Rating: R/NC-17 for implied sexual situations. Jack/Daniel, Daniel/OMC. AU, drama, angst, romance, first time

Chapter Three: The Call of Duty

Jack O'Neill moved through the hallways of the CIA with purpose; his class A cap was tucked neatly under his left elbow, the buttons of his dress blues were polished to a brilliant sheen, and the pleats of his trousers were pressed to razor sharpness. He was, in short, the very model of a career military man, cool, self-assured, in control. He was aware of other people, a few junior officers among the civilians, shifting out of his way with murmured greetings and sharp salutes, but Jack didn't have time to waste on formalities today. His superiors awaited his arrival, which was already later than intended thanks to the snarled traffic near Farragut. He didn't have time for any further delays.

He beat a sharp, precise tattoo of knocks on the wooden door of his CO's office.

"Come," came the reply.

Jack opened the door. "General Bauer, sir." He snapped a picture perfect salute.

"At ease, Colonel," Bauer said. He gestured towards the other man seated nearby. "You remember Colonel Simmons, don't you?"

Jack managed to suppress the wave of dislike that swept through him at the mention of that name, just barely. He kept his expression carefully neutral as he turned towards Simmons.

"Colonel," he acknowledged, his tone flat.

"Colonel," Simmons responded in kind, the slight smirk and unctuous manner apparent in both his voice and his expression.

Jack made no further comment as he took the proffered chair between Simmons and Lieutenant Rawlings, Bauer's assistant. He did note, as always, that Simmons was not dressed in uniform but in a neatly tailored suit.

"So, Colonel O'Neill, how has Dr. Jackson settled in?" Bauer asked. The question pushed all thoughts of Simmons out of Jack's mind instantly.

"Fine, sir. He's currently in residence in the apartment that we secured for him as part of his cover and he's ready to dive in at any time. To be frank, the continuing delays are making him a little nuts. It has been three weeks, sir."

"I don't like the delay any more than Dr. Jackson does, but it was necessary," Bauer said.

Jack nodded.

"Well," Simmons drawled, his lips curved into a smarmy smile, "Dr. Jackson should be thrilled. The time has come to set our plan in motion."

Jack let his glance flicker to the other man then shift back to General Bauer. "What do you have planned, sir?"

"Colonel?" Bauer looked at Simmons.

Simmons withdrew a folder from his briefcase and handed it to Jack. Jack flipped it open. Inside were a number of photographs, some black and white, some in color, of varying degrees of quality.

Jack returned his attention to the photograph resting on top. It showed two men seated at a table in a posh restaurant. He instantly recognized Dr. Stephanopoulus dressed in a stylish suit, his graying beard neatly clipped. Seated across from him was a much younger man in his late twenties or early thirties. His suit, while more casual than that worn by Stephanopoulus, was clearly expensive.

Jack wasn't quite sure why Simmons had included that particular photograph. He assumed the younger man was an acquaintance of some sort though he didn't exactly fit with Jack's image of an archeologist. Then again, after meeting Daniel Jackson, Jack's image of what that entailed had changed a lot. Jack flipped the first photograph over, to reveal the one lying directly beneath it. It showed the same two men seated at the same table in the same restaurant. But where the first photograph had shown two colleagues, this one suggested a different story.

He scanned the photo. Stephanopoulus was holding the other man's hand in his own, raised to his lips, as he kissed the fingers. A feeling of unease began to form in the pit of Jack's stomach as he flipped to the next photo and then the next, each one showing the two men engaging in what could only be described as romantic gestures.

He flipped to the next photograph, the sixth or seventh in this group. This one was an infra-red photo, taken with a telephoto lens into a darkened interior at night. He couldn't make out any details but he saw enough to be able to infer that it showed two men engaged in a full body embrace.

He saw another group of photographs beneath this one; the next few had been taken in a public place. Jack noted immediately that although Stephanopoulus was present, the young blond man of the previous photographs was absent. In his stead was another man, every bit as handsome, young and fair. While there was nothing titillating in these photographs, there could be no doubt that these two men were lovers. An uncomfortable suspicion began to grow in the back of Jack's mind.

Another group of photographs, these showing Stephanopoulus with yet another young man, handsome and buff. The pattern was obvious, so blatant that only a fool could miss it and though Jack O'Neill was many things, a fool was not one of them. Or so he'd always thought.

He looked over at Simmons. The urge to wipe the smirk off his pasty face was overwhelming. He flicked a glance over to the general who remained impassive.

"The man in the first photograph is Rick Fletcher, age twenty-nine. He was, until four weeks ago, Dr. Stephanopoulus' current..." and here Simmons paused for effect, "paramour."

Simmons drawled the word, stretching it out.

Simmons continued his recitation. "As you can see from the photographs we've compiled over the course of our investigation, Dr. Stephanopoulus has a marked...preference...for handsome young men. All of them in their late twenties to early thirties, all of them tall, well built and fair with blue eyes. Dr. Stephanopoulus, for all his purported brilliance and creative thinking, is remarkably predictable in his choice of lovers.

"This provides us with the perfect opportunity. Dr. Stephanopoulus is currently between companions." Jack's hands balled into fists. Simmons continued, "Given his track record, he'll be looking for a replacement. Dr. Jackson should fit the bill quite nicely."

Jack shifted his gaze between the two men. Surely neither Bauer nor Simmons, the sleazy, no good weasel that he was, could possibly be suggesting that Daniel-Dr. Jackson-should whore himself in the interests of national security?

"I don't think I like what you're suggesting, Colonel," Jack said, putting enough emphasis on the final word to make it sound more like an insult than an acknowledgement of rank.

Simmons looked at him, the picture of wide-eyed innocence. "What are you implying?"

Inwardly, Jack gritted his teeth but outwardly he remained glacially calm. "I think you're suggesting that Dr. Jackson become Dr. Stephanopoulus' lover."

"Did I? I simply suggested that Dr. Stephanopoulus might be lonely and that he might enjoy the company of someone of Dr. Jackson's obvious intelligence."

"Yes, I know what you're suggesting, but that's hardly necessary. Daniel has the family connection to draw upon. He can play the sympathy card to worm his way in."

Simmons shook his head, his slick smile never fading for an instant. "We can't be sure of that, Colonel O'Neill. Although Dr. Stephanopoulus has shown himself to be sympathetic to Dr. Jackson in the past, that was before the good doctor went and got himself ostracized from the academic community for spouting wild, albeit highly entertaining, theories. It's our belief that Dr. Jackson's more obvious charms might gain him the access he would otherwise be denied."

Jack looked over at his CO. General Bauer, he was gratified to see, at least had the good grace to look embarrassed, but Simmons wasn't troubled in the least. Quite the opposite, in fact. Simmons' smile broadened at Jack's rather forbidding expression.

"Come, come, Colonel. It's not as if Dr. Jackson hasn't indulged in such behavior in the past. Our dear doctor has had a number of acquaintances of both genders over the years, as I'm sure you are well aware. Surely one more would hardly make much of a difference, now could it?"

Jack's mind was working furiously now. Four weeks. Simmons had said Stephanopoulus' last lover had left four weeks ago. That would have been four, maybe five days before Jack himself had been given the file on Daniel Jackson and had received his orders to recruit the younger man for this mission. He'd been sent in blind to enlist the archeologist's help, something he'd done quite earnestly and in good conscience. He remembered talking about truth and duty to try to win the reluctant man to their cause. And he'd done it. He'd plied, wheedled and cajoled, all the time completely unaware that he was being manipulated and that he himself was being used to manipulate Daniel in turn.

Sonovabitch.

"Sir," Jack began, turning his attention towards his CO, "surely you don't condone this course of action? We're asking a civilian, an untrained civilian to...."

"Give his all for his country?" Simmons finished.

"No, I think the correct term is to whore himself for his country. I would think you'd be intimately familiar with the concept, Colonel Simmons."

"Colonel!" General Bauer snapped.

"I'm sorry, sir, but with all due respect, you can't ask this of Dr. Jackson. It's immoral and it's unconscionable."

Bauer sighed. "I'm no more happy with this situation than you are, Colonel, but as much as I regret it, I'm afraid I have to agree with Colonel Simmons in this case. Too much is riding on this. Dr. Stephanopoulus must be stopped and his accomplices must be rooted out and brought to justice by any means necessary. And while I'm less than sanguine about anyone...whoring himself for his country, as you so colorfully put it, I agree with Colonel Simmons' assessment that this is ultimately the best strategy to ensure that we get someone on the inside. I'm sorry, Colonel, I truly am."

"Really, Colonel, I think you're overreacting. I doubt it will come to that," Simmons explained, the earlier amusement still apparent in his voice. "And even if it does, well, Dr. Jackson strikes me as a sensible sort. I'm sure he'll see reason. And I, for one, have every faith in your persuasive skills."

And there it was, the sound of the other shoe dropping. Jack swore silently to himself. It was bad enough that they had manipulated him into recruiting Daniel Jackson under false pretenses in the first place; now they were going to make him carry the whole sordid task to its conclusion. He, Jack O'Neill, would be the one who would have to tell Daniel Jackson just what the plan involved and precisely what role Daniel was expected to play in it. Oh yes, he could see the conversation now. Don't worry, Daniel. It's a piece of cake. Just lie back, close your eyes, hitch up your heels and think of the good old US of A.

Jack had had to do some damned distasteful things over the course of his career. Being a serving field officer in the military required certain sacrifices as well as an acceptance of the fact that sometimes carrying out one's duty might conflict with one's personal morals. But always there, at the back of his mind, was the knowledge that his actions, however unsavory they may appear, no matter how uncomfortable they might make him feel were justified because he was ultimately acting in the interests of the greater good.

Jack knew all this, understood it on a fundamental, intellectual level, but the deception beneath the entire operation made Jack feel more than a little ill at ease. He'd never liked going into a mission blind back in his Special Ops days, and he didn't like it any better now.

Even more disconcerting was the realization that he couldn't even be sure what their objectives really were. Simmons and Bauer both had decided to keep him in the dark and to use him to achieve their ends, which he had thought were the same as his. Now he was no longer certain and frankly he didn't like it. Not one bit.

Jack didn't give a rat's ass who Daniel might have slept with in the past. He was young and handsome with the sex drive of a normal male and it was his own private business who he slept with. That had always been Daniel's choice. He had every right to say no and walk away from any proposition or liaison as he pleased.

Jack couldn't deny that he was attracted to Daniel. He hadn't anticipated it, hadn't even realized it existed at first, but it was there, lurking just beneath the surface, and he knew that that attraction was coloring his response to the situation. Jack knew something else; he was compromised, but good.

God dammit.

And the icing on the cake? He got to be the one to tell Daniel about the plan and precisely what Jack's superiors expected Daniel to do. 'Congratulations, Jack,' he thought. 'You get to screw Daniel without ever getting him into bed.'

Jack sat up, back ramrod straight as he looked toward his commanding officer. "Tell me what I need to do, sir."

* * *

Daniel glanced at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon. His right leg bounced up and down, an old nervous habit that sometimes appeared when he felt anxious. He placed the flat of his hand on his thigh and willed his leg to stillness.

He returned his attention to his book. He read a few paragraphs. He looked at his watch again.

Jack was late.

It wasn't that uncommon for Jack to be gone for hours at a time. The man had a job to do after all. But today felt...different. When they'd talked the night before over chess and cognac, Jack had been so sure that they'd finally settled on some plan of action at last.

As the long hours stretched on without any word or sign of Jack's arrival, Daniel's anxiety had begun to slowly mount until he'd become a tightly coil mass of nerves. He'd tried to read, tried to distract his mind with words and syntax as he'd so often done, but that solace eluded him. With each shift of the hands on the clock, with each changing number on the digital display on the VCR, his trepidation rose another notch. 'Too long,' the thought floated through his mind. 'He's been gone too long.'

The knock on the door had Daniel on his feet and halfway across the room before he even consciously registered the sound. At his first sight of Jack, his relief was a palpable thing and he chided himself. Those niggling worries were ungrounded, the byproduct of too much free time and an overactive imagination.

"Jack," he said as he acknowledged the other man's arrival with a nod and a smile. Jack made his way into the living room as Daniel closed the door behind them.

"Do you want a beer?" Daniel offered

"No, thanks," Jack replied. He remained where he was.

Daniel stopped mid-stride; alarm bells began to sound in his mind. He looked sharply at Jack, taking in the closed-off expression and the stiffness of his shoulders. His relief suddenly evaporated, replaced by a renewed sense of disquiet.

"Jack?" He rested a hand on the other man's arm. He could feel Jack's muscles, knotted and tense beneath his palm. He looked up at Jack, making no effort to hide his growing concern.

A long moment stretched between them before Jack finally spoke.

"Why don't we sit down?"

Daniel let his hand drop away from Jack's arm. "Sure," he replied, and settled himself in the corner of one of the leather sofas. Jack hesitated a moment longer before sitting down in the opposite corner. They sat, not quite facing one another directly, their legs perpendicular, their knees close enough to almost touch. Daniel waited for Jack to speak as the silence stretched between them once more.

Daniel studied Jack's face. His expression was stony, almost cold, so utterly at odds with the warmth Daniel had seen there the night before. Jack stared back, and Daniel felt the urge to squirm under the intense appraisal.

This time Daniel was the one to break the silence.

"So, any word from your superiors about the mission?"

"Yes." One word, short and clipped.

"And?" Daniel prompted

"They've made all the necessary arrangements. You'll be meeting Stephanopoulus tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow?" Daniel echoed, surprised, though he didn't really know why. He'd wanted to get the show on the road and Jack had indicated that once they set things in motion they'd move fast. Maybe what he felt was simply lingering disbelief that any of this was real.

Jack was speaking again. "Our intel indicates that Stephanopoulus will be attending a reception at the Hirshhorn Museum tomorrow night. Apparently they're about to open an exhibition of the work of some well-known Egyptian artist. He'll be there and so will you."

Daniel frowned. "Don't you need an invitation to get into those things?"

"That's been taken care of."

"Oh, of course."

"Once we're there, it's simply a matter of finding Stephanopoulus, picking your moment and then running into him as if by accident," Jack explained.

Daniel frowned again. "I don't understand, Jack. Why can't I just go over and introduce myself? I've known the man practically my entire life. It wouldn't exactly be untoward on my part."

Jack shook his head. "No, we need to keep this as casual as possible. It needs to seem completely accidental. That will actually give you a slight advantage in the encounter since he won't have seen you coming and won't be expecting you. Everything hinges upon that first meeting, Daniel."

 "Jack, I'm confused by all this. Why the subterfuge? I know your bosses probably have very good reasons for doing things this way, but it makes no sense to me. Obviously, I know where he teaches. He's been at Georgetown for the past three years. Everybody knows that. Hell, even a first year grad student would know that. So why can't I just show up on his doorstep and ask for his help?

 "Jack?"

"There's been a slight change in plans," Jack began then stopped.

"What change in plans?"

Jack drew a deep breath before riveting his gaze on Daniel. "Given the rather...dramatic nature of your expulsion from academia, there is some concern that Stephanopoulus might be averse to associating with you in a professional capacity right now."

Daniel nodded slowly. He'd expressed that same concern to Jack when they'd first met and had reiterated it just days ago. "And?" he prompted.

"And," Jack echoed, "it was decided that such an approach would quite probably prove unsuccessful."

Daniel looked at Jack, noting the stiffness of his carriage, the way he held his torso erect. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the news that Jack was trying to delay sharing was bad, very bad.

"Go on, Jack. Let's have the rest of it," he said, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible.

Jack's gaze skittered away for a moment, before it returned to rest squarely on Daniel's face. "It was decided that a more personal approach had a better chance of succeeding."

"And what exactly do you mean by personal, Jack?"
 
"Extremely personal. Intimate."

Intimate.

The word bounced around in Daniel's head as he tried to connect it to any of the thoughts or expectations he'd been holding.

Although his own brain seemed to have ground to a halt, Jack's hadn't and he was still speaking to the numbed Daniel. "Stephanopoulus has a well established preference for handsome young men of the fair, blue-eyed variety. A month ago, he broke up with his most recent companion and hasn't found a new one as of yet. Under the circumstances, it was decided that he might respond more favorably to a more personal overture, one that he would be less inclined to refuse."

Daniel searched Jack's eyes for some sign that he had misunderstood, that he hadn't heard what he thought he'd just heard, that Jack hadn't just proposed what he thought he had. The man had one hell of a poker face. He didn't so much as flinch as he laid out the sordid proposition.

Unlike Daniel. Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, as if the darkness behind his lids could somehow shut out the thoughts careening through his mind.

"Daniel?" He felt Jack's hand come to rest lightly on his knee and he flinched as if he'd been scalded. The touch vanished instantly.

When Daniel opened his eyes again, he saw Jack's expressionless face before him. He thought perhaps he might have caught a flicker of some emotion in Jack's dark eyes, but it was probably just his imagination.

"Daniel?"

Daniel laughed bitterly. "So that's the mission, huh? Here I was thinking Anthony Blunt and all along I was being cast as Mata Hari. I wish I'd been warned in advance; I could have packed my fan and my garter belt."

"Daniel..." Jack began, his voice soft and almost pleading. He reached out towards Daniel again, but Daniel shot to his feet and moved, trying to put some distance between them, needing to disavow the air of false intimacy that they had created together in this place.

"How long?"

"What?" Jack asked.

Daniel studied Jack. "How long have you known about this? About what they were planning?"

"I didn't know. They just sprung it on me today."

"And why should I believe you, Jack?"

"Because I'm telling you the truth," Jack replied, his hands spread at his sides. "I haven't lied to you, Daniel. Not once."

"So you say."

Jack sighed, his frustration evident. "Daniel, I don't like this any better than you do..."

Daniel snorted. "Oh, somehow I doubt that, Jack. You aren't the one being offered an exciting new career as a bed warmer, after all."

Jack stood now as well, moving over to where Daniel stood. "You don't have to do this, Daniel. No one, least of all me, is going to force you to do something you don't want to do. You can walk away right now, no harm, no foul."

"Has the situation suddenly changed?" Daniel challenged, his arms crossed over his chest

"What do you mean?" Jack asked.

"When you recruited me three weeks ago, you told me that national security was at risk and that innocent people were dying as a result. Has that changed?"

"No," Jack replied slowly. "No, it hasn't."

Daniel started to pace, arms wrapped about his torso, his head bowed as he moved. "You said I had the best chance of getting close to Dr. Stephanopoulus, that I could help you put an end to this whole mess. Was that the truth?"

"Yes, that was the truth. It still is," Jack admitted, regret in his voice.

"And you said that given my current...reputation in the field he might be less than sanguine about the prospect of having any professional association with me. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

Daniel looked up at him then. "Then there really isn't a choice, is there? Dr. Stephanopoulus still needs to be stopped and I'm the person best suited to bring that about. You said as much to me when you first recruited me, remember?"

Daniel saw Jack wince as he turned the other man's own impassioned pleas back on him.

"Look, I've never made any secret of my past and my rather less than chaste behavior. I've always assumed that you were aware of my proclivities and that they were never really an issue. Little did I know that they would prove to be my greatest asset in this whole venture.

 "I can hardly claim to be some vestal virgin, and it's a little too late in the game for me to play the shy and innocent card, isn't it?"

"Daniel," Jack began, a touch of pleading in his voice. Daniel turned away and Jack grabbed Daniel's arm in a hard, uncompromising grip. Daniel tried to pull away but Jack held on, his fingers digging into the bare flesh.

Daniel suddenly became deathly still, every muscle in his body tense. They stood like that, locked in a frozen tableau fraught with recrimination and edged with bitter resentment.

Finally, Daniel moved to gaze down at where Jack's hand remained clenched just above his wrist. He stared at the unyielding fingers before shifting his gaze to Jack's face.

"Let go, Colonel," Daniel said, each syllable measured and precise. "It wouldn't do to damage the merchandise, now would it?"

Jack released Daniel's arm as if bitten, grimacing at the phantom fingerprints marring the skin.

Jack took a single step towards Daniel, his arm outstretched in a gesture of...what? Sympathy? Capitulation? Daniel tensed, but stood his ground.

 "I think you should go now. It's getting late. Besides, tomorrow's going to be a busy day and I need to look my best," Daniel said, gesturing towards the door with a sweep of his arm

"Daniel..."

"Goodnight, Colonel."

Jack didn't move. The moment stretched uncomfortably between them until Jack nodded and stepped back away from Daniel.

"Goodnight, Daniel," Jack said softly before he turned on his heel and walked out the front door, closing it gently behind him.

Daniel remained there in the middle of his empty living room. The clock chimed softly. He scanned the room, his gaze falling upon a vase sitting on a table near the sofa. It was a lovely hand-blown piece, its delicate curves iridescent in the low light. Daniel grabbed it and hurled it across the room to shatter against the closed door. The shards of glass made a soft tinkling sound as they fell.

Daniel drew a ragged breath and sank down on to the sofa and let his eyes fall shut. He leaned back and simply breathed as the shadows lengthened and the stillness stretched.

It would be a long night.