All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM,
World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was
created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on
copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and
places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real
persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
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What you need to know is:
Huge
thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Jb, who rescued me from the pond scum.
You’re the best!
*****************
He wanted a carp pond. It wasn't too much to ask, was it? A few fish swimming lazily in the sun, a miniature waterfall off to one side, maybe some reeds and grasses gently blowing in the breeze. Somewhere to sit out-of-doors in the evening, perhaps with a glass of whiskey or a beer. Just a small oasis of peace and solitude to soothe the soul after a hard day kicking Goa'uld ass.
Jack stared down at the quagmire in his yard and sighed. The project had started so well. Teal'c had even come over and helped him dig, although he seemed to be under the impression they were creating a memorial to Daniel. Okay, so it involved fish. That didn't necessarily mean it was a memorial. Besides how in hell could it be memorial given that Daniel wasn't dead, but simply… absent. Off playing glowball with Oma Desperate and her buddies? And why was it the moment Teal'c got hold of a shovel he had to start digging for an underlying motive? The guy needed to stop watching all those chat shows; Oprah was turning him soft in the head. It was just a pond, for crying out loud. Not a memorial. And no, he wasn't in denial over how much he missed Daniel. Nor was his subconscious looking for some acceptable way to exercise grief. What was there to grieve about? Daniel was okay. So he was okay. End of story.
It was simply a pond. With fish.
Except at the moment it was a mudbath. The storms of the past week had eroded the sides of the hole, creating a thick mud soup in the bottom and scuppering his plans for the day. He was going to have to pump the mud out before he could put the pond liner in, and that meant a trip to the equipment rental store thirty miles away. He sighed again and glanced up at the sky. Looked like another storm was brewing too. No point pumping out the sludge just to have to do it again tomorrow. Besides, it was probably too late in the day to make it to the store before it closed. Guess he'd just have to leave it until after his next mission.
With a heavy heart he turned back towards the house and consoled himself with the prospect of an hour or two watching the history channel. Contrary to what Teal'c might think, he'd always liked the history channel. And if he now preferred to watch it instead of hockey that was because his tastes were maturing. It absolutely definitely wasn't anything to do with Daniel's absence.
**************
The first indication that the storm had arrived was a flash of lightening immediately followed by a thunderous roar so loud it shook the windows and startled Jack into spilling half a glass of beer down the front of his sweater. The picture on the TV snapped to black, the lights flickered and the local dog population set up a chorus of howls and barks.
Goddamn it. Jack pulled cold damp wool away from his skin and hurried into the kitchen to towel himself dry. The lights flickered again, then went out, plunging him into darkness. A second crash of thunder reverberated through the house with such ferocity he could feel the vibrations through his bare feet. Lucky him - the centre of the storm was clearly right over his house. His thoughts on just how much trouble a direct lightening strike to the house might cause, he moved to the sink, picked up the towel and started to clean himself off.
Not raining yet he observed as he peered into the darkness of his yard. He was about to turn away, his sweater as dry as it was going to get and his thoughts now on the antiquated fuse box in the basement, when the sky suddenly lit up again. In the split second before the accompanying crash of thunder, Jack thought he saw something streak down towards his yard. He blinked as he was plunged back into darkness and his eardrums were once again treated to a cacophony of bass drum rumbles. Was there an image imprinted on his retinas? A meteorite cutting a swathe of fire through the night as it came to rest in his yard? Or was it just an overactive imagination fired by a recent viewing of Deep Impact?
He debated with himself for a moment – should he find a flashlight and head to the basement or should he check the yard? DIY electrics lost out to his curiosity as he moved towards the backdoor. The key turned smoothly in the lock, and the door opened to a rush of chill air. His nose twitched at the metallic tang of electrical discharge and he stepped cautiously into the night, unable to see what he was looking for. Although his eyes were already accustomed to the dark, he was looking out at shadow upon shadow - the level expanse of grass, low shrubs to left and right, the empty dog kennel that he simply couldn't bring himself to part with, the tall silhouettes of trees marking the boundary of his land. If something extraterrestrial had landed in the yard it was keeping a low profile. No mysterious green glowing lights or musical welcome.
Nothing moved. Even more odd, the sky already seemed to be clear. The clouds had vanished with an almost supernatural speed, and now pinpricks of starlight twinkled against the inky black of space. Low down, barely visible above the treetops, a thin sliver of new moon shone like a child's smile.
And then he heard it. A thick squelching sound, like someone pulling their foot from a boot full of water.
A prickle of fear ran up his spine, the legacy of too many late night horror movies, but he forced himself to keep a tight grip of his nerves. He stepped forward, and was suddenly conscious of cold, wet grass beneath his feet. An altogether more natural shiver ran through him as the chill caught hold of his still damp sweater. The yard was silent again, and he wrapped his arms around his chest, hugging his warmth to himself. There was nothing to see, he told himself severely. It was just the drink filling his head with foolish notions of rocks falling from the sky. He should go back inside, back to his beer and the history channel and the memories he was trying not to recall.
The groan stopped him dead in his tracks, all his senses on alert. His gaze swept the yard like a radar from left to right, and then snapped back to the gaping maw that was going to be his pond. Oh crap. Ruthlessly he rejected the thoughts of giant snakes and alien beings, settling instead for a more mundane explanation. He knew he should've put a fence around the hole. Some drunken neighbour had no doubt wandered across his yard on the way home and become ensnared. Jack shuddered for an entirely different reason as he started to move forward. There would be official letters. Lawyers. Long, drawn-out court proceedings. And Hammond would be really pissed with him for being so stupid.
He reached the edge of the pond, mud squelching unpleasantly
between his toes, and looked down. He was prepared for the sight of someone
struggling in the sludge. What he wasn't prepared for was nakedness. His
eyebrows danced as his mind registered two facts virtually simultaneously. One,
that he was definitely living in the wrong neighbourhood if folks had taken to
wandering the streets au naturel, and second that the mud-covered naked person
in his pond was lying face down, apparently unconscious, and in serious danger
of suffocating in mud soup.
A small jump deposited Jack next to the body, his feet sinking into the thick quagmire. Almost oblivious to the unpleasant sensation of being ankle deep in cold mud, Jack hunkered down, grabbing the pond victim by the left shoulder to roll his upper body up and to the right, and to get his face out of the suffocating gunk.
The shock of recognition was so sharp, Jack's fingers momentarily lost their grasp on the cool, mud-slick skin. The unconscious form flopped back into the mire with a sickening squelch.
Daniel? No, it couldn't be.
His heart pounding and his emotions a white noise of disbelief and hope, Jack grabbed hold of the body again. This time he succeeded in turning it over. Hardly daring to believe what he was seeing he swiped the worst of the mud away from the face, feasting his eyes on the familiar features - the strong jawline, the full lips, the long-lashed eyes.
"Daniel." The name exploded from Jack's lips with the weight of a thousand complex emotions behind it, and for one crazy moment he struggled with the urge to laugh and cry both at the same time. Fortunately training and battlefield experience took over. Jack's fingers sought and found a pulse - slow but steady. He checked Daniel's airway was clear. And then he rocked back on his heels as Daniel's eyelids suddenly fluttered open.
"Daniel? Is it really you?" he asked, still not able to believe it.
Confused blue eyes gazed up at him, then closed again.
Crap. A hundred and one questions were buzzing around in Jack's mind, demanding attention but he swatted them all away and concentrated on the one important issue - getting Daniel up and out of the pond, and then into the house.
The last time they'd met, Daniel's body had been so insubstantial Jack had thrown a shoe through him. Now he was faced with one hundred and sixty pounds of human flesh. It would've been a difficult lift even for someone with Teal'c's strength. With the added lubrication of the mud, Jack rapidly came to the conclusion it was impossible. Plan B was hardly graceful or elegant, but it served the purpose. Jack simply moved behind Daniel, locked his arms around the archaeologist's chest and beneath his armpits, and then dragged him out of the pond, congratulating himself for having the foresight to design the feature with a shallow end.
Once free of the quagmire, it was then a relatively simple task to drag Daniel across the grass and into the house. Simple, but exhausting. Jack dropped to his knees as he carefully lowered Daniel's head and shoulders to the kitchen floor, and gratefully noted the lights were back on. His own breath was coming in short gasps as he reached out to touch Daniel's face and reassure himself that it really was Doctor Daniel Jackson lying on his kitchen floor - a real, solid, flesh and blood body.
Daniel's eyelids flickered again and his head turned as though seeking the warmth of Jack's hand against his cheek. Jack was torn between wanting to fetch a towel to cover Daniel's nakedness and needing to maintain the physical contact between them.
"Daniel?" he whispered the name, willing the younger man to consciousness.
He was rewarded by another flutter of lids, and then suddenly Daniel was looking up at him, blinking his eyes in the harsh neon light. "J…J… Jack?"
Jack felt the smile cut across his face as he looked down into his friend's confused gaze. "Yeah, big guy. It's me."
The confirmation didn't seem to register. Daniel blinked, his lips puckering in preparation for words that didn't form, confusion mingled with an edge of distress.
"Take it easy," Jack said gently. He frowned as Daniel started to shiver. It was either shock or cold, perhaps both. Whatever the cause, he knew he had to get Daniel warm and dry. "C'mon, we need to get you off the floor. You crash-landed in my new carp pond. Talk about a fish out of water. Best catch I've ever made though." Jack knew he was babbling nonsense, but he couldn't help it. His mind was refusing to make any sense of what was happening. Any moment now he was sure he was going to wake up in front of the TV and find himself staring at some television archaeologist, instead of attempting to get a naked, mud-covered, living, breathing, solid one up and off the floor of his kitchen.
"There you go." One arm around Daniel's waist, he succeeded in hoisting him to his feet. Daniel swayed uncertainly against him, and Jack could feel the shivers racking him. "You're half-frozen. Need to get you warm."
"C…c…clean." Daniel stuttered, holding up his arm and peering at the streaks of dark grey and brown.
"I think clean can wait," Jack replied, slowly guiding Daniel through the living-room towards the bedroom. "Dry and warm is the priority, right now."
It took a lot longer than Jack had anticipated to cover the short distance because Daniel apparently had to give his total concentration to the complex task of putting one foot in front of the other without overbalancing, and even then there were more than a couple of times when it took all Jack's strength to stop the archaeologist going ass over head. The lack of co-ordination was more than a bit alarming, and the lack of communication more so, although Jack did his best to keep the atmosphere light, burying his worries beneath a stream of inane questions.
"So Daniel," he asked casually. "You back for good this time?" He didn't get a reply so he babbled on, saying whatever came into his head as Daniel lurched drunkenly beside him. "Want to fill me in on what happened? Oma get tired of you asking questions? Or did you get fed up with the lack of Starbucks out in the greater cosmos? No wait, I've got it. You missed me, right? Life without Jack O'Neill was too dull for ya, huh?"
By the time they reached the bedroom Daniel was shivering violently. Jack helped him lie down on the bed, not caring that Daniel's mud-splattered skin would no doubt leave permanent stains on both the sheets and on the clean towel he grabbed from the closet. Daniel's eyes were unfocused and he still seemed oblivious to the stream of conversation tumbling from Jack's lips as Jack began to rub him dry. As soon as Daniel was warm and dry, and therefore hopefully out of any immediate physical danger, he'd call Fraiser.
He started with Daniel's hair, towelling it into short, sharp spikes. Next, using a clean corner of the towel, he carefully wiped Daniel's face. The end result left Daniel looking as though he'd been playing with camouflage paint, but hey, mud was good for the skin, right, and nobody had ever died from being dirty. From there he worked downwards, sweeping the towel along the smooth lines of Daniel's throat, then in swirling circles across his chest and abdomen. Clearly Oma had instigated some kind of physical exercise up in the ether because, for a guy who had supposedly been energy for months on end, Daniel still had a decent set of pecs. Jack was just about to address a rather more intimate region of Daniel's body, when a hand suddenly shot out and grasped his wrist.
Jack's stomach twisted as he found Daniel struggling to focus on him, his face lined with visible distress.
"Clean," Daniel repeated.
"I'm doing my best here," Jack replied softly.
Daniel shook his head with growing agitation. "I… feel… I… need…"
“What do you need, Daniel? Just tell me. Anything, okay.”
“C… clean.”
Jack’s heart sank. Either Daniel had turned into some kind of cleanliness obsessive or his brain was on the fritz and only one word was making it to the surface. Neither scenario was particularly encouraging. Jack kept his own voice low and calm. “Got to get you warm first. Then I need to get someone over here to check you're okay." Jack slowly extracted his wrist from Daniel's grasp. "It'd be useful if you could tell me what happened." Daniel was staring at him blankly again. "Do you remember anything, Daniel?"
In response, Daniel twisted his head away, one arm flailing weakly against the bed. "Clean," he murmured.
Jack sighed in frustrated concern. "Okay, buddy. You just lie there and think clean thoughts." He ran the towel down Daniel's thighs and calves, then pulled the duvet up and tucked it around him. Finally he patted his shoulder reassuringly. "I'm going to call Janet, okay? Just lie here and keep warm." He waited for a reply, but Daniel now seemed oblivious to everything. Not good. Not good at all. Jack wondered if he should have called Janet the moment he had Daniel inside, but thinking straight wasn't exactly easy when your celestial team-mate dropped in unannounced like some refugee from a Terminator movie.
Not taking his eyes off Daniel, he picked up the phone from the bedside table and put the receiver to his ear, his index finger already poised to dial the SGC. Crap. The line was dead. Fixing the phone socket in his bedroom was one of the many niggling repair tasks he'd been putting off for weeks. That would teach him to prevaricate.
"Daniel?" Still no response. "I have to use the other phone. Don't…" He'd been about to say, don't go anywhere, but he hesitated as fear constricted his stomach, the thought of losing Daniel suddenly unbearable. The command turned into a plea. "Just be here when I get back, okay?"
The lack of response was seriously worrying now. Not knowing what else to do Jack hurried back through the living room to the kitchen, and grabbed the handset of the wall phone. Thank God, he muttered as he heard the steady hum of a live line. He had already dialled the first three digits of the SGC’s number when he suddenly remembered Hammond had told him a bunch of Pentagon beancounters were getting the VIP treatment today. Jack had been miffed by the suggestion he couldn't be trusted not to get into a mud-slinging debate over the price of paperclips and so should make himself scarce, his mood only lightening when he’d discovered Fraiser had also been told to keep a low profile. Apparently her irritation at haggling over the cost of bandaids had turned into quite a firework display on a previous visit. Screw calling the base then, instead he punched Janet's home number in quick, sharp jabs, pacing as he listened to the gentle ringing tone.
"C'mon, pick up," he muttered.
"This is Janet Fraiser…"
"Janet!"
"I'm not home right now. Please leave a message…"
"Shit!" Jack disconnected. If Fraiser wasn't available who else could he call? Warner would no doubt be on duty at the base. McKenzie? Definitely not. Wait a minute - Carter. She'd done the whole alien boyfriend in the basement thing. She'd probably know more about dealing with Daniel's kind than anyone. He shivered at his own thoughts. Daniel's kind? Damnit, no. He didn't want to think about that - ascended, descended, unascended - he just wanted Daniel to be Daniel again. Right now, though, Carter seemed like the best bet and he hurriedly punched her number. Her answer machine kicked in just as he heard a crash from the bedroom. "Daniel?" He dropped the handset and raced through the living room, down the hallway and back into the bedroom.
"Daniel?" he shouted, taking in the empty bed and toppled over chair. Dear God, no. Please don't let him be gone again.
The sound of running water from the bathroom caught Jack’s attention. Four strides took him to the door.
"Daniel." He heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of the younger man, but the emotion was immediately replaced by frustrated concern. "What the hell are you doing?"
It was actually obvious was Daniel was doing, or at least trying to do. He'd turned the shower on and was standing beneath the jet, arms braced against the wall with locked elbows, and head bowed forward in an attitude that suggested he expected the water to cascade down his back. Unfortunately, or was it fortunately – right now Jack wasn’t sure which - Daniel hadn’t had the strength or the co-ordination to turn the shower on full. Instead a thin dribble of water was splashing weakly off his right forearm.
"Daniel, I told you…" Jack leaned into the shower unit, intending to turn off the water, but Daniel's hand shot up, once again grabbing his wrist.
"Clean," he implored, staggering forward as he twisted his body, and again being saved from having his face meet the floor by Jack's steadying support.
"You know, for a linguist your vocabulary is sorely limited." Jack cautiously removed his hands from Daniel's shoulders once the archaeologist found his feet again. "Look, I appreciate you not wanting to lie around covered in muck from my pond, but you have to trust me here. You need to stay warm and dry." He turned the shower off and then reached for Daniel, intending to guide him safely away from the skating rink of a wet tiled floor.
“No.” Daniel shrank away from him, shaking his head, his hands raised as though warding off some dire evil.
“Whoa! It’s okay.” Jack raised his own hands in a gesture of surrender as Daniel's shoulders wedged him into the corner of the shower unit, keeping him upright more by luck than judgement. “I just want you to…” He gestured back towards the bedroom. “Look, I don’t know what the hell is going on, but you need to lie down until I can get the doc.”
“No.” Daniel shook his head again, knees locking as he straightened, tilted wildly forward and then - miraculously in Jack's opinion - found his balance. His hand snaked forward towards the shower control. "P…p…please."
The word was voiced with such appeal it ripped through Jack's innards as sharply as if Daniel had just shot him with a bullet. He huffed in an exasperated breath, and studied Daniel carefully. The confusion was still there - that indescribable look that said Daniel really hadn't got a clue where the hell he was or what he was doing - but other than that he looked like a perfectly fit thirty-something guy in desperate need of a shower. Okay, options. He could try to talk Daniel out of the shower. Yeah, right. When had he ever succeeded in talking Daniel out of any thing? Option two - he could physically remove him from the bathroom. Jack grimaced at the idea - manhandling Daniel was hardly the way to welcome him home, and besides, it would most likely end up with both of them ass over heel in the shower. No, that was the fast route to a broken rib or two. Which brought him to option three - he could let Daniel take the damn shower and be done with it. Jack huffed the breath out again. "Okay, if it means so much to you."
He turned away, intending to give Daniel privacy, but then
realised that probably wasn't a good idea. An apologetic grimace twisted his
features as he turned back. "I know you hate being fussed over but, to be
honest, you look like a new-born colt who's still not sure about the whole
standing upright thing, and since Fraiser will tan my hide if you crack your
skull open on the soap dish I'll just stay right here and check you don't fall
over.” He paused and then, just to make it seem as though Daniel did actually
have some say in the matter, casually added, “If that's okay with you."
For all the response he got, he might as well have been talking in Klingon. Some part of the conversation made it through Daniel's confusion, though, because he immediately began to fumble with the shower control.
Wordlessly, Jack folded his hand over Daniel’s and helped him turn the water on full, then he watched as Daniel swayed unsteadily on the periphery of the flow, wishing he could find some way to figure out what was going on in Daniel's mind. Fat chance. He rarely managed to achieve that when Daniel was fully human, doing so now was impossible. Feeling more than a bit frustrated at his inability to help, and trying to damp down the notion that maybe, just maybe, Daniel might be suffering from some kind of brain damage, Jack picked up a bottle from the side of the bath and held it out to him.
"Shower gel?" he asked.
Daniel glanced at the plastic bottle, but gave no sign of recognising its purpose. With a soft sigh, Jack reached out, took Daniel's hand, turned it palm-up and squeezed a generous helping of gel into it.
"You wash with it," he offered helpfully as Daniel stood motionless, staring at the glistening yellow fluid, a small frown puckering the skin between his eyebrows. Jack shook his head in dismay as the shower washed the gel down the drain. An unmistakable look of frustration crossed Daniel's face as the last of it was splashed away, but then he simply turned away and began to swipe futilely at the mud.
"Daniel," Jack began, but then realised as far as his team-mate was concerned he might as well not be there. He shook his head and watched for several more minutes as Daniel succeeded in rehydrating the mud and moving it from one part of his body to another, but totally failed at washing it off.
There was only one solution. Wordlessly Jack stripped down to his boxers and joined Daniel in the shower. For the briefest of moments he thought he saw recognition in Daniel's eyes, but then it was gone.
"Daniel, Daniel," Jack whispered softly. "Fraiser is going to have my ass, but if this is what it takes to make you happy… to make you stay." He squeezed shower gel into the palm of his own hand, then cautiously reached out and began to massage it across Daniel's shoulders. The younger man tensed at his touch then, with a barely audible sigh, relaxed into the ministrations.
The air filled with the fragrant aroma of woody spices as Jack swept a layer of glistening rainbow-shimmered bubbles across Daniel's pale skin. Clearly all that basking in Oma's glow didn't result in so much as a hint of a tan. The boy needed some serious time in the sun. Soap mingled with mud, was washed away, and then replaced with a fresh, pure layer of silken fragrance. With Daniel still apparently oblivious to him, Jack set aside all embarrassment as he swept his hands over nearly every inch of Daniel.
"Close your eyes," he said as he squeezed more gel into his palm and reached up to massage the soap into the sticky mess of Daniel's hair. To his surprise, Daniel not only did as he was told, he dipped his head forward to give Jack easier access to his scalp. It took two handfuls of gel and three lots of rinsing, but finally Daniel looked like, well Daniel, instead of Stig of the Dump.
Jack blew out a satisfied sigh and turned off the water. Daniel was clean and warm, if still rather wet. Nothing dire had happened, such as 160 lbs of archaeologist passing out in the shower basin. And, most importantly, Oma hadn't appeared to snatch Daniel away in a puff of pixie dust. He stepped out of the shower, grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it around his hips, then picked up another one and held it out for Daniel.
"Happy now?" he asked, feeling as though he was trying to coax a two-year old out of the shower rather than a grown man.
Daniel was peering down at his toes as though the answer to the mysteries of the universe could somehow be found in the swirling soapsuds at his feet. Although, for all Jack knew, that might be true. Daniel was, after all, the one with omniscience on his CV. Then again, he was sure Daniel had said something about not being all-knowing during their conversations in Baal's prison cell, so maybe he'd just zoned out again.
"Daniel?"
Slowly Daniel raised his head. This time, when he met Jack's gaze, his own was focused. He stared at the towel around Jack's waist, then at the one being held out to him. A look of intense concentration crinkled his eyes and his jaw tensed with determination. Slowly, so incredibly slowly Jack felt he’d been caught up in some kind of time warp, Daniel reached out, folded his fingers over the edges of the towel and took it from Jack's grasp. Then, with the care and attention of someone creating a complex work of origami, he wrapped it around his hips and tucked the loose end in at the waist. He lifted his head again and looked at Jack, an unmistakable gleam of triumph in his eyes.
"Way to go," Jack said, realising congratulations were in order although he wasn't quite sure why, particularly as the towel looked like it would drop to the floor the second Daniel moved.
"Th…thank you."
Jack felt relief flood through him at the simple response. A simple, coherent response that was the first indication that Daniel was back with him in more than just body. Daniel was staring at his toes again, but this time he was flexing them as though reminding himself how the extremities of his body worked.
"So…" Jack said slowly, uncertain what to do next.
"W… weird," Daniel said softly. He glanced up at Jack, then back down at his toes, then up at Jack again. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and his tongue flickered over his lips. Slowly he rolled his shoulders, and then tilted his head from side to side. "Feels… weird.” He frowned clearly concentrating on making his speech lucid. “Like… like it isn't... really… mine." He heaved in a breath as though he’d just run a hundred yard sprint rather than voiced a short sentence.
Jack's eyebrows danced in question. “Weird?” he mouthed silently.
"This." Daniel slowly moved his hand in front of his body and attempted some kind of gesture that Jack translated as being rude on at least six different planets, not to mention downright insulting in three Far Eastern countries. Daniel frowned. "Umm, okay, maybe that'll take a bit more practice." At least his speech was beginning to flow now, and he turned the gesture into a slow upward arc and carefully ran his fingers through his hair. "I didn't expect… Oma didn't warn me…" He gave a soft laugh that unexpectedly evolved into a hiccup. "Having arms and legs and… it's a bit overwhelming."
He took a step forward and as Jack had predicted the towel immediately made a bid for freedom. Fortunately for Daniel, Jack's reflexes didn't need any fine tuning. In one smooth move, he stepped forward and slid an arm around Daniel's waist, ensuring that both the archaeologist and the towel continued to defy gravity.
"Think you were right about the bit more practice thing," he said gently, trying to imagine what it would be like to be nothing but energy one minute to being burdened with a human body the next. He decided the concept was far too alien to comprehend, but figured it was a perfectly rational explanation for Daniel's lack of co-ordination and communication skills. Both of which, thank God, seemed to be returning with alacrity now.
He still had a hundred and one questions, but the next few minutes were taken up with the important tasks of finding Daniel something to wear, then convincing him that as he’d just helped him shower, doing up the buttons on a pair of PJs for him really wasn’t any big deal. Finally, though, Jack had Daniel where he wanted him – dressed in a pair of warm flannel PJs and a thick bathrobe, and sitting in the big, comfortable armchair by a roaring fire with a mug of coffee carefully cradled in his hands. Whether Daniel’s digestive system was up to handling coffee was still under debate, but since there was really only one way to find out, they’d decided to take the risk. Or rather Daniel had, since he was the one who had insisted on the drink. Somewhat forcibly for a guy who minutes earlier had been monosyllabic.
"So, Daniel," Jack finally asked. “Want to tell me what happened?”
A look of indefinable emotion flittered across Daniel’s face, and he peered into the depths of his mug before giving a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I… umm... I’d rather not talk about it right now.”
“Right, okay.” Jack sipped at his beer and pulled a face. It was the one he’d started earlier in the evening, and now it was both flat and warm. Still, it was an acceptable distraction from walking into territory he was uncomfortable with. He switched subjects. “So guess you really missed having a shower, huh?”
“Umm, no, not really.” Daniel blew out a long breath. “It probably sounds crazy but, I figured if I could just do something routine, something I did every day without even thinking about it, maybe it would help me figure out how it worked.”
“You needed to know how the shower worked?”
Daniel gave him hard look. “No. I needed to figure out how to…” He lifted his hand and made a small circular motion, smiling with the pride of achievement as he did so. “You know, do stuff.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, of course.” Jack sipped his beer.
An uneasy silence began to stretch between them. Damn. Jack knew he was useless at this kind of thing. There were dozen of things he wanted to say – things about friendship and how much he’d missed Daniel and how Teal’c was right, the pond had been some kind of bizarre memorial, and yes he’d watched the history channel because, goddamn it, he’d found it strangely comforting to listen to those academics droning on about Egypt and cuneiform and bits of pottery, but somehow he couldn’t find the words. He swallowed another mouthful of beer, cleared his throat, drank more beer, and tried to sound as casual as possible.
"It’s good to have you back.” Oh crap. Yes, he really was bad at this. Daniel’s head shot up, those blue eyes making him feel even more uncomfortable. Okay, time for the big question. “Assuming you’re staying this time."
Daniel’s gaze drifted to a point just to the right of Jack’s ear, but Jack got the feeling that in that moment his attention was actually focused on some entirely different plane.
“Daniel?” He tried not to sound needy. Tried not to beg.
Blue eyes focused back on brown, and a hint of a smile curved Daniel’s upper lip. "Yeah, I'm staying."
"Good."
The word hardly began to describe how Jack felt. His imagination might not be up to the whole ex-glow thing, but it could conjure up an inkling of the welcome home party the SGC was likely to throw, and he figured Daniel would find out how much his return meant soon enough.
“Then I guess you won’t mind if I…” Jack gestured towards the phone. In response Daniel gave the tiniest of nods.
Slowly Jack picked up the handset and dialled the number. “General Hammond?”
“Colonel O’Neill.”
“Daniel’s home, sir.”
*******************************************
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