JD-DIVAS: STARGATE SG-1 JACK & DANIEL SLASH FICTION
BY PHOENIX E

WORST NIGHTMARE  BY PHOENIX E


Slash:  Jack and Daniel involved in a loving and committed relationship, which usually involves sex.
Rating: NC-17.
Category: First Time.  Romance. Angst.  Hurt/Comfort.  Drama. Action Adventure.
Season/Spoilers: Season 5.  No spoilers.
Synopsis: Jack and Daniel have a date.  Complications ensue.  Naturally.
Warnings: Violence.  Language.  Lots of Language.  Woof!  Jack is a real potty mouth in this one.  He's got cause. 
Length:  160  Kb  Originally completed and posted to the net 02 Sep 01.

Notes: Thanks to Biblio for beta reading. As usual. The ice cream bit is by her special request. This is billed as a 'First Time' but technically it really isn't, but it isn't exactly an ER either, not yet so I didn't know quite where to slot it. Tell you what, read it over and decide for yourselves.


 

Flick.

17:55. Fuck.

Flick.

This is nice.

Flick.

Witness, if you will, scenic P6X-289-er.  Serene, tranquil, quiet. So damned quiet if you listen closely you can hear squirrels shitting. We got yer trees, yer sky, yer frigging woodland creatures, yer Stargate over yonder we should have already strolled on through.  Three quarters of SG-12 loafing on company time.  Jaffa to the left of me, major to the right of me, checking out the weird-ass alien plants growing around the DHD.  Yeah, we got everything we need, almost.

FLICK.

Crap, leave it alone, Carter, we're not here to defoliate the frigging universe in fact, we're not even supposed to still BE here. We should have signed off on all this goddamned peace and quiet and gone home ten minutes ago.

FLICK.

17:57.  SHIT FUCK!

FLICK!

"Where the HELL is he?"

Carter shoots me a look equal parts curious and surprised.  Crap!  I guess bellowing is a little over the top given Daniel is only fifteen minutes overdue and that's not exactly either unusual or cause to be acting like the end of the world is nigh  - like I'm sorta, kinda acting.  Ordinarily Daniel being fifteen minutes overdue would be mildly pissing me off, it's true, but not like he's pissing me off right now, because we're not talking ordinarily right now, today, right now, we're talking ANYTHING but 'ordinarily'.    I'm pissed because I know for the first time in a LONG time I've got something much better to be doing than sitting around waiting for Daniel to show up.  But the kicker is, seeing as how that something better involves his direct and up close and very personal participation, I can't be getting down to it AND him until he frigging well DOES show up and we can get the hell back home.  

And then - home.

"I'm sure Daniel and Captain Towers will be here - any minute….now…uh - Sir…"  Carter pipes up trying to do her perky 2IC 'let's just humour the grumpy old colonel' thing before the glare I'm shooting HER shuts her up.

Yeah, Major, I'm grumpy. What's it to ya?   I got a bird on my shoulder says I can vent all over the frigging clearing if I want to and I don't need your approval.  So zip it and mind your own business.  I'll fret all I please about mine.

Carter's been watching me sitting here twitching like a cat on a hot tin roof and even though she's usually not too swift on the uptake when it comes to stuff like this, even she's figuring out something's up with the colonel. Oh yeah. Something is most DEFINITELY up.

What's the matter, Carter, haven't you ever seen a man who's about to get LAID before?  That is, just as soon as the archaeologist of the hour gets his sweet ass back here so I can haul him on home and let him have his wicked way with me.  As many times as he wants to.

I gotta calm down.  I'm getting so worked up I'll be emptying my clip into the next unfortunate who looks at me sideways and not only is that sort of thing bad for morale, it's really hard to explain to George.

I can't BELIEVE Daniel's keeping me waiting like this!  I swear to God, if he's gotten himself sucked in by some meaning of life Danny-trap… You'd think after years of hand jobs and cold showers a few extra hours of - anticipation - would be no big deal, but ever since last night when he - when I - when we…

Holy Buckets, I never in a million years thought - I mean, sure, when I was really into torturing myself I'd let myself go there, that maybe there was a snowball's chance in hell he saw me - that way - even a little bit, but mostly I just figured the whole thing was hopeless and pathetic and bit the bullet.  I was pretty much convinced me and my right hand were going to be going steady for many long, lonely years to come, and then the object of all my obsessing took matters into his own hands and just up and blind-sided me.  

Ambush, archaeologist style. I never even saw him coming.

There he was, last night, sitting on my couch with his little pouty lip sticking out, nursing a beer, glaring at me and working himself into a snit about something.   He was looking so cute and remarkably like someone who needed some serious teasing, and I was feeling like just the man for the job 'cause well, he was there, he was asking for it, it was too damned easy and I figured I didn't have anything else better to do.  That's when my reality got turned on its ear and suddenly my plans for the evening abruptly changed.

I opened my mouth to start ragging him and he slams his beer down on the coffee table, looks at me like he's about to pop a blood vessel or something and yells 'Fuck it - I don't care if you shoot me! I can't STAND it anymore!'  And the next thing I know I've got an archaeologist sprawled all over me kissing the shit out of me.

Bless his horny little heart.

It's one of the bravest things he's ever done.  Impressed the hell out of me. He really was expecting me to shoot him.   That's why I was kinda glad I was able to turn the tables on him and throw him a little curve ball of my own.

Shooting him was the FARTHEST thing from my mind, much to his surprise.

We needed some breathing room to recover from the shock of discovering we both actually wanted the same thing.  Each other. Who knew?  Not us, that's for sure.  Crap, were we dumb, or what? So there we were, finally on the same page, but even though Daniel was the one who opened the can of worms he honestly wasn't expecting me to bite.  That's why after an all too brief interval of extremely enjoyable kissing and groping Daniel decided he had to book for a bit.  Get in some freaking time.  I can't say I blame him.  He needed to process.  He's not used to getting what he wants.  It was doing things to his head, but he was okay when he showed up at the mountain this morning.  With bells on and a grin so wide he had people doing double takes.

Gowan, take a good look.  What's the matter, never seen a guy who's just gotten his heart's desire before?

Yep, he was okay. More than okay.  He was ready for a rematch.  Me too.  Oh yeah.

So, we knew we had this gig here on 289-er to get through, but fortunately for us it's just a day trip.  Couple of hours on site, poke about and then we're home. For more poking.

We've got a date.  Tonight.  My place.  Me and Daniel.  My bed.  Definitely arrived at a consensus on this point. We bandied about the possibility of dinner and other pre-coital amenities, but given as how we've been for all intents and purposes going steady for the past four years already, we figure we're past the awkward, getting to know you stage and we've both waited more than long enough for the main event.

So I'm thinking we'll be skipping dinner and getting straight down to dessert. As soon as we get back.  To my place. As soon as he shows up.  Any time, Daniel.  Now.  Now would be good. Not that I want to RUSH you or anything but -

Fuck, fuck fuck! 18:15!  Where the FUCK is he?

"Daniel!"  I key my comm and bark into it.   "Daniel!  It's 18:15.  I'm looking around the RV point and I don't see you.  You wanna tell me why?"

I stop transmitting and wait.

Wait some more.

Nothing.

Fuck.

They're not out of range; they weren't going that far.  Just a little stroll through the woods, over to that mono-blisk or obo-linth where the folks here said their ancestors had recorded the story of how they'd put the boots to the Goa'uld.  At least that's what Daniel was able to piece together from the tapes SG-12 sent back and from talking to the village elders.  He'd gotten a lot from his chat and he had the tapes, but he wanted to go check out the thingee for himself, make sure Manners hadn't missed anything when she'd gone over it.  So he was just going to take a little detour, scope the stone for like half an hour and then join us at the gate.  I sent Towers with him 'cause he knew where it was, and because Daniel and I - alone in the woods - right now - not a good idea.

Now I wish to God I hadn't let him out of my sight!

"Daniel!"  I call into my comm again.  "Towers!  Come in!"

Getting nothing, I'm getting nothing back.  I'm swallowing down my panic, watching Carter and Teal'c instantly responding to the lack of response, heading on over to my side.  I'm just about to give it one last yell when we all snap around at the unmistakable sounds of someone running through the woods towards us and one of the villagers comes crashing into the clearing.

I recognise him.  He's one of the gaggle of interested and optimistic young bucks in search of mating opportunities who were hanging around Carter, making her a little nervous.  I can't remember his name.  Daniel knows it.

Daniel.  Crap.

"Kol-nal" the kid gasps as Teal'c catches him before he drops to the ground and helps him on over.  He looks like he's been in a hell of a scrap ending with some basic abject fleeing for his life.  I'm getting a very bad feeling about this.

"Kol-nal," he shakes his head and fights to get the words out.  "The Hrsus - they returned to the stone - it is sacred to them - found your men there -"

He's having a hard time talking because I've grabbed him by the arms and am shaking him. Severely.  "What about my men?"  I manage to holler at him before Carter and Perlman haul me off.

"One is dead - the other - taken," he gulps.

He's saying something else but my mind is frozen on that one word. Dead.  Can't get past it, can't let go of it.  Can't absorb anything else.

Dead.  Dead.  Someone is dead.  Oh God - Daniel.  He's not - can't - he can't be!  Not that.  Not - not dead.  Not Daniel.

Daniel…

 


 

Gah!  I didn't think it was possible ANYTHING could smell worse than a mastage but these horse-a-lope things got an aroma happening here so bad they'd be making a mastage's eyes water.

But as far as I'm concerned if they can get us to the maniacs who've got Danny before the creeps can hustle him back to their city the beasties can stink as bad as they please.  I just hope I'm not going to be smelling like one of them myself for the next week or so.

I grit my teeth and grab hold of the front part of the saddle as an unexpected jolt almost sends me flying out of it.  A smooth ride, this ain't.    I glance up ahead to see how Teal'c is doing.  He's bouncing away on his own ball-breaker with four legs at the side our guide.  Who we acquired at the village, the same place we got the transportation.  What the hell is his name - Jori - something - says he knows the quickest way to get us to this bridge the Here-whatzits are going to have to use to cross the gorge separating their turf from this one.  According to the kid these Here-whozibubs usually stick to their own stomping grounds, 'cause other than Danny's stone there's nothing over here they want. Which is probably a DAMNED good thing for the folks from this neck of the woods. From what I've managed to suss out about 'em these 'Neither Here nor there' guys are wackos no one in their right mind would want coming to call.

Perlman and a couple more guys from the village have our six. Carter should be setting out with the reinforcements from the SGC by now.

When I got my head back on straight I sent Manners through the gate for back-up, but Haman - turns out that's the kid's name - told us we were on the clock and couldn't hang around and wait for them.  One bit of good news - when we got to him Towers turned out to be not quite as dead as Haman thought he was, so I had Carter and Voight see to him while Teal'c, Perlman and I went with the kid to the village to scare up our little posse.  Towers is a good man.  I'm glad he's still with us.  But not half as glad as I'm going to be once I get to Danny and see for myself he's still safe and well.

And he is.  He's okay. He'll be fine.  Anything else is NOT an option.  They won't - I won't let them - I'm not even going to THINK about….

Crap. Can't go losing it again.  Not, not, not gonna flip out, here. Breathe, Jack, focus. Calm the fuck down. Stay in colonel mode.  Keep your mind on the job and getting it done and nothing else.  Never mind my guts are in knots, my heart's in frigging tatters and I want to throw the book AND my sanity out the window and go freaking BALLISTIC.  I can't believe this is happening.  This is some kind of stinking nightmare.  The kind you know HAS to be a bad dream because it's just - just can't, can't be happening for real.  Why this - why - why NOW?  I swear to God he's going to be the frigging death of me.  I love him to pieces, but -

But that's really what it's all about, isn't it? What's really making me want to tell the colonel to take a hike while 'Jack' goes off his nut and goes through anything and anyone who tries to keep me from Daniel.  I love him. I've been so fucking gone on him for so damned long I can't even see straight.  I love Daniel.  And he - me - we didn't come out and do the hearts and flowers thing, but he didn't have to say the words.  I could see it, plain as day in his eyes.  He feels the same way about me. He does.  He really FREAKING DOES.  I couldn't believe it.  Part of me still can't.  Never won a goddamned thing in my life and yet, here it is.  The jackpot, the brass ring, the lucky strike, the mother-lode, royal fucking flush, you name it, I've got it all.   All wrapped up in one incredible package answers to the name of Daniel Jackson.  I'm set for life, the luckiest man in the universe.  That's me.  Mister fucking Fortunate…

That's just about enough of that crap.  I keep thinking like this I'll be a basket case.  No good to Daniel or anyone else.  Gotta let it all go and just do the job.  I can't think about him like that right now, how special he is, how much I care about him and how worried - fuck, scratch that - how FREAKING ANGRY I am with the goddamned shit heads who've snatched him, can't go there, can't give into it or let anything distract me and make me reckless or stupid.

Stopping now.

I want to rip the fucking heads off of anyone who's laid a finger on him.  And don't think I won't - as soon as I get my hands on them!

I said STOP IT!  As in NOW!

Crap, the kid is yakking again. 

"I am sorry, Kol-nal," Haman wheedles.  The sound of his voice grates on my nerves.  I want to tell him to can it in the worst way but that would be rude.  And if it wasn't for the nice people of his village we wouldn't have a hope of getting to Daniel in time. Still, it's all I can do to stop myself from snapping at him to just - stifle.   He hasn't stopped apologising since he first showed up to tell us what happened. I'm about three seconds away from yelling at him anyway when the shape he's in smacks me right between the eyes and I feel like a heel for almost getting severely short with him.

 He looks like hell - the kid took a real beating trying to help Daniel and Towers and he's probably damned lucky to have gotten away at all.  He's really in no shape to be having his internal organs further scrambled in jolting along with us on our little jaunt but he insisted on coming along. I wanted him to stay back and get seen to, and from the look on his face he's feeling every bump and grind three times as bad as the rest of us, but I guess I understand how it feels to think you're responsible for a fix someone else is in and want to do everything you can to try and make it right.

Definitely can't fault him on that score.   Have to admire his guts, too, for all they have to be pretty much pureed right now, if the state of my own stomach is anything to go by.

"The Hrsus only visit the stone on their holy days," Haman flushes darkly with embarrassment and guilt.   "The next one is not for many weeks to come, there was NO reason to think there would be - "

"So you were saying," I start to call back across to him and then have to hold on for dear life again as the demon creature I'm riding decides it wants break into a demented buck and wing.  It finishes up with the weird dance step it's doing, I'm delighted to discover I'm not on the ground being trampled underfoot and decide I'll risk finishing the thought.

"So what the hell were they doing there today?"  I bark at him, even though I already know the goddamned answer. Why?  Why today?  Just fucking BECAUSE.  Because my dearly beloved, long lusted after and finally bagged but yet to be unwrapped archaeologist was there, that's why.  Who along with being the hottest thing to ever stroll through a gate is also entirely, uniquely talented for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  That's the only fucking reason they showed up.

I think the goddamned universe hates me.

"Who can say?"  Haman answers and gives me a 'they're all nuts and who knows why they do what they do' kind of helpless glance. "We do not follow their customs or share their beliefs.  The stone has no meaning or purpose for us.  We do not concern ourselves with their doings and they do not bother us if we do not interfere with their pilgrimages."

Pilgrimages?  As in regular trips to the thing?  Like whenever they feel like stopping by?  And you didn't TELL us running into a pack of nutcases who'd flip out and try to ventilate us if they found us in their special place was a possibility?  Slipped your mind, did it?  Fuck!

"Let me get this straight," I say a little irritably. Okay, a LOT irritably.   "Your nearest neighbours are religious wackos who have issues with people who go near their stinking sacred stone and no one thought of telling US about it?  Didn't think it rated a mention, even in passing?"

I want to launch into a small rant on how difficult it is to accurately threat assess when you don't possess all the pertinent information because people are WITHHOLDING it from you but the kid is starting to look wretched enough as it is.  After all, this isn't his fault. He's just a kid.  The ones who should have filled us in were his dad and the other chief mucky mucks of the village.

"There was no need," Haman mutters miserably.  "It was yet many weeks before -"

"Before the wackos were supposed to show up - okay, I get it," I try to sound forgiving but it just comes out as grumpy and grudging.

"Believe me, Kol-nal, the elders would NEVER have allowed your men to walk into danger.  You have been kind and generous to our people.  Our friends.  We wish you no ill!"

Aw crap, I'm starting to really upset him.  I shouldn't be ragging on him like this.  It's not his fault and he almost got himself killed trying to help Danny and Towers.  Not to mention busting a gut getting to us ASAP and insisting on coming along on the rescue mission even though he got pretty roughed up.  He's a brave kid, and I shouldn't be taking out my anger on him.

"Relax, kid," I try out a smile on him.  "I'm not mad at you, just - " That's going to have to do him.  No way I'm explaining myself any further to a kid.  "Oh, and call me Jack."

No, actually call me scared shitless.  I've just taken another look up ahead and really wish I hadn't.  It's been hard enough to stick on the back of this thing but I don't think I'm up to -  Holy Grand Canyon - we're not going to JUMP over that - shit! We are!  Jesus Christ, now we're frigging airborne! And what goes up must come…

CR-AAAAAP!  That was several vertebrae being pulverized, I just know it.  By the time we get there I'm going to be two inches shorter and too damned crippled to do anything.  Whatever, I just wish we'd GET there.  This is pretty rough country.  We'd be having a hell of a time slogging over it on foot but these horse-a-lope things also must be part mountain goat the way they're zipping blithely over all this shit.  The wackos have it a lot easier.  They're taking the longer, scenic route.  We're hot-footing it along the cross country shortcut through hell because that's the only way we'll get to the bridge before them, with the head start they've got on us and all.

Haman says there are a dozen or so in the party, also mounted.  Only lightly armed, with ceremonial knives. At least, Haman doesn't THINK they're packing anything that should give us any problems.  Why would they be, they had no reason to be expecting any trouble from the folks here. So they won't be armed to the teeth, but I'm still not too happy about the knives.  They certainly did a job on Towers with them.   I hope he made it. And I hope to God Daniel is still okay.

"I'm sorry about your men - about Daniel," Haman's young, strained voice cuts into my thoughts again.  "I should not have been in the woods but I  - I wanted - I did not get a chance to say a proper farewell to - " he breaks off, looks away quickly, flushing a little before stammering onward. " - to your, your men."

I'm trying to keep a straight face, but it isn't easy.  Randy little bastard.  You were hoping to catch another look at Carter. Thank God for overactive and optimistic adolescent libidos.  Carter doesn't know it yet, but she's giving this kid a big kiss.  He's earned it. "I was following you," he admits stoically. "That is how I happened to see the pilgrims on the approach to the stone.  I thought I would have time to warn your men, I did not realise I had seen the second group - the first ones had already reached the stone had found your men - had - "

The kid looks like he's going to be sick.  Crap, I shouldn't have let him come, this is all starting to hit him now, he's gonna come unglued.  He's probably never seen anything like this.  Daniel said these people have led a very peaceful existence for the last couple of hundred years.  The kid reminds me a little of Daniel, come to think of it - doesn't LOOK anything like him, or anything, nothing like that, just something about him.  He's kinda spunky. Fearless.  Stubborn.  Trusting.

Horny.

Just like Daniel.

"It's okay," I quickly try to reassure him.  "From what you were saying you probably saved Daniel's life.  They would have skewered him right on the spot, like they tried to do with Towers, if you hadn't told them  Daniel could read the writing on the thing."

Haman gives me a shy smile.  He's looking a little less green around the gills.  Like I said, the kid has guts.  "I was not sure whether or not it would help, but I had to say something," he explains bleakly.   "We cannot read the writings, those of us who once understood the language of our ancestors were taken by the Hrsus generations ago so they alone would hold the key to the symbols."

"So you were hoping if they found out Daniel could read them they would spare him. Then all you had to do was get away and get to us.  Smart."

That nets me a bigger smile, and I have to thank whoever's listening the kid's like my Daniel in another way as well.  Thinks fast on his feet.  He's smart, like my Daniel.

My Daniel.  Mine.

Daniel's smart.  He'll have picked up on the lead the kid tossed him, will have figured out he's not going to get killed as long as he has the linguist card to play.  He knows Haman got away, knows I'll - we'll be coming for him, he'll just play it cool and be a good boy and not piss the wackos off.   He'll be fine.  We just have to do our part and make sure they don't get him to that city 'cause the way the elders were describing it if they get him behind those walls we've got big problems.

Not going to happen.  We'll make it.  Swear to God we will, Daniel.

 


 

FLICK!

Half an hour.  Thirty freaking minutes.  Waiting.  We're here, we're positioned, we're ready.  Where the fuck are the wackos?

FLICK!

"All right, so where the fuck are they?"  I snarl at the man crouching beside me, Jori - Jerri - what the FUCK is his NAME?

He shrugs helplessly at me.  "I do not know, Kol-nal," he squirms unhappily as I fry him with a furious stare and suddenly I'm looking into the face of a man suffering about seven different types of hell over all of this, and most especially over not being able to give me the answer I'm demanding of him.  Yeah, I'm only this side shy of going postal about what's gone down for all I've tried to keep a lid on it, which, admittedly STILL hasn't stopped me from carrying on like a cranked up butthead, but it's not for lack of co-operation from the locals.  These people could not have been more horrified by the entire situation, or more painfully willing to be of assistance to us in rectifying it. They're appalled, they're freaked, but mostly, they're incredibly embarrassed by the whole damned deal.  There's gotta be some kind of huge hospitality issue thing going on for these folks - as in it's supremely bad form to let your guests get killed and kidnapped by the crazy neighbours  - and the whole cringing, shamefaced lot of them have been running around bowing and scraping and acting like what happened was THEIR fault and that makes them obligated to make it up to us no matter what it takes. Or how grossed out they are by what we're possibly going to have to do to their neighbours, crazy or otherwise, to get Daniel back.

Frankly I have no problems with them busting a gut to 'redeem' themselves in our eyes.  They can guilt themselves over the moon for all I care if it gets me everything I need from them and more.  Although other than delivering us here in time for the bridge-blocking party I'm not really sure how much further use they will be.  Daniel called it right.  These people aren't fighters.  They're a happy little band of living off the land pastoral types who haven't had a care or an enemy in the world for an awfully long time, who harbour ill will towards no one, even the wackos next door, and who generally find the whole idea of yelling, to-doing and running around beating up on other people and trying to kill them in rather bad taste.

We won't need them though. Not any more.  They've more than made their contribution to the effort by getting us to the bridge on time. We've got a sweet little set up here, a nice natural bottleneck the wackos have to pass through to get to the bridge, tailor made for an ambush.  We can let them stroll into our sights unawares, contain them and then just zat the shit out of them from the ridge above.  Piece of cake.  They're not expecting any trouble or resistance.  Haman didn't tell them Daniel had friends and I KNOW Daniel wouldn't have, so as far as they know they've got no worries.

Like I said, piece of cake.  I had Haman and the other villagers take the transportation to the other side of the bridge and hide out there.  Kept Smiley here so I would have someone to pick on while I waited.  Teal'c,  Perlman and I can handle a bunch of complacent, unsuspecting wackos, knives or no knives.  It'll be like zatting fish in a barrel.

Piece of cake.  With frigging ice cream on it.  Nothing to it.  Over in a flash. No fuss, no muss.  Only one small problem.  No wackos. Where are my freaking wackos?  That bad feeling I was having before all of this started?  It's coming back again.  In spades.  

Something's gone wrong.

"I do not know where the Hrsus are," Smiley continues, looking more than ever like one truly unhappy dude.  Yeah well, he's not the only one.  "They must use the bridge, there is no other way for them to leave our land and enter theirs."

We didn't miss them.  I checked.  We got here first, all right.

"It is but two hour's ride from the stone to here," Smiley continues unhappily gobbling,  "They must come this way, should have been here by now if they were riding steadily…"

But not if they stopped. Which they wouldn't have normally unless….  DAMMIT!  What else could go wrong today? Wait, don't answer that!

So, they're not here and they should be here by now, which means they must have stopped.  So why would they have stopped? From what Smiley was telling us the wackos don't tend to mess around a lot when they're on one of these pilgrimages.  Straight to the stone, do their business and then straight home again.  No slowing down to rubberneck, detouring to take in the local sights or swinging on by to make nice with the neighbours. Nothing here they want but the stone.  Ordinarily they wouldn't pull over anywhere on the way back home. There's no reason for them to be deviating from their routine today.  Except, they have Daniel along for the ride and he has a positive gift for throwing a monkey wrench into the same old, same old and best-laid plans.

No one knows that better than me.

And speaking of plans…Crap.  I want to weep.  I really do. It would have been nice and clean and bloodless to do the wackos right here, but I'm not too interested in hanging around somewhere they're not in order to make it easier on the them when they finally do decide to show up if the reason why they haven't already strolled into my considerate booby trap is because they've pulled over to the side of the road to wail on my archaeologist.  Haman was convinced they wouldn't hurt Daniel but we're talking wackos here.  Religious wackos.  Worst fucking kind. Like there are any good ones.  As much as I admire his wanting to see the good in everyone I'm pretty sure if the wackos have stopped it isn't to invite Daniel to a picnic. Send him to see God, possibly, but not to bake him a frigging cake. We'd better stop wasting time waiting for them to show up very possibly WITHOUT Daniel in one piece or still alive even and haul ass back down the road to find where they've stopped off. I just hope we haven't already been sitting here too long.

And if they've harmed ONE HAIR on Daniel's head….let's just say the kind of divine retribution I have in mind, I don't want too many witnesses.

"Screw this sitting around, we're taking off," I tell Smiley as I signal across to Teal'c and Perlman.  "You go and wait with your friends."   He gets the first truly happy look I've seen on his face as I tell him he's off the hook for having to get any further involved.

No sweat.  I don't need the added complication of reluctant pacifists underfoot while I'm getting down to business.  I got me a linguist to rescue and some wackos to waste and it's high time we were off and doing.

 


 

Well, lookee, lookee, what do we have here? Seek and ye shall find?  Bingo. Got you now, you bastards.  Your asses are mine, and I'm taking no prisoners.

They stopped all right. Pulled right off the road and parked.  I'm counting ten animals with saddles lunching by the side of the road and two more being used as luggage racks.  If we're talking one per, that's at least ten guys riding.  Maybe more if some are walking.  No way to know that from here.

Right now I only see two guys with the animals.  Neither one of them is Daniel.  Not that I was expecting him to be standing by the side of the road. The losers we're looking at don't seem very happy being stuck taking care of the rides and consequently missing all the fun. We can hear the other wackos running around in the woods and it doesn't take a genius to figure why.

They're hunting Daniel.  Oh crap.

I look to my right to give Teal'c the nod to take out the two at hand to see the spot he was occupying is vacant.  He's already on it, and about a minute later we can see him on them.  Two down, eight to go?

If we're really lucky it's only eight.  However, the way our luck has been running today…

Perlman and I hustle to join him as Teal'c starts checking out chewed up and visibly tracked and disturbed surface of the road.  He's down on one knee, examining the ground, his expression so grave he'd scare the shit out of the grim reaper right now.

"It is difficult to be certain but I believe ten men are pursuing DanielJackson." Teal'c rumbles as he ponders the ground.

Two on foot, then.  Not a problem.  Just means one more grave than I was figuring on, but I can make the adjustment.  

My pleasure.

"One of the men is injured," Teal'c continues in a voice so cold it's chilling me to the marrow.  "There is blood on the ground.  I suggest we hurry, O'Neill," he finishes as he surges to his feet.

We don't know it's Daniel's blood.  We also don't know it isn't.  All we do know for sure is he's out there, alone, running for his life with ten guys on his tail.

Ten dead guys.

"Lead the way," I grunt at Teal'c.

Three numb-nuts later we're still skulking about through the bushes picking off clueless, bumbling bozos like swatting flies and though we've seen and heard plenty from the creeps chasing him, we haven't caught hide nor hair of Danny. We might not be able to find him, but picking off his pursuers one by one - it's so fucking easy to find and take down these clowns it's almost embarrassing.  The whole sorry pack of them are bungling through the jungle making enough noise a deaf man could hear them coming and stay out of their way.  They might as well be shooting off flares they're being so obvious -  howling and cursing with their long swishy robes getting snagged in the bushes and holding them up , those big knives they're waving around rather than using on the foliage hindering them and their even bigger, fatter egos - if the stakes weren't so damned high I'd be pissing myself with how ridiculous this 'hunt' is from our side of things.

I'm actually half wondering if we're not wasting our time waltzing with these yutzes.  There's so much slapstick happening here I wouldn't be at all surprised Danny has long since given the whole bunch of dip-shits the slip and is halfway back to the gate by now. We'll take them down and find out he's long gone.  I'm hoping that's the way it will turn out.  Still, I wish he hadn't booked and pissed them off like this.  They might be stupid, but they're madder than Apophis with a boil on his butt. If by some bizarre chance they do actually manage to get their hands on him it won't be pretty.  He should have stayed put and waited for us to spring him. Why didn't he?  He must have had a good reason for bolting and getting himself into an even bigger mess than he was already in.  He's got more sense than to take unnecessary chances.  Doesn't he?

I'm hot on the trail of the next loudmouth loser when a furious hue and cry goes up, coming from behind me, from the clearing I just skirted.  Crap!  Whoever is bellowing like a stuck pig has found Daniel and is calling for his buds.

Help's on the way, pal.  I'll 'help' you right into the next life.

I'm moving at a dead run, crashing through the trees toward all the squalling, knowing wherever they are now Teal'c and Perlman will be doing exactly the same thing.  I break into the open to see Daniel desperately sprinting toward me from the other side of the clearing, three howling hippies hot on his tail.  His hands are tied behind his back and even from here I can see he's been roughed up some. His jacket and vest are gone and his T-shirt is barely there, hanging on him in ragged, blood-streaked tatters, there's more blood running down the side of his face and his arms are bruised, cut and bleeding. He's hurting, staggering, struggling to push himself to keep moving but he hasn't got much left.  Still, he's not giving up, his head is down and he's putting everything he has into his stumbling, desperate run.  I don't even think he's seen me, he's just trying to stay on his feet and one step ahead of the guys behind him.  With the lead guy yowling his head off and right on his heels, closing the gap fast.  Faster than I am going to be able to get to them.

I can see the knife in the wacko's hand, brandished high over his head, glinting in the sun.  Close, he's getting too close to Daniel.  I can't take the bad guy out because Daniel is between us, directly in the line of fire.  I don't have the zat, Teal'c does and the way Daniel is weaving I don't dare try and open fire.  Can't get a good line of sight on the hostile, can't do anything but try and pour on more speed as the guy chasing Daniel closes….

Fuck!  The wacko has Daniel by the shoulder, grabbing him hard, pulling him back, the knife - he's going - he's going to bury the sucker in Daniel's back.  Where's my head - why didn't I think - fuck it, fuck it - no time - just DO IT!

I brake, sight and yell, praying to God Daniel hears me and understands.  If he doesn't do what I tell him he's dead.

"DANIEL! DROP!"  I roar.  And pray.

Daniel reacts instantly to the sound of my voice, crumpling on the spot.  Down, he's dropping down, but not away, the knife's still in play, the creep's got a hold of him - the knife. Oh god, the knife!  I'm helpless, watching the blade punching toward his shoulder, can't stop it, can't fire yet I have to wait, have to wait until he clears….  Jesus, Jesus, why did I waste all that time running, I was close enough, I should have yelled at him sooner. That knife, that fucking knife - CLEAR!  He's clear!  

Eat THIS you fucking PRICK!

Daniel slams into the ground, landing hard and heavy as the salvo from my P-90 starts ripping into the my target.  I'm pumping the lead into the bastard and loving it.  He's already dead but I'm firing, firing, a red, savage haze wrapping around me and shooting shocks of fierce satisfaction through me every time my finger jerks the trigger.  I watch him start dancing and bucking to the tune of my bullets slamming into him when the deadly whoosh of a staff weapon brings me back. Then I really see - and now it's not bloody triumph I'm feeling, but fear.

The jerking, twitching body arches and slams forward with the impact of the blast burning into its back.  The corpse hangs eerily in the air, momentarily animated by the death we're pumping into it but all I can see is the knife still clutched in its hand, the blade smeared and burning red flashing back and forth across my wavering vision.

Red.  Oh God, it's red.

Daniel twisted, went down, didn't see him hit, but he was hit, he must be hit, the knife is red. Waited too fucking long.  HAD to…he wasn’t clear but…too LONG.

Teal'c and Perlman are tearing out of woods, streaking toward Daniel.  The other two wackos are GONE, but I don't care, they don't matter, all I can see is Daniel, lying on the ground, gasping and bleeding.  He's rolled out of the way of the dead meat finally falling over almost on top of him, and now he's trying to get up, struggling to get to his knees.

He's hurt, but if he can still put up that much of a fight  - he's hurt, but he's still alive.

He's made it to his knees and is about to keel over again by the time I get to him.  I catch him just before he folds and hold him, crush him to me.  I just need to hold him for a minute, just a minute, just to make sure he really is alive and breathing.

Close, too fucking close.  I want to kiss him, I want to shake him, want to hold him and never let go, and then punch his lights out for scaring me so damned bad and almost making me watch him die right in front of me -

"Sorry, Jack," he gasps, half laughing, half sobbing.  "Guess I screwed up again."

He hitches in his breath and bites back a groan of pain as I run my hand cautiously along his right shoulder.  It comes away bloody, and I clutch him tighter, making him gasp again.

"I guess running was pretty stupid," he laughs again.  "But they were pissing me off."

"What?"  I say softly, cradling the back of his head in my hand.  There's  - there's blood on my palm, I shouldn't, I'm getting blood in his hair but I can't help myself, I have to hold him, keep him close to me, just a little longer.

"We had a date," he sighs and then goes limp in my arms.

 


 

I turn back from shutting the door to see Daniel swaying dreamily and about to slide down to the floor.  Those damned pain pills are really knocking him for a loop.  I quickly sidle up to him and slide a supporting hand under his elbow.  He smiles uncertainly at me and sighs.  "Hi Jack," he mumbles.  "You look terrible. I think I need to lie down,"

"I think you're right," I smile back at him.

"Where we goin'? he clumsily queries as I wheel him right and start steering him down the hall.

"Bedroom."

"That's good."  He's silent for a moment, peering about him as if he's not quite sure where he is.

"Where is it?"

"Relax," I reply. "I'm driving."

"Glad one of us is," he nods thoughtfully.  "I'm wasted."

You don't say.

He's muttering something dark and rebellious about pills and pint-sized medical officers but stops as he realises I'm guiding him into the master bedroom.  My bedroom.  That throws him for a bit; I watch his brow creasing with confusion as he tries to work out why we're here instead of the guest room and then I see it, the moment when it hits him, he remembers and his face lights up with the biggest, dirtiest grin I've ever seen.

"Oh yeah!"  he turns and beams at me.  "We had a date."

HAVE, Daniel.  Have a date.  You and me.  Starts right this minute and ends the instant one or both us stop breathing.   Considering you almost got yourself killed you were so anxious not to stand me up - even though, trust me, you had a good excuse, I'd have cut you a little slack for keeping me waiting, all things considered - we're getting off to a start that isn't going to involve too much getting off.  No banging, possibly some whimpering, but you know what, that's more than okay with me.  I've got you, you're safe, and you're more than worth waiting for.

Besides, from where I'm standing, life is pretty good.  I've got all I need for a best time I've ever had with anyone.  You alive and breathing and safe in my arms. And pretty soon, in my bed.

Daniel frowns at me as I park him on the side of the bed and start working the buttons on his shirt.  "I can DO it!" he protests and bats my hand away.

Oh boy, it's gonna be like this, is it?  He's feeling touchy, defensive, a little guilty for 'ruining' our plans.  Figures he's already messed up enough getting himself in this condition because he was too horny and hyper to sit tight like he was supposed to and wait to be rescued, and he doesn't want to be any more of a 'bother' than he figures he already is.  It's not going to be easy to get him to accept any help.  So we'll just go slow and sneak it up on him.  

Hey, I can do covert.

"Suit yourself," I shrug and cross to the bureau, reach in and pull out a pair of pyjama bottoms.  That's all he's going to be able to manage, what with the bandages and the sling and being doped out of his skull.  More than he's going to be able to manage, actually, but he's not ready to accept that yet.

"You want anything?"  I ask him gently as I toss the pjs on the bed.

He stops fussing with his shirt at that, a wistful, longing look fleeting across his face.  "Oooh, you know what, I'd really like…" And then the look falters and vanishes; he remembers where he is. Not at home.  He doesn't think I have what he wants and he'd die before he asked me to go out and get it for him.  He can't ask me to put myself out just for him.  That's way too much of a leap for him right now.

"Never mind," he murmurs as he ducks his head back down and tries to focus on the fingers fumbling on his chest.

Maybe he doesn't think he's worth my time and effort, but I sure do.  Besides, he's wrong. I do have what he wants, and it'll be no trouble at all to fetch it for him.  Even if I hadn't planned ahead I'd cheerfully go to the moon to get whatever he wants, and he wouldn't even have to ask.  The smallest little thing that makes him happy is a very big deal to me.  He's a long way from seeing that right now, but he will.  This is one of those instances where actions definitely speak louder than words.  Got you covered, Danny.

"I'll be right back," I call over my shoulder as I walk out of the room.  "Don't start without me."

I head for the kitchen, shaking my head. The condition he's in he'll be lucky to get one button undone, never mind managing to take off the shirt.  By the time I get back he'll be pissy and frustrated - and furious with himself for being 'helpless'.  That's okay, I've got just the ticket for perking him right up.

Daniel has a deep, dark secret craving he's more than reluctant to own up to.  The other one, that is.  The one that doesn't involve me, but rather centres around something edible falling under the heading of comfort food with a capital C.  One night and one beer too many got him to part with that secret while he resolutely held onto the other.  I have a rival for his affections I've known about for a long time, way longer than I knew how he felt about me, but I can handle the competition.  Still, it's a bit of a kick to finally know I figure in as ONE of his grand obsessions.

Daniel has this MAJOR thing for ice cream.  He figures it really started on Abydos when he suddenly couldn't get something he'd only been moderately fond of before and now really, REALLY wanted mainly because he couldn't have it. For some reason, of all the things he couldn't have while he was there, ice cream was the thing he wanted the most and he never stopped desperately missing it or wanting it.  And now he wants it the most when something scares the crap out of him.

I'm not even going to think about what that might mean.

It seems like a simple enough thing to be addicted to, but with Daniel things are never simple.  You see, it isn't just any old ice cream that floats his boat and is right up there on his 'must have for dealing purposes' list - it's this super duper, ultra expensive, specially made, can only get it in one place in the entire world, gourmet house brand frozen ambrosia that comes from this upscale Italian deli across town.  Mom and Pop make it themselves, finest ingredients, secret recipe. know their customers by name and have their own personal 'blends' on record.

Daniel's particular passion when it comes to ice cream isn't some exotic, unheard of combination of taste sensations, it's one single, pure note.  Peach.  That's it.  Just - peach.  However, there's nothing 'just' about this stuff.  It's peach like you've never, ever tasted it before. You think you know peach, well until you've had some of this stuff, you know nothing. It's a peach so incredibly rich, so sublime, so sweet and succulent and tangy on the tongue it truly is the epitome of -

Peachy.

And it just so happens I have a tub of it in my freezer.  Practically had to take out a second mortgage on the house to be able to afford it, but what Daniel wants, he gets. He's more than worth it.  No compromise.  Even when it comes to ice cream.  Besides, if this doesn't impress him with how serious I am about him, I don't know what will.

Seriously.

By the time I've made it back to the bedroom with Daniel's ticket to gastronomic bliss he's still sitting exactly where I left him, tugging angrily at his shirt. Pretty much what I expected.  However, something I didn't expect; I'm stunned to see he's actually managed to undo a couple of buttons.  I swear this boy never fails to bowl me over with his stubbornness and his tenacity but even the legendary Jackson determination must see itself frustrated sometimes - no matter how hard he tries this is one time when he's just not going to make it any further on his own.  And even though part of him knows it the rest of him is still struggling gamely onward because he refuses to accept he can't do it on his own.

He kills me.  He really does. I swear, Daniel would find a way to survive if the frigging sun blew up and turned the planet into a cinder simply because he would absolutely refuse to believe it wasn't possible for him to.

His head shoots up as I walk into the room, he's flushed and furious, his eyes gleaming brightly with anger and frustration.  I put the bowl on the bedside table, plunk myself down next to him and take him carefully in my arms.  He's still rife with sore, bruised spots that are tender to the touch, painkillers notwithstanding, and winces slightly before huffing unhappily against my neck.

"I CAN do it,"  he protests miserably.

"I know," I soothe and kiss the top of his head.  "No one's saying you can't.  But you don't have to.  Let me help?  Please? I want to.  It's no bother."

He thinks about it for a moment, then sighs and nods. "Okay - if - if  it's no bother."

Oh no, it's my pleasure.

I'm as careful as I can be, taking it slow, trying not to hurt him as I gently undress him and help him into bottoms of the pjs.  He gives me a big, dopey grin as I reverently unwrap him, blown away all the while by just how beautiful he is.  I try not to linger over the hurts, to not let him see how every cut, every bruise…how the rage boils up inside me at the signs of suffering marring his skin.  I don't want to spoil this for either one of us.  He's perfect, just the way he is, and he's finally mine.

Once I've got him squared away he sits and watches me, huge, hungry eyes devouring my every move as I quickly shuck my own clothes and pull on pjs.  Just the bottoms.

I jump onto the bed behind him, arrange the pillows so they're propping up my back and help him scoot up between my legs until his back is to my chest, he's leaning up against me and I'm holding HIM up.  I've got him securely nestled chez O'Neill, his head pillowed on my shoulder.  I wait until I hear the small sigh signifying he's comfortable before I reach over and retrieve the loaded spoon.

"Hey," I gently stroke his cheek as I bring it to his mouth.  "Open up."

"Hmmm?" he breathes, but complies with surprise as the cold ice cream touches his lips.  His drowsy eyes fly open and I slide the spoon into his mouth, watching his lips curl into the sweetest, most astonished and delighted smile when he tastes what I've just given him.

"Mmmmm,"  he sighs happily as he closes his eyes again and unashamedly savours.  Yaubetcha Danny, I know what you want.

I give him a moment to linger over the sensations he's losing himself in and then load up the next spoonful.

"More?"

He stares at the spoon and then looks reproachfully up at me.

"I can do it," he mutters.  "I'm not helpless, you don't have to -"

"I know,"  I stroke him and soothe him and try to make him understand how much this means to me.  How much HE means to me. "I know you can, but I want to.  Humour a bossy old colonel who'd like nothing more than to spoil you rotten.  What do you say - just this once?"

Let me help you, let me love you, let me share the load. You're not alone any more Danny, you don't have to fight so hard, don't have to struggle any more.  You've given so much to me, let me do the same for you.

Please.

His eyes hold me as he looks deep inside me and understands.  I feel a small tremor thrill through him as something within him - eases - lets go, and suddenly his eyes are bright and he's blinking and nodding and I feel this bolt of pure happiness rip through my chest.

"Okay," he tells me as he opens his mouth again.

Once he's accepted the mouthful I have to put the spoon aside.  I turn back to him, see his upturned face, shining so close to mine, calling…

The inside of his mouth is shockingly cold and sweet, swirling with the tang of peaches and the richness of the ice cream coating the tongue stroking slowly against mine. His lips are soft and sticky and driving me insane with their lushness.  I taste him and smell him, Daniel and the warm iciness of peaches filling my senses as I breathe him in and dive deeper into him.

We kiss slowly, gently and he settles against me, growing quieter and contented with the steady, stroking motion of my hand across his stomach lulling and settling him.  We've gone far enough for today; the medication will be carrying him away shortly, but I want him to know, to understand where we are right now is more than all right with me.

And wouldn't you know it, the next thing he does is tell me I've got a little more work to do on that score.

"I guess our date is going to have to wait a little longer," he sighs ruefully as he drops his head wearily back against my shoulder.  "I don't really feel up to - you know."

"Oh I don't know," I grin at him.  "I think it's going very well.  I'm having a great time.  You?"

"You don't mind about the 'you know'?  he queries sleepily as he traces the length of my collarbone with a languid finger.

"Plenty of time for all of that when you're feeling better," I assure him and hug him a little closer.  "Don't die of shock here, but I don't just want you for your body."

That starts him snorting. "What, you're saying you love me for my mind?" he snickers.

"No, baby," I tell him as I cup his cheek and look him straight in the eye.  "I'm saying I love YOU."

His eyes go soft and I lean in and kiss him again.  I do a little of my own savouring and then pull back just enough so he can see how serious I am about what I'm going to tell him next.

"And because I do, there's something else we're going to do when you're feeling a little better."

His eyes close wearily and he manages a wry smile before he looks at me again.

"We're going to sit down and have us a talk.  I think you need a refresher course in - when you go for it and when you don't.  Not that I'm not terribly flattered by your enthusiasm, but…"  I touch my lips to his again to soften the blow.  "I would have come for you.  I'll always come for you.  Trust me. You read me, Daniel?"

"Yeah,"  he agrees graciously with a faint nod.  "I know," he smiles shyly at me.  I know you would have.  I - I do trust you. I just wasn't thinking straight, I…" he closes his eyes and his mouth quirks with a small, embarrassed grin.

"You were thinking with your dick," I tease him fondly.

"Maybe," he admits grudgingly, and then glares at me.  "Hey - I'm human.  I get…urges.  It's been a long time.  I've - I've wanted this…you…"  He breaks off and looks away, flushing with the enormous honesty of what he's finally admitting to me, and to himself.  "Wanted to be with you for a long - long time."

Oh, ditto.

He blinks hard, trying to stay awake, fighting the drugs fogging his sight as he searches my face.  "What, you're gonna tell me you weren't a little - impatient - yourself?"

I'm admitting nothing, even though I know I'm not fooling him.

"Just keep yourself safe out there," I tell him gently.  "Now that I've finally got you…"

"You too."  He yawns and his voice is heavy with the enormous effort he's expending fighting the sedative pull of the pain pills he's chock full of. "Oh, and Jack?"

"What Daniel?" I murmur between the kisses I'm planting on his face.

"Don't call me baby."

Okay.  I can live with that. As long as I get to live with him.

I open my mouth to tell him so and realise he's fallen asleep.  That's okay.  He needs to sleep.  He's got some healing to do.  The sooner the better. I'm quite happy to hold him close and feel him warm and safe in my arms knowing as good as this is right now, when he's feeling up to it it's only going to get better.

Wow, he's really out.  Those pills pack a punch.  Guess that means he's not going to want the rest of his ice cream.  Shame to let something so good go to waste. Funny, that's kinda the way I feel about him.

  FINIS

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Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate Productions, Sci Fi Channel, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. These stories are for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. These stories may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author. Copyright on images remains with the above named rightsholders.
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