...ding-dong, the bitch is dead...
....."It has her eyes."
Jack sat on the bench in front of his locker, fiddling with his dog tags while several emotions ran through him. Predominately, fear, hatred, and revulsion. He was also feeling a large amount of gratitude for that Tok'ra woman. He never thought he'd be grateful to them for anything. One hand slowly moved from his tags to feel at the back of his neck. Normally, there'd have been a fresh scar there, but there was only a faint one-inch line. Janet had said it was a courtesy side-effect from the freezing technology. Any fresh wounds were healed, or something like that. He didn't really catch all of it. What he'd wanted to know was if he could get rid of the scar because of what it represented to him...and to Daniel. Janet had told him then that it wasn't necessary, and because it was so faint, the only way anyone would notice it at all would be if they were staring at the back of his neck, up close, without his fatigue shirt or t-shirt on.
"In other words, Colonel, there would have to be someone up close and personal with you in order for them to see it." She'd then given him a barely contained grin.
Jack had looked at her with that bland sarcastic look he often assumed, one that came with an arched right brow. "Didn't you just see it?"
Janet had smirked. "That's different. I'm your doctor. I'm 'supposed' to see it. Wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't."
Jack had shrugged, agreeing reluctantly. "Okay, well...are you sure it's faint?"
Janet creased her brow. "Why, Colonel?"
Jack cleared his throat. "Daniel and I are best friends, teammates, and we share a tent. We can't help but get up close and personal. It's unavoidable in the field. I don't want him seeing this scar and getting creeped out. I'm sure you can understand what I mean?"
Janet touched his arm. "I understand, Colonel. And no, it's not even red or pink anymore. It's faded scar tissue. He won't notice unless he's peering hard at your neck." She grinned again at him after giving him an eagle-eyed stare as an example. Jack smiled at her and nodded, and she'd then dismissed him.
He hadn't a chance to leave however when Hammond had come in.
"General."
"Jack."
Jack had plenty of experience with that tone of Hammond's. It meant that he wasn't going to get to go back to work. It meant that he was on official leave.
"...just until Dr. Jackson is fully healed, Jack. That's all."
That's all. Jack snorted and massaged the muscles of his neck. That's bloody all. What that meant was that he was on medical leave as well, though not for any injury. Psychological medical leave. Stress medical leave.
There were times that Jack really wished George Hammond weren't so progressive. Jack was used to pushing things aside and dealing with them later. Much later. He wanted to work, even at the mountain or help out some place else. He did not want to be home for ten fucking days, staring at the walls.
He did have one other option...one that he was resisting. Spend those ten days with Daniel. Daniel was already on seven to ten days' medical leave; the injury to his lower thigh left him unable to physically run without stressing out the ligaments or risk further injury to the muscles. The blast he'd taken had just barely missed his femoral artery; if that had sliced open, Daniel could have bled to death in under five minutes. Jack couldn't help but think that Daniel had just used up one of his nine lives.
Thinking about him, and maybe spending time with him, brought conflicting emotions: embarrassment and shame at the fear he felt when he was implanted, knowing Daniel had watched; but just as strongly, respect, admiration, and love. Daniel - according to Carter - had been running around (if you could call it that) like a member of the SG-3 Marines, with his leg torn up, trying to do a job that wasn't his in any way, shape or form. Jack had been very proud of him for being able to maintain himself and not blow a fuse as he knelt there next to Makepeace, a weapon trained at his head by that Jaffa leader. Jack knew from experience that whenever Daniel was in physical pain, he lashed out. From what Sam and Makepeace had told him, he'd been quiet this time...trying to keep that Jaffa bastard (and others, Jack suspected) from knowing how much he hurt, both inside and out.
He couldn't get over how easy Daniel had made it look, but Jack knew that Daniel was putting on a show. Jack could do that; in fact, it's what he'd planned on doing...but for Daniel. He could overlook his own pain, even the very sharp torturous pain he'd felt as that snake had entered behind his neck. He knew how to remove it, separate himself from it. He'd had years of practical experience, except he knew that this one would be his hardest to deal with to date. He also figured that Daniel would retreat, withdraw. Daniel wouldn't have him talk about it this time because he'd be too busy keeping silent about feelings of his own that he didn't wish to share just yet.
But, for once, that was just what Jack intended to do...as soon as he could stomach thinking about that Hathor bitch without getting nauseated. Sam had told him that Daniel hadn't looked away and had forced himself to watch; that he'd seemingly zoned out, watching but not watching. Daniel hadn't said much about it all after they'd gotten back.
Sadly, the one thing Daniel had focused on was probably the least important thing of all. His hair. Jack shook his head, wondering at Daniel's coping mechanisms. Daniel was embarrassed and he focused on that embarrassment instead of the fear. Jack knew Daniel was using it as a tool of redirection. While Daniel had gotten dressed, the only thing he'd talked about was his appearance.
"Why did those stupid Jaffa cut off my hair? I mean, is this some sick Jaffa joke?" Daniel had asked as he'd looked in the mirror inside his locker, running his hands through his hair. "Think I'll let it grow out more but I've got to do something with this...cut." Daniel had then made a snort of disgust which had made his human teammates grin and Teal'c lift a brow.
Jack had allowed himself the luxury of being redirected, studying Daniel more fully as he had ranted. The man's face was out there now and not covered up by hair. As a result, he looked more handsome, more...male. But at the same time, he seemed more...boyish? No, that was only the hairstyle, not the short hair. With the proper short haircut, he knew that Daniel would lose that boyish look.
"Maybe you should shave your head," Teal'c had offered. His bearing had been purposely regal, as if giving Daniel the suggestion was the most obvious choice. Jack remembered that they'd all turned to Teal'c in surprise...and not without a little horror.
"Teal'c," Jack had told him, "that is a good look for you, no one else. You, my friend, are one of a kind."
Jack smiled as he remembered that Teal'c had actually seemed a bit more smug after that and refrained from giving Daniel the suggestion again. After Teal'c and Sam had left, Daniel had gone silent again, fidgeting with his things as he'd gotten dressed.
"I'm gonna go find a salon and see if I can do something with this...mess. I'll...see you later?" he'd asked just before leaving.
"Daniel?" Jack had asked. At the door, Daniel had turned to look at him and Jack had seen the turmoil in his eyes. "Come over after?" Daniel had stared for the longest time and just when Jack was sure he would say no, Daniel had nodded his head, then he'd gone.
Standing up, Jack set his things in his locker, then closed it and left the mountain. On the way home, he wished like hell that a sloppy haircut were the biggest thing on Daniel's mind. He also wasn't looking forward to their days off from this one...except for maybe the closeness that they'd have...hopefully have. Right now, Jack wasn't so sure.
Grinning to himself, lost in thought, Jack was pulling dinner out of the oven when he was interrupted by a knock at the door. Taking off the oven mitts, he answered the door and dumbly stared at Daniel across the threshold.
"You gonna let me in?" Daniel asked without saying hello.
Jack stepped aside to let Daniel in, his eyes not leaving his friend even as he shut the door. "Daniel," he said in way of greeting, causing Daniel to turn round and give him an apologetic look.
"Sorry. Hi, Jack."
Still studying his friend's face, and head, he walked back to the kitchen. "You hungry?"
Daniel didn't answer as he hung up his jacket then paused before he followed Jack into the kitchen. He stood in the doorway, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, I guess...no, not really."
Jack poked a knife through the meat dish, grimaced, then opened the oven door and stuck the glass pan back inside. "Doesn't matter. It's not done yet anyway."
"What is that?"
Jack raised his eyebrows as if the answer were obvious. "Baked chicken and rice, Daniel."
"Smells good," Daniel said, mostly for something to say. It did smell good but he still wasn't hungry.
"Well, when it's done," Jack replied as he took down two glasses, "you can have some." He grabbed ice cubes from the ice box, dropped them in the glasses, then poured two fingers of bourbon in each and handed one to Daniel. Daniel took a large mouthful and grimaced at its heat.
"Thanks."
"Thought you were going to that salon?" Jack asked as he sat down at the dining table.
"I did," Daniel replied, joining him.
"So..." and Jack gestured at his head. "What's with the bandana?"
Daniel made face of disgust and got up from his chair to fidget and pace. "Those fucking Jaffa cut the front of my hair too damn short," he complained loudly. Too loudly. "Even with hair gel or mousse, I can't do anything but wait until it grows out," and he turned and looked at Jack, his expression serious. "Jasmine said my hair was...well...fucked. Cutting it more would make me look like a jarhead, so she tried combing it back, on the side...no matter what she suggested, what I suggested...nothing...fucking...worked."
Daniel sighed and leaned back against the counter in resignation, taking a drink from his glass. Jack watched him, knowing that Daniel was doing a pretty good imitation of a man whose only care was his bad haircut. He couldn't help but smile fondly at the green bandana clashing with Daniel's cream sweater and jeans. He stood up and walked over to him, standing close, and brushed the bandana backward, off Daniel's head.
"Jack, don't. My hair looks like shit and...well, I don't know what else."
Jack ran his fingers through the gelled hair, now sticking up in clumpy spikes. It actually didn't look half-bad this way. Made Daniel look a little punk, if that was possible.
"You look a little like Spike," Jack said, his fingers still in his hair.
Daniel jerked his head back, trying to get Jack to stop playing with his hair. "Jack, stop it. I do not look like Spike."
"No," Jack said, moving his hand to his neck instead, pulling Daniel forward. "Just your hairstyle in that gel." He grinned again, almost wolfishly.
Daniel tried to smile at him but he faltered at Jack's grin. "How can you be so calm about all of this?"
Jack felt relief at his question. Daniel wasn't completely in denial, after all. He brushed his thumb over Daniel's still bruised cheek, watching as Daniel winced a bit. "I'm not, Daniel. I feel everything, under the surface. What makes me feel better is that we're alive, and that bitch is dead," and he paused, tipping his chin up, forcing Daniel to look long into his eyes. "She's gone...and we won the day."
Daniel nodded and gave him a grudging smile, which then faltered again. "With the help and loss of a few good people."
Jack nodded in return. "And if it hadn't been for that Tok'ra woman, we really might not have."
Daniel agreed. Thoughtful for a few moments, Jack picked up his drink and gestured for the living room sofa. "Come on. It'll be twenty more minutes or so before dinner is done."
They sat down, Jack in his spot and Daniel in his. Daniel set his glass on the coffee table, then leaned forward, and rested his head in his hands. After a moment, with Jack studying him carefully, he ran his fingers through his hair.
"You think I could get away with wearing my hair like this at work?"
Jack snorted softly. "I don't think so, Daniel. Though it's a good look for you, it makes you look too young."
Daniel groaned. "I thought so. It took me a while to be taken seriously. This would probably force me to start over, wouldn't it?"
"Well, unless you grew it out and then cut it more suitably."
"Like yours, I suppose."
Jack snorted. "No, not exactly. I need a haircut too."
Daniel grinned and nodded. "Okay, Jack. When you get one, I'll get one."
"Deal."
Jack ran his fingers through Daniel's hair once more, feeling the sticky dried stuff in his hair. He started to say something but Daniel cut him off by pulling away and grabbing his glass of bourbon.
Jack was going to ask what was wrong, but he knew the moment he thought the question. Daniel was still retreating and it was hurting Jack to see it. He was used to Daniel talking, even yelling. He hated it when Daniel got quiet.
"When you feel up to it, will you talk to me about what happened?" he asked him.
Daniel grimaced a little. "Only when you feel up to it, Jack," Daniel said, casting him a sideways glance as he took a sip from his glass. "I don't think either of us is up to it right now."
Jack frowned as Daniel moved away to lean his head against the back of the sofa, acting as if what had happened wasn't a big deal. First the worry over his hair, now this. Jack felt that somehow the universe had shifted around. Here he was, ready to talk - well, maybe a little bit - and Daniel was the one who was clamming up.
Sighing, Jack absently watched the television program he'd only been half-listening to before; some military program on the Discovery Channel about high-tech weaponry. All the while, Jack kept waiting for the other shoe, for Daniel to suddenly explode or come apart at the seams...something. Twenty minutes later, Jack checked his watch, then got up to check on dinner.
Daniel stared down at his drink. He wanted to talk. He really did. But he didn't know where to start and was frankly scared out of his mind that if he started talking, he'd start that sobbing shit and right now, he couldn't. He needed to calm, to have another drink. He got up and went to refill his glass.
Jack turned off the oven and set the pan on the stove and got out the plates. He glanced at Daniel as he entered the kitchen and prepared himself another drink.
"Are you hungry yet?" he asked him.
Daniel paused, staring at the food, but didn't say yay or nay. Jack sighed, dished up food on a plate and handed it to Daniel without another word. To hell with it. If he wanted to eat, he'd eat. Jack grabbed some iced water and took his plate out to the living room, then turned up the volume on the TV. He was getting tired and pissed off at Daniel's silence. If the man wanted to be moody, so be it. Jack was done giving him the eggshell treatment.
Daniel came in and sat down beside him...with his plate. "Thanks."
Jack only nodded at him - especially as his mouth was full - and concentrated on the program, deciding to leave Daniel to Daniel. They ate in more or less companionable silence, knowing that the monsters they carried would have to wait to be fought.
Daniel still hadn't said much and it was a few hours after they'd finished their meal. They'd settled back to watch a movie they'd both seen together a thousand times, 'The Hunt for Red October'. When it was over, Jack got up to replace the DVD in its sleeve. Daniel watched him, noting the sudden stiffness in his stance as his lover stood before the DVD rack. He knew Jack was angry at him for staying silent, waiting for him to just start talking. But Daniel hadn't known what to say...well, no that wasn't true. He did. He just didn't know where to start.
"Jack...I...listen, I'm sorry for being so...uncharacteristically silent and, well, what I mean is, I'm sorry for being moody and--"
"It hurt like hell, Daniel."
Jack had suddenly whispered that without turning round and Daniel blinked rapidly in reaction. The words scared him and he wasn't sure why. "What?"
Jack turned his head toward him without looking at him. "I said, it hurt like hell." He finally looked at Daniel and Daniel finally saw the deep pain residing there; the haunted look that would forever stain Jack's memories. Jack looked away and stepped over to the hearth, getting down on his knees. He began to clean out the ashes, making ready to build a fire. Daniel went over and knelt beside him, then laid a hand on his arm, questioningly.
"The snake, Daniel," he said quietly, not looking at him as he filled the ash bucket. "It hurt like hell."
Daniel silently helped him clean the fireplace and as the kindling was put in the fireplace and lit, Jack sat back to wait for it to catch and burn. Daniel was going to say something but Jack took that moment to continue.
"It was a hot, slicing heat and then one fucking huge headache. I don't remember much of anything until that Tok'ra woman took my face in her hand," and Jack suddenly reached out and mimicked the gesture on Daniel with his soot-covered fingers, smudging Daniel's face. Daniel was startled for a moment but he didn't flinch or move away. No matter what Jack told him, there would be no fear reflected back from his eyes. Only the ache in his heart would show.
"She told me it would die, and to hang on. Then it was cold, so fucking cold..." and Jack dropped his hand and went silent for a few minutes, poking at the fire, adding more bits of kindling as the embers formed. "I don't know how long I was in there. Carter figured no more than an hour. I remember feeling the heat returning and that numbing pain you get when your hands have been in snow for too long. Then I heard that goddamn machine...that fucking hand device. I prayed that it wasn't you, and forced myself up out of that goddamn chamber to find out. Then I saw Carter...and that Goa'uld bitch. After that...I saw red, Daniel. That meant that if I had to, I would have killed her with my bare hands. I just wanted her to go away and that was the only thing on my mind as I tossed her over the edge of that railing."
Jack took a deep breath and then realized that he was crushing a piece of kindling in his hand, driving in a few splinters. He stared at it, confused for a second that he hadn't felt it. Daniel looked on, still remaining silent, then removed the broken pieces of wood and tossed them into the fire. He gently brushed the remains from Jack's hand, peering at the skin to find the splinters and remove them. His actions were gentle but methodical, dedicated. He felt the ache increasing in his chest and felt the blood thumping in his ears. He knew Jack wanted him to talk and he wanted that too, but...
Jack cleared his throat, forcing Daniel to look at him, to meet his gaze. "Nothing to say?"
Daniel grimaced and suddenly let Jack's hand go, tearing his eyes away to look into the fire. Jack could see their watery look by the reflection from the small flames and though Daniel's face seemed to be dry, his eyes also seemed to be red-rimmed, as if he'd been crying all this time. Jack suddenly thought that perhaps Daniel had been. Daniel was shut down, and except for the trivial stuff about his hair, he hadn't said a word about what had happened, or about Hathor and her tremendous mind fuck on all of them. Jack took his face in his dirty hand again, forcing Daniel to look at him once more, but Daniel kept his eyes averted.
"Daniel?" he prompted, feeling a bit of anger again.
Daniel wouldn't look at him. "One second, Jack," and he pulled his face from Jack's fingers. He had to gather his thoughts together and quickly. He wouldn't let himself cry again, like he had after Shau're had been taken away from him that second time. He suddenly thought about what might have happened if she hadn't gone, what things would be like for her now, then just as quickly, dismissed the thought. It was much easier to face the 'what ifs' where he knew for certain what the outcome would have been. What would have happened if Jack's snake hadn't been forced out of him and killed by the cryogenic process. That 'what if' was easier to see, although somehow harder to feel.
Daniel would have been forced to kill Jack...and then he'd have killed himself for doing it. He knew as certainly as he knew the sun would shine the next day that it would have come to that. He also knew that what they had narrowly avoided was a threat they each faced every time they went through the gate. Daniel remembered how upset he'd been as he'd wondered how he would get to Jack, how he'd find the strength to kill him...and then himself. It was one thing to be forced to kill in defense, but killing Jack wouldn't have been just a mercy killing. It would have been murder. Maybe not cold-blooded, but it would have been calculated. Daniel remembered how he'd forced himself to move on with the mission protocol first, forcing himself to run on automatic pilot, like a robot, doing whatever needed to be done.
Suddenly Jack's hand jerked his face back to the present, startling him as he found Jack's eyes. Jack's worried, nearly angry, eyes. He looked away again, wrenching his face from Jack's fingers for the third time in an almost irritated gesture.
"I watched you, Jack," he said softly, his body becoming rigid as he spoke into the fire, using it almost as an hypnotic tool. "I saw the pain in your face and I...forced myself to shut down...in order to watch. I tried to blur what my eyes saw, but it didn't help. Then I heard your scream," and his voiced faded to nothing at the last word. Jack went to put his arm around him, but Daniel shook his head. "I remember thinking that I needed to find my sidearm...except I didn't know where it would be. I was taken away and I needed to get back to you...to...to...I kept thinking, 'It's our time to die. We're both dead for good this time.'"
His voice dropped below a whisper and his closed his eyes. Just when Jack was going to reach out to him again, he continued. "Then there was Makepeace and I was telling him you'd been taken..." and Daniel screwed up his face, as if to cry, but just as quickly recovered. "I ran for the gate but all the time, I kept thinking that I had to get a weapon. Then Sam was yelling my name just as that fucking explosion ripped a piece of shrapnel through my leg. Next thing I know, Makepeace is handing me a sidearm and I remember staring at it as if it were a foreign object. I needed to get back to you. Sam wanted to look for the generator operating the shields and I wanted to go with her but she told me no."
Jack saw the pained expression of anger forming in Daniel's face, his brows knotting together. He started to interrupt but kept his thoughts to himself. He knew if he interrupted, Daniel might stop talking. For once, Jack just wanted Daniel to keep talking...and talking. Somehow, it would keep Jack from cracking.
Daniel glanced at him, then back into the fire. "I was following Makepeace down one of the Tok'ra tunnels and I was looking for a way out of there, a way to get back to you...but the next thing I knew, I had a fucking staff weapon at my back, and then I'm getting shoved on my knees in front of the gate, and that fucking hurt." He paused, his voice altering slightly. "Suddenly my options were gone and the only thing I could think of was hoping that Sam, wherever she was, would take care of it for me, for you. I was hoping she'd have the courage to..." and his voice then dropped below a whisper. "To kill you."
Jack didn't know what to say at first. The thought that all Daniel had had on his mind was ending their lives shook him hard. He expected pain and god-knows-what-else from Daniel, but not this...nor in the manner he was getting it. He expected a tirade, for Daniel to be screaming his head off about the thought of killing...about what Hathor had done...but Jack did not expect to get this soft litany of words, as if Daniel were reading from someone's journal. He frowned, waiting, expecting Daniel to go off. He reached out and massaged the back of Daniel's neck, trying to give him something, anything. This whole thing was surreal enough. Daniel's behavior was even more bizarre. He'd grown used to Daniel's silences when he was mad or upset, but this was stranger. Daniel was changing. He wanted to hug Daniel to him, to kiss away the pain and the sorrow, to have Daniel take from him as well. Instead, he just offered the touch of his hand. How lame was that?
Daniel suddenly grimaced and cleared his throat when he felt Jack's hand around the back of his neck. He looked up at Jack, his eyes bright, almost teary. Seeing Jack sitting there, the fact that he really was sitting there, with his hand on his neck, trying to comfort him... "For as long as I live, I'll never forget that feeling...the feeling when I saw you coming over that damn rise. Cocky as hell, bold as brass," and Daniel gave out a shaky, almost hysterical laugh, his eyes somehow giving Jack a look of deep admiration. "I couldn't believe it at first. I kept blinking, as if I were hallucinating. You sounded like...you...and I knew no Goa'uld could ever mimic that sarcasm, or tell awfully bad Python jokes."
"Hey," Jack faintly protested, smiling gently back at him, trying to get Daniel calm. He didn't like that hysterical tinge. It reminded him of the one inside his own head.
Daniel cleared his throat. "I never thought I'd be so happy to hear that sarcasm," and he suddenly turned away, unable to look at Jack. He felt the tears behind his eyes, felt that ache in his throat, his heart. He wanted to cry, to scream, to hit something hard, to make something hurt as bad as he did.
Jack knew what Daniel was feeling and suddenly, another deep ache filled him with the realization that Daniel would have killed himself if he'd been forced to kill him. He squeezed Daniel's shoulder and tried to pull him toward him, to hold onto him. "I'm glad that you were willing to do that for me, Daniel. I just wish that you wouldn't--"
"Don't, Jack," Daniel interrupted. He turned and looked him straight in the eye, letting Jack know how serious he was. "We made an agreement, remember? All of us. Should we ever get snaked, we make damn sure that the person doesn't live, no matter what."
Jack gave him an equally serious look. "Yes, Daniel, we agreed. We did not, however, agree to suicide afterward."
Daniel shook his head and didn't answer right away. When he finally did, he was staring back into the fire. "Listen to me, Jack. I know for a fact that I could kill you if I were forced to. I also know for a fact that I'd die soon after."
"Daniel--"
"I almost lost you," he whispered. "You almost lost you." He paused, swallowing hard, then, "Jack...I love Shau're dearly but I think...I...love you...more."
Jack stared at him, blinking. "You..." and then went quiet for several seconds. "Well, damn," he whispered. They were silent for several minutes as they digested.
Daniel suddenly wished he could take it back...or at least be able to crawl into the fire. It would likely hurt less. He shouldn't have said it and he didn't know what on Earth possessed him.
Jack had no idea what the hell to say to that one. Well, that wasn't true. He could say it back. He knew he felt the same way and a growing part of him was screaming at him to tell that to Daniel and that damned voice was growing more insistent as the minutes passed. Suddenly Daniel sat back, off his legs, wincing at his wound, then drew his knees up carefully to his chest and dropped his forehead on them. Pressing his lips together, Jack got up, then stared down at Daniel. Daniel slowly looked up at him.
"Dammit, Daniel. I love you, too," then Jack turned and walked away, down the hall.
Daniel frowned, unsure he'd heard what he'd heard. He stared at the dark hallway, wondering where Jack had gone. He slowly turned back to the fire, not certain he'd not heard Jack correctly...other than the 'Dammit, Daniel' part. He straightened out his leg gingerly, wincing at the constant reminder of what had happened to them. He laid his forehead on the one raised knee and listened to the soft crackle of the fire. He berated himself for telling Jack he loved him and should have left the suicide comment alone and let Jack think he'd convinced him that the idea was stupid. What Jack didn't understand was that he was worth dying for and worth sacrificing oneself for. Daniel closed his eyes, deciding that when Jack returned, he'd get up and go home.
When Daniel heard Jack coming back into the living room, he slowly raised his head, pushing on his hands, preparing to get up. He was then startled as he felt something heavy hit the floor behind him. He turned and looked, finding the large sheepskin rug along with the quilt and the pillows on the floor. He carefully stood up, frowning in confusion.
"Aren't you sleeping in your bed, Jack? Wouldn't it be more comfortable?" he asked, absently helping Jack lay the things down on the floor in front of the fire.
"Yes, but I thought it might be more calming out here." Jack disappeared again. Daniel heard him moving about and took that moment to go over and grab his jacket. When he came back, he'd changed into sweats and t-shirt, and tossed Daniel the same. "Daniel...hang your coat back up. Put these on."
Daniel stood there, staring at the clothes in his hand. "I thought maybe I should be going."
Jack paused in mid-motion as he sipped from his glass. "What for? Didn't you just say you loved me?"
Daniel realized that he'd heard Jack correctly. "So...?"
"Well, didn't you hear me say 'I love you' back?"
"I wasn't...sure...to tell you the truth."
Jack snorted and shook his head. "Well...I do. Now, come on. I'm tired and this seems like a good place for us right now. And if you say anything romantic, I'm smacking you one."
Daniel frowned, though inside he was smiling in confusion. This was one hell of a way to express their feelings...now, of all damn times. Without another word, Daniel stood there in front of the door and changed into the other clothes, then laid his jeans and sweater over the back of the sofa. He limped over to Jack, who was now lying down, his hands folded underneath his head, and tried to get down next to him. Unfortunately, all that time he'd been kneeling exacerbated his leg and it was throbbing madly. Jack started to sit up to help him but Daniel shook his head as he knelt on one knee, preparing to turn.
"No, I'm fine, Jack. Just a little--" and his words were cut off as he lost his balance and dropped onto his back. Jack's reflexes automatically shot out, catching Daniel as he'd hit the thick rug, buffering his fall. Daniel turned onto his side, looking sheepish. "Okay, so I'm not so graceful right now."
Jack turned toward him and wrapped his arm around Daniel's waist, pulling him against him. He gave him a soft kiss, which Daniel returned. Neither felt the need for anything else, their own traumas still keeping the fire down within them. Daniel laid his head down on Jack's shoulder, then suddenly shivered.
Jack pulled him more firmly against him. "What?"
"You know I hate the cold, right?" Daniel asked.
Jack nodded.
"Well, now I really hate it."
Jack snorted softly and pulled Daniel even closer. After a few long minutes of blissful silence and the beginnings of sleep, Jack turned his head, his breath snuffling the top Daniel's hair.
"Thanks for finally talking."
"You're welcome," Daniel replied against his collarbone. "I wish we could get over this one fast."
"You and me both, Daniel."
Jack felt comforted as Daniel stretched his arm over him, hugging him tightly.
"Thanks for wanting to...you know...but you know damn well you can't...join me."
Daniel mumbled, "Jack, don't be an ass."
Despite himself, Jack grinned.