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So we beat on, boats against the current,
borne back ceaselessly into the past. F. Scott Fitzgerald ~ The Great Gatsby
After all, telling someone that a loved one had died, that they'd never speak with them again, could never, should never be something that you got used to, should it? But face to face had to be the way to go. How could news of that importance be relayed by phone, or in the crisp terseness of a letter? He checked his watch once more, looking up at the departure times. There was his flight, right on time. A scheduled flight from Chicago to Denver, then a rental car the rest of the way. As he picked up his bag, he pondered the instructions he'd been given - he had to give the envelope to the man in question, no-one else, but first he had to find him. How hard could that be? How many Colonel Jack O'Neill's could there be in Colorado anyway?
"Colonel O'Neill, SG-1," General Hammond began, as the members of the team in question trooped into the briefing room, "I'd like to introduce you to the newest member of the SGC." Four pairs of eyes, brown and blue alike, turned almost as one to look at the man seated at the conference table to the general's right. Dressed in an immaculate air force dress uniform, the man was tall and lean, almost angular, black hair in a regulation buzz-cut, fingers laced together on the table in front of him. Despite the slight appearance there was something calculating in those dark eyes, something that spoke of a man not to be trifled with. "Colonel Jack O'Neill," Hammond continued, eyes locking with the man in question, "this is Colonel James Martin, who will be taking command of SG-6." "Colonel," O'Neill said, nodding at the man who still remained seated, his dark eyes flicking over the members of SG-1. "Colonel," Martin echoed, his eyes resting for a longer moment on Daniel as they surveyed the rest of the team. Daniel was standing slightly to one side of Jack, but even so, Jack could still feel the tension in the air, see the way that Daniel's fingers were rubbing the back of his hand in what was clearly a subconscious movement. Jack filed this response away for future reference, promising himself that he would investigate it later. Watching Daniel Jackson had become an important pastime, a source of constant interest to the colonel over the time they had spent together. With any one of a hundred surreptitious glances a day, Jack was able to gauge where the archaeologist was at, knowing Daniel's state of mind at any given moment. But when had it become so important to him to know, Jack wondered, how Daniel was feeling about a situation? This tangible air of defensiveness that was emanating from his friend, not so unusual in a man who had lived through so many bad experiences, something about it struck a chord within him. Jack shifted his weight from one foot to the other, considering this as he watched the formalities continue. All around where Jack was standing, still all-too conscious of his friend's strange reaction, introductions were going on. Carter was introduced, then Teal'c, and finally Daniel. Daniel spoke politely to the newcomer, but their eyes never met, and Jack was left with a strange sense of wrongness — there was something here below the surface, something he was not aware of yet.
"Daniel?" Jack hastened down the corridor in pursuit of his friend, who had left the conference room in a hurry. Daniel slowed his pace, but didn't turn around — he carried on walking, his back ramrod stiff, his arms still wrapped around himself in self-protection. One hand continued to absently rub the back of the other, agile fingers tracing and re-tracing the same path across the skin. Jack settled into step beside Daniel, noting with a frown that Daniel didn't even turn his head in Jack's direction. With a glance he also took in the defensive body language once more, but Jack knew that the conversation they needed to have was not one they should have in a corridor, not even in the secure environs of the SGC. So many things remained unspoken between them, thoughts that Jack wanted to express, but he was not even sure he knew how. Could he find the words to name for Daniel what was just a sensation, a previously-unexplored facet of himself? It seemed to Jack as though he had somehow strayed into unfamiliar territory, passing with one step from 'being a friend' to something else, something undefined. Something that, if Jack was completely honest with himself, scared the hell out of him. He waited, impatiently, trailing along beside Daniel as they walked in silence, all the way to the archaeologist's office. Daniel seated himself at the desk, as if he had forgotten Jack was even there, gathering some papers that were scattered across the surface and shuffling them together. His hands shook slightly, even as he appeared to make a conscious effort to try and still them. "You want to tell me what's going on?" Jack began, perching on the edge of the desk in an attempt to ensure that Daniel could no longer ignore him. Daniel continued to sort the papers however, not even looking in Jack's direction. "Daniel?" "What?" Daniel snapped the word out, looking at Jack for the first time since they had entered the office. "What do you want me to say?" "Well, why don't we start with what the hell is going on with you, Daniel?" Jack retorted, glad finally to see some reaction. "Then you can tell me where you know this Colonel Martin from and why he's making you act so jumpy...." As Jack spoke Martin's name, he couldn't fail to notice the way that Daniel's hands tightened around the papers he was holding, the grip increasing until the skin across Daniel's knuckles was white. Bingo! I was right... Daniel does know this guy from somewhere. There was a long silence, hanging heavy in the small room. Jack tried to be patient, knowing that to press Daniel for information he wasn't ready to give would only make his friend clam up on him. Come on, Daniel.... Jack thought. After a few moments silence, it became clear to Jack that he would get nothing further. Daniel had drawn in on himself, even as he placed the papers he had been crushing onto the desk, trying for a moment to smooth out some of the creases he had caused. Sighing, Jack got up from where he had been sitting. "You know I won't let this rest, Daniel. And when you need to talk, you know where to find me...."
"I'm fine, Dr. Fraiser." The lieutenant was backing towards the door as he spoke, a worried expression on her face. A face that was pale, dark shadows under green eyes. "Really." "I could make it an order," Janet said. She drew herself up to her full height, clearly prepared to follow up on her threat. "Janet?" For a moment, Sam wondered just what it was that she'd walked in on. Janet just glanced at her, acknowledging her presence with a nod. "Rest, Lieutenant Forrest." The lieutenant nodded, still clearly nervous. "And tell your C.O. I said so." Forrest looked less happy about this part of it and it was clear that Janet noticed. She checked her clipboard. "Better yet," she continued, "I'll tell Colonel Martin myself. Dismissed." With a grateful smile, Forrest disappeared, the door swinging closed behind her as she hastened to escape. "What was that about?" Sam asked. "I have no idea," Janet replied. "Just one newly arrived lieutenant who isn't looking after herself properly, it seems. Nothing I haven't seen before."
One relatively-uneventful mission later, Daniel was returning to his office, his arms laden with artifacts and an unhappy looking airman trailing behind him with a further box. "You can put that down..." Daniel began, looking around in a futile search for a free space for the box to be placed. In the end, the archaeologist had to put down the armful he was carrying and clear a space on one of the workbenches. "Thank you, Airman," he said, with a smile that the other returned tentatively after a moment's hesitation. "Do you need anything else, sir?" The airman was clearly impatient to leave, his hand already resting on the door handle. "Huh?" Daniel looked up from the box, having already opened the lid and begun cross-checking the contents with the inventory list he held. "No, thank you. You can go back to whatever it was you were doing." He was so engrossed in removing the contents of the box, checking each off against the inventory then carefully examining them for damage, that Daniel neither heard the airman leave or the door opening again a few minutes later. "Some things never change, do they?" a voice asked, breaking into Daniel's concentration with the force of a blow. Daniel felt his hands tighten on the fragile pot that he was currently holding and he made a conscious effort to relax his grip, placing the artifact safely back in the box before turning to the man who had spoken. "Colonel Martin," he said, proud of the steadiness of his voice. "Danny, why so formal?" Martin asked, closing the office door behind him as he entered the room completely. "Because I have nothing to say to you." "And there was I thinking this was just like old times, Danny," Martin said, with a cold smile. "Old times?" Daniel blurted out, astonished. "How can you think that you can just walk back in here like nothing happened between us?" "I can see that some things have changed, haven't they?" Martin said, ignoring the fact that Daniel had even spoken. "You've obviously forgotten all the good times we had together. We had something special between us, Danny. We could have that again." "No." The word was a snapped response, instant, unthinking. "You're looking good, Danny," Martin said, coming closer now, still keeping himself between Daniel and the door. "But there's something not quite right about you — I could make things just like they were." "I told you, I'm not interested in anything you might have to say," Daniel said, trying to edge round to place the workbench between him and the advancing colonel. "In fact, I'd like you to leave. Now." "You don't really mean that," Martin said. "You and me, we belong together, Danny, don't try to deny it. You know it's the truth." "All I know is that I don't need you any more," Daniel said, amazed at his abilitiy to form the words even as he spoke them. "I don't need that kind of 'together', not with you, not with anyone. And I have work to do, so I'd appreciate it if you would get out and let me get on with it." Martin opened his mouth to speak again, but the words never came. Before he was able to utter them, the door opened and Jack walked in. "Daniel, you need..." he began, before he registered the fact that there was another person in the office. "Colonel Martin," Jack said, in a colder tone, when he recognized the other man, taking in the hostility with which the small room bristled. "Was there something you wanted?" "Dr. Jackson and I were just discussing the next mission SG-6 is scheduled for," Martin replied casually, "and the culture we can expect to be meeting on that planet." Daniel glanced across with patent surprise at Martin as he spoke. Jack's eyes travelled thoughtfully from the colonel to Daniel, his look clearly assessing both of them. "Thanks for your time, Dr. Jackson. It's been most helpful," Martin said, after a moment's slightly awkward silence. "Now I know where you are, I'll be sure to drop by again..." With a nod to the bemused looking scientist, Martin headed for the door. He didn't turn around, shutting the door quietly behind him. When Jack looked back to Daniel, he saw that the other man's eyes were resting pensively on the grey metal of the now-closed office door. "Daniel." No response. "Daniel." "Huh?" Daniel's head snapped round to where Jack was standing, and it seemed to take a moment before he was able to process again. "What is it, Jack?" "I came to tell you Hammond wants you to expand on your last post- mission report. He feels that it was a little sketchy in places." "He does?" Daniel turned to his desk as he spoke. His hands rummaged through the papers scattered there, as if of their own accord. "I'm sure my notes are here somewhere..." he continued, clearly speaking as much to himself as to Jack. "No hurry," Jack continued. "Some time tomorrow will do, he said." Jack paused, watching Daniel proceed to root through the detritus that currently covered most of the available surfaces in the office. "You ready to tell me what's up with you yet?" "I have no idea what you're talking about," Daniel replied, without even bothering to turn around. Jack smiled to himself. Even from where he was standing he had seen Daniel stiffen slightly as he asked the question, so he knew he had struck a nerve. "Sure you do, Daniel," he continued. "You were getting ready to tell me about you and Colonel Martin...." Daniel stopped what he was doing as the words Jack had spoken sank in. His hands stilled their search and his head bowed, as if he were taking the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Leave it alone, Jack. Please." "No can do, Daniel," Jack replied, even as his conscience pricked at him for forcing the issue between them. "You know you want to tell me." "I don't. Really." Jack frowned as he considered all the implications of that statement. The more he tried to get information out of Daniel and failed, the more he worried. Something felt wrong here, Jack decided, something that nagged at him. If there weren't something serious between the two men, something that would make him worry should it be revealed, would Daniel be so keen to keep it from him? Jack sighed to himself at the twisted logic of that conclusion. "Okay," Jack conceded, reluctantly. "I'll see you later..." Once outside in the corridor, Jack paused, wondering if he had done the right thing. And what am I supposed to do? The man has a right to privacy, even if it's bugging me not knowing whatever-it-is that's going on between him and Martin.... Something was familiar about the look he'd seen in Daniel's eyes, something that reminded him of people long since passed on in his life. There were so many things that Jack tried not to think about, burying them with the ease of long practice, that it was hard to pinpoint what they all were. He had once said to Hammond that he had done some damn distasteful things in his past, but that was barely scratching the surface. It was not just what he had done, or what he had seen, but what he had experienced. Jack shook his head slightly, as if to free himself of the past, but some trace of those thoughts remained with him, tenaciously, no matter what he did.
When he walked into the mess hall and saw them together, Daniel was amazed. So much so that he stopped in his tracks, not hearing the protestations of the airman who had followed him in, who had been forced to make a sudden detour to avoid walking into Daniel as he stood just inside the doorway. As hard as he tried to make a surreptitious trip to the counter, to gather some coffee and leave, Daniel had a feeling this attempt would be doomed to failure. He hadn't made it three steps away from the line before he heard Sam's voice calling his name. Pasting a smile onto his unwilling face, Daniel turned in her direction. "Join us?" "I can't, Sam. Really," Daniel replied, forcing a pleasant tone to cover the abruptness of his words. He wasn't sure what Sam's reaction would be, but he really could not bring himself to sit down with her, not now. "Come now, Dr. Jackson," an all-too-familiar voice chimed in then. "Do what the good Major says and join us." Just the sound of his voice was enough to make every nerve in Daniel's body jangle — he could almost feel the adrenaline begin to circulate as his instincts screamed at him to get out of there as quickly as he could. "Please," Sam continued. "Colonel Martin was just telling me tales of his wild times as a student at the University of Colorado...." Daniel hoped that he managed to keep the shock he felt from reaching his face — somehow he managed to look Martin in the eye, recognizing immediately the mocking look he saw there. "Some other time, Sam," he replied, turning on his heel and heading out of the mess hall before he did what he really wanted to do. Behind him, as he walked away, he could hear Sam's voice. Her laughter followed Daniel as Martin regaled her with some amusing story of student mischief. If only you knew what he's really like, Sam...
How many years of his life had he spent just like this? Sitting cramped up in a car, waiting for someone to show their face? Taking another mouthful of luke-warm coffee, he grimaced at the thought. Where was this guy anyway? He was an USAF colonel, for crying out loud, so why didn't he come home?
Daniel was pre-occupied, engrossed in his work, when he heard the office door open. He felt himself tense, in anticipation of that voice which was really the last one that he wanted to hear. There was silence in the room for a moment — Daniel heard the footsteps of his visitor as they crossed to his side, felt his nerves start to react.... "Danny," Martin began, finally. "I told you I'd drop by again..." "Why can't you just leave me alone?" Daniel asked, hearing the desperation in his own words. He didn't turn as he spoke, but his hand tightened instinctively on the pen that he held. "What do I have to say to convince you, Danny?" Martin asked, moving even closer. Daniel retreated, leaving his seat and navigating the familiar space of his office with ease, knowing exactly when to side-step furniture. In the end, however, he found there was nowhere to go, his back was pressed against the wall furthest from the door. "We belong together. You know that." "I know nothing of the sort," Daniel replied. He stunned himself by his boldness, and wondered for a moment where those defiant words had come from. "You know I didn't want to leave you like that, Danny." Martin's voice continued, the tone almost hypnotic. "It was my C.O.'s idea that I transferred, I had nothing to do with it. If it weren't for him we'd still be together..." "You really think that?" Daniel blurted, unable to stop the words escaping. He jerked back as he saw the flash of anger that skittered across the colonel's face at his impulsive words, painful memories resurfacing at that all-too-familiar look. "Maybe you need a little reminder about minding your manners, Danny," Martin drawled, his words chilly. "You never used to be so abrupt with me." As he spoke, Martin's hand came up to caress Daniel's cheek, despite the way that the archaeologist squirmed to avoid the touch. "I don't need anything from you..." Daniel replied, tensing as the other man's hand made contact with his face. "On the contrary," Martin said, his face mere inches from Daniel's own, "I think you do." Daniel stayed silent this time, his eyes blazing with a mixture of fear and anger. "You know I always get what I want, Danny." Martin's voice was dark, seductive, with a sharp edge to it. "And you're going to give me what I want. Things are going to be just like they were between us, just you wait and see..." "Or what?" Daniel blurted, bringing his hands up to push Martin away at last. "Or the truth will come out," Martin replied, bracing himself against the pressure on his chest. He smiled to himself, a smile that was positively glacial. "Colonel O'Neill seems to think very highly of you, Danny. What would he think if he found out the truth about you? About the things that you did?" The pressure ceased then, Daniel pulling back his hands as if they had been burned, looking for all the world like he wanted to blend into the concrete behind him, disappear forever. "You wouldn't do that," Daniel half-muttered. He frowned. "How could you do that without implicating yourself?" "Easy enough. I have certain mementoes from our time together. Sufficient to make the good colonel see you in something of a different light, but leaving me free and clear - just an innocent led astray..." Martin smiled. "Of course, you'd need to find another place to work - you know how the Airforce is..." Daniel fell silent once more, biting the inside of his lower lip as he glared fiercely at the man who stood before him. "What do you want?" The words grated their way out. Martin eyed him for a moment, his dark gaze assessing. "You always had such a talented mouth, Danny," he said after a moment's thought. "And if I go to Jack and tell him everything?" "You won't." "I won't?" "You have a choice, Danny. Do what I say and this is kept between us - tell your precious colonel anything and I promise you that I'll destroy both of you, one way or another." Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments, a threat, more a promise, exchanged between them. Daniel let out a shaky breath, looking past Martin as he did so and focussing on a spot on the opposite wall. "Choose." Daniel nodded tersely.
He could feel the change in the temperature of the air around him as Martin stepped back, one hand coming up to touch his face once more in an unwanted caress. Daniel suppressed a shudder at the other man's touch, biting the inside of his lip again to remind himself not to flinch. What choice do I have? he thought. Daniel knew the answer then, as the hopelessness of his situation struck home to him. He was as trapped as he had been with Hathor, as surely enslaved to the desires of another as he had been then. Only this time he was submitting to those desires of his own free will. Long fingers that he had once known so well carded through his hair, coming to rest as they cradled the back of his head. The illusion of care they gave was so strong, it almost made Daniel cry out, shove Martin away and run for the door. Almost. "You know what I want, Danny." Simple words, uttered plainly. A universe of desire expressed within them, all of it dark and twisted. Daniel nodded once more, unable or unwilling to meet the other man's eyes as he began to kneel.
Finally.... He was out of the car almost before the other man's jeep had drawn to a halt in the driveway, crossing the road in a half-lope that covered the distance easily. "Colonel O'Neill?" The man turned, frowning. "Who the hell are you?" Half-smiling to himself, he reached into his jacket pocket to pull out his identification. Something in the way the other man tensed spoke of long years in the military, the wariness that only active service brings. He forced himself to move slowly, carefully. "Richard Buchanan, Colonel. I represent Mitchell, Butler and Pike, Attorneys at Law." "And...?" Buchanan smiled to himself. This was definitely the man - everything about him fit. "And if you're Colonel Jack O'Neill," he continued, "we need to talk..."
Afterwards, as he leaned wearily against his desk, Daniel watched Colonel Martin leave his office without looking back. Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, Daniel considered the deal he had entered into. He had heard the term 'making a deal with the devil' many times, but now, Daniel realized bitterly, he understood exactly how that felt. What the hell was I thinking? And can I trust him? Daniel moved back to his chair and sank into its embrace. Like I have a choice... he thought bitterly, resting his elbows on the desk, his hands coming up to cradle his head as he shook with silent tears. Like I ever had a choice....
Jack stood on the doorstep, watching Buchanan drive away, a heavy white envelope held forgotten in his hand. He had known it would happen one day. It had to. No-one lived forever, after all. But why now? Turning back into the house, Jack glanced down at the envelope. It was addressed to him, the type on the front cold and black. 'Colonel Jack O'Neill' the only words. At last, he thought, it took me a lifetime to get him to accept that I didn't want to share his name. He knew what was inside the envelope, or could at least hazard a guess. And he wanted nothing to do with it. It was enough that he was dead, without everything that followed. How could he lay claim to everything that he had walked away from as a teenager anyway? He had made his choice, Jack remembered his father saying once - he had made his bed and now he had to lie in it. Yeah, dad, Jack thought bitterly. Words to live by....
Jack watched Daniel across the briefing room table, taking in the haunted expression that the other man was trying so hard to hide. It had taken a while, but he was beginning to be able to decipher Daniel's changes of expression, the little looks and glances that said as much as Daniel's actual words. It had been hard work, but a worthwhile use of his time. And Jack had to think that Daniel choosing to sit over there, as far from the colonel as he could, was of some significance. There was nothing casual to Daniel's behaviour, Jack had realized after a month or two - even if there was no obvious reason for the things he did, then there was a subconscious one. If nothing else, Daniel was more predictable than he might like to think. Everything he knew of Daniel told him that the other man was in some kind of pain. But what was going on? And why now? His thoughts turned to the envelope that waited for him at home, still unopened. Like he needed any more aggravation. Like life wasn't already complicated enough just coming to work every day.
This time she bumped into Lieutenant Forrest in the women's locker room. Hammond kept promising that a refit was due, to give a number of the SG teams their own space, but Carter wasn't holding out much hope that plan would make its way through military red tape any time soon. Still, there weren't many women in the SGC, so when they did get the locker room to themselves, it wasn't all that crowded. So much so, in fact, that Carter hadn't realised she wasn't the sole occupant for a moment, till Forrest appeared from the direction of the showers. "Lieutenant," Carter said, nodding at her. Forrest hesitated, even despite the years of communal changing that she must have experienced to reach her current rank. One hand clutched the towel that covered her torso, knuckles white. "I don't bite," Carter said, smiling up at her from where she had sat down to unlace her boots. It was then that she noticed the bruises. Yellowing, on their way towards nothingness, but still clear on Forrest's pale skin, standing out starkly against the whiteness of her upper arm. Looking just like finger marks. Bruises themselves were nothing unexpected - there weren't many missions where Carter didn't discover some mark or other on her body when they got back to base. And some people bruised more easily than others. But this was different. Anyway, SG-6 had no recent off-world time to explain these marks away, no training exercises either, that she knew of. Forrest was drying herself now, as far away from where Carter sat as the locker room allowed. She looked for all the world as if she wished she could just merge in with the surroundings, make herself invisible. That response headed off the direct approach. Questions would just make her clam up, Carter decided. But something was clearly wrong, something more than a lieutenant not looking after herself, like Janet had thought. As she toed off her second boot, Carter wondered just what it was like for Forrest. When she had arrived, she'd been something of a novelty, but at least she had her Pentagon reputation and her PhD to fall back on. And the support of a team of which she felt very much a member. What was there for women like Forrest? The USAF wasn't always the most supportive organisation going in the first place and a C.O.'s attitude made all the difference. For all his faults, Colonel O'Neill was a fair commander, judging people first and foremost by their ability to do the job. She knew nothing about Colonel Martin, Carter realised, as she continued to strip. Nothing other than that he was a charming conversationalist. But she, of all people, should know that being charming wasn't always all it was cracked up to be.
This time, when Martin arrived in Daniel's office, Daniel had been expecting him for quite a while. Putting his work to one side with a sigh, he looked up at the other man, taking in the possessive look, so familiar to him from days long gone, with which Martin gazed at him. Don't pretend this is something I want to be any part of, Daniel thought bitterly. "Danny." "Colonel." Martin frowned at Daniel's response, the cold defiance running through the heart of the single word he had spoken. "You know why I'm here." Daniel nodded, taking off his glasses and running his hand over his face with a tired gesture. There was silence for a long moment - neither man moved. "Well?" Martin said, finally. Reluctance clear in every movement, Daniel stood, one hand placing his almost-forgotten glasses on the cluttered surface of his desk. Martin stood his ground, making Daniel come to him. When Daniel was within reach, his hand snaked out, sudden, fingers gripping Daniel's hair a little too tightly, pulling a gasp from the archaeologist as his head was yanked towards Martin. "Don't forget our little bargain, Danny." Martin spat the words into Daniel's face, his eyes cold. "You know who's in charge..." Within the small movement the iron grip on his hair allowed, Daniel nodded, his eyes dropping. He felt the strength of that grip with every movement he made, not lessening even as he tried to kneel, a prelude to giving Martin what he wanted. Daniel's stomach rolled, churning in a slow and lazy way, as he contemplated what was being demanded of him. Taking a deep breath to suppress the bile that was rising, Daniel closed his eyes.
The door opened. Jack took in the tableau in a glance, Daniel kneeling at Martin's feet, one of the colonel's hands seeming to rest casually on the other man's head, entwined in Daniel's hair. Daniel's hand was frozen in place, his fingers resting on the buckle of Martin's belt. And Daniel's face.... Daniel's face was rigid, emotionless, all life driven away from it except for that which burned so brightly in his eyes. Eyes full of self-loathing, regret and pain so real that it sucked a breath from Jack before he realised it. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Martin?" Jack snapped, his voice cold, full of barely contained fury. "What business is it of yours, Colonel?" Martin replied, barely glancing at Jack. Jack could see Daniel's face, which was pale and set, even as the other man evaded his glance. Daniel was shaking slightly, the finest of tremors, as he struggled back to his feet, but Jack felt them as surely as if he experienced them himself. As he stood, Daniel shook himself free of the hold that Martin had on his hair, backing away without looking at either man. "You know the regulations, Martin, and even if you didn't, I'm making it my business," Jack said tersely, without taking his eyes off Martin. "I suggest you leave Dr. Jackson alone unless you want to deal with me." Martin's look was longer this time, but scornful, raking Jack from head to toe. A slight smile appeared on his face as he looked at the older man, before he turned briefly back to the archaeologist. "We'll finish this later, Danny," Martin drawled, the smile stronger now, before turning his back on the two of them and walking away. "You okay, Daniel?" Jack asked, crossing to where his friend was standing. Daniel was gaping at the departing back of Martin, as if he couldn't believe that the man had left. "Daniel?" "Huh? Oh... yes, I'm fine," Daniel replied, his voice shaking slightly. "I'm not sure that was such a good idea, Jack." "What? Getting rid of Martin?" Jack's eyes were intent on Daniel's face, which was still far paler than he liked. His mind screamed to him about what he had seen, a voice which Jack suppressed, pushing it to the back of his thoughts with every ounce of willpower he could muster. "You don't know what he's like, Jack," Daniel muttered. "He's crazy..." "He must be if he thinks he can get away with hassling you when I'm around," Jack replied. "He could be up on charges before he knows it." He paused, as if considering something. When Jack spoke again, his voice was softer, more tentative. "What you do on your own time..." The words died in Jack's mouth. "You need to be more careful, Daniel." "You think I...?" Daniel began, seemingly to himself. Then his tone changed. "What makes you think I need your protection, Jack? I was dealing with it..." Daniel's voice had become glacial, with a sharp edge to it. His lips hardened to a single line and he looked at Jack intently, his eyes crystalline. "Wha...?" Jack asked, taken aback by the change of topic. "What was I supposed to do? You call that 'dealing with it'? If the guy was harassing you, then press charges." Daniel shot him a glance, the sharpness of it cutting off any more words before Jack could speak them. "I can look after myself, Jack," Daniel stated, his voice still flat and emotionless. "I'm not a child. And I'll deal with this. My way." "We're friends, Daniel. Friends look out for one another." Daniel sighed, as if tired with the way the conversation was going. His head dropped slightly, and some of the coldness left his eyes, to be replaced by an emotion that resembled despair. "I can look after myself," he repeated, his voice shaking again. As he spoke, Daniel's arms wrapped around himself, as if he needed them to hold himself together. "You've not done a great job so far, Danny," Jack said, his voice equally quiet. At the name, Daniel's head snapped up, the coldness returning to his eyes and voice. "Don't call me that! Don't ever call me that again!" "What?" Jack asked, bemused. "My name is Daniel. Not Danny." "Then talk to me, Daniel." Please, Jack thought, pleading silently with Daniel to finally trust him...
The words stayed with Jack long after the conversation had ended. "I can't." "You can't." "No. And if you've ever trusted me, Jack, leave it alone. Please." Their eyes had met for a moment, the pleading look in Daniel's face tearing at Jack's heart, breaking down whatever ability he had ever possessed to deny Daniel anything he wanted. "I shouldn't. I know I'll regret it..." "Thanks, Jack." Walking out of Daniel's office had been one of the hardest things Jack had ever done. Turning his back on the other man when he was so clearly in pain went against everything Jack was, but Daniel had effectively dismissed him, turning his back after the briefest of thanks. As he walked back through the monotonous corridors to his own office, Jack mulled over what he had seen. Some part of his mind refused to believe it, refused to consider that Daniel would abase himself that way for anyone, let alone someone like Martin, a man he so clearly feared and disliked. But what other interpretation could there be? He knew he should have spoken more to Daniel about the regulations he had signed up to when he started working for the USAF, about 'don't ask, don't tell', but there was something more to this, Jack sensed. More than he had already seen, more than he already knew. And the fact that he was Daniel's friend, as well as technically his commanding officer, had made those straightforward words stick in his throat, unspoken. He should have urged Daniel to press charges, pushed him to file a formal complain against Martin, even though Jack knew it wasn't likely Daniel would want to do that. There was something about Daniel that drove Jack to want to protect him, even though he knew that Daniel was quite capable of looking after himself. Well, quite capable of doing so most of the time. It was just that this time, he had chosen a route that was ultimately self-destructive, that could only lead to his being kicked out of the employ of the USAF had anyone else walked in on him and Martin. And that was something that puzzled Jack, because it was so alien to everything that he knew to be true of Daniel. This was his life's work, bound up here in the SGC, there was no way that he would throw it away over something trivial. There had to be another explanation. Something had happened in that office, between Daniel and Martin, something Jack couldn't quite put a name to. And the most worrying thing of all? Something had stirred inside of him, a feeling that made it difficult to be objective. If Jack had to name it, then he would have had to call it 'jealousy' and that was just plain ridiculous. Wasn't it?
He knew the truth now. As he paced the corridors of the SGC, Colonel Martin cursed at his own failure to see what was there before his eyes all along. He should have seen it as soon as he saw the two of them together — their casual familiarity, the tolerant relationship that existed between the two of them. Why else would a hardened military man like O'Neill put up with a weakling like Daniel Jackson? Martin knew from his own experience how Daniel was, the easy way he seemed to have with people at times, but that he would flaunt his relationship with O'Neill in front of him in this way.... They had made a deal, but Daniel had clearly broken it, by word or by deed. Which meant that all agreements between them meant nothing now, except for what he could gain by their apparent observance. It was clear to him now. If there could ever be a chance that things could go back to how they were, how they were meant to be, Jack O'Neill would have to be taken care of. Permanently.
It mocked him. Lying there on the coffee table, so innocuous- looking, just paper, ink and glue, and still the envelope and its contents mocked him. Jack leant forward and picked it up, weighing it in his hands. How could it hurt to open it? "No." Had he said that out loud? Since when had he started talking to himself? That was Daniel's province - maybe he'd been hanging round with the guy too long, if that whole chewing-stuff-over-out-loud routine was starting to rub off on him? Jack stared at the type again, as if he somehow expected it to change, letters morphing to form a different name altogether, but without success. Turning it over, he slid one thumb under the edge and began to open it.
"General?" "Sit down, Colonel, SG-1," Hammond replied, gesturing towards the seat nearest him as he absently shuffled through a pile of reports. Jack took the seat indicated, the one he usually occupied during briefings. Across from him, his face as calm as if he had never harbored a moment's evil thought, was Colonel Martin. The seating arrangements had ensured that SG-6 sat on one side of the long table in the briefing room, with SG-1 arrayed along the other. Daniel had hesitated at the doorway, allowing Jack and Carter to pass him, when he had seen Martin sitting there so calmly. This was the moment he had feared for so long — as long as he only had to deal with Martin in the relative privacy of his own office, things were okay, sort of.... As he had allowed Sam to overtake him, Daniel found himself third along the side of the table, sitting between Sam and Teal'c. At least this way he did not have to try and avoid Martin's gaze. He glanced towards the general a little reluctantly, seeing the tension in Jack's shoulders where he was sitting,gazing implacably at Martin. What is he thinking? Daniel wondered, as a sudden cold feeling of foreboding gripped his heart. He must have realized what was happening between us when I wouldn't agree to press charges. Daniel felt his face redden at that thought, as the full weight of it struck him for the first time. He glanced between Jack and Martin, uncertain what he saw in the faces of either man.
To say that the idea of going on a joint mission with SG-6 rankled with Jack would be an understatement. The last thing he wanted was to have to deal in a civil manner with the man he had seen taking some kind of advantage of Daniel. Even as he laced his boots, pulling the laces a little too tight in his irritation at the situation, it took all Jack's years of practicing self-control to not go right over to SG-6's locker room and give the colonel a taste of his own medicine, to humiliate him like he had humiliated Daniel. But that wouldn't help, would it? All that would mean is that I'm no better than he is. And I have to be, don't I? The thought that he could be so consumed by rage, that the very thought of someone humiliating Daniel had now become enough to make him almost ready to throw away everything for which he had worked so hard, stunned Jack a little. What is it with me? he wondered. And that was without considering the sexual side of the little scenario he had walked in on. There had been humiliation involved in what was going on, that was true, but it had also been immediately and painfully clear to Jack, no matter how much he might deny it to himself, that Daniel was being coerced somehow. The look on the archaeologist's face had spoken eloquently of his own distaste, his own reluctance to do what he was doing. Yet the thought of Daniel like that, on his knees, sent a burst of heat through Jack, making him shiver slightly at its intensity. Did that really mean he wanted the same from Daniel that Martin did? I just wish I knew what I do want, Jack thought, patting down his fatigues pockets as he left the locker room. Maybe, just maybe, I could talk to Daniel some time, and then see what happens between us....
There was a deceptive calmness between the two commanding officers. Outwardly, Martin deferred to Jack, allowing him to take the lead by virtue of his years of experience. And maybe if Jack hadn't walked in on the two men the other day, hadn't seen the way that Daniel looked as though he wished he could walk through walls like the Tollan in order to escape from Martin, that deference might have borne fruit. But Jack had seen what he had seen in Daniel's office, felt the hostility between the two men despite the apparent intimacy of what he had witnessed, so he was left with no doubt at all that there was more between the two men than met the eye. More than a straightforward interpretation of the regulations would take into account, that much was certain. So how could he reconcile that tension with the affable way that Martin was behaving towards him now? Does Martin really think I'll be taken in so easily? Jack wondered, his eyes flicking across to where Martin was in conversation with a member of SG-6. I walked in on the two of them together, yet he's acting like he doesn't have a care in the world.
Despite what the MALP's transmissions had shown, SG-1 and SG-6 stepped straight into the middle of hell. What seemed at first sight like a peaceful planet was in fact a Goa'uld stronghold, leading both teams to conduct a running battle through tangled knots of trees in a desperate attempt to return to the 'Gate and escape. Jack had been running through the forest, at a pace just short of headlong, when the zat blast took him down. The familiar tingling crackle slammed into his side, sending him headfirst into a clump of undergrowth. Jack was unconscious before he hit the ground. When he finally swam his way back to reality, Jack's hand fell upon his empty holster even as his eyes tried to focus on the man who stood over him. Instead of the Serpent Guard he had expected, something turned inside him when he saw that it was Colonel Martin. Daniel's words, and the fear that lay behind them, came back to him: "You don't know what he's like, Jack. He's crazy..." I'm sorry I doubted you, Daniel. "Colonel O'Neill," Martin said coldly. "So good of you to join me." Jack tried to move, to get up, anything to get away from the terrifying lack of emotion he saw in the darkness of the other man's eyes. Nothing worked properly, his arms and legs still spasming from the aftermath of the zat gun blast. His side ached too, a tell-tale feeling that reminded him of past broken ribs — it had to be a distinct possibility that Martin had kicked him a couple of times while he was out. As he shifted on the cold ground, hearing distant staff weapon blasts that reminded him that the running warfare was still going on, Jack knew that this had to be the case — every indrawn breath was painful. "Why... why are you doing this?" Jack asked, grinding the words out despite the pain that raced through him as he spoke. Martin stared down at him for a moment in silence. Jack felt as though he was an organism being examined under a microscope, this man's eyes boring through him, as if considering his every thought. "You really have no idea," Martin replied, his tone a little incredulous, "do you?" Jack did not reply, instinct telling him that the other man was not really looking for an answer. "Danny is mine. Somehow, you've taken control of him, turned him from me. But with you dead, nothing will stand in the way of Danny being where he's meant to be — with me!" "You're so full of shit, Martin, no wonder your eyes are brown." Even as he said the words, Jack was surprised at them. Even with his hard-earned reputation for speaking before thinking, this had to be a classic. Yeah, you've got him right where you want him now, Jack. "Any last requests before I kill you, O'Neill?" Martin asked, gazing down at him, clearly unmoved by Jack's words. Jack felt as though he had been struck again. Daniel had been right, like so many times before, giving him a warning that he had disdained at the time. Who would know better than Daniel Jackson what this man was capable of? "It's not like that between Daniel and me," Jack said, deciding to ignore the death threat. "We're friends, that's all." "Don't try to lie to me, O'Neill!" Martin snapped, taking a step closer to where Jack lay. "I've seen the way you look at Danny and I've seen the way he looks at you as well." Jack shook his head, realizing then that there were no words that would be able to get through to Martin now. And it wasn't as if the other man, crazy as he so obviously was, wasn't somewhere close to the truth about how Jack felt concerning Daniel. If only that were true - if only Daniel had ever given any sign that he felt the same way, that he felt anything more than friendship towards Jack. Taking a deep breath, even as he winced at the pain that shot through his side, Jack decided to try another approach. "And you think killing me will change anything?" he asked, his voice mocking. "You're too late, Martin. Daniel is mine now." Even as Jack spoke the words, a pang of sadness echoed through him, a feeling of wishing that was indeed the case, that the things Martin had said about Daniel were something other than a madman's ranting. But Daniel had never given him any indication that this was how he felt. All that time wasted. All that time when the two of them could have been together, could have tried to have some kind of relationship beyond what they already had. And now Daniel would never know that there was some degree of truth to the things that Martin was accusing him of. He would never know that Jack had wanted more than he had, even though he had always been grateful just for how things were between him and Daniel as well. That the archaeologist was even able to be his friend, despite the number of times that Jack had opened his mouth only to put Daniel down. Martin was about to reply when movement behind him made him stiffen slightly, turning to see who was there. Jack's breath caught in his throat when the bushes parted and the last person he wanted to see at this moment was revealed. Daniel, Jack thought. Your timing really sucks.
"What the...what the hell did you do?" Daniel snapped at Martin, even as he was crossing the small clearing in a couple of steps to where Jack lay. "Get out of here, Daniel," Jack muttered, just loud enough for the archaeologist to hear. Daniel turned his attention to Jack for a moment, just long enough to glare at him, then back to Martin. "Why?" Martin almost wailed the word, the hand that had been holding the zat gun so steadily in Jack's direction starting to waver slightly. "Why, Danny?" "I don't believe this," Daniel retorted angrily, ignoring Martin's question. "How could you even think you could attack another member of the SGC and get away with it?" "You... you've betrayed me, Danny," Martin said. It was as if Daniel had never spoken. "And you did it with him." He indicated Jack with a motion of the zat gun. "Why him and not me?" "I've done nothing of the sort," Daniel said. He had to do something - he couldn't let Martin get away with this. He began inching closer to the other man, moving slowly round to place himself between Martin and his intended target. "Then why aren't things like they used to be between us?" "Because of what you did," Daniel replied. "Whatever there was between us, James, whatever there might have been, you were the one who destroyed it." Even as he spoke, Daniel could feel the emotions that always rose within him when he was facing Martin. The fear was almost overwhelming, grabbing at him like a cold hand — only his fear for Jack's safety was greater, beating back the waves of terror that threatened to make him sob like a child. "But why him?" Martin repeated. "What's so special about him? We're so alike it hurts, your precious colonel and myself." Daniel felt himself stiffen at those words, his body reacting to them and rejecting them as surely as his mind did. Without another thought, he found himself stalking over to where Martin was standing. Jack would probably yell at him for doing this, Daniel realised, if they both survived, but there was no time to consider that now. "He is nothing like you," Daniel snarled, his hand coming up swiftly to wrap around the zat gun, pushing it to one side. Was it shock that stayed Martin's hand for a moment? Whatever it was, it took a fraction of a second for Daniel's defiance to sink in. Martin's eyes widened as surprise overtook him. With an incoherent cry of rage, Martin tried to tear the zat gun away from Daniel's grip, stepping back to try and overbalance the archaeologist. Daniel stumbled slightly as he went forwards with the sudden movement, his other hand coming up to wrap around the zat gun and Martin's steely grip upon it. That movement pulled the zat between them, as the two men tussled for its possession. Daniel felt the familiar electric buzz hit him, before he tumbled into darkness, wondering if he would ever surface.
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| Continued in part 2... | |