No, Thank You, John -
Part 2

by Widget (widget285@yahoo.com)

Daniel leaned back against the leather upholstery of the staff car the Pentagon had provided, feeling the faint vibrations as the vehicle sped along asphalt covered roadways, as Major Davis gave them a last minute briefing regarding the imminent meetings. Daniel listened with only half an ear; there were no noticeable divergences from the itinerary General Hammond had given them the day before, not that he'd expected any. The meetings had been planned down to the utmost minutiae, and just as obviously, they had been arranged well in advance, confirming Daniel's private suspicion that Hammond had set them up. He let the calming tones of Major Davis' voice wash over him as he tried to find the balance he would need to get through the next three days with Jack.

Daniel had spent the entire flight from Denver to Washington mulling over the current predicament, his book on gender roles in Coptic society left open but ignored. The situation with Jack was untenable. They'd been studiously ignoring one another for months now and it only served to push them further apart. Worse than that, it was hurting the team. Regardless of what had happened between Jack and himself, it was unfair for them to let it affect Sam and Teal'c. They were his friends, his family. Unfortunately, they were also innocent bystanders caught up in the fallout of his and Jack's little romantic melodrama and he owed it to them to resolve the situation once and for all.

It was, Daniel realized, all his fault. Unintentionally and unexpectedly, he had set in motion the chain of events that brought them to this point. It was, after all, his need that impelled Jack to act in the first place. Jack would never have taken that step, would never have crossed that line if it weren't for Daniel's weakness. He cursed himself for it. It wasn't as if he wasn't used to being alone. He'd had a lifetime of experience at it and had long ago mastered the art of using isolation as a protective shield. And it wasn't as it he wasn't accustomed to being cast aside by Nick. He'd had a lifetime of experience with that as well. His grandfather was consistent, if nothing else.

But somehow that night it had all come crashing down around him. On that one night it had all seemed too much to bear and Daniel had wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in a ball and sob until the breath was burned from his body. But Jack wouldn't let him. Jack knew, just as he always had, when Daniel was hurt beyond endurance. He'd taken him home and offered him the warmth of his hearth and the solid strength of his friendship. He'd plied him with liquor to help loosen his tongue, to break free the hurt and let it crumble to dust. But the whiskey had also loosened his inhibitions and left him vulnerable in a way he normally loathed. His need was too raw, too apparent and he could only cringe in shame. When Jack leaned forward, granting him the gentle comfort of touch, of warm, soft lips upon his own, Daniel could not pull away. He surrendered himself completely.

There was no thought that night, only feeling and a wealth of sensation, and Daniel reveled in it. His need had been so great and Jack had matched him, hunger to hunger. The first time their bodies merged had been raw and primal. They'd moved together on instinct and Daniel had been overwhelmed by Jack's desperation, by his fierce tenderness. It was unexpected, it was incredible. It was everything.

The second time had been sweet and gentle and achingly beautiful. He remembered seeing Jack braced above him, his lean body silvered by moonlight and his face blurred by shadow. He remembered the touch of Jack's hands, the subtle pull of hard calloused fingers against sensitive skin, the faint rasp of stubbled cheeks, the wetness of his inquisitive tongue. When Jack took him in his mouth, Daniel had thought he would shatter into a million pieces. But he'd also known that Jack would put him together again, binding him and holding him with the strength of his own feeling. He had slept in Jack's arms that night, secure in the knowledge that he was safe and loved and no longer alone.

When they awoke the next day they'd been shy and uncomfortable, but really it was no less than Daniel had expected. The morning after was always a bit awkward even when it didn't involve your best friend who also happened to be of the same gender. Jack didn't know what to say and uncharacteristically, neither did Daniel. Daniel didn't push. He knew they needed to address what had happened between them, but he was willing to wait until Jack was ready, and if he was being honest with himself, until he was ready as well. He wasn't naïve; he knew that everything had changed between them because of that fateful night. But he also believed that everything would be OK. He and Jack were friends, after all. They cared deeply for one another and even if they could never again be lovers, Daniel was confident that their friendship would survive unscathed.

In the end, Daniel waited too long. He realized too late that he should have taken the initiative and forced the issue. Instead, he waited patiently, watching as Jack became uncomfortable in his presence, as the other man refused to make eye contact, and always carefully arranged for someone else to be with them as if they were a pair of randy teenagers in need of a chaperone.

Then events had overtaken them; Daniel's appendicitis, Jack's disappearance and subsequent reappearance on Thor's ship, the desperate battle fought above Earth's skies and then the emptiness and silence as they awaited the return of missing comrades.

Those nine days spent waiting and wondering had been among the worst he ever lived. It was like losing Sha're all over again, the absence and the sorrow and above all the not knowing. The sense of loss was so keen but he felt guilty even acknowledging its existence, as if the pain and grief were in themselves a kind of betrayal, a loss of faith. His emotions careened madly from denial to acceptance to desperate hope and back again. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, at times he couldn't even breath as the terrible possibility of losing them, of losing Jack, crashed in upon him making his gut twist and his heart clench in his chest. He tried to retain an air of normalcy, plaster on a facade of control. He could feel everyone around him regarding him with an air of pity and sadness and he wanted to scream at them, tell them that he didn't need pity. He was fine, he was safe. He was alone.

When Daniel heard the klaxon blaring through the corridors of the SGC, he felt himself come alive for the first time since the destruction of Thor's ship. It was like waking from a horrible nightmare and he raced through the hallways, barely noticing the stitch of pain burning in his side or the stunned looks as he bounded heedlessly towards the gate room. And then they stepped through, real and solid and alive and Daniel was sure his heart would burst. His studied them, drank them in before focusing exclusively on the one that mattered most. Jack. Jack was home and he was safe.

Jack glanced towards him and Daniel beamed back at him, all his relief and affection bubbling to the surface, making him giddy. And then Jack...turned away. Daniel felt his face fall and a sudden chill stole through him. Jack continued talking to the General, recounting their absence while Daniel stood there bewildered. It was as if they now stood on opposite sides of a deep chasm. They could see one another, but the distance was such that they could no longer touch and never would again. And so it began.

As the days shaded into weeks, Daniel could feel the distance growing steadily between them. He tried to reach out, but Jack would have none of it, and every time Daniel reached out, Jack pushed him away, each time harder and more forcefully than the last. That was when the flirting began. Daniel had always known there was a certain...attraction between Jack and Sam, just as he knew that Sam had something of a crush on the older man. It had never been anything serious and neither of them had ever acted upon it. The occasional glance or flirtatious smile was the only manifestation that had ever occurred during the three years they had served together.

But suddenly Jack was actively pursuing Sam and Daniel found himself on the outside looking in, hurt and bewildered in equal measure. It made no sense. Beyond the regs that specifically forbade such fraternization, there was also the matter of Sam's position. In the early days of SG-1 he and Sam had had many a conversation about the pitfalls of being an outsider in the rigid military hierarchy. It was something they had in common, he as a civilian, she as a woman. Sam was very conscious the deep-rooted bias she had to fight against constantly. There were more than a few men who erroneously believed that she had gained her place and rank through sexual favors, that she bought every advance and promotion with her body rather than earning them with her brains and determination and hard work. It was a lie, of course; Sam was brilliant, dedicated and a top-notch soldier by anyone's standards. But Sam, he knew, also understood all too well that even the perception of inappropriate conduct could be as damning as the act itself. Consequently, she was very careful and very controlled in all situations. Sam would never initiate such a liaison, though she might be tempted to respond to advances sent her way.

So Daniel watched Jack and Sam together, noticing how Jack smiled just a bit brighter, gazed a bit more fondly, let his hand rest on her arm a bit longer than was seemly, fully aware that it was always done in full view of himself. Jack was sending him a message. Jack was straight, Jack liked women in general and Sam in particular, and most importantly there was no place for Daniel in Jack's merry little heterosexual little world.

Message received and understood.

It was just as his relationship with Jack was falling apart that Daniel embarked on a new and unexpected friendship with Major Paul Davis. It had happened almost without Daniel being aware of it. He'd known the JCS liaison for over a year and their interaction had always been peripheral and limited largely to times of extreme crisis. Davis was an unlikely candidate to become Daniel's friend. They had nothing in common, even less than he and Jack did, or so it seemed. But Davis had been there for Daniel when he thought he'd lost Jack on Thor's ship and then later when he lost Jack for real. Major Davis was always solicitous and courteous to a fault and Daniel found his gentle consideration to be a soothing contrast to Jack's increasingly caustic behavior. Even as Daniel felt himself being estranged from his teammates, particularly Jack and Sam, he found himself drawing closer to Major Davis.

The relationship he developed with Major Davis was undeniably very different from the one he'd had with Jack. It was less intense, less demanding and certainly less complicated. The physical distance between them made things more difficult, but in truth it was easier to cope with than the emotional distance that separated him and Jack even when the two men occupied the same room.

Initially their contact had been limited to conversations whenever they encountered one another at the SGC but soon it graduated to telephone calls and regular e-mails. Daniel hadn't realized how much he enjoyed having someone with whom he could talk without having to censure his every word and omit any reference to his work. As Major Davis already knew everything about the SGC, Daniel didn't need to obfuscate and prevaricate and it allowed for a candor he couldn't enjoy with anyone outside the SGC. But in truth they rarely talked about work and that was even more refreshing. It gave Daniel's life an element of normalcy that was sorely lacking up until then.

Over time he'd come to realize they had more in common than he would ever have guessed: a shared love of French romantic composers and Victorian poetry, an appreciation for the cutting wit of Oscar Wilde and the irreverence of Monty Python. They were little things, but they helped to build a foundation for the unlikely friendship. And after all, weren't unlikely friendships something of a specialty of his?

And then a month ago, Daniel finally revealed to Paul precisely what had happened between Jack and himself. It had been a risk, revealing such a thing to another military man, but Daniel trusted Paul. Even if he didn't approve, he would never say anything. He was far too honorable to reveal a confidence in that way. And in reality, Paul had already worked it out for himself more or less. He hadn't failed to notice the distance between Daniel and Jack, and Paul had been witness to Jack's increasingly callous treatment of him over the past few months.

It had been just after they had rescued Jack and Teal'c from the crippled death glider that had almost become their frozen tomb in space. When Jack had returned to full consciousness in the cargo bay of Jacob's ship, for one brief moment he had smiled at Daniel, a genuine smile of the type Daniel had not seen in so many months. He found himself smiling at Jack in return, purely on reflex, and then Jack had turned away and sought out Sam, offering praise and gratitude for her efforts in rescuing them. It was another casual twist of the knife and Daniel should have expected it, but he'd let his guard down and Jack had succeeded in drawing blood once again. When they returned to the SGC and the throngs of relieved and jubilant personnel, Paul had noticed immediately that Daniel was on edge and had suggested they have dinner together after the debriefing.

They'd gone out to dinner as agreed and eventually wound up at Daniel's apartment where he'd confessed the whole sordid tale over a bottle of Shiraz. Paul hadn't been shocked or offended, at least not by Daniel. He'd been sympathetic and supportive and outraged on Daniel's behalf, assuring Daniel that he had a right to be hurt and to feel betrayed. Paul's voice, he remembered vividly, had been warm and soft throughout, a soothing balm to his restless, thwarted emotions. And for the first time in months, Daniel felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He swore from that point forward he would put Jack O'Neill and that disastrous one night stand firmly behind him. //

The car bounced suddenly over a pothole, jarring Daniel back to full awareness. He cursed himself for allowing his mind to drift off once more. Pulling his upper body straight, he turned his attention back to the conversation.

Paul smiled at him and made a disparaging remark about the state of the roadways in and around DC before continuing his discourse.

"Now, as I mentioned, you'll be staying at the Ritz-Carlton at Pentagon City. It's quite close to the Pentagon proper. There's an informal reception tonight at 1900 hours at General Stanley's home. A staff car will arrive at the hotel lobby at 1830 to take you there. The meetings themselves will begin tomorrow at 1000 hours."

Daniel couldn't help but smile. He'd bet anything that that last little recap had been for his benefit exclusively. He wouldn't have been surprised if Paul had noticed his distraction; there wasn't much the other man didn't notice.

The car veered suddenly and as Daniel glanced out the window, he realized they'd arrived at their destination. An enthusiastic bellboy opened the car door and then set himself to the task of gathering their luggage with practiced efficiency. Paul saluted Jack once again and offered him a nod and a smile before taking his leave. Daniel watched as the staff car pulled away before following Jack and their suitcases through the sliding glass doors.

***

'Christ, could this be any more boring?' Jack thought to himself as he took another sip of Scotch, resisting the urge to down it in one long pull.

They'd been here for nearly an hour, mingling with the suits and Pentagon pencil pushers and their assorted spouses and lackeys. It was bad enough he had to spend three days trapped in a windowless conference room with these guys, but here he was playing nice, wearing his best fake smile and trying not to vent his spleen or his lunch all over the nice plastic people. 'At least they're serving the good stuff,' he reflected wryly, taking another drink.

He'd never much liked these kinds of functions. He had a true soldier's disdain for petty politics and a deep-seated scorn for the preening, the flattery and all the vacuous, useless chatter that went with it. And the older he got, the less patience he seemed to have with it all. Unfortunately, it was part of his job, whether off world trying to make nice with the natives in a first contact situation, or in the hallowed halls of DC schmoozing up members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Appropriations Committee. He shied away from the thought that he was nothing more than a whore in dress blues, performing on command. 'Its just part of the job. No one says you have to like it, just do it.'

As he moved around the room casting another faux smile at some DC matron with red lacquered nails and impeccably coiffed hair, he scanned the room looking for his partner in this little performance. He quickly found Daniel ensconced within a knot of admirers. He shook his head mentally. For all his reticence and apparent shyness, Daniel really shone in such an environment. The linguist was in his element, playing to a fascinated crowd, gesturing animatedly, despite the wine glass in one hand, a soft smile lighting his features. Yep, Daniel sure knew how to make an impression. Jack had to admit that Hammond had made a smart call sending Daniel here. Daniel would roll out the charm and that devastatingly sweet smile tonight and then tomorrow he'd pull out the big guns, the staggering IQ and the brilliant, incisive mind. So long as Daniel kept hold of that occasionally volatile temper of his, they should do alright.

Jack watched as Major Davis moved over to Daniel, neatly extricating him from his smitten fans. He almost laughed as one of the women-General Everett's wife, he thought-looked like she was going to attach herself to Daniel and come along for the ride. But Davis wasn't the JCS liaison for nothing. With a few soft words and a deft twist of the torso, he managed to lead Daniel away with nary a breath of complaint. 'Smooth, very smooth,' Jack thought in approval, sipping his drink once more.

Davis moved Daniel away from the rest of the crowd, obviously wanting to speak to him alone. Nothing surprising about that, he probably just wanted to give him some additional instructions regarding the upcoming meetings, of the kind not suited to non-classified ears. Jack was mildly surprised to see Davis's hand lingering on Daniel's arm, was even more surprised to see the broad, beaming smile Daniel was wearing and to catch the edge of his throaty chuckle. It was...well, odd. Jack had had no idea that Daniel and Davis knew each other so well. Then again, after-what? two years--of disasters and crises and foothold scenarios, the SGC had given Davis plenty of reasons to come to Colorado. So maybe it wasn't so surprising after all that the two men had become so familiar. It was just another of the strange quirks of the world they lived in.

With a casual glance at his watch, Jack realized that he still had a long way to go before they were sprung from this lily scented hell hole, so he might as well make the most of it. He drifted over to the bar and ordered up another Scotch.

***

Jack tugged at his tie, pulling the constricting strip of fabric off his neck with a bit more force than was absolutely necessary as he and Daniel made their way along the hotel corridor towards their respective rooms. The first day of meetings at the Pentagon was now thankfully over, and Jack was looking forward to a relaxing shower, a full body collapse on his bed, and a hideously overpriced bottle of Scotch from the mini-bar. Not necessarily in that order.

He had to admit that the first round of meetings had gone better than he'd expected. Hammond was right; things had apparently been arranged by those sympathetic to the SGC and its current benevolent leadership. The Secretary of Defense himself was chairing the meeting and had opened the proceedings by emphasizing how pleased the President was with the performance of the SGC, its personnel and especially its field teams. There had been much praise for the alliances they had forged with the Asgard, the Tollans and the Tok'ra and their ongoing diplomatic successes, as well as their recent establishment of two off-world scientific posts and the "acquisition" of a trinium mine on P4R-789. All in all, it had been quite the little love fest though Jack, being suspicious by nature, kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Although the meetings were done for the day, his official duties, unfortunately, were not. Apparently, Daniel had worked his usual magic on General Everett's wife, so much so, that she had conned her husband into hosting an impromptu dinner party that evening, thus killing Jack's solid plan to unwind in front of the TV with whatever sporting event was on tap. He sighed as he swiped his keycard through the lock. It looked like he'd be making nice in his dress blues two nights running.

He glanced over at Daniel who was occupying the suite next to his. "Daniel?" he queried.

The other man glanced over at sound of his name, the motion of his hand on the door handle arrested.

"I'll see you in the lobby at 1900."

"Sure," Daniel responded, distracted, as he turned the handle and slid into his own room.

Jack stood there in the hallway, watching the place where Daniel had been moments ago, before entering his own suite, closing the door firmly behind him.

Two hours later, freshly showered, shaved and bolstered with the warm glow of alcohol in his belly, Jack strode purposefully from elevator into the luxurious lobby of the Ritz-Carlton. He flicked a glance at his watch as he moved towards the cluster of soft, inviting chairs. 1852. 'Good,' he thought, 'right on time.'

His footsteps slowed and for a second he reconsidered his optimistic assessment. Already seated in two of the comfortable chairs near the lobby entrance were Daniel and Major Davis. They were seated facing one another, their chairs drawn close as they leaned inwards to talk, Davis with his elbows resting on his knees, and Daniel with his hands in full flight. They were clearly absorbed in conversation; Daniel was gesticulating with his accustomed enthusiasm while Davis wore the rapt expression Jack had seen on many occasions. Hell, he'd even worn himself a time or two. So focused were they that they didn't notice his presence until he was perhaps three feet away. Both men stood immediately with an alacrity that vaguely reminded Jack of a couple of teenagers caught red-handed ogling a Playboy centerfold.

"Daniel, Major," Jack offered by way of greeting, his tone neutral. Davis gave him a crisp salute and Daniel a brief smile in return. Jack couldn't help but note Daniel's sudden shift from ebullience to indifference at his arrival and he felt a sharp pang at the change in manner, knowing he was responsible for it. But more than that, he felt a sudden unreasoning resentment towards the lucky recipient of Daniel's earlier enthusiasm. It had been a long time since Jack had seen Daniel so relaxed with anyone and the fact that it wasn't him rankled for some reason Jack couldn't quite identify. It was stupid, he knew; after all, he was the one who had pushed Daniel away. Daniel certainly had a right to make other friends, to spend time with other people who valued him and enjoyed his company. But somehow this friendship between Davis and Daniel made Jack uncomfortable.

He ruthlessly suppressed those unworthy sentiments and focused on the fellow officer standing before him. "Major Davis," he began, keeping his voice pleasant, "I didn't expect to see you here. I thought they were sending a staff car to pick us up."

Davis smiled, that slick, confident smile that Jack had come to associate with politicians, boot lickers and smug, technologically advanced aliens. "Well sir, since your hotel was on my way to General Everett's home, I took the liberty of coming myself. It seemed foolish to tie up a staff car all night for no reason," he explained amicably.

It made perfect sense, of course. Jack would have done precisely the same thing were the roles reversed, but still...it bothered him to a degree that was unexpected and unwanted. Perhaps it was Davis' polished demeanor. Perhaps it was the way he and Daniel seemed to hit it off, the ease and enthusiasm with which they seemed to communicate. Perhaps it was the way Davis was standing close to Daniel even now or the fact that Daniel didn't surreptitiously move away from him as he normally did when people invaded his jealously guarded personal space.

"That's mighty thoughtful of you, Major," Jack responded, hoping his smile hadn't shaded into a scowl in spite of his concerted efforts to maintain an affable front.

Daniel was wearing his half-frown, the one where his lips pressed flat and he got one deep furrow in his forehead. That was his 'Something seems a bit off,' expression and Jack quickly acted to keep it from developing into his full blown 'Something is seriously fucked up' expression.

"Well?" Jack asked glancing between the two men. "Are we all set to go? I'm getting a bit hungry myself and something tells my the General's wife will have pulled out all the stops for Daniel here," he concluded with a broad grin and a mocking leer.

The flippant remark worked like a charm. Daniel huffed indignantly while Davis, smiling widely, led them to the parking lot, giving them a brief rundown of who would be present at dinner.

They reached Davis' car which-surprise, surprise-turned out to be a beemer, a fucking yuppie car, then they did the usual awkward shuffle trying to decide who sat in the front and who got the back. Jack graciously ceded the front seat to the longer legged Daniel, before slipping into his own place in the slightly cramped back seat.

"Are you alright back there, sir?" Davis asked politely.

"Fine."

"Are you sure, Jack? We could switch seats if you like." Daniel offered, his body twisted in the seat so he could look back directly at him.

Jack was so surprised by Daniel's thoughtful gesture that he simply grunted a negative. Daniel nodded in response, then turned back around as the car started and they were on their way.

It was a short drive to the General's house in Arlington. Twenty-five minutes later they were parked in the driveway of a large Tudor style house fronted by a neatly manicured lawn. They were greeted in the foyer by the genial General Everett and his wife who insisted that they all must call her Charlotte. She immediately and quite predictably took possession of Daniel's arm and steered the hapless young man in the direction of the living room, chattering vivaciously as she pulled him along. The General merely chuckled at what was apparently a not uncommon sight and ushered Jack and Davis towards the refreshments.

Dinner was a smaller and more casual affair than the reception the previous night. Well, as casual as you can get with a three star General, a two star General, their spouses and a few members of their staff thrown in for good measure. Major Davis was the most junior officer present and Daniel was the only civilian, apart from the four wives, in attendance. Daniel was once again the center of attention, regaling Charlotte and her friends with tales of his travels in exotic-and earthbound-climes. Jack talked with various of the officers, pleased to find that General Stanley like himself was a devoted fisherman. Hard not to like a guy who appreciates the fine art of fly fishing.

But while the dinner conversation was relatively pleasant, Jack's mind kept drifting back to the sight of Daniel and Davis cozied up together in the hotel lobby, their heads close together, their knees almost touching. He watched them now, seated at opposite ends of the table, talking with the people seated next to them. But every once in a while Jack could have sworn that they shared a glance, or a sly smile over the rim of their wineglasses. He wasn't sure if he was really seeing it or if it was his own imagination working over time. And even if he was seeing it, he wasn't precisely sure what it really meant. Were they just very good friends? Or were they more than friends?

Jack felt himself go cold at that thought. Could they be? No. No! They weren't, they were friends, nothing more. He looked over at Daniel engaged in a lighthearted discussion with their hostess, gesturing emphatically with a salad fork. No. There is absolutely nothing going on between them.

The problem was, the insidious possibility was lodged irresistibly in his brain and it simply wouldn't go away. It haunted him all through the remainder of the dinner and later during the drive back to the hotel near midnight. Daniel had been reclining in the front seat, slightly buzzed from the wine and the good food, and more relaxed than Jack had seen him in a long time. He and Davis chatted the whole way back, so completely at ease with one another. Davis was telling a story about 'Charlotte' and the shenanigans of her high-strung poodle Mitzi that had Daniel chortling with laughter. It was nice to hear Daniel laugh, he hadn't done it in so long and Jack felt another pang because Davis, not he, had been the one to elicit it.

As he lay in his bed that night, Jack found he couldn't sleep. His restless mind kept seeing Daniel and Davis together in the lobby. He kept twisting and turning the scene over as if it were some strange puzzle that could be solved if he only looked at it the right way. And as he lay there staring up at the ceiling he couldn't help but wonder how he'd missed it. This hadn't happened overnight; Daniel and Davis hadn't become this close in the space of twenty-four hours. Obviously it had been going on for some time now, and this...friendship-he refused to consider any other word for it-had been developing for some time. An image suddenly flashed in his mind...

// It was the aftermath of the fucked up treaty with the Tok'ra when that damned bitch Anise convinced him, Carter and everyone else that they were zantarks or whatever in the hell they'd called it. It had been a mistake, the zanex detector had screwed up, misinterpreting their reluctance to talk about their fucked up and entirely inappropriate flirtation as a sign they'd been reprogrammed. They'd gotten it straightened out, but by the time they realized the truth, it was too late. Martouf was the real assassin and they'd been forced to kill...no, Carter had been forced to kill him, before he offed the President and anyone else who got in his way.

Carter had been devastated. She'd been very close to Marty because of the memories of Jolinar that still resided in her consciousness. He had no idea how Carter herself felt about him. She'd never said, and Jack had never had the balls, nor the bad taste, to ask outright. Regardless, it was a loss for all of them and for Carter most of all. He'd led her back to her quarters and had sat with her without speaking, offering her whatever comfort he could by his presence until Fraiser had arrived. She'd be more comfortable talking about this with Fraiser, he knew, and Jack had been more than happy to hand over the task to her.

He'd wandered the corridors for a time, thinking of how fucked up all of this was. While he'd never exactly considered Marty to be one his best buds, he was willing to acknowledge that he was the only snake apart from Jacob that Jack was willing to trust to any degree. In Jack's opinion, this wasn't a great sign for things to come on the whole Earth/Tok'ra alliance front.

Eventually his aimless steps led him to the gate room. The proceedings were now over. The treaty had been signed, the President and the Tok'ra contingent had gone their separate ways, and there were only a few people still milling about, mostly officers in their dress blues, a couple of SFs. As he scanned the room, his eyes fell upon Daniel standing on the other side of the room talking to someone in uniform whose back was turned towards Jack. Daniel was still dressed in his meet and greet suit, looking stiff and uncomfortable, his arms wrapped around himself, his head lowered. As they shifted their bodies, Jack got a glimpse of the other man's face, immediately recognizing Major Davis. He vaguely remembered hearing that the Secretary of Defense was going to accompany the President along with a small group representing the Pentagon, so naturally Davis, as the JCS liaison was there. Hell, he'd probably been the one briefing the President on the flight from Washington.

Jack was too far away to hear what they were saying, but he recognized all the signs; Daniel was distressed about something, presumably Martouf's death. Davis was speaking to him, their heads close together and Jack had noticed how Davis' hand seemed to linger on Daniel's arm in a gesture that was comforting, supportive yet strangely intimate. He'd remembered thinking at the time that it seemed out of place. Daniel carefully guarded his personal space and he was very selective about who he allowed to touch him. While he would tolerate a hug or a casual touch from most people, he would usually move away as quickly as he could without causing offense. The fact that Daniel had not rejected Davis' gesture suggested a greater degree of trust than Jack would have expected to exist between the two men.

Strangely and inexplicably discomforted by the sight, Jack had been about to cross the gate room to speak with the two men, when he was intercepted by General Hammond. His commanding officer's eyes were soft as he asked after Carter. Jack had offered his own assurances, caught up in a swell of fierce admiration for this man and his devotion to his people. And as he stood talking with Hammond, out of the corner of his eye he saw the ever solicitous Davis guiding Daniel out of the gate room, a hand lightly pressed against the small of Daniel's back. They left the room without a backwards glance. //

Jack scrubbed his hand over his weary eyes. It had been there, all the time, right in front of him. His mind replayed a dozen similar scenes he'd witnessed between Daniel and Davis, filled with simple, casual gestures and pleasant smiles. Nothing untoward, nothing improper, but as Jack reviewed those scenes in light of their recent behavior, there could be no doubt that it; whatever IT was, it had been going on for some time now.

How could he not have seen it before? How could he not have known? Those questions kept echoing through his mind, but he already knew the answer. He hadn't bothered to notice. He'd been so wrapped up in his own panicked feelings, wallowing in denial and flirting relentlessly with Carter to reaffirm his suddenly precarious heterosexuality, that he'd shut Daniel out completely. For eight months he hadn't given Daniel the time of day, let alone paid any attention to who he was spending his time with now that Jack had cut him out of his life so completely.

Jack felt a terrible wave of guilt wash over him, ashamed at his callous and--let's be honest, here--intentionally hurtful behavior. How must it have felt to Daniel to suddenly find himself cut off and abandoned by someone he considered his friend, his best friend, no less? In his scrabble to obliterate his own confusion and embarrassment, Jack hadn't just deprived Daniel of his lover, he'd also deprived him of his friend. He'd taken away his friendship as if somehow Daniel had ceased to be worthy of that particular boon, simply because he's slept with Jack. It wasn't Daniel's fault, none of it was. Jack could admit that now. He was the one who'd crossed the line. He'd been the one to take advantage of a desperately lonely, unhappy and drunken Daniel, he'd been the one who freaked in the aftermath and pushed Daniel away, punishing him for Jack's own indiscretion.

And that's precisely what he'd done, he realized. He hadn't just distanced himself from Daniel, he'd turned the younger man into his very own scapegoat, pinning all of his sins unto Daniel, as if pushing him away could somehow rectify, or at the very least efface the trespass he'd committed. 'My partner in crime,' he thought, his heart lurching in his chest.

Was it really any wonder then that Daniel might turn to someone else for friendship, for companionship, for comfort, filling the place that Jack had relinquished? Davis seemed an unlikely candidate for the role of Daniel's friend, but then again, so did Jack. Jack would have thought that Daniel would have had enough of uptight, repressed military types by now. But Davis was a different breed of soldier from Jack, more politician and diplomat than grunt. Davis was smoother, more polished, better read and better spoken than Jack would ever be. In truth, the more he thought about it, the better suited Davis was to the role. Better suited, and perhaps, the better man in other ways as well. He'd seen the evidence of that with his own eyes. Davis made Daniel smile, he made him laugh. Daniel was at ease around Davis in a way he wasn't with Jack, at least not anymore. Whether there was something more than friendship behind all those fleeting smiles and casual gestures, Jack didn't know. He'd long since forfeited any right to judge Daniel and his actions and Jack damn well knew it. Maybe the kindest thing he could do for Daniel was to just stay out of the way. Perhaps in the end, the greatest service he could render their friendship was just to let Daniel go for good.

With those heartbreaking thoughts echoing through his mind, Jack finally drifted off into a fitful slumber.

***

Paul closed the folder in front of him and stood, his posture straight, eyes forward, as the senior officers vacated the briefing room. The second day of meetings had gone off without a hitch. Both the Colonel and Daniel had handled themselves admirably, proving once again, if such proof were truly necessary, why they were part of the flagship team of the SGC. During the afternoon both men had been questioned closely about their experience in the field, and specific missions were discussed in great detail. The questions themselves weren't hostile, per se, but they were pointed and rather probing, notably in regard to matters such as how active a role field teams should play, if any, in local politics. The example of Euronda was cited in particular. To their credit, neither O'Neill nor Daniel lost his cool; their discussion of events was incisive, as was their counter argument of how truly unique each and every first contact experience was and the dangers inherent in drawing too close a parallel to existing earth cultures and mores. Their restraint was all the more impressive to Paul who knew firsthand just how much of a strain that particular mission had put on the team as a whole and on Daniel and O'Neill in particular. Though Daniel had never divulged the specifics, Paul was fairly certain that that mission had been one of the very first after 'the breakup' as Paul had privately come to think of the event that had lead to the collapse of the friendship between Daniel and his CO.

Paul glanced at the man across the table from him, standing at attention. O'Neill had been remarkably...subdued all day. He snorted inwardly. 'Subdued' was not a word he would normally have associated with the dynamic and strong willed Colonel O'Neill, but it seemed appropriate on this occasion. It was more than the absence of the man's wry humor and his trademark sarcasm that had earned him more than a few reprimands over the years. No, he thought to himself, there was something else going on here.

He shifted his gaze to the man standing next to O'Neill. Daniel was frowning, casting his own nervous glance towards his companion. No surprise there. If Paul realized that something wasn't quite right with O'Neill, then certainly Daniel, with all his years of experience dealing with the moods of the irritable Colonel, must have noticed as well.

Paul didn't think it was the meeting itself, which had gone very well. No, this was something else all together, and he'd bet his clusters that that something was somehow connected to Daniel, though he didn't know how precisely. When he'd spoken with Daniel the night before as they waited in the lobby, it was clear that there had been no change in the ongoing stalemate that defined his relationship with O'Neill in recent months. Maybe there was nothing wrong with O'Neill at all. Perhaps he was just overreacting now that he was ready to take the plunge, and finally make a play for Daniel, provided of course that both Daniel and the ever-contrary O'Neill cooperated with his plan.

He waited until everyone else had cleared out of the conference room before setting his plan in motion. He cleared his throat to get the attention of the two men.

"There aren't any official activities planned or this evening, sirs, so you're free until tomorrow morning. I thought perhaps you might be interested in going out to dinner. I'm sure Dr. Jackson would love 'La Colline.' Fabulous traditional French cuisine and the best foie gras this side of Paris."

Daniel's eyes lit up immediately. He had a fondness for foie gras, Paul knew, and although French cuisine was fairly common, good foie gras was not. Daniel turned hopeful eyes on O'Neill and Paul tried not to grimace at the way Daniel automatically looked to the other man for approval. It was just a courtesy and Daniel was nothing if not polite, but still, Paul would just as soon leave O'Neill out of the equation this time.

That was his hope; that O'Neill would beg off, deterred by the idea of a long and tedious repast of 'Frog food' so that Paul could spend the evening alone with Daniel. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but it was the best Paul could come up with, short of stating outright his intention to dine with Daniel alone. Somehow, he didn't think O'Neill would be pleased, despite the obvious distance between himself and Daniel. Ever since Daniel had arrived in DC, Paul had had virtually no opportunity to speak with him alone. A few stolen moments at the reception Tuesday night, the all too brief tête-à-tête in the hotel lobby the previous day, that was all. And Paul wanted, needed more.

After two years, Paul believed that the time was finally right to offer Daniel more than his friendship. Paul had never pushed. He'd known from the beginning that there was more than friendship between Daniel and the Colonel, had seen the truth of it even before they themselves had. He had also understood that O'Neill reigned supreme in Daniel's heart and that there was no way he could ever hope to compete with the other man. Paul eventually had resigned himself to forever coveting but never having what he so desperately wanted, until that brief and ruinous love affair had torn the two men apart and ripped their friendship asunder. Paul hadn't believed it at first. It seemed unreal, as if some unknown deity had just handed him his heart's desire before he even gave voice to the request. But it was real. Daniel and O'Neill had become lovers and then O'Neill had cast him aside and scorned him in the worst manner imaginable.

Despite his burgeoning hopes, Paul didn't push. He knew how fragile Daniel was in the wake of that debacle, how vulnerable and bereft and utterly bewildered he had been. So Paul had offered his own friendship, and all the comfort he could, trying to fill the gap in Daniel's heart. But still he waited until he was absolutely certain that O'Neill was out of the picture and Daniel was ready to move on. Paul had believed that that time had come at last. All he needed was the opportunity to be alone with Daniel to find out whether or not he was interested. The signs were there, or so he thought. They were subtle and Paul couldn't even be sure Daniel knew he was sending them, but with any luck, he'd know soon enough.

"Jack?" Daniel queried, his voice soft.

Paul held his breath, schooled his expression to neutrality, and awaited O'Neill's response. 'Say no,' he thought furiously to himself, 'say no, you son of a bitch.'

O'Neill frowned slightly, casting his gaze from Daniel to Paul and back again. "Actually, I'm a bit worn out from all these damned meetings. I was thinking of making an early night of it. Order some room service, watch a little TV, just kick back and relax."

Daniel's face fell a little in disappointment, they could both see it, but it was O'Neill who rushed to speak. "Why don't the two of you go on without me. I'm not that keen on French food anyway and obviously Daniel has his heart set on a bunch of smelly cheeses," he added wryly.

"Are you sure, Jack?" Daniel asked, his inbred solicitude overriding his annoyance at O'Neill's last comment.

"Sure," he waved a hand casually. "Go have some fun. After all, Uncle Sam's footing the bill, so you might as well get the most out of it, right?"

Daniel nodded.

Paul smiled. "Sergeant Penbrook will drive you both back to the hotel." He turned and spoke directly to Daniel. "I'll come by and pick you up at, say 1900?"

"I'll be ready," Daniel replied with a smile of his own.

Paul saluted O'Neill. "Have a good evening, sir."

"You too, Major."

And with that, the two men departed the conference room, leaving an ebullient Paul in their wake. He took a deep breath, regained control of his manic smile and then strode from the room, turning out the lights as he left.

***

Paul leaned back in his wrought iron chair and sipped his wine, his eyes never leaving the animated face of the man seated across the table. Once it was clear that O'Neill would not be joining them for dinner, Paul had introduced a slight change in plan. While 'La Colline' had incredible food, the ambience was a tad too somber and uptight for what he intended to be the first phase in a seduction. A change in venue was in order and one quick phone call later he had reservations at the Tabard Inn. Not only was it located in one of the oldest and most charming hotels in the city, but the restaurant boasted a beautiful garden terrace screened by ivy covered walls and dotted with outdoor sculpture. On a pleasant summer evening such as this, it was the ideal setting for a relaxed and intimate dinner for two.

Daniel hadn't been bothered by the change of plans; quite the contrary, he'd been delighted by the opportunity to enjoy a bit of fresh air and sunshine after two days spent cloistered in an airless conference room in the Pentagon. He was in prime form, Paul noticed, relaxed and comfortable and lightened by delicious food and a fine bottle of Chardonnay. The conversation flowed easily between them and Paul found himself opening up without hesitation, drawn in by the warmth of Daniel's smile and his genuine curiosity.

"So you're an Air Force brat, like Sam." Daniel commented as his fork broke off a piece of peach pie.

Paul nodded, taking another sip of wine before putting the glass back down on the table. "Yep. Third generation Air Force, to be precise. Dad's retired now, but he teaches from time to time at the Academy and does some consulting work as well."

"And you're the only one that went into the military?"

"Yes. I know Dad was a bit disappointed when Rich choose to go into medicine instead of the Air Force, but he supported his decision. It never hurts to have a doctor in the family, after all." Paul remarked, quirking a smile at the old chestnut. "He's a pediatrician. He's got a private practice in Bethesda. He's doing really well for himself."

"And your sister? She never considered the military?" Daniel asked before taking another bite of his dessert.

Paul nearly choked on his wine at that question. "Laurie? God forbid! No, the military was definitely not in her sights. Far too liberal. She's a law professor at U.Va. Her field of expertise is civil liberties."

"Ah," Daniel nodded sagely. "I guess she wouldn't exactly be suited to the military."

"Actually, I think she'd make a hell of a soldier. Highly disciplined, dedicated, resourceful. And she does have a healthy respect for the armed services. She just doesn't have any desire to be a part of it."

"It must be nice, having all of your family nearby," Daniel observed.

Paul couldn't help but notice Daniel's wistful tone or his bittersweet expression at those words. It was a clear reminder that this man had no family. Orphaned as a young child, abandoned by his grandfather, raised in a foster care system that was overburdened and under-funded, the concept of family was one with which he had tragically little experience. He gave Daniel his warmest and most sympathetic smile.

"It is, though we don't get to see each other very much. Rich's practice keeps him pretty busy and with two little girls and his wife Trish expecting a third, they don't have a lot of free time. And Laurie is working hard to get tenure. I don't need to tell you how frazzled she is most of the time."

Daniel chuckled at that. "Ah, no. I, uh, have a pretty good idea. All things considered, I think the military would have been the less hazardous option."

He shook his head, sighing. "I don't know how many times I've tried to explain to Jack how ruthless and cutthroat academia can be, he simply refuses to see it. 'If they don't pull actual knives, then it ain't cutthroat, Danny boy,' he'd always say. Personally, I wouldn't be surprised is some of my former colleagues didn't carry a stiletto or two while they prepared the next departmental coup."

"Well, I don't know anything about knife toting assistant professors, but as someone who has experience with both the military and academia, I'll bow to your greater knowledge on the subject," Paul said tilting his wineglass in an ironic salute.

Daniel lifted his own wineglass in acknowledgement. "As well you should," he replied primly, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

It felt good to sit here like this, engaging in friendly conversation, basking in the last faint rays of the sun as twilight shaded into dusk, surrounded by the gentle murmurs coming from the people seated at the other tables. The only thing that marred an otherwise perfect evening was Daniel's occasional, and apparently unconscious references to O'Neill. They lingered over coffee and Paul secretly reveled in the sight of Daniel's expressive features lit by the small candle in the center of the table.

Their coffee finished, Paul suggested they go for a walk around the Tidal Basin and Daniel readily agreed. A half an hour later found them strolling along the water's edge making their way towards the Lincoln Memorial. It was a perfect night, clear and cool and bright. A full moon hung low in the cloudless sky and it bathed everything in a soft, silvery light. The oppressive humidity of the afternoon had vanished completely, giving way to a cool breeze that made the branches on the surrounding trees shiver and dance. They walked side by side, not really talking much, their arms occasionally brushing as they moved. There was a sense of tranquility in this place that remained miraculously untouched by the cars that whizzed by not far away with their headlights flashing through the darkness. All things considered, Paul couldn't have asked for a more romantic setting. All he needed now was the courage to take the next step.

Paul drew in a deep breath and gestured towards a nearby bench. They sat down side by side, close but not quite touching, as they gazed across the water, watching the lights dancing hypnotically across the surface.

"Daniel," he began, then paused, suddenly terribly unsure of himself. It had all been so clear in his mind the night before as he lay on his bed playing the scene out in his mind, trying out different variants of the speech. It shouldn't be this hard, really. It wasn't as if this was a matter of life or death or national security. Actually, it was a very simple thing. All he had to do was tell Daniel he was crazy about him and he wanted more than friendship from him, but somehow the words eluded him. Of course, it wasn't the proposition itself that was frightening, it was Daniel's response to it. Questions kept racing through his mind: Was it too soon? Was he asking too much? Was Daniel even interested in men, or in him for that matter?

He hadn't been this nervous since he was fifteen years old and had been engaged in some serious necking with his first real girlfriend, Lanie Hirschfield. He remembered sitting with her on the sofa in the dimly lit living room one night when her parents were out. He'd been so awkward then, as he struggled heroically then unhook her bra while trying to retain a semblance of cool. In the end, she'd smiled at him and removed it herself and things had gone on smoothly from there.

This wasn't really different, he told himself. Yes, the stakes were a bit higher and this time around he was after more than a hormone driven grope, but they were also adults. And Daniel, well Daniel was nothing if not considerate. If he wasn't interested, he'd be gracious about it. Paul's greatest fear was of losing Daniel's friendship, of sacrificing the hard won trust in his quest for something more intimate and blatantly physical. There were always risks, no matter what, and if something was truly worth having, than it was also worth taking a chance. Bolstered by that thought he drew another deep breath and took one of Daniel's hands in his.

Daniel raised an eyebrow in response, but said nothing, just waiting patiently for Paul to begin again.

"Daniel, I've genuinely enjoyed having the opportunity to get to know you during the two years I've been associated with the SGC. Even though we live pretty much on opposite sides of the country, I feel like we've really gotten close over the last few months, despite all the obstacles of distance and the craziness of our lives and our work. I want you to know how much I treasure your friendship."

Daniel nodded in understanding. Paul continued.

"I've never really known anyone quite like you, but then again, I've come to the conclusion that there really isn't anyone else like you out there. You are an exceptional man, Daniel Jackson. Intelligent, intuitive, resourceful. You're warm and generous and compassionate and I count myself lucky to be considered your friend."

He looked at Daniel intently, trying to gauge his response thus far. Daniel seemed calm, accepting and he briefly tightened his grip on Paul's hand, encouraging him to go on. Paul flashed him a quick smile before drawing another deep breath to prepare himself for what he planned to say next.

"But as wonderful as I find your friendship to be, lately I've been finding myself wanting more than that. I don't just want you in my life, Daniel. I want you in my bed."

He hurried on before he could lose his nerve completely. "I know you've been hurt before. Badly." There was no need for him to say the name. "And it tears me up inside to think that anyone could hurt you that way, that anyone who knows you could fail to see your worth and would ever willingly give you up. I can't do anything about the past and there is nothing I can do or say that will simply make that pain go away. All I can give you is myself."

Paul reached up, gently cupping Daniel's cheek with his free hand.

"I don't want to pressure you, Daniel. This is your decision to make, not mine, and I'll abide by it. I just want you to know that my feelings are true and that no matter what, I do care about you, more than I've cared about anyone in a long time, and nothing could possibly change that."

Paul held his breath, waiting for Daniel's answer. The other man bowed his head, his face lost in shadow. The world was eerily silent, with only the sound of the soft breeze rustling through the trees and the low throbbing hum of moving cars in the distance. With each passing moment, his heart pounded more loudly in his chest and the breath seemed to freeze just a little bit more in his lungs. A terrible fear began to creep inside and he realized that he had made a mistake, a terrible mistake.

"Paul," Daniel's voice sounded softly. "I think its time to go back to the hotel."

Daniel had raised his head, but he didn't look directly into Paul's eyes, but that was alright because Paul doubted he could have held the contact himself. He nodded his head numbly then rose, Daniel standing up beside him.

The walk back to the car and the subsequent drive to the hotel had taken place in complete silence. There really wasn't anything to say. Paul had taken his shot, he'd put his heart on his sleeve and Daniel had declined. He'd said that the decision was Daniel's and he was determined to stand by that promise.

Still, he kicked himself mentally, all the way to the hotel. 'It was too soon,' a voice inside his head accused. 'You pushed too hard, too fast. He's still not over O'Neill and here you are taking advantage of him when he's vulnerable.'

He gazed over at the subject of his musings. Daniel sat slumped slightly in the passenger seat, his eyes closed. He didn't seem inclined to speak and Paul certainly wasn't going to force him. He only hoped that he hadn't lost Daniel's friendship due to his rash actions. Every word he's said had been true. He did care about Daniel, a great deal, and that wasn't going to change. He only wished he knew how he was going to get through the meetings tomorrow, seeing Daniel seated across the table, knowing that he might have lost this extraordinary man forever.

Paul turned the steering wheel sharply to the left, turning the car and pulling it up to the curb in front of the lobby entrance. They sat there, the motor humming and Daniel looked Paul in the eye for the first time since his ill-timed declaration of affection. He smiled, a soft, hesitant twitch of the lips, before flicking his tongue out in what Paul now recognized as a nervous gesture.

"Would you like to come up to my room for a nightcap?" he asked, his voice amazingly calm.

Paul stared at him, hardly daring to believe the words he was hearing. Daniel was inviting him up to his room. To his bedroom. For a drink, at nearly one in the morning. And suddenly Paul's heart began to beat once more.

"Are you sure?" he asked, adopting the same level tone but pouring every ounce of feeling into his gaze.

"Yes. I'm sure," was Daniel's simple response.

Paul pulled the car away from the curb and drove to the parking lot where he could leave his car-he hoped--for the remainder of the night.

He could feel his anticipation rise as the lights on elevator control panel flashed one by one, marking their ascent. Their journey from the parking lot to the lobby had been carried out in silence, with each of them flicking quick, nervous glances when he believed the other wasn't looking. Now that the decision had been made, words seemed superfluous. They stood in opposite corners of the elevator cab and had anyone else entered and seen them thus, they would have assumed them to be complete strangers, not two friends who were about take a leap of faith.

Paul stood still, letting the sensation wash over him. The thrill of anticipation, the desire, the aching tenderness that this man elicited in him. It was like Lanie Hirschfield on her parents' sofa, or Cindy Mortenson beneath the bleachers, or Kevin Thompson, his roommate his sophomore year at the Academy. No, it was like all of them combined and more. Daniel was someone he's wanted for so long, had admired, lusted after but despaired of ever getting. So much had stood between them and now the path was clear and the future and all its possibilities were spread out before his mind's eye. He was breathless, dizzy with the very thought of it all.

The elevator chimed and the door slid open with a whisper of sound. Daniel stepped out and Paul followed, moving so that he could walk beside him, matching him stride for impatient stride. When the reached the door, Daniel withdrew his keycard and made to slide it through the slot. Paul saw the slight tremor in his hand, the nervousness that echoed his own. With infinite gentleness, Paul placed his hand over Daniel's, steadying it then pulling it downward. The light beneath turned green and he heard the soft 'snick' of the lock unclicking. Still holding Daniel's hand, he reached out with the other and turned the handle, opening the door and ushering them inside. The door closed behind them with a small thud.

They stood there in the hushed silence of the hotel room, Daniel's hand still clasped in his own. A sliver of moonlight filtered through the parted drapes, casting the room in shades of silver and gray. Paul looked into the other man's eyes, holding his gaze as he lifted Daniel's hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to the soft skin. He could feel Daniel shiver in response, the tremor transferring to his own body through their clasped hands. His eyes never leaving Daniel's face he asked in his most seductive voice, "I believe you offered me a drink, Dr. Jackson?"

Daniel smiled at him then, a shy, hesitant, and achingly beautiful smile that made Paul's heart turn over in his chest. "Is Scotch alright, Major Davis?"

"Perfect, Dr. Jackson. Absolutely perfect."

***

The night had been painfully long and empty in a way Jack hadn't experienced since those early months of his separation and subsequent divorce from Sarah. He'd spent hours slouched on the sofa in the well appointed hotel suite, restlessly flipping channels of the TV and occasionally picking at the meal he'd ordered from room service. Somewhere along the way, he'd begun to work his way through the contents of the minibar in search of blissful alcohol induced oblivion. Eventually the alcohol did its work, combining with the stress and exhaustion of the trip and a day of endless meetings, allowing him at last to slide into a fitful doze.

Jack awoke with a start, momentarily disoriented as to where he was. His eyes flickered around the room, taking in the colorful images on the television screen and the dimly lit interior of the hotel room. Rolling his neck to ease a residual cramp caused by his awkward sleeping position, he rummaged around the sofa cushions until he found the errant remote. With a jab of his thumb, he turned off the television set, plunging the room into an eerie and unsettling quietude. He glanced down at his watch. It was little after one in the morning. He scrubbed his hands over his weary face, his mind still muddled from his uneasy slumber, his mouth dry with the sour aftertaste of hard liquor.

Just as he began to maneuver his leaden and uncooperative body from the sofa cushions, he heard a sound, slightly muffled, but audible in the heavy silence surrounding him. It was the sound of a door opening. For a second he was disoriented again, as he cast his glance to the door, expecting it to swing open. No, not his door, the door to the next room over. Daniel's room.

The muzziness from the alcohol and recent sleep seemed to fall away all at once with that realization. Daniel was just coming home. At one in the morning. He and Davis had left for dinner a bit after 1900, which meant they had been gone for five hours. What had they been doing all that time? Had they lingered over coffee at the restaurant? Had they sat in the bar in the hotel lobby sipping brandy and swapping stories about their own experiences with the SGC? Or maybe Davis had taken him on a tour of the sights? DC could be pretty spectacular after dark he seemed to recall. Yes, that is something that would appeal to Daniel, a nighttime tour of the grandeur of the nation's capitol. He could almost see Daniel gazing out the car window at the Lincoln Memorial and the Jefferson Memorial bathed in soft golden light as Davis drove his car past the Tidal Basin chatting about the recent restoration of the Washington Monument and regretting that it was summer and that the Cherry Blossoms were no longer in bloom. Yes, and then after the tour, Davis had brought him back to the hotel and said goodnight and returned to his house in...where did he say? That's right Georgetown. Davis said he lived in Georgetown, just off M street. And now Davis was driving home and Daniel was going to bed...

Voices. He could hear voices from Daniel's room. They were faint, barely discernible, but to Jack they seemed to burn through his eardrums like acid. Daniel wasn't alone. Davis hadn't dropped him off and then returned home. Davis was here, now, next door. With Daniel.

Jack could hear other sounds now floating in from the adjacent room. Footfalls moving across the plush carpet, the sound of a door opening and closing again. A tinkling sound of ice cubes dropped in a glass. A pause, another tinkling sound this one of two glasses clinked together in salute. A drink, that's all it was. Daniel had offered Davis a nightcap. Of course! How could he forget? DC was surprisingly provincial for a major metropolis. People were workaholics here, they tended to work late and go to bed early to do the same thing the next day. The hotel bar was probably closed and Daniel, being so darned gracious had offered Davis a drink in his room. Perfectly reasonable. Perfectly harmless.

Did he hear the tinkling sound of ice cubes again? No, that couldn't be right. Daniel didn't drink much but when he did, he liked Scotch, neat. So only one set of ice cubes for Major Davis who takes his Scotch on the rocks and a Scotch neat for Dr. Jackson.

He could hear the voices again. He couldn't make out the words, not really, but he could easily discern Daniel's voice. After five years, he knew the particular cadence of Daniel's voice, the slight lilt, the way he raised it at the end of his sentences, making them sound almost, but not quite like questions. In contrast, Davis' voice was almost like white noise, a baritone buzzing underlying Daniel's part of the conversation, making Jack even more acutely aware of Daniel's presence, of his participation in the conversation. He strained his ears, trying to hear more, to make distinguish the individual words. He was sure he heard Daniel say 'Paul,' at least twice, and he thought he heard 'of course,' and perhaps 'other time,' but he couldn't be sure. He couldn't be sure of anything except that Daniel was in the bedroom next door, alone with Major Davis at one in the morning and why wasn't he leaving and going home for fuck's sake?!

More murmurs and soft whispers floating from the other side of the wall. He heard a laugh, deep and rich. Not Daniel then, Davis. Daniel didn't laugh like that, such a vibrant, throaty sound was completely out of character for the normally solemn archeologist. Another laugh, this one softer, almost a snort, as if the sound had been surprised out of an unsuspecting soul. Yes, that was Daniel's laugh, he knew it well, though he hadn't heard it in a long time. Such a long time. A pang of regret shot through him then. When had he last given Daniel a reason to laugh, made him feel secure enough in his presence to let his guard down and share a moment of warmth, of mirth? Jack realized he couldn't even remember, but it had been some time ago, many, many months, and the pang became a sharp, quelling ache in his gut.

With a start, Jack suddenly became aware that he was standing perhaps a foot from the wall separating the two rooms, though he couldn't remember getting up and moving. But he obviously had, hadn't he? Standing this close, the sounds were clearer he could almost hear snippets of the conversation. 'Daniel, you must...always have...' Davis, then. 'Yes...hardly ever...but then again...' Daniel. The voices lowered, then stopped and for one brief moment, Jack feared they had somehow become aware that their privacy had been breached, that even now an interloper was spying upon them. But then Jack dismissed the idea as the foolishness it clearly was. They couldn't know he was there, awake and listening in as avidly as a neighborhood gossip on the prowl for fresh scandal. And then a terrible realization struck: they were no longer talking because their mouths were otherwise engaged. Jack's heart began to pound in his chest so loudly it seemed to drown out all sound emanating from the other room, so loudly he was sure the other men could hear it as plainly as he could. He strained his ears once more, wanting, needing to hear what was happening next door, to gain some reassurance that he was jumping to conclusions here, that they had stopped talking because they were sipping their Scotch, or perhaps they had nothing to say to one another.

And then he heard it. A soft loan moan, and a breathy whispered 'Paul,' and Jack's heart stopped beating altogether. He knew that sound, remembered it vividly from their one passionate encounter, that night when they'd loved and been loved, that perfect night before it all went to hell. And now there were other sounds. Soft thuds as if of shoes being pushed off to land on the plush carpet, the creak of a mattress as weight was pressed down upon it with sudden force, the sound of a glass being knocked off the night table to land with a clink on the floor. But worst of all were the animate sounds, the moans and sighs and indistinct whispers, soft and low and terribly, achingly bittersweet.

Now he knew. There could be no doubt. He told himself he should move away, leave them some shred of privacy now that his last hopes had been irrevocably crushed. He told himself that he should step away and stop torturing himself, but he couldn't leave now, anymore than he could before when he first heard Daniel return. Some perverse impulse for self-flagellation pulled him even closer, until his heated body lay flat against the wall, his ear pressed to the cool painted plaster. The wall itself had ceased to be a barrier and had instead become an amplifier. Every sound was suddenly heightened, honed to a sharpness that could slash through flesh and bone. And God it was too much. He could hear the sounds and his mind mocked him further by comparing each and every one of those sounds with the ones lodged in his own memory from his night with Daniel. Each sound catalogued with a completeness and clarity that would have made any archivist proud.

And with those familiar sounds his treacherous mind provided the accompanying images as well. In his mind's eye, he could see Daniel laid out on the bed as fingers moved slowly down his chest. Visual memory was joined by sensory memory as Jack recalled how warm and silken Daniel's skin had been to the touch, how despite appearing completely smooth, his questing fingers had encountered soft fine hairs, so fair as to be almost invisible to the eye. He could see Daniel now gazing up with wondering eyes, dark and hazy with growing desire, a soft, shy smile creasing his lips, the slender fingers as they reached out the touch Jack's face, to card gently through his hair. He could see Daniel's eyes sliding closed as he was overcome by sensation, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks like the wings of a butterfly, as his lips parted and a gasping, shuddering breath was expelled. Jack could feel the warmth of that breath heating his skin, sending tingles of want down his spine. He listened as Daniel moaned, a sound so full of need and longing it reverberated through his own body, straight down to his cock. He watched as Daniel arched his neck in invitation, offering the pale flesh to hungry lips and inquisitive tongue. He remembered the smell and taste of Daniel's skin beneath his mouth, the clean, slightly woodsy scent of his soap mingled with the salt of sweat and the musk of arousal. His lips made a path along that neck down that seemingly smooth chest, moving with a determination fired by raw hunger down to Daniel's abdomen exploring the muscles of his belly that quaked and trembled at his ministrations, before laving his navel with his tongue. He remembered that that act had elicited a startled giggle from the younger man and Jack had made a point of categorizing that fact for later experimentation.

He remembered there had been a full moon that night and that light had filtered in through the curtains, silvering Daniel's body, transforming it into living alabaster, infinitely warm and pliable. In that one moment Jack was struck by how truly beautiful Daniel was. It was an ephemeral, fugitive beauty that would evaporate with the dawn, but at that moment in time, Jack knew nothing ever had been or ever could be more beautiful than Daniel bathed in moonlight.

Daniel was spread before him, like the main course at a banquet and Jack suddenly wanted all of him. Now. Jack moved across the younger man's body, feasting upon him, tasting, touching, reveling in this newly granted liberty to take and to have. Daniel was every bit as responsive as he could have wished, as he would have imagined had he allowed himself to indulge in such thoughts before now. His moans were louder now, punctuated with breathy sighs calling his name. Jack had leaned forward and traced his tongue along the protrusion of Daniel's pelvis, causing the younger man to buck upwards. Jack placed a hand on his hip, gentle, but firm, to hold him still. He could feel Daniel trembling as he desperately tried to school his enflamed body to stillness and Jack felt an obscure sense of pride that he was doing this to Daniel, making the usually composed man lose his control. It was an amazing sight to behold, to watch as Daniel lost the battle and gave himself over completely to sensation.

Jack blazed a trail with lips, tongue and teeth, grazing across Daniel's abdomen, down along his thighs. He was gratified to feel Daniel shift beneath him, spreading his legs to allow Jack better access. He explored the inner thighs, planting warm, wet kisses along the soft skin and Daniel bucked up once more, a plaintive moan escaping his lips. Jack moved upwards then to the rosy cock, standing at attention, hot and heavy, a bead of pre-cum poised on the tip. Jack looked down at the engorged flesh with a mix of wonder and anxiety. He had done this to Daniel, had aroused him to the point of being absolutely insensate with desire, but now that he had him there, he wasn't completely sure how to proceed. All he knew was that he needed this every bit as much as Daniel. Though he had no experience of being on the giving end of things, he had been the recipient many times. He knew what he liked, so all he needed to do was try and replicate that experience. Well, there was only one way to be sure.

Jack leaned forward and slowly drew his tongue along the length of Daniel's cock. The sensation was...interesting. The flesh was warm and velvety and it tasted of salt. The response from Daniel, however, was anything but equivocal. He groaned-loudly-and his hands fisted in the sheets, twisting the cotton in his white knuckled grip. Jack repeated the motion, this time drawing his tongue down from head to base, receiving the same enthusiastic response. He drew his tongue upwards again, this time letting it slide across the weeping tip, tasting the fluid there. Salty and slightly bitter, but not unpleasant. No, not unpleasant at all. He let his tongue delve into the slit, seeking out this new and intriguing taste. By now, Daniel was writhing and moaning almost constantly, his gasping breaths adding a staccato counterpoint. Jack took this as a ringing endorsement of his previous actions and decided to crank things up a notch. He slipped the cock into his mouth, pulling it into the warm, wet cavern. He couldn't get all of it in, of course; this was still very new and despite his enthusiasm for this new skill, Jack understood he was poised on the brink of a very steep learning curve. But he was determined to do his best. He pulled his mouth away and then slid it back down, striving to establish a rhythm that worked for both of them. Daniel's head was moving, thrashing back and forth on the pillow, and his earlier moans were joined by whimpers and desperate, gasped pleas. He heard his own name several times, intermingled with pants of 'yes,' 'more,' and 'please,' and even a 'dear God, yes.' He quickened the pace.

He knew Daniel was close now, so close to the edge. Jack, to his own astonishment, felt himself moving there as well. The sight of Daniel's surrender to pleasure was so erotic, so intoxicating that Jack realized he was about to explode himself. With one hand still pressing down on Daniel's hip he slid the other one down until it was grasped firmly around his own cock. He began to move his hand up and down, mirroring the rhythm and speed of his mouth's movement on Daniel's cock. It was good. No, better than good; it was fucking incredible. He was so close now, they both were, so he sped up the pace, needing to get there, unable to bear the fierce build up any longer. He was now as lost as Daniel. The entire world had compressed inward until nothing existed beyond the feel of his cock in his hand, the taste of Daniel within his mouth and the sound of his moans in Jack's ears. He was pure sensation, lust incarnate as the heat swelled within him. Suddenly he felt himself coming, his seed spilling hot and slippery across his hand. Even as his body began to spasm, he felt Daniel reach his own climax, his cream shooting down Jack's throat. As he tried to swallow, he heard Daniel cry out in exultation...

"Paul!"

And the taste of cum and triumph turned to bitter ash in his mouth.

Jack came back to himself to find he was no longer in the bedroom bathed in moonlight with Daniel's sweat slickened, sated body beneath him. No, he was here, in a lonely hotel room, leaning slumped against a plaster wall, his own cum sticky and rapidly cooling along his thighs and his boxers as he listened to the sound of Daniel lost in his own arousal and orgasm. An orgasm given to him by someone else. It was a sound that had been haunting Jack's dreams as memory replayed what he had had and had then carelessly, stupidly thrown away. But now that sound meant something else, meant someone else. Daniel had moved on and Jack was left behind with only the bittersweet memory to keep him company.

Jack flung himself away from the wall, staggering across the room. As he passed, he flipped the light switch off and moved wearily into the chilled and empty bedroom. There could be no denying any longer: Daniel had moved on and now Jack had no choice but to do the same.