Rating: R/NC-17, slash, Jack/Daniel, drama, angst

Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for "Fallen" and "Homecoming," minor spoilers for "Need," "The Light," and no doubt lots of other stuff.

Summary: Memory is a curious thing.

Notes | Disclaimer

His name is Daniel.

At least, that is what he has been told by these people in whose company he now finds himself. He repeatedly rolls the name around in his mind, silently formulating the individual sounds of which it is composed. The name feels…odd, like an ill-fitting garment, simultaneously constraining and amorphous. The name is a bit like the clothing they have given him to wear; he decides. It doesn´t seem to fit properly either. The fabric stretches uncomfortably across his shoulders while the cuffs hang loosely over his hands until he rolls them up past the knobs of his wrist and out of the way. It´s a strange garment with unfamiliar fastenings—a zipper; that was what they called it—and a strange vaguely chemical odor that clings to the fibers and turns them stiff and scratchy to the touch. Even the color, a dull grayish-green is unappealing. He remembers the robes he wore on Vis Uban, dyed in vibrant shades of indigo and lapis, sky and sea and deepest twilight. He remembers other robes, dun colored and coarsely woven, designed to protect against scorching heat by day and the sharp chill of night. He doesn´t know why he remembers them, but the thought of them is oddly soothing so he clings to it even as he wishes he knew the import of it.

On Vis Uban, he´d had another name, just as he´d had other garments. Shamda, the clan leader had dubbed him Arum, a sly yet eminently practical acknowledgement of the state in which they had found him. As he walks along the gray, featureless hallways of this place he has been told is his home, he thinks that that name suits him better than the one to which he was born. He feels every bit as naked as he did when he awoke near the abandoned ruins, unclothed and shivering, his hands scrabbling at the earth beneath him in confusion. Eyes study him constantly as he walks past. Everyone knows more about him than he does himself, and he feels exposed, as if he´d been cracked open and laid bare to all of them. The utilitarian garment he wears may cover his body from probing eyes, but in all ways that truly matter he remains vulnerable.

At least the eyes that follow him are not hostile. Indeed, he is more than a little startled by the warmth of the gazes that greet him and the kind words murmured at his passage. Daniel was well liked and much missed, that much is clear, even if he himself doesn´t remember being that person, just as he doesn´t know these people who wish him well and welcome him back with smiles and nods and the occasional fleeting touch on his shoulder or arm.

He casts a considering look at the man walking at his side, with his eyes forward and his lips drawn into a thin line. Jim…no Jack, he said his name was Jack. Jack had seemed vaguely wounded that he didn´t remember him, but he didn´t remember anyone from this other life. He´d explained that to Jack who had nodded his head, his face a cool mask though he was sure he saw some other emotion flare briefly in Jack´s eyes only to vanish just as quickly. Jack didn´t like feeling exposed either. He frowns briefly and wonders if that insight stems from observation or from the untapped well of memory. He looks at Jack again, at the sharp profile and weathered face. He sees the creases that surround Jack´s eyes, the tracery of lines carved into his flesh by time and care, like the glyphs inscribed along the surface of the ruins on Vis Uban.

From the start, he´d been drawn to that place. Initially, he had assumed it was because the ruins were his beginning place, at least for this new life. But as the days passed, instead of waning his fascination only grew. He would spend hours studying the strange script, compelled by some obscure impulse that he couldn´t even begin to grasp. He´d asked Shamda about the ruins, but the old man had only shrugged. They were nomads, Shamda had explained; they knew nothing of this place, its history or its languages. Shamda could provide no answers for the questions that plagued him. So he had returned to the ruins whenever he could to stare at the strange script, the urge to know, to understand as powerful as the urge to remember. He wondered at times if they weren´t in fact, one in the same.

Now when he looks at Jack he feels that same…teasing sensation, that same urge to know and understand. And remember. Jack´s face is like the ruins, weathered and worn and inscrutable to the uninitiated. He sees the spider web of lines around Jack´s eyes, the crease in his forehead, the scar that bisects his left eyebrow, and he knows that they tell a story, or could if only he knew how to decipher those signs.  He has the fleeting impression that there had been a time when he could read Jack, that he had understood the subtle, covert language conveyed by his economical gestures, the lift of his brow and the quirk of his lips. He feels oddly bereft by the realization, this loss of something he can´t even remember, just one imperfect memory among countless of thousands of others.

[][][]

His name is Daniel, so he practices using it in his head in the hope that repetition it will make it settle more comfortably upon him, much like a garment that has softened and faded through repeated laundering.

Daniel is his name but it is not the only one that he has been given. He is Daniel Jackson and Dr. Jackson as well. One of the men he had passed in the hallway had smiled and called him ‘Dr. J," a diminutive, indicating familiarity. The older, balding man that Jack had identified as General Hammond had called him ‘son,´ even though Daniel was fairly certain that this man was not his father. A term of affection, then.

Shamda´s people did not have multiple names, but this seemed to be the custom in this place. He knows, for instance, that the man who calls himself Jack is also Jack O´Neill or Colonel O´Neill; familial name preceded by designation of rank. It is the same with the small woman with hair like burnished copper and warm brown eyes. He sits on a table in this place they call an infirmary. There is paper on the table and it crinkles every time he shifts nervously from side to side. He clutches at the edge of the table to still his motion.

The woman smiles at him and her voice is soft as she flashes a light in his eyes that makes him start and blink. She introduces herself as Doctor Frasier--family name preceded by professional title, rather than designation of rank—Jack, however, calls her ‘Doc´ while Sam, the blond woman with the pensive eyes calls her ‘Janet.´ Diminutive. Given name.

‘Napoleonic power monger.´

Those words float through his mind, but he doesn´t know what they mean, nor does he has a context in which to fit them. He frowns but is distracted once more by the woman as she takes his wrist and cradles it lightly in her hand, her fingers resting against the tracery of veins that collect there. She holds very still for a time then nods and says that everything is fine.

Daniel nods because that seems to be the correct response.

Jack is hovering nearby, his hands thrust deep inside his pockets as he rocks back and forth on his heels. He is impatient, Daniel knows, and is fighting hard against the urge to fidget and begin picking things up to occupy his hands and distract his restless mind. Doctor Frasier has already chastised him once for fiddling with some implement on the tray near the examination table and it is clear that Jack does not want to risk the wrath of this woman who must be far more formidable than her diminutive size would suggest.

Doctor Frasier turns to Jack and informs him that Daniel is in perfect health with one small exception. She presses something into his hand. It is smooth and cool to the touch and he blinks, confused for a moment before realization dawns. He gently unfolds the bits of metal then slides the odd device across his eyes. Like a gauzy curtain being pulled aside, the world suddenly snaps into a brilliant focus that he hadn´t even known enough to miss.

Jack is gazing at him expectantly and Daniel can almost see the tightly coiled tension of his body beneath the shapeless, muted clothing that he wears.

“You recognize me now?" he asks and Daniel studies him, his brown creasing with a frown.

“Has your hair always been that way?" he asks, though he doesn´t know why.

“What way?"

“Never mind."

It´s a curious exchange and they are both left frustrated and disappointed by Daniel´s imperfect memory. Daniel wants to know who he was, what he meant to these people, but still he´s afraid. He doesn´t know why he´s so afraid. The woman, Sam, had said that he was a good man, a caring man, and certainly the warmth with which he had been greeted upon his return would seem to support her words. But the doubts lingered, nonetheless.

Jack walks him through the hallways of this place, each one as drab and unremarkable as the one that preceded it. People moved past them dressed in their gray-green clothing, the occasional white coat the only variation and Daniel wonders if everything in this world is as dull and colorless as this place. He hopes not.

Jack ushers him into a small room and for the first time Daniel sees variation. There are curious objects scattered around the room that seem to bear no connection beyond their current physical proximity, He crosses the room and picks up a few of them at random, turning them over in his hands, feeling the smoothness of burnished wood and the texture of rough hewn stone beneath inquisitive fingertips. Jack informs him that these are his belongings and Daniel realizes he is surprised and touched by the thought that these people cared enough to keep his possessions even though they believed him to be gone. When he queries Jack, the other man shifts uncomfortably and his eyes skitter away. Jack´s response is cavalier, almost dismissive, but there is a roughness in his voice and a flicker of emotion in his eyes when they meet Daniel´s once more that tells Daniel that the words are a sham. Daniel knows that Jack hates to be pressed, or at least he *thinks* he hates it, so Daniel lets the comment pass unremarked.

Daniel continues his circuit around the room, his eyes scanning cherished possessions that held no memory or meaning before they fell upon an image of a woman sitting upon the small table next to the bed. He picks up the image, cradling it gently in his hands and studies her features. She is lovely, he thinks, whoever she is.

“I know her," he says, the words carried along with an exhalation of breath.

“Really?" Jack seems. . .pleased and yet there is something else buried in his eyes and in his voice. Daniel wishes he remembered enough to know what it was.

“I mean, I must, right?"

Jack´s shoulders slump and some of the tension seems to leave his body. “Yeah."

Daniel looks at the image again and frowns. “Who is she? What´s her name?"

“You tell me," is all Jack says before he exits the room and closes the door behind him, leaving Daniel alone in a room full of someone else´s memories.

[][][]

Memory is a curious thing, Daniel decides. In the beginning he had though that perhaps it was like a skein of thread, that it would unwind in some logical fashion and that each memory would bring with it others that were closely related to it. Instead, he found it to be utterly and bewilderingly random, behaving more like leaves that would wither and fall at odd intervals, littering the ground in unrecognizable patterns, the fragments of his life scattered at his feet. As each memory shook itself free, Daniel would cling to it and concentrate with all his might in the hopes that others would break free as well, but it remained a frustrating and largely ineffectual exercise.

Sometimes the memories were visual, like snapshots pulled from a scrapbook. He remembered sunlight dancing on the surface of a body of water. It was late afternoon and the sun was slowly descending, the spectrum shifting so that the light turned cast everything in shades of red and gold. Daniel knew this was a memory, but he couldn´t remember where or when it was from. It wasn´t until two days later that he remembered that it had been from a summer vacation when he was eleven years old when his then foster parents the Whitfields had taken him and their two children to the Jersey shore and Mr. Whitfield had taken great care teaching Daniel how to swim and to fish. It wasn´t until thirteen hours later that he remembered that Mrs. Whitfield had been diagnosed with breast cancer just three weeks later and that she had died after a short and ultimately futile battle against her illness. Mr. Whitfield had never been the same afterwards and Daniel had been moved to another foster home before the end of the year. He wondered if Mr. Whitfield were still alive and wondered if he had even known before he lost his memory.

Other memories were fragments of sound: the scrape of chalk against a board, the sound of a clock chiming, the snuffling noises of domestic beasts as they settled in for the night, the sound of laughter, sometimes boisterous, sometimes muted and wry, voices speaking in strange languages. He recognized some of them, or he believed that he might have, but the words themselves seem to scatter even as he reaches for them, dried leaves swept along by an errant breeze.

He still remembers the exuberance that accompanied the reemergence of his first conscious memory,.

“Sha´re." He´d heard the word so clearly, the soft, breathy sound of the first syllable, the slight inflection upon the second, that he almost thought that he´d said it aloud. He looked at the picture, the image of the woman, her face framed by a cloud of dark curls, her eyes warm and melting, and he knew that it was her name.

Sha´re, daughter of Kasuf.

His exuberance was such that he sped from the room, badly startling the guard who was stationed outside his door. He was not a prisoner, per se, Jack had explained, but there was a matter of base security that must be protected at all costs. Daniel had voiced his understanding, though in truth he didn´t understand at all, because Jack had looked so pained by the situation and Daniel felt uncomfortable on his behalf. So the guard followed Daniel wherever he went and Daniel didn´t protest. This time Daniel was too euphoric to even notice.

Daniel´s first impulse was to find Jack and tell him of his breakthrough. For reasons he couldn´t begin to understand he knew that Jack was the person with whom he would want to share this momentous news. But it was late—or early, depending on one´s point of view—and Jack wasn´t there. Daniel frowned, more disappointed than he could say before he remembered something else. Teal´c. Teal´c lived here on base. He would still be there, despite the late hour. Daniel had stopped so suddenly that the guard who had been racing to catch up with his charge almost collided with him. He had looked decidedly bemused when Daniel asked for directions to Teal´c´s quarters, but he had obliged after only the briefest of pauses. Daniel had thanked him before haring off once again, the hapless guard on his heels.

Teal´c´s quarters had been dim, the air redolent with the scent of beeswax and the earthier smell of incense. Teal´c had been seated within a ring of candles, their light tipping him in copper. Daniel had hesitated, suddenly awkward as he realized he was intruding. Teal´c, however, hadn´t been perturbed, had instead welcomed Daniel into his quarters with an inbred graciousness. Rising up, he´d seated himself on the bed that was as neat and precise as the other man´s movements. Daniel had dropped himself into a chair and held up the photograph for Teal´c´s perusal.

“Her name is Sha´re," he´d announced proudly.

“Yes."

Daniel had beamed, almost giddy at this confirmation. “No one told me that. I remembered that by myself. I dreamed about her and when I woke up, I knew her name."

Teal´c inclined his head. “That is good news, Daniel Jackson."
"Yeah, it's the first time I've believed I might have a chance. You know? If I can remember a name, then...there's a chance it's all in there somewhere, right?"
“Indeed."

“So...so where is she?" Daniel had asked.

Teal´c, Daniel had already come to realize, was not an emotionally effusive man. He spoke only rarely, and then with purpose, and he held himself to an almost preternatural stillness, his body and facial expressions restrained, dignified, grave. The transformation in Teal´c´s expression was a subtle one, but there could be no mistaking its meaning. His shoulders had tensed visibly, his jaw had clenched and there was such pain reflected in his eyes that it made Daniel ache for him. For a brief moment, another image overlaid itself across Teal´c´s features, of Teal´c rife with grief and regret as he knelt before Daniel, a staff weapon clutched in his hand and gazed with solemn eyes upon the stilled form of a woman dressed in fine robes, her face obscured by a wealth of dark hair.

“I am sorry, Daniel Jackson."

Daniel blinked and the image disappeared leaving behind Teal´c´s stoic mask, cracking and bleeding beneath Daniel´s gaze.

“She´s dead," he had said, knowing it to be the truth.

Teal´c had nodded.

“I loved her very much." He had known this to be truth as well even if he couldn´t remember the particulars. A pang of grief had shot straight through him then, as sharp as the blade of a knife. His fists had clenched where they rested in his thighs as he´d fought for control as he waited for the pain to settle and spread and sink into his bones. For a moment he had felt a wave of bitter resentment bordering on rage for the way his memories had been stripped from him leaving him bare and bereft without even the comfort of the sorrow laden memory of having once loved so fiercely.

Teal´c had tried to soothe him, to rationalize the loss. The anger abated somewhat; the grief not at all.

“Tell me about this Anubis. Why did I break the rules to fight him?"

“Do you not believe it wise to remember on your own accord?" Teal´c had asked, a rare note of uncertainty underscoring his voice.

“No. I need to know why this is happening to me."

Teal´c had nodded again and had acceded to his wish without further protest. Daniel hadn´t known whether he had done so in recognition of the wisdom of Daniel´s logic, or from some obscure need to make amends for past wrongs. Perhaps he had agreed simply out of friendship, because Daniel had asked it of him. Daniel had wished he remembered enough to know. Daniel had left Teal´c´s quarters with some of the answers he´d sought and with other questions hammering at his mind.

The memories had come more quickly after that, though they remained fragmentary and erratic. There was no sense of continuity to them, no chronology to speak of. The memory of a lecture he´d once attended on comparative mythology was followed by the memory of the little gecko lizard he´d had as a childhood pet, which in turn was followed by the memory helping Sam paint her living room. Such minor, inconsequential things, yet they were pieces of his past and he remained incomplete without them. He cherished them all.

Some of his returning memories were far less pleasant. He had expected that, of course. He´d gleaned oblique hints from his erstwhile teammates of things better left to blissful oblivion. Unfortunately, he had no choice in the matter. Once the floodgates had been opened, everything came streaming forth the bad memories along with the good. When they struck, they did so with a suddenness and a force that felt almost like a physical blow. He remembered dying not once but several times over. He remembered the phantom pain of a staff weapon blast as it sizzled in his chest, in his belly, across his arm, leaving him weak kneed and gasping for air; he remembered the Goa´uld hand device as it pierced his skull like a white hot needle forced between his eyes; he remembered the liquid fire of a pain stick racing along his nerve endings making them explode with agony. So much pain, his body resonated with it like a tuning fork that had been struck.

But for all the pain, there were good memories as well. He was half surprised at how many of those memories revolved around Jack. Some of those were painful but they didn´t carry the sharp ache he might have expected as if somehow Jack himself leavened them and made them more bearable. Instead of pain, there is a sense of…longing is the only word that Daniel can think of to describe the sensation that accompanies those memories. The memory of Jack is strangely soothing.

He looks at Jack seated across the table of the briefing room. Daniel calls him Jim, expecting him to smile. He and Jack often teased one another, he remembers with a touch of fondness. Daniel is surprised when Jack gazed back at him with a wounded look in his eyes. Daniel frowns, wondering if he misremembered, if he wasn´t supposed to tease like this. His gaze skitters to Sam who is seated to Jack´s left and watches as she smothers a grin behind her hand. He looks back at Jack and sees the flash of wounded pride before Jack composes his features to a familiar expression of studied insouciance.

Not for the first time, Daniel wishes he could remember how to read Jack.

[][][]

Daniel stares at the Stargate and watches as it shuts down. The embarkation room seems disconcertingly silent in the aftermath, its walls dull and lifeless now that they are no longer bathed in the flickering blue light of the event horizon. Jonas Quinn is gone now, returned to his home world. Daniel tells himself that he is needed there, that Jonas will provide a much-needed voice of reason to mediate the inevitable political squabbles between his world´s leaders. They´re luck to have him, but Daniel is a little sorry to see him leave, sorry that he won´t have the chance to get to know the man who had taken Daniel´s place during his absence. Daniel had wanted to ask Jonas how he had managed to fit in; he suspected that he might need some tips on that particular art.

“You all right?"

Daniel turns to see Jack standing at the base of the ramp looking up at him with an inscrutable expression that would have made Teal´c proud.

“Yeah."
“Well, dinner's at 7:00. Don't be late. Teal'c gets a little cranky when his blood sugar gets low."
Daniel smiles, recognizing the joke. “Jack…"
“Yeah?"
It's not that I mind...rejoining SG-1 and exploring the galaxy, meeting new cultures, jeopardy, saving the world, that kind of thing ..." Daniel explains. “We get paid for this, right?"
Jack smiles and nods. He slides his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “Welcome back," is all Jack says before he heads out of the gate room.

Daniel turns back to look at the gate, so silent and immutable as it towers over him. Gateway to other worlds it might be, but it doesn´t hold the answers he is looking for.

Sam and Teal´c are waiting for him outside the locker room. Jack had managed to find some civilian clothes for him, a pair of jeans, a button down shirt and a jacket. They fit surprisingly well, much better than he would have anticipated had they belonged to Jack. Daniel knows he´ll have to go shopping for new clothing soon. And not just clothing, a new place to live, a car and all the other things that he´d need to settle into his life again. He´d done this once before and he remembered enough to recall that it hadn´t been a pleasant experience. At least this time he hadn´t been declared dead, just missing in action, so that would cut down on the paperwork, or so he hoped.

Sam smiles at him as he exits the locker room and folds him into a gentle hug. She´s been doing that a lot lately. So have Jack and Teal´c. He decides that they just need to reassure themselves that he´s alive and all right. Daniel decides that he doesn´t really mind.

Sam drives them to Jack´s house. Although Sam´s BMW was designed to seat four, it is cramped with the three of them and poor Teal´c looks uncomfortable in the front seat, his legs folded almost to his chest. Still, he doesn´t complain; Teal´c never complains. At least Daniel can half-sprawl along the back seat. Jack´s truck is far more comfortable, even if it can only seat three.

Jack greets them at the door, a beer bottle hanging loosely between his fingers. Jack doesn´t stand on formality, just ushers them inside. Sam grabs all their coats to hang them in the hall closet while Teal´c wanders into the kitchen. Daniel walks farther in to the living room and studies the furnishings to see if his memory of the place matches the reality. It does, more or less. The chair in the corner is new, he thinks, as is the throw that hands over the back of the sofa.

He wanders farther in and goes over to the mantle, his eyes scanning the pictures that sit there lined up with neat military precision. There´s a new picture of Cassie looking very grown up in dress a pale blue dress. She smiles at the camera as does the handsome young man standing behind her. Daniel notices the corsage on her wrist; some kind of high school formal, then. The other pictures are familiar; a picture of General Hammond and his granddaughters, the picture of Sara and Charlie, its colors beginning to fade slightly. And of course there are pictures of them taken at birthdays and Christmas parties and barbeques over the years. Daniel picks up one of the pictures and smiles wryly at his younger self, almost cringing at the long floppy hair. Cutting it had been one of the more sensible things he´d done in recent years. They´d all changed since then, of course, and it was more than a little shocking to see the Jack of five—or was it six?—years ago sporting a full head of brown hair. The gray had come later though Daniel didn´t buy Jack´s argument that it was solely due to Daniel. Besides, he rather thought that it made Jack appear distinguished and he knew he wasn´t alone in that opinion.

“Daniel?"

He turns at the sound of his name, the picture still cradled in his hands. Jack is watching him through narrowed eyes, his expression bland.

“Hmm?"

“Do you want a beer?"

“Sure," he replies as he replaces the picture on the mantle and takes the beer from Jack´s outstretched hand. Apparently the question had been largely rhetorical. Daniel raises the beer in salute and takes a cautious sip. It´s better than he remembers and he peers at the label. When he looks back at Jack, the other man appears oddly abashed.

“I remember how much you always complained about my beer so I stocked up on some from that microbrewery in the Springs."

Daniel nods. He remembers, too.

“Thanks."

He follows Jack back into the kitchen where Teal´c and Sam have already been pressed into service. Sam chops vegetables while Teal´c oversees the pots bubbling away on the stove. The food smells wonderful, but it´s the company that draws him in. He remembers team nights at Jack´s house, or less frequently at Sam´s or his own place. He remembers the easy camaraderie and the laughter, the long lazy nights spent in Jack´s kitchen or sitting on Jack´s deck, watching as the stars came out, or in the living room watching cheesy movies or playing stupid board games. Jack didn´t really have the patience for board games and he didn´t enjoy losing, especially when Daniel always won Scrabble and Sam always won Trivial Pursuit and Teal´c, of all people, always won Monopoly. Who would ever have imagined that a Jaffa from another world would have made such a fine Capitalist? At least Jack´s reputation as the Gin Rummy champion of the SGC remained unscathed.

It had never really mattered what they did, just so long as they were together, all four of them.
  
Dinner is nothing fancy, just spaghetti marinara, garlic bread and salad, but it tastes every bit as good as it smells. Daniel asks for seconds and his teammates seem inordinately pleased. He doesn´t comment upon it, just smiles and hands his plate to Jack who serves him with a flourish that brings a smile to Daniel´s lips.

There are no movies tonight, so instead they settle in Jack´s living room and just talk. There is classical music playing on Jack´s stereo. Daniel doesn´t recognize the composer, but knows Jack does. That´s good enough for him. Eventually the hour grows late and Sam suggests that it´s time to head home. She rises, as does Teal´c and on an impulse Daniel offers to stay and help Jack clean up. He remembers that he´d done that many times in the past and no one it odd. He stands as well so that Sam can hug him goodnight. He hugs her back and breathes in the comforting, familiar smell of her shampoo, something citrusy and clean. She releases him at last, but seems reluctant to let him go. Her hand lingers on his arm and she leans in and kisses his cheek before she pulls away. Teal´c lays his hand on Daniel´s shoulder and nods, the ghost of a smile tracing his lips. They offer their farewells to Jack and then they are gone.

Jack heaves himself out of his chair and pads to the kitchen. Daniel follows without a word. There isn´t much to clean up. The food has already been put in containers and placed in the fridge, the table has been cleared, the plates scraped clean. Jack washes the dishes and Daniel takes station next to him to dry. They stand close together, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. They work silently with the kind of effortless efficiency that comes from years of familiarity. Daniel should be surprised how easy this is, how natural, but he´s not. This synchronicity with Jack is as spontaneous and inevitable as breathing and he carries the memory of it in his bones and sinews and the flex and pull of muscle.

Another stray memory floats to the surface, he and Jack, armed with sledgehammers as they pounded at a steam valve, trying to release the pressure. Except he hadn´t Daniel, and Jack hadn´t been Jack. But Carlin and Jonah had known what to do; had fallen into that same unconscious harmony, as if it was second nature, which, he supposed it was.

“Daniel?"

Jack is holding plate and looking at Daniel an unspoken question in his eyes. Daniel shakes his head and smiles.

“Another memory."

“Oh." Jack pauses. “A good one?"

Daniel nods, taking the plate and drying it with the dishtowel. “Yeah."

Jack nods and returns to his task, as does Daniel, picking up the rhythm without hesitation. It doesn´t take long for them to finish and Daniel leans against the counter and watches as Jack shuts off the faucet and tosses the sponge into the sink. Jack gives him a nod and crosses to the refrigerator.

“You want another beer?"

Daniel nods; he doesn´t, not really, but it feels comfortable and familiar to accept, so he does. Jack retrieves two beers and closes the door with his hip. He deftly pops off the caps and hands one to Daniel. Daniel clinks his bottle to Jack´s in a mock toast. Jack smiles at the gesture.

They head into the living room and sit together on the couch. Jack toes off his shoes and stretches his legs out on the coffee table in front of him before he grabs the remote and the television flares to life. Daniel echoes Jack´s movements, wriggling his toes in relief. He remembers the feel of heavy boots, but his body still balks at the constraint.

They sit close together, their legs perfectly aligned and almost touching. They don´t talk as Jack flips through the channels, restless. Daniel doesn´t look the screen, he studies Jack´s profile instead, watching as the flickering colors cast by the television wash over his features, animating them despite their stillness. Another memory breaks loose: a Goa´uld pleasure palace, a cascade of multicolored light washing over Jack.

Daniel shakes his head. He´s not sure he wants to relive that memory, to remember another of his deaths. In truth, he didn´t recall much of that particular passing, though it was by all accounts less painful than all the others, well, apart from the suicidal despair that had led him to the ledge of an eighth story balcony. Then he had fallen into a coma and had just started slipping quietly away. All in all, a fairly peaceful way to die. Except he hadn´t died; Jack hadn´t let him. Jack had pulled him back from the edge of his balcony and then he´d pulled him back from the edge of death as well.

He remembers Jack´s hand on his arm, his fingers digging sharply into the muscle as Jack held him steady. He remembers Jack´s voice, low and calm and the thread of desperation and fear that Jack, cool composed Jack, had not been entirely able to suppress. He remembers Jack holding him, his ram pulling Daniel back to press against Jack´s chest, Jack´s ragged breath warm against his neck as he dragged Daniel´s suddenly unresponsive body over the railing. He remembers the flash of fear in Jack´s eyes and the soft soothing words as Jack lowered him to the terrace and called for help.

Jack had refused to let him die, so Daniel had no choice but to live.

“Daniel?"

Daniel blinks, shaking off the reverie. Jack is frowning, his eyebrows knit, and there is no mistaking the concern in his eyes. He wonders how long he´d been distracted to alarm Jack so.

“Sorry," he says and lowers his head, abashed.

“Another memory?"

He nods.

“Good or bad?"

“Both."

“Oh?"

Daniel can hear the other questions carried in that single syllable and in Jack´s tone. Jack had always been a man of few words, but he was remarkably eloquent and expressive with the ones he used and that one word held all the import of a grand soliloquy.

Daniel looks up and looks Jack in the eye. “You wouldn´t let me die."

It´s Jack´s turn to look uncomfortable “When?" he asks cautiously. Daniel isn´t sure if the wariness is directed at Daniel or himself.

Every time, he thinks and realizes it to be true. Every time Jack had been there to pull him back from the edge. The balcony, a deserted storeroom, an infirmary bed, Jack had always been there. Only once had he left Daniel behind and that had cost Jack dearly. He remembers the look of raw agony in Jack´s eyes and even now can feel the ghost of Jack´s hand cradling his face with a tenderness that few would have ever expected and even fewer had experienced.

“When I was on the balcony. I don´t remember much, but I remember you were there and that you pulled me back. Everyone in SG-9, everyone who had been on the planet died. But I didn´t because you wouldn´t let me. I don´t know if I ever even thanked you for that.

Jack shrugs. “No biggie," he says. His tone light and he waves his hand in a dismissive gesture, but for a moment Daniel reads something else entirely in his eyes. It´s no small matter to Jack; it never was.

On impulse, Daniel reaches up and gently lays his hand against Jack´s cheek. The skin is warm and rough against his palm, weathered by the elements and time and dusted with the faint regrowth of beard.

“Daniel?"

Another word rife with questions. Words are Daniel´s forte. They have always been his instruments, his weapons, his defense. But now he puts them aside now. He leans in and kisses Jack.

The kiss is discreet, the barest brush of dry lips. Daniel lingers for a moment then pulls back and looks at Jack.

Jack looks stunned. The frown is back, his brow furrowing and his eyes narrowing as he returns Daniel´s gaze.

“Daniel?"

“I remember."

Jack shakes his head. “We never…"

“We should have."

“Daniel…" There is a hint of warning in Jack´s voice. He places a hand against Daniel´s chest to stay his forward motion when he would have leaned forward to kiss him again.

“How long are you willing to wait, Jack?"

“We can´t."

“Why not?"

“You know why. We can´t risk it."

Daniel sighs, exasperated. “This isn´t a risk, Jack, not compared to what we do every day. I´m tired of waiting Jack and I´m tired of dying and coming back to life and finding an empty house and an empty bed. One of these days one of us will die for good and this is one regret I don´t want to carry with me to my grave."

Jack´s face is shadowed, inscrutable. He had always been good at reading Jack, but Jack has a lifetime of practice at subterfuge. His eyes study Jack´s face, tracing the lines and the faint silvery scars, looking for clues to decipher, for some key to translate Jack´s unreadable expression. Finding none, Daniel does the only thing he can think off: he acts.

This time when he tries to kiss Jack, he meets no resistance. He´s vaguely surprised with the ease with which Jack acquiesced, but this isn´t the time or the place to question. The kiss is gentle as Daniel´s press lightly against Jack´s own, half expecting Jack to pull away. Jack doesn´t pull away; instead he leans forward in the kiss and his hand steals around Daniel´s neck to hold him steady as he deepens the kiss. Daniel surrenders to it without hesitation.

The kiss itself is a little awkward in the way first kisses tend to be. Noses bump, teeth clash, but they manage to fit themselves together properly in relatively short order. Daniel remembers dreaming of this, of the pressure of Jack´s lips on his own and decides the reality is infinitely more pleasurable despite the tentativeness. Daniel´s arms slip around Jack, pulling him closer and Jack responds in kind. Jack is hard and lean and strong. Daniel can feel the shift of muscles and the jut of bones as he slides his hands dawn Jack´s back and up along his sides. Daniel wants to touch skin, but he´s reluctant to push Jack too hard or too fast for fear that common sense and military discipline will intrude upon the proceedings.

Jack leans forward again and the weight of his body bears Daniel down to the sofa. He offers no protest as Jack settles above him and looks down at him beneath hooded eyes. Daniel smiles then reaches up and pulls Jack into a searing kiss, gentleness and shy exploration pushed aside in favor of rising need. Jack´s response is every bit as ardent as Daniel could have hoped. Daniel pulls Jack´s shirt up, bunching it beneath Jack´s arms before Jack gets the hint and rises just far enough to allow Daniel to slide it up and off his arms and toss it aside. His hands roam freely upon exposed skin and trace the knobs of Jack´s spine one by one.

Jack´s own hands begin to fumble clumsily with the buttons of Daniel´s shirt, a low growl of frustration escaping between suddenly clenched teeth. Jack abandons finesse and tears the shirt and Daniel is dimly aware of the soft tinkling sound of buttons as they hit the floor. Daniel doesn´t care. A shirt is a small price to pay for the feel of Jack´s hands upon him. They´re skillful hands, strong and deft and they move across Daniel´s body with a thrilling mixture of confidence and reverence. Daniel gasps as Jack rolls one nipple between his fingers and then the other. Jack chuckles then gasps in turn as Daniel bites his neck, nipping lightly at the skin before soothing it with a swipe of his tongue.

Jack kisses him again, long and deep, his tongue sliding and slipping hungrily inside Daniel´s mouth. Heat simmers beneath his skin and begins to pool in his groin, his dick rising and straining against the confines of his pants. He pushes up to grind against Jack, Jack moans at the contact.

Daniel begins to tug at Jack´s belt. He wants Jack naked, wants all of him so badly he can almost taste it. He moans in frustration as Jack pulls away and for one moment he´s afraid that Jack has changed his mind. He needn´t have worried. Jack sits up just enough to unbuckle his belt and open the fly of his trousers, pushing them down past his hips to puddle around his knees.

Daniel rises up on his elbows to watch and he smiles at the sight of Jack´s cock, hard and swollen, the head a dark, angry red. Jack´s smile as he looks down at Daniel is feral before he shifts back just enough to unbutton and unzip Daniel´s jeans. Daniel retains enough presence of mind to raise his hips so that Jack can push them out of the way. Daniel pulls him back into another energetic kiss and Jack surrenders to it.

There´s no room to maneuver on the sofa and their trousers get in the way, but they make do. Daniel spreads his legs as best as he can so that Jack can settle between them. He moans at the delicious sensation of Jack´s dick, heavy and hot against Daniel´s own. Daniel grinds against Jack, seeking further contact and Jack obliges him by pressing down in response. There is no finesse, no grace, just an urgent hunger building between them. Their bodies are slick with sweat and the slip and glide against one another as they grind and press and trade furious kisses back and forth.

Jack´s body pushes Daniel deeper into the cushions of the sofa and Daniel warps his arms tightly around Jack´s back, pulling him closer. Their bodies move together, point and counterpoint, rise and fall, in perfect synchronous motion. They move and press and undulate until the rhythm falters, replaced by a blind need that pushes them on, urgent and heedless until they collapse against one another gasping and spent.

Jack is sprawled across Daniel, his breathing harsh and ragged in Daniel´s ear. Daniel isn´t in any better condition. He gasps, drawing breath back into his lungs while his heart pounds like a trip hammer in his chest. He´s exhausted and trembling and suffused with a sense of contentment that seems to flow through his veins like his own life´s blood. It´s the most glorious sensation and lets himself drift along with it, aware of nothing beyond the sound of Jack´s own heart beating, Jack´s sweat damp skin beneath his palms and the smell of sex that permeates the room.

As Daniel sinks into slumber his last thought is that he would trade all his other memories if he could just remember this moment for the rest of his life.

[][][]

When Daniel wakes up, he´s alone in the darkened living room. He´s still sprawled on Jack´s sofa with his jeans around his knees, but Jack has spread the throw over him so he wouldn´t get cold. Surely that was a good sign?

Daniel slips out from beneath the throw and pulls his jeans on once more. His skin prickles from the cold so Daniel retrieves his ruined shirt from the floor near the coffee table where Jack had discarded it. Taking in its current condition, Daniel leaves it where it falls and wraps himself in the throw instead and goes in search of Jack.

Jack´s house isn´t that big, so it doesn´t take long to ascertain that he´s not there. That doesn´t surprise Daniel. For all his voluble complaints about trees, Jack would rather be outside than in. Daniel heads outside, the throw wrapped tightly around him, and climbs the steps to Jack´s observatory.

As expected is there, slouched in one of the deck chairs, a beer bottle resting forgotten at his feet.

“Hey."

Jack looks up and pretends that he hadn´t known that Daniel had left the house until that moment.

“Hey."

Daniel drops into the chair next to Jack and squints up at the stars. He hadn´t thought to put his glasses on before leaving the house. He had fallen put of the habit and needed to relearn it.

“Nice night."

“Yeah."

The conversation stumbles to a halt so they sit there side by side close, but now touching, and watch the stars. Daniel can wait. He´s waited a half dozen lifetimes for this; he can wait a little longer.

“This was a mistake."

Jack´s voice is soft and Daniel wishes he could see Jack´s face in the darkness.

“Probably," Daniel says at last, “but it´s not one that I regret. What about you, Jack? Do you regret it?"

Jack´s sigh is loud in the darkness. “Daniel…"

“I´m not just going to walk away from this, Jack."

“It´s dangerous."

“So´s walking through the gate and we do that every day. Well, almost every day," Daniel amends. “Just because something´s dangerous doesn´t mean it´s not worthwhile. Actually, our track record would suggest just the opposite."

When Jack doesn´t respond, Daniel looks over at him. Jack´s face is shadowed, his profile limned in watery moonlight. “Look, Jack, I´m not asking for a commitment ceremony in the gate room here. All I want is to be with you. I know the risks every bit as well as you do and I think we´re worth it. The only question is whether you do too."

Daniel waits and with each passing second he begins to think that he´s pushed too hard, that maybe his memories of what he and Jack meant to one another were wrong or that he´s misinterpreted the context and translated the signs incorrectly. But when Jack turns to look at him at last he´s wearing that rakish little half-smile of his that Daniel remembers so well.

“You do know that you´re responsible for the gray hair, right?"

Daniel smiles. “I seem to recall you pointing that out to me a time or two, yeah."

“Well, as long as we´ve got that straight."

“Have I ever told you that I think it makes you look distinguished?"

Jack´s expression is frankly suspicious. “Really?"

Daniel nods.

“Huh," is all Jack says.

They sit side by side, close but not touching, and watch the sun begin to rise slowly in the east. Daniel remembers watching the sun rise innumerable times over the years in Egypt and Chicago and LA; on Abydos and Vis Uban and any of a dozen dozen alien worlds. But Daniel decides that he can´t remember a single one that dawned with quite as much promise as the one he sees before him now.

Finis