DANIEL JACKSON, ACTION HERO BY DARCY

The keyboard is taking a beating as I angrily bang out my report:

With limited options, Dr. Jackson jumped up from a secure position, exposing himself to heavy enemy fire in order to divert attention from Major Carter. The diversionary tactic made it possible for the major to reach the DHD and dial Earth's address... blah blah blah.

That's the official report. I print it and sign my name with a flourish as the ink dries quickly to the neat, little lie. Oh, he jumped up all right, that part is true. I omitted the huge argument we had in regards to tactics and options. The report should have read, ‘in spite of direct orders to the contrary, Dr. Jackson jumped up'... blah blah blah.

So when did I start lying in my reports? Oh, yeah, right around the time I started sleeping with my brave and brilliant archaeologist. Hey, in for a penny, in for a pound. Isn't that what they say?

Typing out the report brings the anger back to the surface and I scrub a hand across my face, rub my eyes, and take a deep breath, waiting for the feelings to subside before I go home to the cause of my deceit. The reason for the lies and the headaches and the sleepless nights and the unsettled stomach, not to mention the lack of military discipline is at home, my home, no doubt sleeping soundly in my bed.

Of course, he also makes me dinner, makes me laugh and makes getting up in morning worthwhile. He gives me hope, along with incredible sex, and loves me more than I deserve. Dr. Daniel Jackson is simultaneously the joy and the bane of my life, and I'm not sure I want to live one day on this planet without him. That said, my archaeologist and I need to have a little chat. One that I'm not looking forward to. Nope, not looking forward to at all.

He disobeyed direct orders. My orders. No newsflash there. Daniel follows orders about as well as I follow Carter's techno babble, but it's getting out of hand now, dangerous even, and no matter how much hell I'm going to catch from my snarky archaeologist, it's my responsibility to do something about it.

When we first started jumping each other's bones, for lack of a better description, Daniel set out to prove, to himself I guess, that he would not receive any special treatment from me. He made me vow not to be any more protective of him than I already am. No problem there, I'm cautious about the health and well being of all of my team, your basic equal opportunity protector. I've held up my end of the bargain. Daniel has not.

In the field, I use my best judgment to assess and make snap decisions based on circumstances and years of experience. Did I mention I'm a Colonel? Daniel happily ignores those decisions and does whatever he damn well pleases based on what he WANTS to do and what he THINKS is best. The worst part is that I let him, like a parent indulging an unruly child. I let him, not just to avoid a confrontation, but because I love him to the core and I want him to be happy. I know it's wrong and I let him anyway.

Today it struck me that the fraternization rule has some merit. Daniel would no doubt listen better to a CO he wasn't climbing into bed with every night and waking up beside every morning. I suppose it's difficult taking orders from someone who just blow-dried your hair and whispered ‘I love you, babe' in the shower. But while he might listen better, I'm not willing to trust Daniel's safety to any one other than myself. So that brings me back to square one.

We definitely need to talk before my irritating, insolent ‘heart and soul' ends up wounded or worse on some godforsaken planet. One huge, honking problem is that talk is what Daniel does best. He can and does talk circles around me. Words are Daniel's forte. He negotiates and debates and convinces. It's what he does, either with delegates of other countries or other worlds, and he rarely loses. But this is one discussion I can't afford to let him win. Despite his incredible linguistic skills, I do have one advantage that he won't have... I'm right.

By the time I pull into the driveway, I'm feeling much better. The ride home has calmed me down some. The house is dark and I'm sure Daniel's asleep. Taking the steps two at time, I realize that the anticipation now outweighs the anger. I freeze when I see him sprawled out on the bed. He's nestled under the covers and the moonlight is shining through the window onto that peaceful face and silky hair. As always, my heart squeezes at the sight of him.

As soon as I climb into bed he snuggles up beside me. It's only a matter of seconds before he's pressed firmly against me. My arms automatically wrap around him in a hug.

“Jack?” he whispers sleepily.

“Yeah?” That soft, questioning ‘Jack?' warms my heart and immediately melts any resolve I may have had to play it tough.

“Are you mad at me?” His voice is muffled, still buried in my chest, and carrying a hint of playfulness.

“No.” Damn it! I want to say ‘yes' but I can't. My fingers gently run up the length of his back. “We need to talk though, okay?” That's the best I can do.

He sighs contently and burrows even deeper into my chest. “Sure, Jack. We can talk in the morning.”

“Right. In the morning.”

We had wild, yet passionate monkey sex at 0600 this morning. Scratch that, we made love this morning. That's how Daniel likes me to word it. If I use my first description he'll give me an exasperated look, the one that involves a slightly pouty lower lip used in combination with raised eyebrows that drives me batty. Little does he know I spout that particular phrase intentionally, in hopes of getting ‘the look'. See, he's not as smart as he thinks he is. After we made like chimps he fell right back to sleep. I've been puttering around the house for at least two hours when I hear the shower. My cue to turn on the coffee maker and start the breakfast I've decided to try to bribe him with.

He comes down the stairs fully dressed in faded jeans and a fresh blue cotton henley . It's so unfair.

He cocks his head in my direction. “Jack, you okay?”

Oops. I must have sighed out loud. “Yep. Fine.”

He's beside me in an instant, leaning over my shoulder to check the menu.

“Bacon? I love you, Jack.” He plants a light kiss on my neck, grabs the morning newspaper and pours himself a cup of coffee before settling down at the table, all happy and content. Not a care in the world.

He barely looks up when I bring our plates over and sit down. Instead, he hands me the sports section and starts to chuckle at an article he's perusing. If I want to get this ‘talk' in, which I don't, I better do it quickly before he starts reading me current events and discussing the merits of our country's foreign policy.

“Daniel?” He's mindlessly shoveling in his eggs.

Nothing.

“Daniel.”

His head finally bobs up from the newspaper to make eye contact.

He doesn't look dangerous. The innocent blue eyes stare out from behind the glasses while a few stray crumbs of toast cling to the corner of his mouth. By all appearances, it would be easy to guess his occupation. Dr. Daniel Jackson, nerdy scientist, lover of all things ancient and boring. Current company included.

But get Science Boy out of the office and into the field and he turns into Dr. Daniel Jackson, Action Hero. The thought sends shivers down my spine and gives me the will to forge ahead. “Remember last night when I said we needed to talk?”

“No.” His brow wrinkles in thought.

“Well, I did, last night. I said, ‘we need to talk'.”

He nods his head and picks up the last of the toast. “What did I say?”

“You said, ‘okay'.” I realize he's smiling sweetly, teasing me. “Daniel!”

“You said you weren't mad,” he reminds me as he looks back at the paper. Seems he does remember, the little shit.

“Well, I lied.” He's still smiling that same amused smile. I reach over and wipe the crumbs off his face. They're too damn distracting. “I'm serious. That was dangerous. You don't make yourself a target... ever.”

He playfully points a piece of bacon in my direction. “You're just upset because my plan worked and you didn't think of it first.”

“No. I had a plan that would have worked just as effectively and would have been safer for you. For all of us.” He's definitely not taking this to heart and I should call him on it, but it's our first day off in two weeks and I'd prefer not to spend it with a pissed off archaeologist. If I have to I will, but it's not my first choice.

There's still no emotion. A distracted shrug of the shoulders is his only response. From his grin, I gather this subject is not of major importance to Dr. Daniel Jackson, Superhero. It's not his fault; he's probably still warm and relaxed from this morning's romp in the hay and thinking that if I had serious issues I would have brought them up last night. I could kick myself that I didn't. I should have come home mad, raised hell and kicked his ass.

I know the exact phrase that will piss Daniel off and as much as I hate to rile him, it's imperative that I get his full attention and make him understand.

“You disobeyed direct orders.” The blue eyes harden considerably and the grin disappears completely. Bingo!

“Oh, so that's what this is about. Me not doing what I'm told like a good little subordinate soldier.”

Damn him. “I had to falsify my report.”

“Why?” His voice is sharp, but I'm hoping the question is sincere. I'm incredulous that he can be this clueless.

“Why? Because I can't say in the report that you disobeyed direct orders and hence put all of our lives in danger. If I reported what really happened, Hammond would think I'm an idiot for putting my team at unnecessary risk and you'd get a reprimand.”

He snickers at that last statement. “I didn't ask you to lie, Jack. Put whatever the hell you want in your reports. Do you think I care?”

“We all take our jobs very seriously so, yes, Daniel, I would hope that you do care.” I know I sound patronizing but I can't stop myself. He knows just what buttons to push with me, just as do I with him, but he's much more skilled at using them.

“About your reports, no, I don't care. As for me taking my job seriously... you want to talk about being taken seriously. Okay, how about P3C-036?”

His smugness level rises at my blank look.

“Oh, right, you don't remember planet designations. Let me refresh your memory. P3C-036, the planet with the ancient Romanesque temple.”

“Yeah, so?” Where the hell is he going with this?

He leans across the table until we're practically nose-to-nose. “You ordered me out of the ruins. They were too old, too dangerous for me. It was right after we moved in together. Remember?”

“They were too dangerous.” He's not doing much for his case using that particular temple as an example. “If you recall, your geeky fellow scientist, Coburn broke his leg in three places when part of the temple ceiling collapsed on top of him. I was right.”

“Yeah, and you know what I had to listen to for weeks?” He's really worked up. I have no idea when I lost control of this conversation.

I shake my head. What the hell is he talking about?

“ Dr. Jackson was smart enough not to go into those ruins. The SGC would never risk Dr. Jackson's life in there. Dr. Jackson could have at least warned us. They had no problem ordering US in.” He hangs his head for just a second before reestablishing eye contact. “Those comments were made by some of my own colleagues.”

Why does he hide this stuff from me? “I didn't know that, but it doesn't change anything. That was not your decision to make. Besides, we're first contact. We have to be more careful.”

My attempt to absolve him doesn't go over well at all. He leans back in his chair and folds his arms across his chest.

“Let me put this in terms you'll understand.” I hate the rare condescending tone. “As a military commander, would you order men to do something you wouldn't do yourself?”

He doesn't play fair. “No,” I answer honestly. And just like that, I'm toast. Defeated. He talks circles around me. This has absolutely nothing to do with his playing superman on our last mission. That's the problem... he wins when he shouldn't.

Daniel grabs his jacket off of the chair and heads for the door.

“Come on! Where are you going?”

He doesn't look back. “I have work to do.” The door slams angrily behind him.

The two for one special... I pissed him off and I lost. So much for being right. I look around at the mess in the kitchen and start to clean up.

Ah, another day in paradise.

Damn it! Life is so unfair. The ruins on P4X-whatever looked so fun and inviting on the MALP. Daniel and Carter were both drooling at the thought of getting in there. It's our first mission since Daniel and I had our little spat over who's in charge and even though we've called a tentative truce, life would be so much easier if this sorry excuse for a planet had worked out.

But it's impossible. Turns out that most of the facility is underground, the entrance long since buried. All that's left is a small tunnel that looks to be on the verge of collapse. There's no way in hell I can, in good conscience, send someone down there. I've already gone over this in my mind to see if Daniel could be right about me being overprotective of him because he's... him. No. If Harry Maybourne were here, I wouldn't send him. Colonel Simmons? Tougher call, but still no. I could possibly make an exception for Senator Kinsey, but that's about it. Hopefully, even Daniel in pissy, defensive mode will be able to see the foolhardiness of attempting to enter that narrow, unstable passageway.

Right now, my three teammates are inside the above-ground portion of the structure collecting whatever data they can, but they've already informed me the best toys are underground. Shit.

The three of them exit the temple. Daniel and Carter are engaged in an animated conversation that is apparently so exciting it's causing Carter to continually refer to her notes and Daniel to use sweeping hand gestures. An expressionless Teal'c follows a few steps behind them, not nearly as enamored with the place.

Casual yet firm, that's what I decide on. “Sorry, kids. No one's playing in these ruins today. Let's pack it up.”

“Yes, Sir.” Carter sounds disappointed.

Daniel looks determined, but to my great relief he appears to be complying.

My relief is short lived as he finishes repacking his essentials and heads off in the direction of the hole. Yes, the very hole I just deemed off limits.

I clear my throat and raise my voice loud enough for Daniel to hear me. “Excuse me. May I ask where you're going?” Since taking up with Daniel, I've elevated keeping my temper in check to an art form.

“To the ruins.” He doesn't turn around. He knows that annoys the shit out of me.

“Perhaps, you didn't hear me?” What the hell is wrong with him? I'm so angry it's all I can do not to have it out with him right here and now. The only thing stopping me is Carter and Teal'c. I can see they're already a tad uncomfortable and I refuse to subject them to our personal issues.

“It will just take a few minutes.” He pauses for a second to face me. He's challenging me, daring me to try and stop him. “I'll go down, pan the walls with the camcorder and I'll come back up. It's really simple, Jack.” I want to strangle him for that tone, like he's explaining his plans to a five year old.

I bite my tongue and count to ten, watching him walk away. Half of me wants to leave him here and go, to teach him a lesson. Kind of like my mom used to do when she couldn't drag me away from the model airplanes. I wonder if that would work... Daniel, I'm leaving right now, with or without you! Nah, Daniel would say ‘good riddance' and happily spend days or weeks down in that hole without the benefit of food or water.

“Carter, Teal'c why don't you two head back to the gate. We'll catch up.”

“Yes, Sir.” She sounds worried but agrees. I'm grateful she's willing to give Daniel and I a little privacy to sort through this on our own. Teal'c gives me a knowing nod as well.

Daniel is already studying the opening by the time I get to him. “I'm going in, Jack.”

“Regardless of what I say?” I rest a non-threatening hand on his shoulder, careful not to grip it.

“Yes.” He pulls away and removes his backpack and jacket.

“Why?” I'm determined not to let this deteriorate into a battle I know I won't win.

He finally stops his preparations and looks at me. Really looks at me. “It could be important. I don't think we're going to find the answers to defeating the Goa'uld by finding weapons. I think it's going to be through finding something else.”

“Like what?” He's never expressed that thought to me before.

“I don't know. But it could be down there. We don't know where the answer lies, do we?” He goes back to fiddling with the camcorder.

We're alone. I put my hand on top of his to stop the fidgeting. “Then we'll send back a better equipped team to check it out.”

He tilts his head and squints up into the sun to look at me. “Okay, what you're saying is this is too dangerous for me...” I start to nod but he cuts me off. “So, they'll have to send someone else, not me, the, oh so great Dr. Jackson, to go down there and risk being injured or killed?”

And they say I'm sarcastic. Coburn's accident must have really rattled him. “They can reinforce the walls and make sure it's safe before they send someone down.”

“But they won't. You know that as well as I do. There is no probability of finding weapons down there, so they won't. If they do send someone, it will be an SG team with a curious scientist crazy enough to climb down there and take a look.”

He's probably right about that. They might send a team for another look see after reading our reports, but odds are they won't waste time and money on a trashed, two thousand year old temple.

“I'm going in, Jack.” I can see he means it.

“For crying out loud. Give me that damn thing. I'll do it.” I grab the video recorder and remove my jacket and backpack. There's just no reasoning with the man.

“This is MY job. You don't know what you're looking for.”

It's childish, but I use the same annoying tone he used on me. “And I won't send someone to do something I wouldn't do myself. You said it yourself. Besides, it's not hard. I film the walls and any other inscriptions and in five minutes I climb back out. End of discussion.” I'm shocked that he goes along with this and securely ties off the rope to a nearby tree without further argument.

It's about a twelve-foot drop from daylight to the temple floor. Every wall in the place is heavily cracked with mud and water seeping through. Some of the walls are completely gone. Dirt is already falling down the shaft that I just lowered myself through. I'm just about to start filming when I hear a loud thud behind me. Son of bitch, it's Daniel. If I didn't love him I swear I'd kill him. Counting to ten is not going to work this time. I feel a deep disturbing desire to learn to Kel'no'reem.

From the smile on Daniel's face I deduce that he's quite pleased with himself. “Don't say anything, Jack, just give me the camcorder.”

I hand it over without a word deciding to take his advice and not say anything until we're out of this muddy grave. Then I'll have a whole lot of words to say. For the first time it hits me that our relationship is ruining our ability to work effectively together. One of us is going to have to transfer to another team. It's too dangerous to continue this way. If he can't adjust, then I don't see any other choice. My anger dissipates and is replaced by sadness.

Daniel is kneeling on the ground beside the one wall that's still partially intact. He's rubbing at the mud with his jacket so the camera will be better able to pick up the writings. It must be an optical illusion because I'd swear the wall is swaying. SHIT! It's no illusion.

“Danny!” I scream the precious name, the one only I get to use, as loud as I can. He turns to me with that wide-eyed, startled look that is so endearing. I dive towards him to push him out of the way. “Danny.” I say the name one more time before everything fades to black.

The beeping sounds and the distinct antiseptic smell leaves me with no doubt that I'm in the infirmary. What the hell... “Daniel,” I try to scream as the memory of the wall and the mud comes crashing in, but my throat is so dry that his name comes out as a hoarse whisper.

Slight pressure on my hand becomes an urgent squeeze. “I'm right here, Jack. I'm okay.” The sadness in that voice gives me the incentive to force my eyes open.

“I'm so sorry, it should have been me.” His eyes are shiny and bright with unshed tears. “It should have been me,” he whispers again.

It's too difficult to speak so I squeeze his hand, hoping he can read my thoughts. I don't want that, Danny. I don't ever want it to be you.

As miraculous as it seems, two days later we're home. A friggin' mud wall collapsed on top of me and all I got was a lousy concussion. Sounds like a good slogan for a bumper sticker or a t-shirt.

Daniel was quiet on the ride home and my head hurt too much to poke and prod at him. We haven't talked about what happened and I have yet to write up a mission report. I have no idea what Daniel, Carter and Teal'c reported to General Hammond.

Daniel's in the kitchen preparing baked ziti, my personal Italian favorite. He's already brought me a glass of ice tea, the television remote, and a stack of Newsweek and Sports Illustrated magazines. If he asks me if I'm okay or if I need anything one more time I'm going to gag him and lock him in a closet somewhere. There's nothing quite like Dr. Daniel Jackson in guilt mode. I want to talk to him, but he won't sit still long enough to hash this out.

He reappears in the doorway. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.” He hesitates before retreating to the kitchen and for what seems like the hundredth time asks, “Do you need anything, Jack?”

“Yes, I do.”

He unfolds his arms and stands up a little straighter; ready to run off on whatever errand I choose to assign him. If he weren't so damn miserable I'd take advantage of this rare opportunity and send him all over Colorado Springs to satisfy my every whim. Instead, I pat the couch beside me.

I can see he doesn't want to join me, but he did ask. He looks down at his shoes and wanders over to sit beside me. “The food's cooking, so...” I bring my finger to his lips to quiet him.

“Talk to me, Daniel.”

“I just, I'm just, well, I'm sorry, Jack.” I slide my fingers under his chin and gently tilt his face upward to meet my gaze. “How sorry?”

His eyebrows raise slightly and his shoulders slump at his misunderstanding of the question.

I clarify. “Sorry as in ‘sorry you got hurt, Jack', or sorry as in, ‘sorry, I'll TRY to follow orders and leave the command decisions to you, Jack'.”

A slight blush tinges his face. I'm not intentionally embarrassing him. I really need to know.

“Both,” he whispers before repeating it more firmly. “Both.” He smiles at my obvious relief. “It seems like you're always risking your life to save me. To save all of us. I figured I should share the load.”

My hand automatically goes to his thigh. I'm not capable of sitting this close without touching some part of him. “And that's why you jumped up under fire two missions ago? You didn't think I could come up with a better diversion than your life?”

He shrugs his shoulders and then laughs at his foolishness. “Yes, I suppose you would have come up with something a bit less risky, eventually. I guess I just wanted to be the one to save us for a change. It felt good.”

“Not to me!” After I blurt that out I slide my hand down to his knee. “There are so many things you do to save us. Don't you know that?”

He shoots me a look that proves he doesn't believe me.

I'm in a charitable mood so I tick them off for him. “You reason with unreasonable aliens. You make friends with hostile races. You solve unsolvable mysteries. You translate unreadable words and you decipher ancient codes. And because of all that, you've saved our butts countless times. That's you're job.”

He looks up at me with those intense eyes, hoping I'm going somewhere with this that will make sense to him and relieve some of his guilt.

“My job is to wear the cape and run around with the big red S on my shirt. From now on, only I get to be the action hero extraordinaire. Got it?”

He nods his head slowly.

“To be honest, your job is way more important than mine.”

“Maybe,” he nods again. “But yours is much more fun.” He points to his chest and does a circular motion with his finger. “Wearing the big red S and all.”

I'm thrilled to see the tentative Danny smile. “Don't forget the cape. I like the cape.”

The small, shy smile spreads to his eyes. “Tights?”

I raise a finger. “Don't go there, Jackson ”

“It should be me,” he whines. “I have glasses just like Clark Kent .”

I give him an exaggerated sigh. “Wouldn't work. You NEED yours. The glasses are a disguise. The real superman doesn't actually NEED glasses. You don't know anything, do ya?”

He glares at me. “Okay, then who do I get to be?”

“Well, let's see, a Superman sidekick...”

His eyes narrow. “Don't say it, Jack.”

“What? I was going to say Jimmy Olsen, cub reporter for the Daily Planet. Who did you think I was going to say?”

Daniel blushes slightly. “If you'd have said Lois Lane I was going to stuff kryptonite down your underwear.”

I reach for his hand. “Just be you, Danny, archaeologist, linguist, Egyptologist, peaceful explorer.” I raise his hand to my lips and gently kiss the palm before continuing. “Lover of coffee, chocolate and all things old and gray.”

Daniel smirks contently at the reference.

FINIS

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