The card said he'd be picked up at seven. It also said the event was black tie.
This was all General Hammond's fault.
God, he was thinking in short sentences. Wait. He always thought in short sentences. Okay, so he was all right.
Black tie. Which meant full dress uniform and blue-haired biddies running their hands up and down his uniformed arm, while gazing up at him in adoration. It also meant no one under fifty. The chicken would be divan, the vegetables unrecognizable, and the dessert would be small silver cups of ice cream with one of those spirally cookies stuck in the middle, along with a sprig of mint.
The band would be loud, the music swing, but played by musicians on speed and he'd have to nod a lot, and say, "Yes, sir," and "No, sir" a lot. He'd have to listen to men who were doves bad-mouth the military, then turn around and listen to hawks suggesting that bombing every continent (except the "Good 'ol US of A") was the answer to the world's problems.
What a neat way to spend Valentine's Day. Neato-keeno. Not that he had anyone to spend the day with, but still, it was the idea of it that bugged him. This was George's gig, but he'd pulled rank (which he could do because he was, you know, the General) and assigned this little party to Jack.
Life sucked.
Jack slipped his bomber jacket on, made sure he had his keys, then locked up his desk and headed out. If he was going to be ready in time, he needed to boogie.
Walking to the elevator, Jack decided that he wasn't going to suffer the evening alone. Carter was out of the question, she actually had a date. Teal'c was a definite no, through no fault of his own, but rather a small gold emblem on his forehead. Janet was actually serving duty as a chaperone for a Valentine's Dance at Cassie's school, so unless Jack missed his guess, that left... Daniel.
Ohyeah.
Daniel.
Roping the hapless archaeologist into joining him would actually serve to satisfy his need for major payback. Jack rubbed his hands gleefully and made for Daniel's office. Of course, an additional bonus in the whole idea of taking Daniel was that Jack would be able to enjoy Daniel's discomfort all evening long. No one hated this kind of political party more than Jack, unless it was Daniel. The only difference was that Jack could handle himself with élan, but Daniel?
Jack stifled the desire to cackle.
Damn. Gone. How the hell had Daniel managed to leave the mountain without Jack knowing it? For that matter, why had Daniel left the mountain? Daniel leaving the mountain before eleven on any night, let alone the dreaded Friday night, was unheard of. But to leave before FIVE?
Crap, maybe Daniel was ill?
Jack made a beeline for the infirmary.
Ten minutes later a dejected Jack was back at the elevator. Janet, still in her office, had seemed quite happy to inform him that Daniel had... a date.
Daniel had a date?
DANIEL HAD A DATE.
A date on Valentine's Day.
And Jack O'Neill? He was stuck at a political soiree, and he was stuck alone.
Life was a bitch, and then you died. Over and over again.
Jack checked himself out one final time. Not bad for a forty-something colonel with bad knees. Not bad at all. Too bad it would be wasted tonight. He turned out the bedroom light, walked into the hall, then made his way to the living room. It was almost seven, which meant the car would be arriving shortly.
It also meant he had time for a quick shot of something smooth.
He was just taking his second sip of a very nicely made scotch and water when someone rang the bell.
Ah. His chauffer in the guise of some poor slob of an airman. With a sigh, Jack put the glass down, grabbed his coat and hat, and walked to the door.
House lights off, porch light on, open door and--
No airman.
A chauffeur. A real chauffeur.
"Sir? Your car is waiting."
Well, of course it is, Jack thought.
Shit, the guy was wearing the black suit, black vest, even the little chauffeur's cap.
Jack followed the man out and received his second shock.
A limo. A black Lincoln Continental limousine parked at his curb.
The evening was looking up, but someone was going to be very unhappy at getting a mere colonel instead of a general.
Man, he hoped this limo was loaded.
The door was opened for him and the man stepped aside to allow him to enter. As he bent down and started to step in, something soft and fragrant was shoved into his face. He reared back, blinked stupidly, then squinted.
It was a rose. A red one.
"You're being rescued, Jack. Get in."
The voice was deep and low and sent delighted shivers up and down his spine in a nice imitation of the Daytona 500. Jack quickly sat down and back, letting his full-length coat fall open. The chauffer closed the door but the interior light stayed on and Jack got his first look at his savior.
Eyes popping open in surprise, Jack found his gaze roving hungrily over the tuxedo-clad man in the corner. The suit was tailored to perfection and clung in all the right places. The jacket was open to reveal the sapphire blue vest underneath and diamond stud cuff links gleamed in the muted light of the now moving vehicle.
Jack finally gathered his wits about him and gave out with a military wolf whistle, then said, "Whoa, you clean up nice, Doctor Jackson. Real nice."
Daniel smiled a smile that promised more than Jack ever thought possible.
The younger man held out the rose and said, "Glad you think so. Here."
As Jack took it, Daniel reached over and pulled a black bottle out of the limo's mini-fridge. It took only a moment to release the cork and Jack whistled low again. "You're a pretty handy guy to have around," Jack observed as Daniel poured the bubbly into two fluted glasses.
Handing one of them over to Jack, Daniel said, "Don't you know it." He raised his glass and touched it to Jack's as he added, "To tonight and the clever rescue of one Jack O'Neill by one Daniel Jackson."
They sipped, then Jack asked, "How did you know about--"
"Sam. She's been avoiding you all day after listening to your grousing in the gym. She said that unless someone rescued you, the world as we know it might come to an end tonight. I volunteered on the condition that she represent you, representing the General, at the gala."
"Ah. I see. Thought you had plans tonight? I'd hate to come between you and a real date, let alone on Valentine's Day."
"I do, and you're not, Jack," Daniel said as he reached over and pulled down the food trays. "You ready for dinner?"
Thoroughly confused now, but not about to admit it, Jack asked curiously, "Dinner?"
"Yeah. Dinner. You know, the meal one has a few hours after lunch?"
"Oh, that. Just what did you have in mind?"
Grinning secretively, Daniel turned in his seat (giving Jack an opportunity to watch the material of his jacket stretch across flexing muscles) and opened one of the recessed cupboards. Two plates and bowls (fine china, no less) were taken out, along with sterling silver utensils and two silky looking placemats. In a flash, Daniel had both their trays set. Then he whisked out a slender vase and with an apologetic look, took Jack's rose, placed it in the vase, then set it on Jack's tray.
"For our first course tonight, we have," he opened the refrigerator again and pulled out a large plastic baggie, "your favorite salad, the Malibu Wedge."
The baggie was opened and one wedge of iceberg lettuce was placed in the center of each plate. Another baggie was retrieved and opened, and a moment later, bacon pieces, finely chopped tomatoes and bleu cheese crumbles were sprinkled over each wedge. Daniel went into the fridge again and took out silver gravy boat. Jack could smell his favorite Stilton bleu cheese dressing and he grinned as Daniel poured a liberal amount over Jack's lettuce, then his own. When everything was put back, Daniel raised his champagne glass again and said, "Bon appetit, Jack."
Their glasses clinked melodically; they sipped, then dug in. As Jack ate, he couldn't believe that Daniel had remembered about the Malibu Wedge. He'd shared it one night after a particularly harrowing mission, the kind where SG-1 wanted only to revel in home and memories upon their return. All four of them had been at Jack's, busy putting away several bottles of beer, when they'd started the "Name your favorite meal" game. Jack had taken great epicurean pleasure in describing the Malibu Wedge to his guests. Now as he took his first bite, he hummed in appreciation.
"Damn," he said as he swallowed, "you've done it, Daniel. This is even better than I remember. Thank you."
"My pleasure. When I rescue, I really rescue."
Grinning, Jack said, "You sure do, Doctor Jackson."
They continued to eat in companionable silence until Jack said, "You do realize that the only thing missing is music, right?"
"Oops. I knew I'd forget something." Daniel reached to his left and slid a faux burl wood panel to the right. Jack could see an array of knobs and dials. Daniel punched one of them and the interior of the limo was filled with Puccini's Turandot. Jack was in heaven.
Jack stared at his empty plate. Would it be rude to lick it? Probably.
"You ready for course number two?"
"If the fact that I'm seriously thinking of licking my plate is any indication, yes."
The salad dishes were removed and stowed away and another hidden compartment was revealed. Judging by the heat that flowed out from the space, Jack figured course two would be served hot. God, he loved limos.
Daniel took two potholders from a small shelf on the door of the compartment and said, "Jack, you'll find two covered bowls in the fridge. Would you get them out?"
Glad to be helping, he did as asked, and when he removed the lids, he smiled broadly. Sour cream, shredded cheddar cheese, and onions.
"Tell me this means chili?"
"It means chili. But the onions are here for the sole purpose of giving you the opportunity to tell me how you want this evening to end." Chili pot in hand, Daniel waited for Jack's answer.
Jack put the lid back on the onions.
Trying to hide his joy, not to mention his smirk, Daniel ladled hot chili into both bowls.
Jack sat back and patted his stomach. "Daniel, I am one happy, stuffed colonel. I do believe this was the finest Valentine's meal I've ever eaten in a limo."
One elegant eyebrow arched. "The only Valentine's meal ever eaten in a limo?"
"Well, yeah, sure, but still, it was the best."
They shared a laugh, then working together, 'cleaned up', which meant stuffing everything back into hidden compartments or the fridge. When they were done, all that remained was the champagne. Pouring himself another glass, Jack indicated the dark plastic shield that separated them from the driver. "Wasn't this a little risky, Daniel?"
"Nope. He's a friend. I'm gonna be doing this for him next Valentine's Day. But hey, I figured you were worth it."
"Well, I'll be damned. What, he owns the limo?"
"And the limo company."
"Well, I'll be damned." Jack glanced out the window but could see nothing but dark shadows. Curiosity aroused, he asked, "So where exactly are we going?"
Looking smug, Daniel simply said, "You'll see."
For the rest of the trip (to wherever Daniel was taking him), their conversation was easy and oddly relaxed, considering what they both knew was going to happen -- eventually. They were arguing the merits of Italian composers versus German when the limo slid to a smooth stop. Daniel sat up and said, "Looks like we're here."
A moment later, the door was opened and Jack climbed out. He smiled at Daniel's friend, who winked back. Daniel slid over and joined Jack.
"Here you go, Daniel." The driver handed Daniel his coat.
"Thanks, Mike. And by the way, this is Jack. Jack, this is Michael Brady."
The two men shook hands as Jack said, "Good to meet you, and thanks for all of this."
"Hey, I only supplied the muscle and the car, Daniel did all the rest." He faced his friend and said, "I'm going to take the car up about twenty-five yards, okay?"
"Perfect, Mike."
While Brady jogged around to the driver's side of the limo, Jack had his first opportunity to look around. He realized immediately where they were.
"Daniel, I don't believe you."
Coat on and collar pulled up against the cold February wind, Daniel tweaked Jack's sleeve and said, "Come on, you know where the view is."
Up here, a few miles above Colorado Springs, there were still patches of snow on the ground, forcing both men to pick their way carefully over mud and ice to the bluff. Once there, they stopped and stood shoulder to shoulder to gaze out over the view.
Below them, resting at the foot of the Rockies, sat Colorado Springs. Her lights sparkled like diamonds in the crisp, clear winter air, causing both men to whisper out a simple, "Ah."
Jack found himself leaning in toward Daniel as he said, "I needed this."
Daniel nodded silently.
For several minutes they simply looked. It was Daniel who finally broke their silence.
"Sometimes, on Abydos, I'd climb up to the top of a dune and look at the city, brightened by the moons, and I'd think of Earth. I'd feel the warm desert breeze on my face, smell the odors of cooking stews, and even though I knew Shau're was waiting for me, I'd find myself thinking of you. I'd pray that you were finding the happiness you craved."
Jack laughed softly and slid his arm around Daniel's waist. "Funny, I'd sit up on my roof and stare up at the stars and think of you, wondering if you were all right and happy. And now look at us. Here we stand, staring down at our city, on the brink of breaking several military rules, and all I can think is that yes, I've finally found the happiness I craved."
They shared another grin, then Jack took Daniel's hand. "Thank you for tonight, Daniel, and thank you for being the courageous one. I needed... rescuing, badly."
Daniel faced his friend and ran the back of his finger down Jack's cheek. "My pleasure, Jack. My pleasure."
The End