, not this easy, foolish tramp of a woman.  His body was rigid with disgust, heart filled with contempt.  “It’s been nice meeting you, Kathy,” he lied easily.  “But I’ve got a couple more errands to run for Jack.  Thanks for stopping by.”  He was already closing the door.

“Yeah, it was nice meeting you, too, Dave.”  She turned away from the porch with a little wave and strolled back across the front lawn toward her car. 

Daniel didn’t bother correcting his name.  His heart was ripping in half, but somehow he had managed to keep from showing that woman just what a wreck he was inside.  The door shut with a quiet, final click, and he just leaned his forehead against it, his heart pounding so hard his whole body was trembling. 

Finally, he loosed the storm of emotion raging inside him from their encounter.  Tears streamed down his face while anguished gasps and hoarse sobs wrenched from his throat. His body shook with torment, shuddering against the door, his left hand pressed against it for support. His stomach threatened to revolt, his guts doing flip-flops. 

Jack couldn’t do this to him.  He wouldn’t, not in a million years.  It just wasn’t fucking possible.

But the evidence had just walked away from him, her laughter still ringing in his ears. 

Daniel didn’t know how long he stood there, propped against the door.  Once the tempest had passed and he could think straight again, a deadly calm filled him.  He wiped his face on his sleeve, took the dry cleaning into the bedroom, and hung it in the closet.  Then he went into the living room and started to pace, looking back over the last several weeks at Jack's behavior, questioning everything.

He’d started to withdraw from Daniel long before he'd made that fateful trip to the nursery.  Maybe the freshness and novelty of their nine-month relationship had worn off, and Jack had been looking for a way out.  Something had been bothering him; Daniel hadn’t been blind to that fact.  Maybe Jack had been reconsidering his orientation, and had decided he was straight after all.  Maybe Daniel simply hadn't been enough for him sexually.  He knew Jack wanted to top him, but he hadn't been able to comply with that wish, and Daniel thought Jack had made his peace with that.  Their relationship wasn't 50/50; it couldn’t be, and maybe that had bothered Jack more than he'd shown.

Daniel knew that Jack had a hard time talking about his feelings and needs.  Maybe Daniel had been partly responsible for driving Jack away.  That softened his resolve for a moment, but the more he thought about it, the more he decided it didn't matter.  Jack had betrayed him in the worst possible way, and Daniel didn't want to stick around for more.

Whatever the reason behind Jack's betrayal, Daniel still had to confirm what that bitch had said.  There was only one thing left to do, and that was to give Jack a chance to confirm or deny his relationship with that woman.  Daniel owed him that much, at least. 

He picked up the phone in the living room and dialed Jack's cell phone number, checking his watch to see if Jack might be at the Pentagon or in his hotel room.  It was two time zones later on the East Coast, and a safe bet he'd be in his room for the night.

Jack answered on the second ring.  "Hey, Daniel," he said warmly into the line.  "You're home early."

Daniel paced the living room floor, trying to figure out how to get this unpleasantness started.  Keeping his tone casual, he said, "Yeah, I had errands to run.  Dry cleaning and all that."

He paused and stopped walking, his heart beating in his throat.  "Um, Jack?  I just wanted to.  Ah.  Let you know that.  Um.  Kathy Pierce stopped by to see you." 

He held his breath, waiting, hoping Jack would say something, anything that would refute what that fucking woman had told him.

For a long time, there was only silence on the other end of the line.

That was an answer in itself.  Cold rage turned hot, like fire in Daniel’s veins.  He started to tremble.  He was pacing again, pounding the floor with the tip of his cane with every step.

Jack's voice, when he did speak, was deep, heavy with grief and regret.  "I'm sorry, Daniel.  I never meant to hurt you."

"Yeah, I'll bet," he shot back sarcastically, allowing some venom to seep out into his tone.  He wanted to shout and hit something, but there would be no point in having a tantrum, now that he knew the truth.  "But you know what?  You did hurt me, Jack.  You have hurt me, more deeply than you can imagine.  You betrayed me. You betrayed us.”  He paused to try to force himself to breathe.  All that remained was ending this sham of a relationship, and getting the hell away from there.  “I'll be out of the house before you get home,” he continued in a no-nonsense voice.  “A car from the base will pick you up at the airport."

He held the phone to his ear, not sure what else he was expecting to hear.  There was nothing, not even the sound of Jack's breathing.

"See you around, Jack," he growled into the phone.  "It's been a real education."  

He hung up and lobbed the phone into the couch cushions, exasperated and incredulous beyond measure.  He started pacing the floor again, certain that whatever they'd had together was over.  He had no idea how that would affect them at work.  Maybe Jack would resign, but Daniel sure wasn't going to leave the SGC.  They barely saw each other at the base anymore, except for arranged lunch dates and occasional meetings that involved both of their departments, so maybe it would be workable if both of them stayed.

He didn't want to think about any of that at the moment, choosing to deal with any future contact as it happened.  As he headed down the hall, the phone started to ring.  He didn’t have to check the Caller ID to know who it was, and he didn’t want to talk to him.  He had no intention of answering it.  It had to be Jack.  After six rings, the voice mail kicked in and the phone went silent. 

He stood in the bedroom doorway for a moment, staring at their bed, remembering their last night together and the lovemaking they’d shared.  He was sick at heart, nauseous, his heart torn out by the roots.  A fresh wave of grief hit him hard, and he staggered, barely making it to the bed before his knees gave out.  He sat down with a thump, pulling off his glasses and dropping them on the bedside table, weeping into his hands, his back to the bed they’d so joyfully shared, mourning for what they’d had and now, lost forever.

His heart felt like a cold, painful lump of devastation in his chest, a dead thing lodged in there, and he had no idea how to go on.  He knew he had to get up, make plans, get himself and his things out of Jack’s space, but the weight of his grief bore him down.  He hung his head, wiping at his face in a futile effort to stop the torrent of tears, and spoke to Jack, picturing his beloved face in his mind’s eye.

 “Why, Jack?” he moaned.  “Why?”  It was all he wanted to know, but there was no answer to that question in the empty house, and there would never be.  “I love you,” he whispered in agony.  “I love you.  Why did you do this to us?  To me?  I only wanted to love you.”  He spent many minutes lost in his misery, unable to tear himself away from the fresh, raw pain of his lost dreams.

The phone rang on the nightstand again, but he didn’t bother answering it.

With a long, shaky breath, he lifted his head and shut off his tears, listening as the ringing stopped.  Moments later the phone rang yet again, and after the third time it went to voice mail, he got up and took it off the hook so he wouldn’t have to listen to it anymore. 

Hobbling over to the closet, he started taking his clothes out and laying them on the bed.  He emptied his drawers and took his personal items from the bathroom, tossing everything down with his garments.   

At that point, his cell phone started to chirp.  He tore it out of his pocket and flipped it open impatiently.  He had to check the Caller ID this time, since it could have been work calling.  But the readout said JACK.  “Fuck off, will you?”  he muttered.  With a vicious stab of his index finger, he shut if off, closed it and tossed it on the bed next to his other belongings. 

He got his luggage out from a storage closet and stuffed what he could of his clothes into his suitcases, the rest going into garbage bags.

Room by room he cleaned out, carrying all his things into the spare room.  There was no way he could completely move out by himself, and would need to get boxes to pack up his books and other personal items, and someone to help him carry everything.  Pulling out of Jack’s life would take time, but if everything were out of Jack’s space, put away into the spare room with the door closed, it would be easier to gather it all up later.

When he thought he had most everything in there, it was getting late.  He made sure to go back into the bedroom to hang up the phone and then started taking what he could of his clothes and other personal items, his journals and computer, loading everything into the back of Jack’s big truck. 

He took all of it back to the base with him.  With the help of a couple of young, able-bodied airmen, he moved his things back into his lockdown quarters until other rooms could be assigned to him, as they had been when he’d returned from Vis Uban.

He’d make arrangements to have someone from the base retrieve the rest of his belongings from Jack’s place.  He intended to never set foot in that house again.  Once he had everything squared away in his temporary quarters, he went topside again and drove the truck back to Jack’s house.  He left it in the garage and used his cell phone to call a taxi to return him to the base.

Back at the SGC, he took his set of keys to the truck and house, went by Jack’s office, and left them on his desk.  Almost as an afterthought, he scribbled a short note to leave with the keys.

He phoned the motor pool and made arrangements for a driver to pick Jack up at the airport when his flight from Washington arrived the next afternoon. 

With all the necessary things done, it was quite late.  With both his head and his bad knee throbbing, Daniel headed for his office and sat down to do something, anything that might possibly take his mind off Jack. 

Thinking about Colonel Jack O’Neill, USAF, Retired, was the last thing he wanted to do for a very long time.

~~**~~

**31 March**

The Next Day 

When Jack stepped inside his front door, he could immediately see that Daniel had completely removed his presence from their home.  All his personal mementoes and artifacts, his photographs, every trace of the man seemed to be gone. Jack saw the mantel over the fireplace now bore nothing but his medals and Jack’s family photos. There were holes now where Daniel’s things had been and no longer were.

Jack's insides were cold and taut as he slowly walked down the hall, suitcase in hand, to their bedroom. Opening the closet door, he saw that Daniel’s half of it was empty. He sat down on the bed, holding his head in his hands, reeling with the evidence of the damage he’d done. 

Nothing mattered, not anymore.  Jack pulled his cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open.  There were messages, all from the same very familiar number, that he had ignored during his trip to the Pentagon.  He deleted them without listening to them before dialing the same number, which he had memorized.

He’d been dreading coming home to an empty house, but this task was a welcome one.  It would be a relief for him to finally get it over and done.  There was no longer any need for his relationship with Kathy, now that Daniel was gone.  He could finally make the call that he should have made weeks ago.

After two short rings, she answered with an upbeat hello. 

“Hello, Kathy,” he said in a flat voice.  “Daniel told me you came by the house yesterday.” 

She sounded pleased to hear from him, and her words stabbed him in the heart.  As he listened to her cheery voice, tears filling his eyes.  “Yeah, he’s a nice guy.  My best friend.”  The words stuck in his throat. 

He let loose a shaky sigh and swallowed so his voice would sound intelligible.  He cleared his throat.  “But he was more than that, too.  You see, he was my lover, and now that he’s met you and found out what we did, he’s left me.”  He paused for a second, dimly aware of the gasp of surprise audible even over the phone, followed by a stony silence on the other end. “I should never have done what I did with you, Kathy.  It was a shitty thing to do to both of you.  I’m sorry.  Now it's over between us.  Goodbye.”

He clicked the phone shut without listening to her reply.  It rang again almost immediately, no doubt her calling back to argue, to rail, to cry. He didn’t want to hear it, not from her.  Quietly, his heart sinking down into his shoes, he turned off the phone and went to lay it on his dresser.

Then he sat down again on the edge of the bed he’d shared with Daniel, and bent his head. No tears came, no prayers rose.  His heart was silent and cold.

Eventually he got up and walked through the house, discovering the accumulation of Daniel’s things gathered in the guest room.  It was almost a relief to find them there, but then he realized why Daniel hadn’t taken them with him.  He couldn’t, because of his bad knee.  He would need someone to box everything up and carry them out for him, and he wouldn’t want the help to come from Jack.  He'd probably have Sam and Teal'c pick up the rest of his things for him, which would tell them without saying a word that their relationship was over. 

Jack stood staring at the neat stacks of books, the artifacts placed lovingly in secure places where they wouldn’t fall and break. Jack wanted to touch them, to feel some connection with Daniel through the things he treasured, but he couldn’t.  That would be a violation.  He had no right to any of that anymore, and that thought constricted his throat.

This was his own fault. He had no one to blame but himself.  With a sigh, he turned away and closed the door to the guest room, leaving everything as he had found it.

Sometime later, he checked the garage for the truck.  He drove to the base and headed straight for his office, where he found Daniel’s set of keys and a note.  He sat down at his desk to read it, not sure his knees would keep him upright long enough to get through it.  When he unfolded the sheet of Air Force notepaper that Daniel had torn off the pad on Jack’s desk, he was surprised at how few words were written there. 

The SGC needs our expertise.  We should not allow personal matters to obscure what good we can do for the human race.  I’m willing to do my part.  If you can’t do yours, that’s your choice, but I’m staying.

D.

Jack folded the note and put it into his coat pocket, the words burned forever into his memory.

He wondered if that said pretty much everything that needed to be said between them.  Still, he needed to try.  Mustering every ounce of courage he had left, he took the note and headed for Daniel’s office.   

The door stood open, and Daniel sat hunched over his desk, the overheads off, desk lamp on, and a big bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol open on the blotter among the books.  Behind his glasses, Daniel’s eyes were red-rimmed.  Jack could tell by the slump of his posture that he was bone-weary.  Obviously, he’d had a hard night.

Stepping quietly into the room, Jack stopped by the desk and laid the note down to announce his presence.

Daniel didn’t look up, just kept scribbling on the pad.

“We have to talk, Daniel,” Jack said quietly.  “I need to explain—“

“No.  No, you don’t.  I don’t wanna hear it.  I don’t wanna know.”

“I have to tell you.  I need you to understand—“

“No, Jack,” Daniel bit out, teeth clenched in leashed anger, blue eyes flashing up to meet Jack's, his expression filled with potent rage.  “We go back to square one.  We work together.  We do our jobs.  From here on out, that’s all there is for us.  Period.”  He snapped his eyes back down to his desk top, refusing to look at Jack for one more second.  “Now, leave.”

Jack stood there for a moment longer.  He lifted his chin slightly, something in his heart deflating, going dark, like a light bulb suddenly switched off.  “All right, Daniel.  We’ll talk when you’re ready.  Meanwhile, I’ll be waiting.”

“Waiting?  I’ll never be ready, Jack.  It’s over.”  Daniel spoke to his notepad on the desk in front of him, his posture stiff and unforgiving, brooking no argument.  “So get the fuck out of my office until you have some official reason for being here.” 

Daniel reached for the analgesic with shaking hands and shook two tablets out onto the desk.  He tossed the pills into his mouth, tipped his head back, and swallowed them dry, his eyes daring Jack to say anything more.

Jack watched him for a moment longer, picked up the note Daniel had left for him, then pivoted on his heel with perfect military grace and headed for the door.  He paused, glancing back over his shoulder at Daniel, who was pretending to be working again.

He knew it was too little, too late, but he needed to say it anyway.  He closed the office door, guaranteeing their privacy, and leaned his back against it, hand still on the doorknob.  His voice sounded small and pitiful in his own ears. He looked at the floor, some place about a foot in front of the toes of his boots.  “I’m a stupid goddamned fuck-up, Daniel.  Everything I care about always turns to shit, because I have to find some way to screw it up.  I know you don’t want to hear it, but my feelings for you have never changed, and they never will.  I know you won’t believe me now, but I… care about you, more than you’ll ever know, and I’m sorry I hurt you.  I guess the best way I can show you that is to give you what you want and let you go… so goodbye.”

He turned quickly to yank open the door and stepped out into the corridor, tucking the note back into his jacket pocket.  He leaned his forehead against the cold, gray concrete wall where Daniel couldn’t see him and closed his eyes, which were burning with unshed tears.

The words he’d so wanted to say hadn’t come, but now, where Daniel couldn’t hear them, they tumbled out in a harsh, ragged whisper.  “I love you, Danny.  I always will."

After a moment, he gathered himself and straightened up, making his way back out into the world, and home to his empty house.

~~**~~

With a sigh of relief, Daniel’s shoulders and head sagged, frustration and despair a physical presence in his throat.  Anger still burned in his soul, a low flame that kept him simmering, but he knew that eventually that fire would burn out and leave nothing but cold ashes in its wake.  In his wounded heart, he felt that cold ashes were better than hot rage.  He’d lived through massive loss before in his life, and he could live through this trauma, too.  He had to concentrate on finding a way to shut Jack out of his heart, to protect himself from the inevitable further apologies and begging that was sure to come.

For his own sanity, he had to find a way to keep things on an even keel, strictly professional.  They had jobs to do, and they were among the best the SGC had on its staff.  Failing that, if tensions remained too high, he’d already decided he would quit and try to find a teaching position somewhere.

All Daniel really knew for sure was that, as far as he was concerned, Jack O’Neill could go to hell.

He worked for a couple of more hours, until he was so weary he couldn’t seem to make sense of anything he was reading.  Knowing he’d have to go and try to rest, he shut up his office and headed for his base quarters.  He half expected Jack to be there, waiting for him, wanting to talk again, but the room was dark and empty, and a sense of disappointment settled over him.

He closed the door behind himself and spent many long minutes pacing, waiting with dread and, if he were honest with himself, a faint glimmer of hope for Jack to appear.  Part of him wanted Jack to be there, begging him to come back.  If he did, if Jack were persistent about forgiveness, Daniel wasn’t at all sure he could continue to push him away, although he wanted that. 

Daniel figured that Jack was just giving him time to cool off, which was smart.  That must be why he hadn’t appeared to dog Daniel into conversation.  He’d probably wait until Daniel wasn’t expecting it and then pounce.  Daniel, however, had already decided that he’d be ready with one very cold shoulder, since he’d resolved that Jack shouldn’t be forgiven.  The time for talking was long gone.  Jack had hurt Daniel too much, and he couldn’t afford to lay his heart open to that kind of torment again.  It had to be over between them, for Daniel’s own sake.

All he had to do was maintain his determination and not give Jack a second chance.

. 

Jack didn’t show, and as the hour grew late, the lack of sleep and emotional exhaustion of the last few days eventually made Daniel limp with fatigue.  He started to undress for bed.

Sliding into his lonely bed, cocooned in cool, unrumpled sheets, Daniel closed his eyes and eventually slept. 

~~**~~

**19 April**

Three Weeks Later  

Jack surveyed his green and neatly trimmed yard.  Flowers were just beginning to bloom in bold splashes of color.  Their vividness hurt his eyes.  They also hurt his soul, since they were constant reminders of what he’d stupidly ground into the dirt.  Daniel hadn't just drifted away; he'd been stabbed in the heart.

Jack could no longer tolerate the sight of the garden he’d so carefully designed as a tribute to his love.  It was beginning to awaken and flourish, and the sight of it constantly taunted him.

He started with the potted plants, loading them all up into the back of his truck.  He drove to a nursing home not far from his house and donated them to the facility, personally carrying each one to wherever the staff wanted them.

Upon returning home, he took the hedge clippers and a hand saw to all the bushes, cutting them down near their bases.  After hauling the limbs out to his truck, he returned to the garden beds with a shovel and proceeded to methodically dig up what stumps he could until darkness and the pain in his back and knees forced him to stop for the night.

A hot shower helped a little, but by the time he made it to bed, his back was starting to cramp.  Jack lay in the darkened room, moving just enough to keep the pain constant.  It was near dawn before his muscles finally relaxed enough to let him sleep, and he was groggy when the alarm went off.

Rising automatically, his body was stiff and sore from all the hard labor.  Another hot shower loosened him up and, after throwing a tarp over the dead plants in the truck bed, he drove in to the base to work.

He stayed at his desk as he often did, every moment spent resisting the powerful urge to get up and go to Daniel, who was like a siren to Jack, constantly calling to him.  It was heartbreaking to be so near, just doors away down the corridor, and yet light-years apart.  Even after the death of their relationship, Jack felt the emotional bond between them, tugging at him, connecting them in some twisted form of cosmic punishment for his transgression.

As more time passed, they walked by each other in the halls of the SGC without a word, making no gesture of recognition.  In rare meetings when both were present, they did their jobs and participated as if nothing were amiss.  If they had to speak to one another in the course of their work, they were both carefully polite. 

Jack felt like a zombie, a dead man walking through his life.  His heart was utterly empty except for the tug he felt whenever he saw Daniel, heard his voice or his name. 

And every day when he returned home after a stop at the city landfill to dump off the previous day’s uprooted plants, he would change into sweats and head to the back yard, diligently digging and pulling up flowers one by one until they were all gone, leaving great ugly holes marring the brilliant green lawn.  As he looked around the landscape, he caught sight of the cedar and ash trees, mocking him silently.

I live for thee.  I watch over thee.

Great fucking job he’d done of both.  He’d broken Daniel’s heart, killed Daniel’s love for him, and destroyed their friendship in the process.  Now they were reduced to being coworkers, and barely civil ones at that.

The trees he decided he would keep as reminders.

He surveyed the back yard, the green grass radiant in the spring sunshine.  The next day was Saturday, and with any luck, by the time Monday rolled around, he’d have the lawn out of sight, too.  When that was done, he’d tackle the front yard until there was nothing living left in his view.  It had taken him a little over a week to eradicated the bushes and flowers, but removing the lawn would take quite a bit of time, since he was doing it all himself.

~~**~~

Three more weeks passed, as spring moved toward early summer.  Jack dug up the grass by the shovel full, then raked the bare dirt and covered it with sheets of thick black plastic weighted down with sand until the whole lawn was gone.  Every evening and all day weekends after that, he spent hauling small, manageable loads of flagstones from the local garden and home improvement centers, laying them down a few at a time, until the entire yard was crudely paved.

When that project was finished, he turned to the front yard, giving it the same treatment.  He bought a load of smooth, rounded river stones and stacked them into the front garden beds, ugly piles of rock that hid the plastic and sand beneath them. 

The work kept his body busy, but with every movement, every task begun and finished, he thought of Daniel.

Although Jack never spoke to him except in necessary business conversations, he couldn’t help looking.  He filled his eyes with the vision of that beautiful man and remembered what he had done, what he had thrown away, soaking in the pain, like picking at a wound that he couldn't let heal.  And then, when the meetings were over, he would quietly tuck his anguish away, gather up his meeting notes and retreat to his office to return to work. 

Daniel didn’t look much better than he did, and that worried him.  Jack knew he wasn’t sleeping much and never went outside.  He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes, and he was growing steadily thinner.  Jack wanted to hold him and comfort him, tell him that everything would be all right, but he couldn’t.  All he could do was give Daniel time to get over him, because that was the best thing for him.

Carter and Teal’c were the first to notice when things had gone so horribly wrong.  Jack had known Daniel had told them something when they’d come to move the rest of his things, but they hadn’t gone into detail, and Jack hadn’t asked.  They had expressed their sympathy and support, and he had politely thanked them. Afterward, they had come by often, trying to get him to go out with them, inviting him to Sam’s house for dinner, but Jack had turned them down every time and finally he’d requested that they stop asking after him and do what they could to help Daniel.

That was all that mattered to Jack, and if anyone could offer Daniel the comfort he needed, it would be those two.  When they’d stopped visiting, he’d started work on the yard as a means to keep himself busy, and to provide the hard labor that he felt needed to be part of his penance.

There was no comfort for Jack, nothing that could ease his suffering.  That was all that was left for him now, the only reason he was still breathing.

That, and to look out for Daniel however he still could.

~~**~~

**12 May**

Six Weeks After the Breakup

Daniel heard the voices in the waiting room outside Doctor MacKenzie’s office before he reached the door.  He didn’t intend to eavesdrop and wasn’t really listening. MacKenzie’s office was on the same floor as Daniel’s, along with many of the academic and scientific staff domains, like Carter’s lab.

Daniel paused in the corridor, something on the clipboard he’d been reading as he walked catching his eye and halting his progress toward his own office from the library farther down the hallway.  The ancient Persian tomb one of the SG teams had found off-world was proving to be a particularly difficult puzzle to crack, and Daniel was having to help with some of the translating. He stood there in the middle of the hallway, studying the writing, dancing on the edge of discovery, while the voices inadvertently filtered into his consciousness.

“Go and see Doctor Stevenson over at Peterson,” MacKenzie was saying to his visitor.  “This field is her specialty, and she’s got the necessary clearance to listen to whatever you have to say.”

“I’m not military anymore, Doc,” said a familiar voice that Daniel recognized instantly.

It was Jack. 

Daniel’s ears perked up.  What the hell was Jack doing talking to MacKenzie?  Jack hated the shrink almost as much as Daniel did.

“You’re still covered by the Air Force, Colonel,” MacKenzie reminded him.  “And you need to talk to someone with more experience in this area than I have.  Vanessa Stevenson is very good at what she does.  I’m sure she can help you deal with this, much better than I.  I think you’d be more comfortable with a woman, anyway, in this instance.”

Jack mumbled something Daniel couldn’t hear.  Of course Jack would be more comfortable with a woman, in damn near any situation, Daniel thought unpleasantly. He rapidly started losing interest in the conversation and started walking again, his attention turning back to the photo of the inscription.

“Shall I call her and set up the appointment?” MacKenzie asked.

“I’ll do it,” answered Jack flatly. “When I’m ready.”

“I’m concerned about you, Colonel,” MacKenzie said, his voice fading almost out of hearing as Daniel turned the corner in the corridor.

At the uncharacteristic note of unease in MacKenzie’s voice, Daniel backed up, putting himself back into range to hear more of this conversation.  He was well aware that he was eavesdropping, and he didn’t care.

MacKenzie was worried about Jack?  What the hell for? Jack was doing just fine, as far as Daniel could see.

Then Daniel remembered he hadn’t seen much of Jack at all over the last several weeks, and when he had seen him, he’d kept his eyes averted as much as humanly possible.  Maybe it was time he took a good look.  Maybe there was something going on with Jack that he needed to know.  His relationship with Jack might be over, but he did still care about the man.  If Jack were sick and needed him... 

That thought brought Daniel’s head up.  Jack was still part of him, and he lived with that knowledge every day.  The rage and intense hurt had faded somewhat, leaving only resentment and the stinging reminders of a difficult lesson learned in their wake.  Those emotions were manageable, so if Jack needed help, he would find a way to extend the hand of friendship, step over his own pride, and do what he could.  Jack wasn’t nearly as tough as everyone else thought, and Daniel was probably the only one in the world who knew it.  He needed someone to lean on now and then, and if this were one of those times…

“I’ll be okay, doc,” Jack replied slowly.  “Thanks for this.”

Daniel ducked down the hall just as Jack came out the office door, his head down, gaze riveted on the floor.

They met at the elevator, where Daniel stood waiting for the next car to arrive.  For several uncomfortable moments, they stood a few feet apart, Jack staring straight ahead at the doors, Daniel stealing glances as his former friend and lover.

Jack looked thinner.  There were more lines in his face and more silver in his hair, cut so short now that Daniel could see his scalp, just a little fringe of longer stuff on the top adding a little personality to the military buzz cut, and his earring was gone.  Daniel felt a lump rise in his throat and directed his gaze back down to the photo on his clipboard.

He’d loved playing in Jack’s hair when he’d had it long, and thought the earring was hot.  With a pang, he remembered that he’d never told Jack how much he liked that new look, how sexy he’d thought it was. 

Maybe, he wondered, that was why Jack had changed it.

The elevator doors slid open, and Jack stepped inside.

Daniel stayed where he was, looking down at the photo on the clipboard.

“You coming?”  Jack asked flatly.

“I’ll take the next one, thanks,” Daniel answered coolly, still unwilling to get too close.

Jack gave him a brisk nod, punched a button and the doors closed between them.

But not before Daniel had gotten a good look into Jack’s eyes.

Not only had they been devoid of any interest in Daniel, they’d been dead, totally emotionless, not a flicker of sorrow, grief, anger, love or any damned thing inside them.  Just empty.  Soulless.

Like they’d been on Abydos, the first time.

That brief glance chilled Daniel to the bone.  He shivered, swallowing his heart back down.  MacKenzie wasn’t the only one worried about Jack now.

Daniel tried to shake the feeling off, convincing himself it had just been himself projecting what he thought Jack was feeling, rather than sensing anything real.  After all, Daniel didn’t have a clue what was really going on inside Jack O’Neill’s head or heart.  He knew now that he never had.  If he had, maybe Jack wouldn’t have felt the need to sleep with that woman in the first place.

The memory of that haunted gaze wouldn’t go away, though, and Daniel began to wonder.  Had the affair just been reinforcement of Daniel’s conviction that he’d been worthless in bed, and Jack hadn’t had the heart to tell him, since he’d been the one to initiate a relationship with Daniel?  Or was it something else, something deeper, more sinister?

Daniel punched the elevator call button and waited for the next car to take him to his quarters for a book he needed, so he could finish preparing for the upcoming briefing with the department heads.  Jack would be there, and Daniel didn’t want to be distracted by the ever-increasing worry he now felt. If Jack were ill, surely Daniel would have heard about it by now.  It had to be something else, so he thought a little investigation was in order.

Turning to his computer, he looked up Doctor Vanessa Stevenson on the directory at Peterson.  She was in psych services at the other base, holding the rank of major, with a Ph.D. in counseling.  Daniel was pretty sure Jack would skip MacKenzie’s recommendation to see another shrink, since he wasn’t one for spilling his guts to anyone.  Jack didn’t talk about his feelings; he showed others how he felt with actions that spoke far louder than words.

All members of the SGC teams had to undergo routine sessions with the psychiatric staff, due to the hazardous duty they all endured and the unusual situations they encountered.  Daniel had hated them, hated MacKenzie for not listening to him when he’d been so quick to throw him into the mental hospital for cracking up, when he’d been invaded by an alien machine that caused him to hallucinate vividly.  That sort of weirdness had been almost a daily occurrence in the lower levels of the base, and MacKenzie had his hands full keeping up with all the stress and shock the SGC units endured.

In the eight years Daniel had been with the program, he’d never heard of MacKenzie farming anyone on the SGC roster out to another shrink.  Maybe it was because of Jack’s new orientation, because MacKenzie didn’t want to deal with a bisexual man.  Maybe it was because Jack was a civilian now, no longer requiring the routine psych evals of active team members. Or maybe it was because of Jack’s animosity toward the shrink.  After all, Jack had a real problem with him, and had never made any secret of it, and maybe he’d be more open to someone he didn’t resent quite as much. But why had Jack voluntarily gone to see MacKenzie, when he wasn’t mandated to do so?

Whatever the reason, Daniel decided it was Jack’s problem, he was seeking help, and Daniel should just stay out of it and stop worrying.  Jack was a grown man and could certainly take care of himself.

He logged out of the directory and settled down to get ready for the upcoming meeting.  Daniel would need to have his armor on when he sat at the briefing table with Jack in a couple of hours.

~~**~~

“Thank you, Doctor Jackson,” said Jack.  “That was most enlightening.”

Daniel watched O’Neill’s empty eyes move from his face across the briefing table, to his notes, where he began to write.  It occurred to Daniel that he hadn’t heard Jack aim a single wisecrack or snappy comeback at anyone in weeks.  Daniel frowned at his notes, deep in thought, and realized he also hadn’t seen Jack smile for some time, either.

Which was just as well. He ought to take things more seriously. Served him right. Maybe their break-up had been a wake-up call.  Maybe Jack O’Neill had finally learned to act like a grown-up. 

Still, it made Daniel curious.  What else was different about Jack?  Had he learned his lesson?  Maybe he’d do better with his girlfriend than he had with his boyfriend.

Daniel turned his attention back to the briefing.  When it was over, he returned to his office to prepare the next assignments for his staff and check the status of their current projects.

His day was filled with work, and by the time evening rolled around, he impulsively decided he needed to get out for a while.  He’d been cooped up on the base for over a month now, and it was time he made a fresh start.

After logging out a car from the base motor pool, Daniel went into town, thinking he’d like to go out to dinner, maybe stop by a bookstore or do a little shopping.  Soon, he thought, he’d need to look into getting a new place.  He couldn’t hide on the base forever, and he needed to get back into the rhythm of actually having a life.

Maybe, if he were lucky, he’d even find someone to date.  That would certainly take his mind off Jack.  Daniel shook his head at himself.

“It always comes back to Jack,” he muttered aloud in the silence.

Glancing around, he recognized the area he found himself in and realized he’d been driving on autopilot.  He turned the corner of the nearest street, recognizing the neighborhood.  This was the way to Jack’s place, and somehow his subconscious had directed him there.  He decided he should at least pass by the house since he was almost there, and drove down the winding road leading to Jack’s cul-de-sac.

He jammed on the brakes as soon as he got a good look at the place, his mouth falling open in horrified surprise.  The yard looked barren and dead.  The only green he could see was in the neighbors’ yards and the trees toward the back of Jack’s property.

The truck was in the driveway but there were no other cars in sight, so unless he’d picked up his girlfriend and driven her back to his place, Jack was most likely home alone.

Daniel pulled up to the curb and considered the promptings of his intuition.  The sight of the total lack of landscaping ate at him.  Coupled with MacKenzie’s concern for him, Daniel felt alarms of all kinds going off inside him.

He put the car in park, and after another moment, he switched the motor off and got out.

A small bag of trash sat on the curb, ready for the morning’s pickup.  Sticking out of the top was a piece of rolled-up graph paper, which Daniel thought he recognized.  He pulled it out and unrolled it, gazing at Jack’s carefully drawn landscape plan, each plant lovingly colored in and labeled.  It made Daniel’s heart ache to look at it, and a wave of sentiment filled him.

He rolled the paper up and tossed it through the open window into his car.  Maybe Jack didn’t want it anymore, but it would be a souvenir for Daniel.  He was just sentimental enough to know that he needed to keep that plan, no matter how painful it might be to see.  He could tuck it into the back of his closet and never look at it again, but it would always be there, a reminder of what he’d once had but then had lost, and how beautiful everything had once been between them during a wonderful chapter of his life.  It was something he needed to keep, because he’d had so few moments like that in his life.

Slowly, warily, Daniel made his way up the driveway.  He saw the flagstones butted up to the concrete driveway in the side yard and walked out on them, moving around the house.  Shockwaves pulsed through his soul as he stared at the paved yard, nothing but gray stone all the way out to the trees.

Surely Jack couldn’t have done this all by himself, Daniel told himself.  The labor would have caused him tremendous pain, but what worried Daniel more was the symbolism.  The house looked more like a mausoleum now than a home.

Jack was dying.  Some part of Daniel knew that, and it grabbed him by the heart.  The visit to MacKenzie, the look in his eyes, the uncharacteristically humorless behavior, and now this gray, dead house terrified Daniel.  He had to do something, had to talk to Jack.  Even if he had company, Daniel had to act.  He limped around to the front door, up the steps and rang the doorbell.  It took a moment for the door to open.

There was a brief flicker of surprise in Jack’s eyes, but then it was gone. All traces of emotion vanished.

Daniel stood on the doorstep, just staring at the man he had loved. Still loved, if he were honest with himself.  He couldn’t help that.  But he had a purpose here, and struggled to remind himself to keep to the business at hand.

“Jack, I think we need to talk.”

Those lifeless brown eyes didn’t even blink.  “Jack isn’t here.”

“Then who the hell are you?”  Daniel snarled, impatience and the ghost of anger raising its ugly head and seizing momentary control of his mouth.

“I’m SGC Advisor O’Neill,” Jack said flatly.  He was still holding onto the doorknob, barring the way into the house with his body.

There was no welcome for Daniel here.

“And where has Jack gone, pray tell?” challenged Daniel, his voice heavy with sarcasm.  He leaned heavily on his cane.

Pause.  “He’s in prison, where he belongs.”  Jack started to shut the door.

Daniel lashed out with his cane, stopping it.  “Oh?  And what was his crime?  As if I didn’t know.”

Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “Murder,” he said quietly.  “He killed love.”

Stunned, Daniel didn’t move as the door slowly closed in his face.  When he managed to collect his wits, he tried the door and found it locked.  He went around to the back of the house and tried the patio doors, which were also barred shut.

Peering into the big picture windows, he could see Jack sitting on the couch, his head in his hands.  Daniel started to knock on the window when it struck him that the house looked different inside, too.

All the pictures and ribbons celebrating Jack’s military career were gone, even pictures of Charlie taken from the mantel. Every wall was blank, empty. All that remained were the bare essentials for living: necessary furniture and kitchen implements.  Every trace of personality, family and comfort within the rooms Daniel could see had been swept clean.

More barren than a prison cell.  Like solitary confinement, reserved for only the worst offenders.

A chill sneaked up Daniel’s spine.  He watched Jack, waiting for some sign, some movement.  For a long time Jack sat there like a stone, not moving a muscle.  Finally, he rose, apparently unmindful of Daniel looking in at him, and went into the back of the house, where Daniel knew he couldn’t see in through the shutters. 

Daniel wandered over to the trees and saw that the flagstones covered every patch of ground, all the way back to the stone wall that marked the back of Jack’s property.  Every patch of earth had been covered, leaving space only for the trees where they stood. Daniel felt a little relief that those, at least, were still there.  With a sigh, he headed back toward the house.

His stomach clenched when he noticed a gasoline-powered chainsaw sitting on the table on the deck, in the same place where there had once been pots and vases of flowers, brilliantly declaring Jack’s love for him.

Oh, God.  Jack was going to cut down his trees, too.  He was going to kill every green, growing thing surrounding his home.

Daniel had to do something.  He’d tried talking to Jack, and that had gone nowhere.  Maybe it was time he spoke with General Hammond, or even Doctor MacKenzie.  All he knew was that he had to help Jack before he hurt himself. 

That thought scared him so much, he headed straight for the front door and knocked again. When the first raps weren’t answered, he started to pound on the door with his fist.  He was getting ready to go around back and break in through a window when the door opened.

“Let me in, Jack,” Daniel demanded.

“No.  You don’t live here anymore.”  He started to close the door. "Go away, Daniel.  There's nothing you want here."

Daniel stopped it with his shoulder.  “Jack, you’re scaring me.”  He gestured around him at the piles of stones where thriving plants once decorated the entryway.  “Look at this!  What happens when you’ve killed everything around you, huh?  What’s next on your hit list?”

Jack heaved an endlessly patient-sounding sigh.  “I’m not dangerous, Daniel,” he informed him, enunciating each word like he was explaining some higher truth to a child.  “I’m not suicidal or homicidal.  If I were, I’d have done something about it a long time ago.  Now, go back home and leave me in peace.”  He shut the door forcefully, almost knocking Daniel down with it.

Stunned, hurt, and frightened for Jack, Daniel stepped off the porch and went to sit in his borrowed car.  He was pretty certain Jack wouldn’t answer the door a third time.  As he drove himself back to the base, worry, bordering on panic, gnawed at his insides.  

~~**~~

An hour later, back in his office, he paced for a while, thinking, trying to figure out what to do.  Finally, he decided to phone the general at home and express his concern for Jack’s well-being.

“I knew something had happened when you moved back to the base last month, Doctor Jackson,” Hammond informed him gently.  “Jack and I had a talk back then, and I’ve been watching him ever since.”  His voice deepened and grew quieter.  “I’ve been concerned about both of you, but you seemed to be handling everything just fine.  Or at least better than Colonel O'Neill is.”

“Did you send him to MacKenzie earlier today?”

“You know I can’t answer that, son.  Have you spoken with Jack?  Maybe talking to each other might help both of you.” 

“I tried.  He wouldn’t talk to me.”  Daniel sighed and ran a hand through his hair nervously.  “Shut the door in my face.  Twice.”

“Jack is going through a tough time, and no one should know that better than you,” George reminded him.  “It’s good that you’re speaking again.  I think he needs that.  It might help.”

“I’ll make more of an effort, then,” Daniel assured him.  “Maybe ask him to have lunch with me.”

“Are you sure you’re up to that, son?”

“I think, for Jack’s sake, I have to be.”  The lump in Daniel’s throat turned into a cold stone in his stomach.  “Thank you, sir.  I hope he’s okay.  I really do.”

Hammond agreed.  “As do we all, doctor.  As do we all.  The place just isn’t the same without his wisecracks and cornball humor.”

A wistful smile slipped across Daniel’s lips and faded.  “Yeah.  I know.  I’ll talk to you tomorrow, sir. Again, I’m sorry to disturb you at home.”

“Call anytime, son.  Good night.  Try to get some sleep.”  He paused.  “And thank you for trying to help.”

“G’night, sir.”  Daniel hung up the phone and contemplated whether it would do him any good to try to rest.  He decided that would be a useless proposition, so he cracked the books and went to work on the latest translation project, doing his best to concentrate and not think about Jack.  The image of those hollow brown eyes haunted him, even into his dreams as he slept with his head down on his desk, hours later, too exhausted to continue working.

~~**~~

**13 May**

The Next Day

Daniel ignored his stomach grumbling, concentrating on the report Nyan had written on the need for additional academic staff to carry their current workload.  Seven of the nineteen SG teams on the roster were currently without archaeologists/anthropologists/linguists and those whose work kept them strictly on base, including Nyan and himself, were seriously overloaded.  The wily alien had been surfing the internet for potential candidates in advance of getting approval for new hires.  Daniel smiled at his proactive work, scanning the list and the edited biographies Nyan had provided with his recommendations.

He picked up his highlighter and started going through the list, marking ten potentials that he thought he’d like to research and possibly interview.  He reached for his phone to call Nyan and ask him to get more detailed documentation as well as check on their security clearances, but it rang before he lifted the receiver.

Picking it up, he put it to his ear and frowned.  “Daniel Jackson.”  He listened for a moment.  “Thanks, Sergeant Wilkes.  I owe you a favor.  A big one.”

He hung up, pleased that his request to the staff who monitored the security cameras had paid off.  He’d asked them to let him know when Jack was headed for the commissary to take his lunch break.  Now he could go eat and arrange an apparently accidental meeting to talk with Jack. 

He hurried to the elevator and down four floors to the commissary, arriving just as Jack sat down at an isolated table with his tray.

It was late in the afternoon, so the dining room was mostly empty.  Daniel grabbed a sandwich and coffee, presented his account card and limped over to the table with his tray in both hands, not using his cane and regretting it by the time he arrived.  With a grunt of relief, he slammed his butt down into a chair across from Jack, grateful to get his weight off his bad leg.

“Hey,” he said lightly behind the grimace.  “Mind if I sit down?” 

Jack’s eyes had flicked up to his when he’d flopped down into the chair.  He’d stopped chewing for a moment, then turned his attention back to his food, keeping his eyes downcast as he’d swallowed his mouthful of food. “Suit yourself.”  He picked up his tray and started to rise.

Daniel leaned across the table to lay his hand on Jack’s forearm.  “Please, don’t go,” he asked softly.  “Just stay.  Please.  I want to talk.”

“Sorry.”  Stubborn to the end, Jack straightened up, pulling his arm away from Daniel and pushing his chair back.

“It’s business, Jack.  Really.”  Daniel looked up at him, trying to get him to meet his gaze.

Jack sighed.  He relaxed back into his chair, thumping his tray down on the table, and picked up his fork, shoveling in another mouthful of green beans.  “So talk business.”  No eye contact.

Daniel launched into the prospect of new hires for his department, drawing Jack into a real conversation, asking his opinions on the state of the academics program, the scholarly needs of the SGC, personality and suitability of potential candidates, anything Daniel could think of that might be a reasonably work-related topic, to keep Jack talking and sitting in that chair.  It occurred to him that it was probably the most stimulating conversation he’d ever had with Jack, filled with practical advice and sharp observations that left Daniel’s mind whirling and his pants a little too tight.

He found himself leaning on his hand, staring at Jack hungrily through his eyelashes, half listening to what he was saying because Daniel was distracted by watching his lips work.  When he realized what he’d been doing, his mind went blank for a moment.

A huge sense of relief swept through him.  The knowledge that he and Jack could still relate like professionals for the good of the program was frankly reassuring, but the fact that he was getting turned on unnerved him, left him a little shaken and witless.  This wasn’t supposed to be happening after all the hurt Jack had dished out.  Daniel was supposed to be immune, but his traitorous body certainly hadn’t gotten the message.

The moment Jack finished speaking and balled up his paper napkin to drop it on his empty plate, Daniel blurted, “I miss you.”  He hadn’t planned to say anything remotely like that, and his eyes went wide as he stared at Jack for his reaction.

Jack’s eyes shot back to meet Daniel’s, his jaw clenched, the muscles of his face tense.  He glanced away to check his watch.  “I have an appointment, Daniel.  We can finish this conversation later.  Please make an appointment with my assistant.”

With that, he got up, carried his tray to the dish station, and left the commissary.

For several minutes, Daniel just sat in his chair, every fiber of his being aglow.  He was disappointed that Jack had retreated, but it had felt so damned good just to talk to him, to be in his presence and look at him, that Daniel couldn’t help realizing that what he felt for Jack had not dimmed at all.  That didn’t mean he no longer felt pain at Jack’s betrayal.  That was still there, too, still aching and tender, but the rage was gone.  Daniel felt as if he could breathe again.

Maybe he could find a way to recover their friendship, at least.  Their breakup would always be a painful memory, cold and hard inside him, but now he believed he could set it aside and get past it.  Jack needed him, whether he admitted it or not.  Daniel knew that instinctively, and even though it was terribly frightening to think about, he knew he still loved Jack.  Maybe now was the time to hear whatever it was that Jack had wanted to tell him that day he’d come to Daniel’s office to talk.  Jack had tried to confess, to explain, and Daniel had shut him down.

And maybe, if he understood why Jack had been compelled to cheat on him, Daniel might be able to find a way to forgive him.  He was ready for that.  He wanted his friend back, and the only way for him to have that was to find a way to help Jack forgive himself.

Eight years had passed, but they seemed to be back on Abydos again, lost in an obliterating sandstorm with only each other for protection against the cold night and brutal wind.  Such was the power of love, the healing of forgiveness and mercy. 

With a sigh, he stood up, steadied himself with his cane and picked up his tray with one hand. He dropped it off and made his way out of the commissary to return to his office, turning over in his mind the prospect of regaining their friendship and discovering with a shiver of surprise that it was something he wanted very much. 

All he had to do was find a way for Jack to be willing to accept his overture, and Daniel believed both of them would be much happier.  Not as happy as they had been the previous year, but Daniel firmly believed that kind of happiness wasn’t meant for someone like him.  If he could just help Jack stop punishing himself, that would be enough.

He returned to his office to study Nyan’s report, thinking of all the possible angles he might use to bring him and Jack closer together.  Someone would have to go out and contact all these people, visit them and make the pitches.  Daniel’s reputation was either crap or nonexistent in the world of his peers, depending on whom you asked, but at least he spoke the lingo.  It suddenly occurred to him that Jack’s presence would go a long way toward making the contacts look as legitimate as they actually were, so it would behoove the SGC to send them both.

Daniel picked up the phone and made an appointment to see General Hammond to discuss the idea.  Once in the CO’s office, he explained his position, reiterated the program’s needs and, on receiving a positive response from the general, he left it to Hammond to set up a meeting to discuss the situation with both of them. 

Back in his own office, Daniel picked up his planner to see when might be the best time to work in a trip for them to several points of interest, and hoped the SGC’s needs might be just the thing to bring two old friends back together, where they belonged. 

~~**~~

When Jack left the commissary after seeing and talking with Daniel, he headed straight for the elevators, wondering what kind of fate or karma or coincidence had possessed Daniel to have approached him on this day, of all days. 

He got off on level 18 long enough to throw up in the nearest men’s room, his control slipping, and nerves beginning to show through his veneer of calm.  He cleaned himself up and then stopped by his assistant’s office to remind her that he’d be away for the rest of the day.  Returning to the elevator, he checked his watch as he rode up to the 11^th floor to sign out.

When he reached the main gate, a prearranged taxi was waiting for him.  He rode to the nearest bar and proceeded to down as many shots of whisky as he could manage, until he thought he was loose enough to face what came next.  He tipped the bartender an extra five-spot for calling him a cab for the next leg of his journey.

The taxi dropped him off at the front gate of Peterson Air Force Base in the Springs. He’d arranged for an airman to meet him there with one of those little golf-cart looking vehicles that zipped around the big base hauling VIPs and providing speed for couriers and security personnel.

The airman dropped him off at a small, low building set beside a copse of trees, with a promise to return for him when Jack called for a pick-up. 

Jack had it all planned out, from the taxis to the trip to the bar to the appointment itself, down to having someone drive him home afterward and pick him up in the morning.

This simply wasn’t something he could face doing sober.  He was officially off duty and a civilian to boot, so the military would be a little more lenient with his present behavior, especially in light of what he was about to face. 

What he hadn’t planned in advance was Daniel’s ambush in the commissary.  That he would choose that day to reach out to Jack wasn’t lost on him.  It had to be significant somehow in the natural order of things.

He missed Daniel.  Watching him talk and flirt and tease under the guise of business had felt like an omen, and Jack was a firm believer in those little cosmic nudges.  He took it as a sign that he was headed in the right direction, regardless of how painful that path might be.

On unsteady legs, he entered the doctor’s waiting room and presented himself to the civilian receptionist.  She gave him some paperwork to fill out and directed him to have a seat, which he did.  He bent his head over the clipboard, and using a steady hand that belied his inebriation, he obediently wrote his health and personal information down for the doctor.

Gradually he realized that all the other patients in the waiting room were female, some of them in uniform, and none of them looking at him too happily.  He wanted to apologize to all of them for being present among them, for being drunk, and for all the sins and shortcomings of men in general, and was stupidly about to do just that when a nurse dressed in white but wearing the insignia of an Air Force lieutenant called his name. 

He stumbled out of his chair and followed her out of the waiting room, down a short corridor and into a spacious, comfortable office.  The lighting and décor, even the scent of the place, were calculated to be soothing.

Doctor Stevenson met him at the door with a smile and an outstretched hand.  She blinked a little as the scent of alcohol wafted over her when he spoke to introduce himself, but she helped him to the sofa and guided him to sit down on it without comment.

Jack woozily studied her.  She was about his age, but not quite as gray.  Her brown hair was pulled back into a neat bun at her nape, perfectly regulation along with her uniform, and her brown eyes were kind as she smiled at him.  Her rank insignia indicated that she was a major, but like Janet Fraiser, she wore her “doctor” title first in her office.

She took a seat in a comfortable-looking armchair beside the sofa and picked up a clipboard and pen she had waiting for her there.

“I’ve looked over your record, Colonel O’Neill, and I must say, you’ve had quite a career with the military,” she observed pleasantly.  “I believe your country – in fact, your world -- owes you a great debt.”

“Ah, it was nothin’,” he said with a shrug, leaning back against the sofa.  “So am I s’posed to lie down here, or what?”  He wriggled a little against the cushions, acutely ill at ease.  “Oh, and just call me Jack.”  He gazed at her.  “Please,” he added politely.

Doctor Stevenson sighed.  “All right, Jack.  I’ll also ask you to please not come to any future sessions when you’ve been drinking.  I understand this is very difficult for you—“

“That’s an understatement,” he interrupted with a snort and a roll of his eyes.

She fixed him with her best professional stare.  “—but being under the influence really won’t help.”  When he didn’t answer, she looked down at the clipboard in her hands.  “Now tell me.  Do you find yourself drinking more than usual lately?”

He shook his head and the sudden motion made him so dizzy, he closed his eyes for a moment and made an effort not to keel over.  “Haven’t had even a beer in more’n a month.  Not till today.  Honestly?  I didn’t see how I could get through this sober.”

Her disapproval softened into understanding.  “I must tell you, Jack, I don’t have many patients who are men.  Not many are willing to report this kind of violence.  I’m pleased you had the courage to come to me.  Can I ask you why you waited so long to seek counseling?”

Jack’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead.  “Well, I’m sure you’ve already read the report.  It’s in my medical record.  The docs knew when they examined me after I escaped that fucking prison camp—“ He realized he’d just let slip an offensive word in front of an officer and a lady at that, and apologized, instantly contrite.

“I’ll assume that’s the booze talking, Jack,” Stevenson returned warmly.  “No offense taken.”  She smiled.

“So I guess you’re wonderin’ what’s made me do somethin’ about it after nearly twenty years of thinkin’ I had it covered,” he began.

“Yes.  Your record shows you received some counseling after you returned from Iraq.  Have you been having some difficulties lately that you feel stem from your experiences in the prison camp?”

He noticed she’d carefully avoided saying the ‘R’ word.

Jack nodded and gazed down at the floor.  “Yup.  I fell in love.”  He cleared his throat and laced his fingers together across his thighs.  “With a man,” he admitted with a quick look at her face to gauge her reaction to this revelation.

“I see.”  Nothing about her attitude seemed surprised or judgmental.  “Is that why you retired last year?”

He nodded.  “Yes, ma’am.  I couldn’t betray the vows I’d made to my country when I volunteered to serve.”  He sighed, his eyes burning with the need to weep, but he wouldn’t let himself.  “But later, I found it too damn easy to betray the man I love, and I need to know why.  I think, maybe, I already do, but…”

“You need some help to get there.”  She nodded.  “I’ll certainly do what I can to help you understand, but I don’t want you to blame yourself, Jack.  You were a victim, here.”

“So was he.”  Jack lifted his eyes to meet hers at last, his heart like a lump of hot lead sinking from his chest down into his belly.  “His name is Daniel, and I still love him.”  He did.  He really did still love him.  Maybe more than ever.  He wrapped his arms around his waist and hunched over, his lips pursed tightly together in an effort not to cry out with the pain of it, which felt like a sharp blade sliding between his ribs.  His whole body was rebelling at the emotional war going on inside him, and he was a mass of pain from his throat all the way down into his guts. 

Doctor Stevenson watched him for a moment and then wrote something in her notes.  “Where would you like to begin, Jack?”  she asked in a gentle voice, her wide eyes soft with sympathy and what Jack hoped wasn’t pity.

Such a simple question, but so loaded with an ugly history, hopelessness and guilt, and the answer sprang instantly to his mind.  He took a deep breath, leaned his head back on the sofa, and covered his closed eyes with his palms.  “In Iraq.  That’s where it all started.  They called me kosoo.  Among other choice things.” 

He opened his mouth and started to speak in an emotionless monotone.  For several minutes he let the memories roll out, staring unseeing at the ceiling, recounting every horror, every humiliation, in as much graphic detail as he could recall.  It was the very first time in twenty years that he had told another living soul every shameful thing that had happened to him.  His hands shook, but other than that, he gave no sign of his inner turmoil while he talked.

When he was finished, he remained where he was, head thrown back on the cushions, eyes closed, his hands drawn up into fists on top of his thighs.  He felt empty, purged, curiously lighter but at the same time weighed down with the enormity of his grief and shame.  After a few moments of silence, he opened his eyes and searched her face.  “Help me, Doc,” he said in a small, quiet voice.  “I think I might be dying, and I’m scared.”

With a nod, the doctor came to her feet, her face filled with compassion and understanding, recognizing his need.  “Okay, Jack.  We have a lot of work to do, you and I, and I think we should start right now.  You wait here and rest for a minute or two.  I’m just going to go out and have my receptionist cancel my appointments for the rest of the day.  I’ll have her bring in a little snack for us, and some water.  Can you stay for a while?”

“Yes,” he said simply with a relieved nod.  “I think that would be a good thing to do. Thank you.”

Doctor Stevenson excused herself and he watched her leave, his head falling back on the soft couch, his eyes sliding hopelessly, wearily closed. 

Daniel. 

~~**~~

Daniel lay in his bed, the covers pulled up to his waist.  His right hand was tucked beneath his head as he stared at the ceiling; his left lay on his belly, just above the elastic waist of his pajama pants.  It was mostly dark in the room so far underground, the light switch by the door and another beside the entrance to his tiny bathroom providing a soft green illumination to help him find his way around in emergencies.  The glowing switches also gave just enough light to allow him to see a little, or to at least pretend he did.  They were anchors of a sort, and he appreciated the thought that had gone into adding that little touch to the lockdown quarters on the lower floors.

He thought about seeing Jack at lunch earlier in the day, and the warmth of that memory spread all through him.  He found himself smiling as he pictured Jack’s face.  He remembered how relieved he’d been to look into those eyes and see some spark of intelligence, of personality, gleaming back at him.  During their conversation a wisecrack had slipped out of Jack, and Daniel had actually chuckled, caught so off guard he couldn’t shrug it off like he used to do.

The look in Jack’s eyes had turned instantly to hunger, and for a moment, the fire had burned in Daniel’s belly, too.  Even now, hours later, the look Jack had given him was still having its effect, and try as he might, Daniel couldn’t tuck it away.  He felt himself growing harder beneath the covers, and with a groan he slipped his hand downward, into the waistband of his pajamas, and held himself.

He closed his eyes and remembered his birthday and all the wonderful surprises Jack had lavished on him: the massage, the sensual delight of lunch, the trip to Denver and that amazingly romantic night in the hotel bed, flower petals strewn around them as he’d taken Jack for the first time.

Daniel groaned and let his hand slip upward on his shaft, remembering how it had felt to slide into Jack, how blown away Daniel had been by the tightness and heat of the joining of their bodies.  He remembered how good it always was, how beautiful, and how much in love they’d been. 

With a sigh, Daniel got up and stepped out of his clothes.  He padded into the tiny bathroom and jacked off under the warm water in his shower, coming quickly in long, powerful spurts that left him leaning weak and boneless against the shower wall, gasping Jack’s name under his breath. 

Then he dried himself off and returned to bed naked.

That was the first time since he’d moved out of Jack’s house that he’d felt even the slightest arousal.  The significance of that fact wasn’t lost on him, either.  He still wanted Jack, still loved him, but Daniel felt he couldn’t trust him anymore.  If Jack could carry on an affair for three weeks behind his back, he hadn’t been truly committed to the relationship he’d told Daniel he’d wanted so much.  Daniel still didn’t understand why Jack had done it.  After all, he wasn’t the kind of man who seemed interested in sexual experimentation just for the hell of it.

He’d given up his career for Daniel, retired and been ready to live on just his pension before the civilian advisory position came through, just so they could be together.  Daniel knew how deep Jack’s dedication was to the military, to his country.  It defined him, and yet the last time Daniel had been to Jack’s house, a look through the windows showed all the evidence of that was gone, every ribbon, medal and commendation no longer in sight. 

Jack had given up his whole life, everything he was, in order to have Daniel.  So what had made him betray what he seemed to want more than anything else?  Had their love been a mistake?  Had Jack come to regret crossing gender lines?

Daniel tried harder to remember every detail of their lives together those last few months.

Jack had been increasingly quiet and withdrawn, but anytime Daniel approached him for sex, he’d always been willing, and had always seemed to enjoy it.  Even if he’d come an hour earlier and couldn’t get it up again, if Daniel were ready, Jack had always seemed eager to accommodate him.

But then afterward…

Most of the time, Jack wanted to cuddle and talk a little after they made love, but Daniel didn’t always have time for that. Jack never seemed to mind the quickies and sometimes he even instigated them, distracting Daniel from his work for a quick blow-job that Daniel was often willing to give him, especially since he’d get a little something in return.

Then had come the time Jack had had that nightmare that had flung him out of bed, and after that, he’d seemed… almost ashamed whenever they finished.  He hadn’t looked Daniel in the eye, hadn’t kissed him, just tucked his head and folded up on himself and feigned sleep, if he hadn’t actually drifted right off.

Daniel had always pressed as close to his lover as he dared and left him alone, not understanding the problem, but sure they could work it out.  He’d known something was up; he just hadn’t found out what it was.  Then after making the discovery about Jack’s affair, Daniel had decided he didn’t want to know.

Now he was rethinking that.  Jack had come to him and tried to tell him, and Daniel had shut him out.  Right after he’d promised he'd always be there for Jack.

Maybe now it was time to start talking and make good on that promise.  Maybe it did matter why Jack had been unfaithful to him.  It was obvious that Jack had a problem, and that it was serious.  Daniel owed him the chance to explain.  He might still not ever be able to forgive or trust Jack, but maybe he could understand him a little better, and they could learn to be friends again.

Daniel felt a burden lift from him.  He closed his eyes as he promised himself that he would look up the number for that florist in the morning and send Jack a message that he needed to hear, in a language he was sure to understand.

~~**~~

**15 May **

Two Days Later

Jack heard the mail cart coming down the hall with its sing-song squeaky wheel. He decided to write himself a note about bringing some WD-40 from home to fix that.  He glanced up from his desk as a young airman stepped into his office with the daily routing.  In his hands were a small pot with a flowering plant and a tall vase with a familiar blue flower in it, this one made of silk.

“Delivery for you, Colonel O’Neill,” said the airman.  He glanced around for someplace to set them, but every square inch of Jack’s desk was covered with papers, folders, accordion files and trays that held still more papers.

Jack held out his hands and took them, carefully setting them down on top of the budget reports he’d been checking.  He barely noticed when the airman delivered more paper to his IN box and picked up the outgoing routing, then disappeared out the door.  Jack couldn’t take his eyes off the plants.

There was a sprig of English ivy trailing over the lip of the tall vase that held the blue silk iris.  The pot held an oak-leaved geranium, a rare and expensive plant that couldn’t be easily had. 

Reminding himself to breathe, Jack looked for the card from the florist’s shop, pinned to the blue bow stuck into the vase with the iris.

His hands shook as he opened it.

Translate the codex, the card read.

Jack collapsed back against the chair, a surge of relief wringing all the tension from him, leaving him sagging in his seat.  He stared at the arrangement, remembering the meanings of these particular plants.

Iris: I have a message for you.

Ivy: friendship.

Oak-leaved geranium: true friendship… and a melancholy mind.

No signature was needed on the card.  None was necessary, since only one person could have sent him these flowers. 

He leaned forward and buried his face in the pink blossoms of the rare geranium, rubbing his cheeks and nose over the silky petals.  Daniel had known which florist in town could lay hands on that particular plant and had spent big bucks to get one, just for this.  Just for him.  All that mattered was the message, and now it was coming back to Jack in full bloom. 

By sending these flowers, Daniel had been holding out a symbolic olive branch of peace.  It was a first step, and even though Jack was virtually certain that it would go no further than friendship between them ever again, it would be enough.  Jack had lived with limitations between them before, and he could do it again.

He rose, carefully gathered up the pot and vase, and headed down the long corridor to Daniel’s office.

The door was open, and Daniel was sitting at his desk, his back to the door, looking at something written on one of those standing chalkboards on rollers that he sometimes used.  For a long moment, Jack just watched him as, deep in concentration, his fingertip traced one of the characters in the chalk dust.  In a bittersweetly familiar manner, he poked at it a couple of times to punctuate the internal dialogue he was spouting silently in his mind, then turned abruptly back to his computer and began to type furiously on his keyboard.

Jack waited in the doorway until Daniel lifted his hands from the keys.  He seemed to sense someone watching him and glanced up to see who was there. He didn’t smile, but his face relaxed, the concentration of a moment earlier completely gone, mental gears shifted to something pleasant.  It showed in his face.

“Hey, Jack,” he said quietly, his gaze flicking from the flowers to Jack’s face.  “I was hoping you’d come by.  Come on in.  Shut the door, will you?”

“I… Uh…” The containers in his hands were trembling.  Jack looked down at them and saw them shaking.  He stepped hesitantly inside, stopped after a couple of feet, closed the door with his heel and started again toward the desk. “Look what somebody sent me.”

Daniel gazed up at Jack through his lashes in that seductive way that always made Jack’s heart do flip-flops in his chest.  Daniel still had no idea how sexy he was, and Jack was just fine with that.  If Daniel ever found out and learned how to use his sex appeal, he’d be the deadliest weapon the Tau’ri had at their disposal.

“Looks like it’s from someone who knows you pretty well,” Daniel observed.  “Someone who apparently speaks fluent Jack O’Neill.”

Jack just nodded.  He set the tall vase down on a bare corner of the desk and carried the pot over to an end table beside Daniel’s sofa.  Taking a seat there, Jack sat with his knees together, leaning forward on them and waiting for Daniel to begin.  He was trembling inside, and he clutched his hands together in a desperate effort to control his sweating palms and cold, shaking fingers.

“I think I’m ready to talk,” Daniel said from behind the desk.  “I think I need to know why.”

Jack’s eyes rolled slowly closed, and he nodded.  “Soon,” he said hoarsely, his throat constricting.  “I just can’t… not yet. I’m still going through something. Seeing a counselor. Can you give me some time?”  He opened his eyes, searching Daniel’s impassive, yet kind, expression.

“Sure.  I can wait.  That’s what friends do,” Daniel assured him.  His expression turned solemn.  “Jack, I’ve been… really worried about you.  Are you okay?”

Sitting back against the sofa, Jack let out a long, heavy breath, his gaze on the floor, guarding his heart from the beauty and concern in that familiar, beloved face.  “No, Daniel.  I haven’t been okay for a very long time, but I hope… I hope I’m going to be.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Jack’s eyes flew up to meet Daniel’s.  Hot tears filled them and were blinked away.  That gentle gesture of friendship and caring was Jack’s absolute undoing.  He sat up stiffly, his body quivering, his mind already running out the door.  He forgot how to make his feet obey him and

glanced down at his hands on his knees, his legs shifting around restlessly.  His hands curled into fists and he bowed his head, squeezing his eyes shut, desperately trying to hold everything inside him.

His head hurt.  His heart felt as if it were being ripped out of his chest.  Emotions raged and swirled inside him, taking his breath away, blasting through his mind and stripping away his ability to think.  Jack banged his fists against his head, rocking himself back and forth, back and forth,

gasping through clenched teeth bared in distress.  He bent over, hugging his knees, frantically trying to get a grip.  He was having a fucking full blown meltdown, right there in Daniel’s office, and was powerless to stop it.

“Hey, hey, Jack!  What is it?  What’s wrong?  What did I do?”  Daniel was suddenly sitting beside him, his arm around Jack’s shoulders, pulling him close.

God, he was losing it, Daniel’s nearness and compassion blasting away all the protective walls he’d thrown up around himself, their relationship, and his love for Daniel.

He grabbed onto Daniel, holding onto him like the lifeline he was, just as the last of Jack’s resistance shattered.  For the first time, Jack began to cry.  Tears coursed down his face, soaking Daniel’s shirt, sobs ripping their way out of his throat.  His whole body shook as he wept.  

Strong arms were wrapped tightly around him, holding him close, rocking him, that deep, soft voice whispering in his ear.  “S’okay, Jack.  I’m here. I’m here, and I won’t leave you.  You’re gonna be all right. I promise.  I’ll keep you safe.”

As he listened to Daniel’s soothing voice, he shut everything else out, anchoring his soul to those words and the strong, sympathetic arms around him, the hand cradling the back of his head.  Only Daniel could do this, could pull him back from the darkness that had been dominating his soul.  From the early days of their friendship, Jack had clung to him emotionally, sure of the power of Daniel’s gentle strength.  Daniel was the stuff of life to him, every good and bright thing in Jack’s universe.  He was the sun and Jack was the garden, living in his light, drinking him in, worshipping him, heart and soul. 

At last the tide of Jack’s emotions crested and began to ebb, leaving him exhausted and vulnerable.  When he could breathe, when he could manage to open his eyes again, he pulled back, heedless of the tears still rolling down his cheeks, and Daniel slowly let him go.  Jack collapsed into the sofa and let his head fall back.  He pressed his palms to his face to rub his aching eyes and just concentrated on breathing, gathering himself back into the confines of his body. 

Daniel was quiet, seeming to be waiting for whatever might happen next.

“You are, by far, the finest man I’ve ever known, Daniel Jackson,” Jack whispered hoarsely when he could make his voice work again. He let his hands drop into his lap and raised his head, not daring to look at the man sitting at his side.

“Jack, if you need me…”

“I know, Daniel.  I know.”  He patted Daniel’s knee, then jerked his hand away as soon as he realized he was doing it.  “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Jack.  We’re friends,” Daniel assured him, laying his hand gently on Jack’s knee and leaving it there.  "We'll always be friends."

Jack got up off the sofa and glanced over at the geranium, searching for some safe conversational territory where he could talk to this man who meant so much to him.  “You might want to get a full spectrum growth light for that. It’ll die down here in the dark.”  He brushed over the leaves with his fingertips and then brought them to his nose, sniffing at their delicate scent.

“It’s yours, Jack,” Daniel countered.  “I suck at taking care of things.  Hell, I suck at taking care of me.  You have to watch over it, so it’ll thrive.” 

Daniel handed the plants back to him.  “You needed the flowers, so you’d know.  So you’d understand.”

Jack remembered that night, long ago, when he had tried so hard to tell Daniel what was going on inside him, and failed miserably.  Daniel was repeating his words back to him, reminding him that this sort of thing didn’t come easily to either of them.  “Thank you, Daniel,” Jack murmured.

He turned slightly and spoke to Daniel’s boots, too self-conscious to meet his eyes. “I’ll… I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk.  Okay?”

Daniel stood up and moved right in front of him.

Jack stared at the middle button on his jacket.

“Look at me, Jack.”

“Can’t. Don’t ask for that.  Not yet.  Feelin’ kinda fragile here.”

Daniel’s voice was incredibly gentle.  “Okay.”  He patted Jack on the shoulder, his hand rubbing slowly up and down his upper arm.  “Call me when you’re ready.  Meanwhile, we’ve still got business to discuss, so whenever you’re ready to deal with that, just let me know.  I’ll be waiting.”

Jack nodded and walked out of the room, stopping by his office long enough to drop off the plants before heading topside for a breath of fresh air.

It was raining when he got to the mouth of the tunnel, but he didn’t notice.  He walked right out into it and was halfway down the road before he realized he was in the middle of a downpour.  He looked down at himself and remembered he was still in his fatigues, but didn’t want to go back inside the mountain just yet.

He wandered back toward the mouth of the tunnel and just stood there, looking out at the wet landscape covered with concrete, cars and buildings, Colorado Springs looming up in the distance. 

Water ran in rivulets into his ears and eyes, dripping off his nose and lips and chin, but he didn’t care.  He was soaked to the bone and starting to get a little cold, but he felt good, more alive than he had in weeks.  All because Daniel Jackson had reached out to him, speaking his secret, sacred language.  He had touched him, held him, and once more called him friend.   

It would be enough.  He simply couldn’t ask for more.  Nothing else was necessary.

~~**~~

That night, in the growing dusk, Jack stood at his living room windows for a long time, watching the rain splatter down on his hard, unforgiving garden of stone.  This was a place of mourning now, a mute testimony to loss, grief, and regret, colorless and barren, as he had needed it to be. 

Here he could bask in the silence and find rest in the peace of the dead.  His house had become the graveyard of his soul.

Only now, in this mausoleum he had created, could he bear to lay himself down to sleep.  Echoes of the laughter of his Iraqi captors still taunted him and pulled him from his dreams, but without the colors of the garden, along with the medals and other citations that had once adorned his mantle, he had felt he could maintain his fragile hold on his sanity for a little longer.

Jack had been painfully aware that he’d been slipping into a place from which there might never be a return, but now, tonight, for the first time in weeks, he had hope.  Daniel had sent him a codex message.  He was talking to him, and had accepted him as a friend again.  And maybe most importantly of all, Jack had finally connected with a counselor and had chosen to face the shame and humiliation of his past and start to deal with it. 

He’d been able to release some of his anguish in the arms of the man he loved.  He hated that he’d broken down like that in front of Daniel, but it had done Jack good, in the end.  He felt better for it and knew that maybe it would help Daniel understand him better.

He’d had to face what had happened to him so long ago and deal with it once and for all, or, in the end, it might’ve killed him, and he didn’t want that.  As miserable as he’d been since he’d betrayed Daniel, Jack had never really wanted to die.  Not so much because he wanted to just go on, but because his death would have hurt Daniel even more than he’d already done, and Jack couldn’t have that.

He’d started getting his act together, because he didn’t want Daniel to be in pain anymore.  Jack had made him suffer enough and couldn’t bear to be the cause of adding to it.  That Daniel still cared for him was testament to the magnificent person he was, and partly why Jack had fallen in love with him in the first place.  He would do whatever Daniel needed him to do, because Daniel was the most important thing in his universe.  Jack already knew Daniel would forgive him, once he understood, but Jack was afraid that what he’d done to him made it impossible for the bridges they had burned to ever be rebuilt.

All they could ever be was friends, because Jack wouldn’t risk Daniel’s heart again.  He couldn’t.  Daniel would just have to understand the limits Jack intended to set, the boundaries they couldn’t afford to cross.  That was the way it had to be, and he was okay with that now.

When his poor, battered knees reminded him he’d been standing in one spot for too long, he left the living room and went into the back of the house to begin getting ready for bed.

~~**~~

**20 May**

Five Days Later

Daniel stood on the front porch, staring at Jack standing in the open doorway.  He was so nervous, he had no idea what to say. Jack just looked at him, as if he couldn’t believe he was really there.  For almost a week, they’d been dancing around each other, neither one sure what to say or do, and now Jack had called him and invited him over to talk.

“May I come in?”  Daniel asked finally.

“Oh.  Yeah.  Sorry.  Kinda nervous, here.”  He stepped aside and let Daniel in, then closed the door behind him.  “Wanna beer?  No, you don’t like beer.  That’s right.  Wine.  You like wine.  Want some wine?”

Daniel couldn’t smile, as amusing as it was to hear Jack first talking to himself, his voice low, then getting louder when he addressed Daniel directly.  It was too easy to understand that Jack was just scared shitless and didn’t realize he was speaking aloud.  “No, I’m fine, Jack.  Do you want a beer?”

“No.”  He shook his head.  “Can’t.  On the wagon at the moment.”  He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a glass of iced tea.  “Want some tea?”  He thrust the glass into Daniel’s left hand, then took it back again.  “Oh, sorry, that’s my glass.  I’ll get you one.”

He went back into the kitchen.

“You’re on the wagon?” Daniel repeated, staring after him.

“Did I say that out loud?”  Jack called back.  “Uh… yeah.  Doctor Stevenson says it’s best for now.”  He returned with a second glass of tea, which he gave to Daniel and then went to sit in one of the overstuffed chairs facing the couch.  “Have a seat, Daniel.  Thanks for coming over.”  He hesitated.  “I’m just a little nervous.  Okay, a lot nervous.  Did I say that already?”  He set his tea on a coaster on the table between them.

“Yeah, a couple of times.  Um, Jack, are you on medication?”

“Yeah.  Why?  Am I acting weird?”  Jack's expression was filled with deer-in-the-headlights terror.  “I am, aren’t I?  But it’s not the antidepressants.  It’s this.”  He used one finger, flicking back and forth, to indicate the two of them.  “You and me.  Here.  Talking about.  You know, stuff.  That.”  Jack rubbed his palms on his thighs, back and forth, back and forth.  “Us.”

“It’s okay, Jack.  I’m scared, too.”  Daniel sat down on the sofa and placed his glass on another coaster on the table.  “This is a big step for us.”

“I know.  I know.  I’ve spent most of the last week trying to figure out how to do this, and I still don’t have a starting point.  I have no idea where to begin, Daniel.”

“The beginning is usually a good place to start.”  Daniel felt his own insides quivering, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen Jack so spooked.  “Just take a deep breath and start talking to me, about anything you want. We’ll get there eventually.  Okay?”

“Okay.”  Jack got up and started pacing the living room, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Sit down, Jack,” Daniel suggested quietly.  “Let’s start with talking about work.”

Obediently, Jack sat back down.  He stared at his tea on the table and started rubbing his thighs again.  He licked at his lips but couldn’t seem to make any words come out.

Daniel took the lead.  “I’ve narrowed down the list of potential academics and think we should go visit them sometime in the next couple of weeks.  Can you fit a four-day trip into your schedule?”

He saw those beautiful brown eyes begin to focus, to actually see the glass of tea as the wheels began to turn in Jack’s mind. 

“Well, let’s see,” Jack murmured.  “I’m leaving tomorrow for DC, to do more of the annual ass-kissing of politicians and sycophants to get their support for another year.  I’ll be gone for five days.  When I get back, I’ll need a couple days to sort through paperwork that’ll be piling up while I’m gone.  Then maybe a day off to relax…” his voice trailed off.

“How about if we schedule the trip for the interviews around Memorial Day weekend and just take the extra day at the hotel to do nothing?  I’ll even spring for the rooms for the extra day.  Would you like that?  I would.  It’ll be good to see someplace other than the Springs for a few days. I miss all the gate travel we used to do.”  Daniel gazed wistfully out the window at the barren yard.  He was missing a lot of things, truth be told.

“We?”  Jack swallowed hard, his voice a high-pitched, freaked-out little squeak.  “As in, you, me and who else?”

“Just us. Representatives of our various departments. In separate rooms, you understand.”

Jack nodded.  “I’d insist on that.”  He took a deep breath and let it out noisily.  “Yeah.  Okay.  I guess we could do that over the holiday weekend.”  He leaned forward, elbows on knees.   “So, are you seeing anybody yet?  You should, you know.  You’ve got a chance to have a life now.”

The abrupt about face in topic startled Daniel for a moment.  He could see in Jack’s eyes that he was still just short of panic, and guessed that the shift was more from Jack not knowing what to say than leading the conversation in any particular direction.  Daniel shook his head.

“Not interested in dating. How’s it going with your girlfriend?”  He didn’t really want to know and looked out the window, preparing to tune the answer out.

“Don’t have one,” Jack’s face reddened.  He took a huge breath, and when he spoke again, his words were slower, huskier, tinted with deeper emotion and less fear.  This was territory where Jack seemed more surefooted.  “I broke it off with her the instant I knew you’d left me.  But she was never my girlfriend, Daniel.  I -- I used her.  I was a real bastard to her.  I never should have been with her in the first place.  I just--”

Daniel turned his head, staring into Jack’s face, shocked at the honesty and raw emotion of the words.  This is what he should have let Jack tell him weeks ago.  The truth, as Jack knew it, at last. 

Jack’s gaze dropped to the floor.  His voice got deeper, rougher.  “You want to know why.  I understand that.”  He swallowed hard.  “It wasn’t you, Daniel. It wasn’t because of anything you did or didn’t do.  It was a selfish, stupid fling, but it was never about you.”

He got up and put his back to Daniel, looking out the window, hand worrying at the back of his neck again.  “It was just me, trying to convince myself that I was still—“ His voice broke.  His hand swiped nervously over his short hair.  “Still a man.” 

“What?”  Daniel was incredulous.  His mouth fell open in disbelief.  “Still a man?”  Daniel’s mind flip-flopped inside his skull, trying to determine if he could believe what he thought he’d just heard.  He stared at the back of Jack’s head.  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?  I don’t know anybody --  I’ve never known anyone who --“  He gave an exasperated little sigh.  “Of course you're still a man!  What, did you think because you were in love with me, that made you less of a man?”

Jack lowered his chin almost to his chest, eyes closed.  “There was more to it than just being with you, Daniel,” he added, his voice going very soft, wispy and reedy and hard to hear. 

“Then tell me, Jack,” Daniel said gently.  He stood up and stepped around the coffee table, moving up a little behind and beside him.  He leaned on his cane, listening.  “I really want to understand.”

“There was stuff that happened to me that I never told anyone about.  Shit that happened a long time ago.”  He sniffed a little, shaking his head.  “In that hellhole I was in, in Iraq.”

“When you were a POW?”  Daniel guessed.

Jack nodded, looking out the window.  “I was injured when they brought me in.  I guess they didn’t expect me to live.”  He shrugged. “Didn’t get any medical care. Everybody had to fight for what food they gave us, but I guess I was too mean or stubborn or stupid to die.”

Daniel had never heard Jack talk about this.  He’d known that Jack had spent four months in that camp and that he’d escaped, rather than been rescued.  Knowing what he did about various Middle Eastern cultures and their attitude toward Americans, Daniel imagined Jack’s treatment as a military officer had probably been spectacularly harsh.

“They started trying to get information out of me, but I was in such bad shape I couldn’t even talk, so they just threw me in with a bunch of Kurdish rebels.  Somebody in there started taking care of me, one of the old men.  I was pretty tough in those days, in real good shape.  So I got better.  Started healing up.”

Instinctively, Daniel reached out to touch him, settling his hand lightly on Jack’s shoulder, rubbing his fingertips in small, slow circles, trying to comfort him.  He fixed his worried gaze on Jack’s stony profile.

Without looking at him, Jack moved out from under Daniel’s hand, his gaze fixed somewhere out in the distance, through the windows.

“Then one of the guards noticed I was recovering and told the officer in charge, so they started questioning me again.”  Jack’s voice grew stronger, but it was flat, devoid of emotion.  Nothing registered in his face or eyes, either, not a flicker of anything.  “When I wouldn’t talk, they decided to torture me.  When I still wouldn’t cooperate, they decided humiliation might get some results.”  He grew quiet for a moment.  He swallowed hard.  “So the guards.  They took turns.”  He swallowed again, his voice deepening with shame. “Using me.”  Jack reached out with one hand to steady himself on the window frame, closing his eyes and speaking just above a whisper.  “They r-raped me.  Over and over. For nearly two months.” 

“Oh, God.”  Daniel closed his eyes.  He backed up and sat down hard on the coffee table, sloshing some of Jack’s tea onto the wood.  He ignored it, staring at the floor between his feet, his imagination supplying images of Jack being repeatedly savaged by Iraqi soldiers.

“They called me kosoo,” Jack went on in a soft, disconnected, matter-of-fact voice.

Daniel knew what that word meant.  It was derogatory Arabic slang for a horny whore, someone who couldn’t get enough fucking.  His guts clenched.  Tears filled his eyes.  He took off his glasses and laid them aside, then sat very still and listened as his tears overflowed and spilled unheeded down his face.  He cried without making a sound, afraid to interrupt the flow of brutal honesty, his heart breaking with every word. 

Jack. 

“It didn’t happen every day,” Jack assured him.  “I’ll spare you the gory details and all the other names they called me.  Didn’t learn much Arabic, but those words I know, and I understand what they mean.  If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never forget them.”

He sighed and ran a shaky hand through his close-cropped hair.  “As soon as I was well enough, by some miracle, I was able to break out of there.  I made my way to the nearest American military base.  They checked me over, treated me for gonorrhea and syphilis and some minor tearing, in addition to my other injuries.  The docs knew what had happened to me, so it’s all in my medical history, but it’s nothing anyone but Fraiser’s ever seen, and she still doesn’t know all the details.”  He hesitated, glancing down at the floor, then back out the windows. “Nobody did, till I finally talked about it last week with Doctor Stevenson.  She’s a counselor who specializes in rape.”

Daniel wrapped his arms around himself and started to cry harder, rocking back and forth, sobbing softly, and sniffling.  He couldn’t help it.  The cool, impassive way that Jack had spoken the word “rape” had gone through him like a knife and laid him wide open, all the way to the soul.

Jack turned around and sat down in the chair across from him.  He put his hands on Daniel’s face and lifted it to look into his eyes.  “Oh, Danny.  You didn’t know,” said Jack softly, his voice filled with sympathy and compassion.  “You couldn’t have known, because I couldn’t tell you.  Once we started --  Well, once we started making love in that way, and I started having all those problems, the nightmares and stuff, I didn’t want you to know, because I didn’t want you to pity me.”

“Pity you?”  Daniel cried out from the depths of his wrecked soul.  “God, Jack!  I fu— How could you let me touch you like that after what they did to you?  How?”  Daniel blinked to clear his eyes, his heart hurting so much he thought it might explode. 

For just a second, the old Jack he loved smiled at him, his face radiant for a moment before sorrow and shame slipped in to cover it up.  “Because I love you, Daniel,” he said quietly, his voice breaking.  Tears filled Jack’s eyes and rolled silently down his face.  “I would have given you anything you wanted.  I gave you everything I had.  Everything I was, because I wanted to.  It was my gift to you. To us. For us.” 

“Oh, my God!”  Daniel cried.  He bent over, sobbing in agony, his hands over his face, lowered almost to his knees.  “I’m so sorry,” he moaned.  He couldn’t breathe, his whole body an enormous mass of raw nerve endings.  He felt like he’d been hit in the heart with a zat. What Jack had given him after what he had gone through in that prison camp – It was sacrificial love the like of which Daniel had never seen, all for him.  He didn’t deserve that, not after how he had treated Jack when he needed him most.  He couldn’t love Jack enough to make up for his cruel abandonment, but he was damn sure going to try. 

Jack scooted up in his chair so that they were knee to knee.  He reached out a hand and began stroking Daniel’s hair at the back of his head.  “Shhh.  S’okay, babe,” he murmured gently.  “Don’t cry.  You didn’t know.  You didn’t do anything wrong.  I wanted you to make love to me like that.” He sniffed and wiped at his own tears.  “That’s part of the problem, don’t you see?  What happened in Iraq, it was a terrible thing.  It was a violation, but it was something even worse than that.  I felt--”

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, using it to tenderly wipe Daniel’s cheeks. 

Without thinking, Daniel reached up and took it from Jack, using it to dab at his eyes and nose.

Jack swallowed hard.  “There’s more, Daniel.”  He stroked his hand through Daniel’s hair.

Daniel sat up, wiping at his face, wondering how the hell Jack’s confession could get any worse.  What had happened to him was one of the very worst things Daniel could imagine, one of his deepest fears made real.  Jack had endured it, and somehow, he had survived.  Daniel watched as Jack got up and walked over to the windows, putting his back to the sofa.

“After a while, they started calling me inta sharmoot, a male prostitute.  I was ashamed, because every time they --  It was my --  my body betrayed me.  Imagine the most terrible thing you can think of happening to you, and then you have—“  He hesitated, swallowing convulsively. 

He wiped at his nose and took a deep breath.  “I. I, uh. I had an orgasm, every time they did it,” Jack said in a dry, impassionate voice.

Daniel bent over as if he’d been sucker-punched.  He gasped, covering his eyes with the handkerchief and struggling to breathe.  “Oh, God,” he whispered, his imagination filling in the blanks, putting himself inside Jack’s tale and trying to imagine enduring the shame of his own body’s betrayal added to the violation of violent rape.  “Oh, Jack.”

His brain hurt.  His heart felt like he’d been stabbed in it.  There was very little worse than what Jack had been through. 

Jack sniffed and got up, murmuring, “Be right back. Gonna get us some Kleenex.”  

Sitting down again across from Daniel, he pulled out a handful of tissues, handing over some to Daniel, keeping some for himself. “They had to fight me down every time, but whenever they’d go for my pants, I’d get a hard-on, and I hated myself for it.  Hated what they were doing to me, how it made me feel.  They saw me come, so they knew.  I think that was the worst thing; that they knew I came.  And laughed at me because of it.  Every fuckin’ time.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Daniel sniffled, blowing his nose.  “Oh, God, Jack, don’t blame yourself for that.  You couldn’t help it.”

“Doctor Stevenson has explained the mechanics behind it,” Jack assured him, his voice hollow and haunted.  “I know now that it was a purely physical response.  She told me that it happens sometimes to women who are raped, too.  And it’s always worse for the ones who have that happen, because there’s this extra load of guilt heaped on top of all the other bad shit you never get over.  It really messes with your head.”

He laughed a little, harshly, with a note of hysteria to it.  “I was a wreck for a long time after Iraq.  Never did get my head back on straight, just kept shoving the memories down into a deep dark hole somewhere.  But I think I might be headed in the right direction now.  I trust Doc Stevenson.  She’s good.  She’s helping me.  And you’re helping by being here for me and listening to me right now.”

Daniel could see Jack’s profile, his suffering clear as day now.  The magnitude of Jack’s anguish all but crushed him.  All the rage and betrayal he had once felt was gone, vanished in the light of this horrific revelation.

“I went to bed with… Kathy because I needed to know I was still a man,” Jack continued.  “The doctor said I was still thinking in heterosexual terms, trying to prove to myself that I wasn't…” Jack sighed, his shoulders sagging.  “I loved what we did together, Danny. Loved having you inside me. Maybe I loved it too much.”  He turned around and looked down at Daniel, still sitting on the coffee table, a gleam of panic in his eyes.  “I knew before we ever touched the first time that I’d enjoy it. I knew it would be different with you, because we loved each other, and it was different.  Oh, Daniel, it was!  Please believe that.”

He turned back to the window, his voice soft and distant again.  “I couldn’t get enough of you.  Every time I got close to you I wanted—“ He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets.  “I started to feel like that’s all I was.  Inta sharmoot.  Favareh pizi.  Fased.  Kosoo.  It was me, Daniel. All inside my head. It was never about you at all. It was never us.”

Daniel knew the meaning of every one of those foul Arabic epithets.  His mind was reeling, unable to grasp the enormity of Jack’s suffering.  And he had unknowingly added to it, mercilessly absorbed with his own pain, when Jack had needed him the most.

Daniel didn’t think he’d ever felt so utterly exhausted and drained, or so thoroughly ashamed of himself.  He sat on the table, his body slumped across his thighs, arms wrapped around his waist. He struggled to sit up, still staring at the floor.

He hadn’t understood why Jack had cheated on him.  He hadn’t listened when Jack had tried to offer an explanation, hadn’t asked Jack anything.  He’d just made up his mind and closed Jack out of his heart, not caring that he was in agony.  Jack’s response had been to shut down, seal himself away, divest himself of everything that had meant anything to him except the job. Daniel was surprised Jack hadn’t just resigned and walked away, or put a bullet in his brain.

But the more Daniel thought about it, the more he believed the job was part of the punishment.  This was the Torment of Tantalus, all over again.  Jack could see what he most desired, what he most loved and needed, close at hand every day, but forever out of reach.  Daniel had innocently embraced that punishment, too, offering nothing but aloof coldness whenever Jack looked his way.  For far too long, a small part of Daniel had celebrated Jack’s suffering, even reveled in it.  He had gloated privately when he had seen what Jack was doing to himself, until he finally realized just how deep that punishment went.

Now he saw everything in a completely different light.  Jack had been dying by degrees right in front of him.  The light had gone out of him months ago, leaving nothing but a soulless shell in its wake.  If Daniel didn’t do something, he was afraid that Jack’s luck would run out all too soon, and he really would die.  He’d find a way to off himself, counseling or not.  The human mind had a funny way of convincing itself of things that weren’t always good or right or logical, and patterning reality to carry out hidden agendas.

That had been what brought Jack to Abydos the first time.  Only now, it wasn’t guilt over the loss of his son that was driving him to ruin; it was guilt over the loss of love, of his own self-respect.  A life sentence, Jack had called it.

Someone was going to have to break down those prison walls, and the only person who could was Daniel Jackson, but he had issues of his own to address.  He’d kept secrets of his own well hidden during his time as Jack’s lover, and now Jack’s honesty had convicted Daniel that the time for truth-telling and seeking help for himself had come.  Then maybe he could help Jack with his own recovery.

And just maybe, if they were lucky, they might find each other again, refined, molded, and tempered from the fires of the hell they’d passed through… together.

Daniel sat up slowly, his shoulders slumped, and started aimlessly wadding up the snotty, tear-soaked tissues in his hands, unable to lift his gaze from them.

“Jack, I--”

He sat down in the chair across from Daniel and reached out to stroke Daniel’s knee.  “What happened between us was good, Daniel,” he said quietly.  “I’m not sorry for a minute of it.  Please don’t feel guilty about any of it.  Okay?”

“That’s kind of… impossible,” Daniel admitted honestly.  He took a deep breath and let it out quickly.  “Could I… could I get Doctor Stevenson’s number?  I think maybe I ought to make an appointment with her, too.”

Jack didn’t seem surprised.  “Because of what happened to you?”

Daniel risked a glance at his face and saw only kindness, concern, and brilliant love looking back at him.  “Yeah.”  He searched Jack’s face, absorbing the caring there.  “You knew, didn’t you?”

He got up and went to sit on the sofa, patting the cushions beside him. “C’mere and sit with me.   S’my turn to unload now.”

“Are you sure?  You don’t have to,” Jack assured him.  He rose and sat down some distance away from Daniel.  “I thought…  I always hoped you’d share your story with me when you were ready, but you don’t have to tell me about it.  And yeah, I did know there was something you couldn’t talk about.  You don’t have to do it now, just because I did.”

Daniel scooted over and held his arms out to Jack, ignoring the escape route he was being given.  “Hold me while I talk, would you?” he asked in a very small, shaky voice.  “I’m ready now.  I think I need to do this, and you need to know what happened to me.”

Jack obeyed, pulling Daniel’s head under his chin and enfolding him in a tender embrace.  It felt so good in the midst of his misery that, for a moment, Daniel just enjoyed the closeness, the sanctuary of Jack’s arms around him.  They had both been too long without the comfort of one another.

“My first semester in college was at NYU,” he began, closing his eyes and turning his face into Jack’s shirt collar.  “I was sixteen, full of piss and vinegar, arrogant as hell, and thought I knew everything.  My roommate was also a freshman, but he was eighteen, an adult, and he knew a lot more about life than I did.  When… things…. started to happen, I had no clue what was going on.  I’d wake up late for classes, couldn’t sit down without pain, and didn’t remember getting into bed the night before.”

Jack’s hands stroked him, caressing his hair and his arm, comforting him.  He put a small kiss in Daniel’s hair and ran his lips in the soft strands, inhaling Daniel’s scent.

“There wasn’t a regular pattern to any of it, so I just tried to shrug it off, kept studying and hoped it would go away.”  He sighed.  “My son-of-a-bitch roommate started to get complacent about covering his tracks and eventually, one night after he’d drugged me and fucked me in my sleep, he conked out in my bed.  When I woke up the next morning, there we were -- in my bed, both of us, naked and stinking of sex.”

“What was his name?”  Jack’s voice was calm and casual, with the faintest sharp edge to it.

“I’m not gonna tell you, Jack, and I don’t want you looking him up because I know what you’ll do,” Daniel shot back. “Promise me you won’t go after him.”  His fingers toyed with the buttons down the front of Jack’s shirt, and he watched them move, unable to look up into his former lover’s face.

Jack’s embrace tightened about him protectively.

“Promise me, goddamn it,” Daniel growled.  He pulled out of Jack’s grasp and made eye contact.  “Promise me, Jack.”

Eyes narrowed with anger, through gritted teeth, Jack answered, “If that’s what you want.”

“That’s a promise I intend to hold you to,” Daniel declared firmly.

“Did he do time for what he did to you?”  Jack’s voice was brittle, icy, dangerous.

Daniel shook his head.  “I saw the campus doctor afterward to get tested for STDs, but when she pressed me to report what happened to the police I couldn’t. I know now that I should have, but I was just a scared, stupid kid who didn’t know any better. I transferred to Chicago as soon as I could and never slept in the same room as that guy again.”

Jack swallowed hard.  His right hand came up and touched Daniel’s cheek.  Now his eyes were warm and liquid, filled with unspeakable anguish.  “Do you remember any of it?”

“No.  Just waking up with him spooned up behind me with his morning hard-on and knowing instinctively what he had done to me.”  Daniel’s body had confirmed that, and so had the test results, still locked away in a safety deposit box at his bank. "Sometimes I think not knowing is worse than if I'd remembered it all."

Jack’s eyes closed in relief.  “No, not remembering is a blessing, Daniel.  Trust me on that.”  He eased away,  got up and went into his office, returning a moment later with a small white business card. “This is Doc Stevenson’s number.  You call her first thing, okay?”

“I will.”  Daniel took the card and put it into the back pocket of his jeans.  He watched Jack sit down in the chair across from him again and begin mopping up the tea Daniel had spilled earlier with a couple of tissues.  

“Jack, I understand now.  About.  You know, her.  I want you to know that I forgive you, and I’m sorry I acted like such an ass.”

Jack nodded, but didn’t look up.  “I expected you might, because that’s just the kind of guy you are. Doesn’t change anything, though. I’m a fucked up asshole, and I don’t deserve you.”

“Well, that’s pretty harsh.  And don’t you think that ought to be my decision?”

 “No.  I blew my chance at happiness.”  Jack shook his head.  Slowly, he raised his gaze to meet his friend’s.  “You deserve way better than me.  Take some advice, Daniel.  Next time, don’t pick such a loser.”

“There won’t be a next time, Jack,” Daniel assured him.  “It’s either you or no one.  You’re the one I love.  I don’t want anybody else, and I never will.” 

He stood up, took a sip of his tea, and carried the glass into the kitchen.  When he came back, he informed Jack how it was going to be between them.  “So I guess if you’re intent on carrying out this life sentence, you ought to plan on pushing over and making room for my cell right next to yours.”  He glanced over at the almost bare mantel.  “I miss seeing your stuff.  I miss the garden.  And most of all, I miss being here with you.”

He headed for the front door.  Pausing, he looked back at Jack, who was again staring at the floor.  “Thanks, Jack.  We were long overdue to clear the air.  I feel a lot better now, and I hope you do, too.  I’ll call Doctor Stevenson tomorrow.  See you at work.”

Jack didn’t follow him outside, and Daniel didn’t look back.  He didn’t need to, because he knew where Jack would be, sitting right where he left him, thinking about all they had shared, all they had lost and all they needed to regain.

It would take Jack some time, but Daniel hoped that eventually the barren ground of his soul would loosen and new life would sprout up, reaching for the sun of their shared love.  The seeds had already been planted, and Daniel simply had to figure out how to water them and make them grow.  Perhaps the wetness of their tears had been a good start.

The garden of stone was about to undergo a transformation, and even though he didn’t know a thing about plants, Daniel Jackson was about to learn.

And when he set his mind to something, he always found a way.

FINIS

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