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What the hell was he doing?
The words that Jack wanted to yell stuck in his throat. The moment was too tense for mere words, the delicate balance between Daniel and Martin too poised on a razor's edge. One distraction could send it tumbling the very way Jack feared the most, so he bit back the words, saving his strength for cursing his own state. He'd walked into the ambush like a raw recruit, not taking Daniel's warning seriously enough. He should count himself more than lucky if they both walked out of here, Jack told himself, as he watched Daniel and Martin struggle for the zat gun. He held his breath as the familiar sound ripped through the clearing, once, twice. No! Jack closed his eyes, not wanting to see Daniel slump to the ground, biting his lip as he waited for the colonel to come and send him to follow his friend into death. Silence followed. "Oh my God. I... I killed him." Jack's eyes snapped open at the voice he had never expected to hear again, just in time to see Daniel fall to his knees, head resting in his hands as he moaned wordlessly. Daniel's face paled dramatically, the zat gun falling from a suddenly nerveless hand to land with a soft thud on the leaf-strewn ground. "Daniel," Jack croaked, his voice uncertain. It took a moment before Daniel's head rose again, his colorless face turning towards Jack. Jack sucked in a breath at the look on the archaeologist's face, the sheer pallor of it. His eyes were huge behind the lens of his glasses. Daniel's mouth moved, but no sound came from it. Shit. Memories of lying there helpless to intervene, watching the macabre struggle between the two men, before the zat gun sparked twice, played through Jack's mind on an endless loop. Stifling a groan, Jack rolled onto his side, his hand stretching out in search of the discarded zat. He could not take his eyes off Daniel's face, mesmerized by the distress displayed there — Jack felt his fingers brush the still-warm material of the zat gun, before they curled around it with the familiarity of regular handling. "Daniel. We've got to get out of here..." "I killed him," Daniel said, again. "Jack. I killed him." Jack nodded, his eyes going past Daniel to where Martin's body lay. "I killed him..." As he spoke the words once more, Daniel's hand came up to cover his mouth and he turned away, retching slightly. "Daniel!" Jack snapped, his need to get through to the other man taking over from his concern for Daniel's immediate well being. Daniel turned back to him then, his face still drained of all color but now full of distress. "Help me up," Jack continued, in a quieter tone. Obediently, Daniel crossed the clearing to where Jack was, giving him a hand up and half-supporting his weight as he stood. "Don't argue with me about this." He saw Daniel's eyes widen in confusion for a moment as he spoke. He crossed to where Martin's body lay, rummaging for a moment among his clothing until he was able to remove the other man's dogtags. Then, with a shaky hand, Jack raised the zat gun, aiming it at Martin's body. Before Daniel's gaze could return to it, from where it had been resting pensively on Jack's face, the colonel's body had disintegrated. "What...?" "I said, no arguments. It wouldn't be right to leave him here and it's going to be difficult enough for us to make it back to the 'Gate." Jack began to gather up his equipment, most of which was piled in an untidy heap at the foot of a nearby tree — Martin had obviously thought that stripping him of his weaponry would be enough to make sure that he could do exactly as he pleased. Well, he's not the first person to underestimate Daniel, and he probably won't be the last. As he passed the strap for his MP5 over his head, feeling the reassuring weight settle on his shoulders once more, Jack glanced round at the man who was the subject of his thoughts. Sure enough, Daniel was still standing where he had left him, now staring at the spot where Martin's body had lain, arms wrapped around himself. "Come on, Daniel," Jack said, snagging the other man's sleeve and pulling at it gently. "Let's go. We'll have time to argue about what I did when we get back."
"Colonel! Daniel!" Sam's voice was relieved as she covered the short distance between the tree line and the DHD. Jack's head had snapped around as he heard movement through the trees, bringing his MP5 round to bear on the newcomers. Behind him, Jack could hear the 'Gate turning, making that reassuring heavy clunking sound as each of the chevrons in turn engaged. "Carter. Any sign of SG-6?" "They..." Sam hesitated. Jack eyed her, guessing that he likely knew what she was about to say. "They left earlier, sir." "And you two stayed behind to look for me and Daniel," Jack said, his inflection turning what might have been a question into an unanswerable statement. Sam's slightly guilty smile was enough answer. "And to look for Colonel Martin, sir," Sam continued. "There's no sign of him." "He's dead, Major," Jack said flatly, as he turned to watch the wormhole form. No matter how many times he saw that happen, it was always a source of wonder to him — so much power erupting from the 'Gate in such a controlled way. "You're sure?" "I saw him die." Jack gestured to Daniel to lead the way into the event horizon. "No doubt about it." Daniel's face was still pale as he glanced round at the others, his eyes lingering on Jack for a moment longer than normal. He nodded as if to himself, one curt movement, before heading up the steps and running through the liquid surface of the wormhole.
How could Jack treat this so calmly? He couldn't forget the expression on Martin's face, the last look of surprise and anger and a hint of scorn. The certainty that Daniel could do nothing to stop him, that, as usual, he would get his own way, had been the last thing that Martin had ever thought. He couldn't have been more wrong. Of course, Jack had been through this kind of thing before, Daniel told himself, as he walked down the ramp and handed his pack to a waiting airman. He had to have killed people at close range, seen the light of life extinguish in their eyes. Suddenly a hot shower seemed like a very good idea.
By the time Jack had left the general's office, having reported to him the death of Colonel Martin, Daniel was long gone. It had been difficult for Jack to lie to Hammond — his every instinct had told him that he could trust the general, but it was not his choice to make. He, after all, had not been the one who had been wrestling with Martin at the time the zat gun had discharged. Had that been the case, Jack might have considered telling Hammond everything, and trusting in the other man's inherent sense of justice that everything would all work out. But, try as he might, Jack could not bring himself to tell Hammond how much Daniel had been involved, the role that the archaeologist had played in this untimely death. In fact, he had not even mentioned that Daniel had been anywhere in the vicinity when Martin had been killed. So, in order to cover both their backs, Jack now desperately needed to speak with Daniel, to ensure that both their versions of events matched. And maybe he could get some kind of answer from Daniel now, some kind of explanation for what the hell was going on between him and Martin. Yeah, that's if Daniel will even talk to you...
This time, when she pushed open the locker room door, Carter found herself face to face with Forrest. They both stood for a moment, as if frozen, then the lieutenant backed away, letting Carter in. "Any news, sir?" Forrest asked, her voice sharp with worry. "I'm sorry, lieutenant," Carter began, wondering just how you told someone this kind of thing on a regular basis. "He's dead?" Some expression flicked across Forrest's face and was gone before Carter could fully identify it. If she hadn't known Martin was Forrest's C.O. she would have said it was pleasure, but that had to be wrong. "Colonel O'Neill said so." Silence fell between them as Carter searched for the right words to express her sympathy. "I should go," Forrest said, moving towards the door. "My team..." Carter nodded and let her leave.
It took a while before Daniel opened the door to his apartment, despite the way that Jack had been pounding on it. One look at his face was enough to tell Jack that Daniel had been sick again. The fact that Daniel would not even meet his eyes was a source of concern too. "I've been expecting you," Daniel said, stepping back to allow Jack to enter the apartment. "In fact, I thought you'd have been here long before now." "I had to stop off and see Hammond," Jack answered, not missing the tiny wince that Daniel made when he mentioned the general's name. It was clear that Daniel had immediately discerned the reason for that visit. "What did you tell him? And when should I expect the MPs?" Jack sighed, seeing the dejected slump of Daniel's shoulders as he followed the other man into the living room. "I couldn't tell him what happened, Daniel. How could I? Without implicating you, without making him start to think about stuff that he's better off not knowing about..." "I killed him," Daniel said, sinking into the embrace of an overstuffed armchair. "I'm responsible for the death of James Martin, and I should pay for that." As he spoke, Daniel pulled one of the cushions from behind himself, hugging it to his stomach tightly. "More than you've already paid?" Jack snapped, the words coming before he could stop them. "For God's sake, Daniel, he could have killed you. And if not you, then me. Martin was going to kill me. No doubt about it." Daniel shook his head. "That doesn't make it right, Jack. How can I ever forget what I've done? Martin was right. I've changed. And part of that change is the fact that I can kill someone now without a second thought." "What do you mean, he said you'd changed?" Jack asked. "Daniel, you were throwing your guts up back in that clearing and even now you look like you want to run away and hide. If this is how you react when you don't care, I'd hate to see you worried!" "You don't understand, Jack..." "Then make me understand, Daniel." Jack took a seat on the coffee table directly in front of the other man. "Explain it to me. Tell me about this guy, who he was to you..." "I... I'm glad he's dead." Daniel spoke without looking up, his voice so quiet that Jack had to lean forward to hear the words at all. Jack let out a sigh at those muttered words, feeling that now that he was getting nearer to the crux of the matter. "Today I killed a man, Jack. I mean, I've done it before, I killed Serpent Guards on Apophis' ship, stuff like that, but never anyone who had a name, never anyone I knew." As Daniel spoke, his eyes were focussed only on the rapid movement of his fingers, as they methodically twisted and untwisted a piece of thread hanging from a cushion he was clutching to himself. Jack nodded, even though he knew Daniel could not see it, wanting, needing Daniel to go on, to get all of this out in the open. Then, at least, the two of them might be able to deal with it, together. "And all I could think of was Kawalsky. How you had to give the order that meant he died. That's kind of dumb, isn't it?" Daniel looked up this time, his eyes clouded with confusion. "I mean, there I am having killed a man, and I can't stop thinking how you must have felt at that moment. And I never gave it any thought before now." Jack was mesmerized, seeing the raw pain so clearly in Daniel's eyes. "I don't think it's dumb at all," Jack said quietly, not even sure if Daniel heard him speak. "Is it different when you don't know who they are, Jack? When you don't know that they have a brother who lives in New York, that they only drink diet soda, that they won't eat pepperoni?" "What do you want me to say, Daniel?" Jack asked, leaning forward. "That you shouldn't care? That it doesn't matter that you killed someone? Can't do it. Not even for you." "I'd have thought you'd had lots of practice," Daniel snapped. "After all, aren't you Mr. Covert Ops? The man who knows where all the bodies are buried?" Daniel's words ground to a halt as he saw Jack's face pale at his words. "Let's cut to the chase here," Jack said, his voice cold and unsympathetic now. "Who was this Martin? How did he know you? What the hell was going on between the two of you?" "I can't tell you," Daniel said, looking down again. Jack paused, considering the bowed head before him. "You're gonna have to some time, Daniel," Jack continued. "And till you can do that, you're off the team." Jack saw Daniel tense at those words. "I can't trust you if I don't know what's been going on behind my back." Jack got up and headed for the door. He glanced back as he reached it, seeing Daniel still curled up in the chair, his arms still wrapped round the cushion in a comforting embrace. "When you're ready to tell me the truth, you know where to find me..."
Daniel let out his breath in a hiss as the apartment door closed behind Jack. That conversation hadn't gone quite as he had hoped or expected. He'd wanted to explain, to give Jack the information he wanted, but all that had come from his mouth was bitterness, the fear and anger he had felt towards Martin now aimed at Jack, of all people the least deserving to be a target. He didn't know where to start, though. How to tell Jack what he so clearly wanted to know, explain the twisted relationship, fear and sex entwined, that had bound him to Martin when they were together. How could he expect Jack to understand that without being repulsed by anyone who could allow themselves to be used as Daniel now knew he had been? But even without knowing where to start to explain himself, Daniel had never expected to be pushed away like this. Being part of SG-1 had been so important to him for such a long time that even the thought of a temporary separation left Daniel feeling numb. And how would Jack explain it to the others? There could be no easy way for him to tell Sam and Teal'c, let alone Hammond, why they were suddenly down a team member. Daniel shoved the cushion he had been holding back onto the couch, crossing over to the window. In silence, he watched the sky darken, the lights of the surrounding buildings coming on, as night fell. Jack was right, he knew that, the secrecy that lay between them was ultimately destructive. If he had listened to his instincts, not allowed himself to be cowed by Martin once more, Daniel would have confided in Jack. He wanted to believe that he would somehow have found the words, that Jack would have listened patiently and then somehow made everything better. As he leaned against the window, staring out at the lights, Daniel knew that notion for the fantasy it was. But if it was a fantasy, at least it was a comforting one - he had a feeling he would need all the comfort he could find in the days to come.
In hindsight, Jack was proud of himself. He had felt so much anger, anger that should rightly have been directed at Martin, but the true villain of the piece was no longer here to receive it. And somehow Jack had managed not to vent that rage on Daniel, even though it hadn't been easy to hold back at times. There was more going on that he knew, that was certain. Daniel was so much like an iceberg at times - just when you thought you knew all there was to know, you'd discover so much more below the surface, waiting to catch you unawares. All Jack knew was that he had been denied the opportunity of pounding Martin into a pulp, and that, had the rest of the SGC discovered whatever twisted thing was going on between Martin and Daniel, a good proportion of them would have been forming an orderly line right behind him for the same privilege. But that retribution had been denied to all of them. The only person who might be considered to have had some kind of revenge on Martin, for the things he had made him do, let alone all the as-yet-unknown deeds of the past, was Daniel. And Daniel, true to himself, was suffering for it. As he got back into his jeep, Jack rested his forehead on the steering wheel for a moment. Then, when he started the motor, instead of heading back home, he headed back towards the SGC. His thoughts were whirling furiously, all the emotion he was feeling becoming confused together. Jack's hands shook slightly on the steering wheel and he made himself grip it a little harder, watching the way his skin paled over the knuckles. Too much, he thought. All this stuff, too much to deal with. My dad, that sleazebag Martin. Why now? What he needed was to burn off this adrenaline, get rid of the overwhelming anger that was threatening to erupt at any moment. And if it took imagining Martin's face on the heavy bag, or his dad's, as he beat the hell out of it, well, that might just be a plan...
Heaven knows he didn't want to have this conversation at work - hell, he didn't want to have it at all, but Jack knew that there was no alternative. He was calmer this morning. The long workout of the night before, venting all that anger in a socially-acceptable way, had tired him enough to make the drive home impossible. Jack had slept on a lumpy bed in the guest quarters, a restless night that left him feeling almost as tired still when the morning had finally rolled around. If ever he was going to find out what had happened between Martin and Daniel, Jack knew that the more he delayed things, the more evasive Daniel would become. Not that the other man would lie to him, but he'd make sure it was as difficult as possible to determine exactly what the truth was, given the opportunity. In the end, Jack settled for heading to Daniel's office, the first words coming out of his mouth almost before the door had closed behind him, shutting the two of them in together. "You knew him, didn't you? Before you joined the SGC, before you came along on our little trip to Abydos the first time round, even." Jack made a conscious effort to try and keep the accusatory tone from his voice as he spoke, but the frown that appeared on Daniel's face as he looked round at the words was evidence that he had failed. "It's not that easy, Jack." "You couldn't just say 'hey, Jack, I know that sleazebag.'?" The silence was eloquent, telling Jack everything he needed to know and all the things that he had feared. That Martin still had so much power over Daniel, even now, even when Jack knew the stubborn core that Daniel had to his very being. What must have happened between them, what hold did Martin have over Daniel to command that kind of response? When Daniel finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I did know Martin. It was... well, it was a long time ago. I was 19, studying for my doctorate in anthropology — I was on an exchange program, spending three months here in Colorado, at the University. One of the professors I had admired since I first started to study the subject was teaching there, and I had always wanted to hear her lecture. Even with my scholarship, I could never have afforded to go and hear her speak, not all the way from New York, so the program was a dream come true." Jack did not respond, his mind enraptured by the images that trooped before it — all he could do was wonder what a 19-year-old Daniel would have been like. Would he have seemed even more innocent than he had at the time when they had first met? He remembered his first glimpse of Daniel, wondering that he hadn't realised at the time what a monumental role this man would play in his future. Jack had been so frozen inside, so much emotion stifled and suppressed, that he had almost resented the life that he had seen in Daniel's eyes. As time had passed, he had realised that Daniel knew what loss was, how pain felt, but at the time, he had envied him his seeming innocence. "I'd travelled a lot, as you know, Jack, so I thought I could look after myself — I'd been living in New York for a while, so I guess that after that I thought I could cope with anything life could throw at me. I knew better soon, but I'm getting ahead of myself..." "When I first met him, I would never have guessed that he was in the military. He had a short haircut, sure, but when he was in civilian clothing, you couldn't tell he was an Air Force officer — I thought he was a student, like me. I suppose you could say he picked me up." Jack was aware of Daniel glancing at him as he spoke, covert glances as he was ostensibly focussed on where his linked hands lay on the desk before him. He's waiting for me to react, Jack thought, schooling his face into as deadpan an expression as possible. Seemingly heartened by his friend's lack of response, Daniel continued. "I guess I should have told you a long time ago that I'm gay, Jack, but there never seemed to be a right time to say it — now, after Sha're, everyone just assumes I'm straight. All that time I was in the closet, I never realized that getting married was the most effective way of hiding how..." Daniel paused for a moment, shaking his head slightly. "But I was telling you about James, wasn't I? He picked me up, in a cafe — I was nursing a cup of coffee before the next lecture, wondering if I had time for another, when he just appeared, and that was it. I've never been someone who trusts other people easily, but there was something about him." "He made no secret of his orientation, at least not on campus, and the next thing I knew we were going out. He was... all the things I needed at the time, he seemed so gentle, so caring — then, after a few weeks, he asked me to move in with him, and I agreed. Looking back now, I can't believe I made it so easy for him." Daniel ground to a halt, eyes still focussed on his hands, the fingers gripping each other tighter now, so tightly that the skin across his knuckles was white. Jack hesitated, unsure if he should say something, but also lost for anything to say that would be appropriate. "But of course," Daniel began again, after a few moments silence, in a voice that trembled slightly, "I had no idea what I was letting myself in for." "I need to know what happened between the two of you, Daniel," Jack said quietly. "What you tell me here is between us, I hope you know that. You're a civilian, so you're free to have been involved with whoever you like — there'll be no comeback from anything you say to me. I just wish this wasn't all such a surprise." "I know, Jack," Daniel said, his hands releasing their grip. One hand moved upwards, rubbing through Daniel's hair as if searching there for the words he wanted to say. "That doesn't make it any easier though — I'm so ashamed of what happened." There was silence between the two men for a moment. Jack hesitated, not wanting to speak in case he shattered this fragile moment of trust between them, driving Daniel back deeper inside himself. "The last time I saw James Martin was the night he put me in the hospital," Daniel said, his voice quiet and steady, a chilling counterpoint to the images those words evoked. "How bad?" Jack asked, the words almost choking him as he spoke. Daniel shook his head, silent. "From where I'm sitting, it doesn't sound as though you have much to be ashamed of, Daniel. You didn't ask him to treat you that way." "No. But I stayed with him despite everything he did, despite everything that already happened. Doesn't that count for something? Doesn't that make me just as culpable as he is?" "I can't say that I understand how you could do that, Daniel. You said he put you in the hospital. How could you believe he felt anything for you?" "I feel differently now," Daniel said. "But back then.... You wouldn't have recognized me, Jack. I was so desperate for someone to care about me, to make me feel like I belonged somewhere, that I was prepared to put up with whatever it took to get that. And in this case, that was putting up with the beatings." "Beatings?" Jack asked, color flooding into his face. "How many?" "It's not as bad as it sounds." Daniel back-pedalled hastily, seeing the anger rising in Jack's face. "At first it was the odd blow now and then. He'd always be sorry, blame it on the stress he was under, but things between us just got worse and worse as time went on." "Then what happened?" Jack asked, not certain that he wanted to hear the answer after all. "He snapped." Daniel's voice was calm, measured. He surprised himself with its tone, listening to himself speak of the things that had happened as if recounting a tale of another person's life. I'm not that person anymore, that's why. Those things happened to someone else — that Daniel died on the first mission to Abydos. "How badly..." Jack began, stumbling slightly over the words. "He smashed my hand pretty severely, gave me a few rib fractures, a mild concussion." Daniel's fingers returned to trace the path they had been travelling earlier over the back of his hand as he spoke. "He said I paid more attention to my studies than I did to him. I was writing the foundation for what would later become my thesis, and word processors weren't common, so everything had to be done by hand initially. I'd never realized there were so many bones..." "Why didn't you tell me, Daniel?" Jack interrupted, his voice angry. "As soon as you knew that Martin was here, you should have told me." "What was I supposed to say, Jack? 'Hi, my name's Daniel Jackson, I think I'm gay, and by the way I used to live with a man whose idea of fun was knocking the hell out of me on a regular basis.' When was I supposed to tell you all of this anyway? When we first met? On Abydos? When we got back from Chulak? And if I couldn't tell you then, how could I tell you now?" As Daniel's tirade continued, his voice began to shake and waver, until he was gasping for air, almost choking out the words. "That's not what I meant, Daniel, but if I'd known what that son of a bitch had done. If you think I'd have let him anywhere near you knowing that..." "Don't, Jack. I knew I shouldn't have said anything. It's too late now anyway. He's dead, it's over." Bringing his hands up from where they had been resting on the desk, Daniel buried his head in them, long fingers threading through his hair. "Dammit, Daniel," Jack said, a worried look on his face, "of course you could have said something. To someone, even if you couldn't have told me. But, I guess there's one good thing about this, at least, that you didn't tell Teal'c. If you had, and Martin had so much as looked at you in a way he didn't like, he'd have torn the guy's head off." Jack paused, waiting for a reaction from Daniel. For a few moments there was silence, the only movement in the room Daniel's busy fingers, still passing through his hair. Then, just when Jack began to worry that his plan had failed, Daniel's shoulders began to shake, first with laughter, a strange almost-hysterical noise that threatened to topple over into sobbing. "D... don't..." Daniel stuttered, "I.. I..." Moving with an instinctive reaction, Jack crouched beside the chair Daniel was occupying, reaching out a hand to his friend's shoulder. "It's gonna be okay, Daniel, I promise," Jack said quietly, with all the conviction he could muster. "And you know I don't make promises unless I intend to keep them."
The effort of telling the truth had left Daniel feeling exhausted, as if someone had turned on a tap and all his energy had just drained away as he'd spoken. Jack's reaction had surprised him, he had to admit that. He had been ready for a variety of responses, once he had steeled himself to actually speak the words he had so long feared to say. In hindsight, he supposed he should have realised Jack would be supportive, not wanting to add to the pain that Daniel knew he was struggling to hide. No matter what else he thought, his protective instincts would kick in, responding to the need Daniel never could quite mask. For all his verbal dexterity at times, Daniel was certain that Jack could see right through him, if he chose, straight to the heart of the matter. It had taken a little while for Daniel to regain his composure, uncertain whether the least movement would send him back into laughter or tears, or a nasty combination of both. He hadn't felt quite so confused since the dark days when Sha're had first been taken. His face burned with embarrassment. It didn't matter that Jack had certainly seen him worse, a particular encounter in a storage room still etched firmly in Daniel's memory as the time he'd fallen apart in the most spectacular fashion. Despite all that, he didn't like to lose control so badly - it unnerved him, as if the earth had suddenly bucked beneath his feet, throwing him off balance. But Jack had seemed to take it all in his stride. That had to be a bad sign, in some ways. Like the calm before the storm. Daniel turned back to his work, the mission report he had left partly completed, re-reading the sentence he had half-written before Jack's appearance. He could do this, he could pull himself together and move on. He had to, or everything would spiral into nothingness.
Jack's words were calm, much calmer than he felt. As he left Daniel's office, once he had been sure that Daniel was going to be okay, all he could think about was Martin and what that man had done to his friend. Try as he could, Jack couldn't understand how anyone could want to hurt Daniel, who was someone that always looked for the good in people. He was no soldier, he hated violence, and yet he had been on the receiving end of so much. Why am I so angry? Jack wondered, as he stalked down the corridor. Daniel chose to get into that relationship. Like she did? A small voice in the back of Jack's mind spoke suddenly, making the colonel stop in his tracks. As he hesitated, not noticing the SGC staff detouring around him, his thoughts went back, back to one particular day in his own childhood. It had rained that day. His strongest memory was of the rain dripping from the trees, the grass around him already saturated, even as his raincoat was starting to let the water through. He was eight years old. In his own way, Jack had never understood what went on at home. All he knew was that mom and dad argued, and the shouting seemed to echo in his head long after it was over. This time though, the shouting had stopped suddenly, as though he had been watching TV and the set had been switched off. The silence that followed was deafening, making the tiny noises that the house made seem like the whole world was moving. The next thing Jack knew was that he was being hustled out of the house by one of his aunts, putting a coat on over his pajamas. It had taken all the persistence of an eight-year-old before he had been able to persuade her to let him take his favorite truck, but he had got his way in the end. As he was half-dragged out of the house, moving slowly and unwillingly, he had seen the living room door was slightly ajar. Breaking free from his aunt's grip, Jack had darted into the room, in search of his parents, only to come up short when he saw her. His mother. She was lying on the living room floor, her body mostly covered by a white sheet — only her head was uncovered, tilted away from him as if she were deliberately ignoring her son's entrance into the room. Bruises, black and purple, stood out clearly on her face, as did the trickle of blood that had escaped from the pool that had formed under her head. A man was taking photographs, flash in hand, snapping his mother, the position of the body in the room, the side of the fireplace she was lying beside. "Jack?" It was his father's voice, coming from across the room, and Jack turned to look at him then, somehow tearing his eyes away from what he knew used to be his mother. His father was standing by the window, talking to a man wearing a long brown raincoat. The man had a notebook, and was flicking through it, noting the odd word now and again, with a bored expression on his face. "For God's sake, Susanna," his father's voice said, "get the boy out of here!" Unresisting now, Jack had let his hand be captured, let his aunt lead him away as the photographer draped the sheet back over his mother's face. Jack remembered his mother's funeral, standing in the rain by her graveside. He was numb inside, frozen to the core. All the emotions he had ever experienced, all the life had been sucked from him the night he had seen his mother lying there on the living room floor. At the time, he hadn't understood. He had taken his father's word as gospel, like always. He had known that his parents fought — as far as he knew all parents did. It was all he could remember happening between them, and somehow Jack knew it was related to the fact that he was an only child. And when his father said that his mother had been in an accident, Jack had believed him. As time passed, he reflected on what had happened, with a child's wisdom and a growing sense of understanding. When Jack was a teenager, he knew that his father had lied. And now, it seemed as though everything was coming full circle. The letter from his father, the things he was learning about Daniel's past. Did anyone ever really escape the things they had been through? She didn't ask to be treated that way, Jack thought. No-one would. And neither did Daniel.
It took two long days before Jack saw Daniel again. At work, it was clear that Daniel was avoiding him. At least the down time between missions meant that Jack didn't have to try and explain to Carter and Teal'c just why they were headed off-world as a threesome. A hundred times Jack had reached for the phone, intending to call him, a dozen times he had found himself in his car, headed towards Daniel's apartment. Each time, it had been a struggle for Jack to let Daniel set the pace, not to force him to deal with something with which he obviously had a Major problem. Not that he didn't have enough to think about himself. He'd read the letter from his father, putting it down and picking it up again a dozen times before he made it all the way through. The words stayed with him, pleading for a forgiveness Jack could never give, a forgiveness that could never be his to give. All he could hope for his father was that he had found some measure of peace for himself, that he had forgiven himself. Jack knew he could never forgive, never forget. When, finally, he heard someone tentatively opening his office door, Jack knew immediately who it was and it took as much willpower as he could muster not to turn to greet the man he had been so desperately longing to see. "I told you that he was crazy," Daniel's voice said, from over by the doorway. "If this is the start of an 'I told you so', I don't want to hear it," Jack replied, not looking up from the report that he was working on, albeit half-heartedly. "No, not exactly. I've been thinking about what you said, Jack. As soon as I walked into that clearing I made my choice. There was no other way it could have gone down without one or both of us dying." As he spoke, Daniel crossed to Jack's desk, until he stood by the side of it, casting a shadow over its lustrous surface. Jack hesitated, still looking down, knowing now that Daniel knew the report was merely something to keep him occupied so they didn't have to look at one another. He could see the nebulous shape of Daniel's face reflected in the polished wood, but it told him nothing. "Are... are we okay, Jack?" Daniel asked, hesitantly, after a long moment of silence had passed. Jack glanced up when Daniel spoke, the tone on its own enough to intrigue him. "What I said..." Daniel continued, not meeting Jack's eyes. "You were still in shock, Daniel." "You were trying to help me. To get me to help myself. And I threw it back in your face." Daniel looked at Jack then, an almost defiant lift to his chin. "No." Jack watched as Daniel's eyebrows lifted at that denial. "Well, okay, you did." Daniel half-smiled at that, a reaction that warmed Jack more than he cared to think about right then. "I just have no idea why Martin was so obsessed about you. I mean, how could he have believed that you were some sort of rival for my affections?" Even as he spoke the words, Jack could hear the tension in Daniel's voice, the slight tremor of uncertainty in the words. "It's ridiculous, isn't it?" Jack didn't answer, looking back down at his half-written report again as Daniel spoke. "Jack?" "Ridiculous," Jack echoed in agreement, momentarily glancing up, in the desperate hope that Daniel would just drop the subject and leave him the hell alone. Was there a fractional hesitation in his voice or did something, some expression that crossed Jack's face in that instant, betray him? Jack saw Daniel's eyes widen in discovery and he knew then that there was no way back. "He was right, wasn't he?" Jack said nothing, unsure whether the problem was that he could not find the words to deny it all or whether he even wanted to. "Martin knew, all the time. I never realized, and he knew." Daniel shook his head, an expression of disbelief clearly written on his face. "What do you want from me, Jack?" "What do I...?" Jack began, before his voice trailed off. There was a moment's uncomfortable silence between them, each man lost in their thoughts. Tell him, stupid, Jack thought. It's now or never. "I just want to know if there's a chance..." he began again, berating himself mentally for the triteness of the words. Daniel stifled a snort of laughter, but it was clear from his voice that he was close to tears as well. "You're trying to tell me that you're attracted to me? That Martin was right about you all along?" Daniel asked, not daring to look at Jack as he spoke. All he feared was that he was wrong, that he would see mockery in those dark eyes he had so long wanted to see filled with other emotions. "Why now, Jack?" "It's taken me a long time to figure it out, Daniel," Jack replied, surprised at the quietness of his own voice, almost too quiet to be heard over the constant buzz of the air-conditioning. "You know me, always a little slow on the uptake." "All this time, you never give me any idea that you feel this way," Daniel said, "then someone from my past comes along and suddenly you're interested in me? Forgive me if that seems a little like common or garden jealousy to me. You can't just wake up one morning and decide that you want to change your sexual orientation, it just doesn't work like that!" "Then what do you want me to say, Daniel? That I think I've been a little in love with you since the first time I saw you? That I used to watch the stars when I came back to Earth and you stayed behind on Abydos, and wonder what you were doing? That you've been the star player in my fantasies for the past year? Because all of those are true. I'm not kidding around here, I mean it!" "Jack. I don't want you to say anything." Daniel sighed, one hand coming up to allow his fingers to travel through his hair. "I know you don't really..." "Where do you get off, telling me what I feel?" Jack snapped. "I'm sorry, Jack," Daniel replied quietly. "I don't want to argue with you." "So what do you want, Jack?" Daniel asked, his voice shaking slightly. "To tell me how you feel about me? Forgive me if I take a little convincing that this conversation is really happening." "It took me a while too, Daniel," Jack replied. "I tried to deny it, tell myself that I was just glad we were friends, but that was never enough. I discovered that I couldn't stop thinking about you — even if I was able to control my thoughts when I was awake, the moment I was asleep you were there with me." "So, these revelations about your feelings for me, and the arrival of Colonel Martin, that was just a coincidence? And it has nothing to do with the fact you walked in on me on my knees?" Daniel's voice was hard, the words brittle with suppressed emotion. Jack glanced across at his friend, searching for the feelings that lay behind the words, the feelings Daniel was trying so hard to hold in. "I can't say Martin being here had no effect on me, Daniel," Jack conceded. "Even now, when I think about what that bastard did to you, I can't believe..." "That I let him? That I did that?" Jack was silent for a moment, just staring open-mouthed at his friend, struck by the anger in Daniel's voice. "...that anyone would ever want to hurt you that badly." Daniel looked back at him, his eyes cold, blue and unblinking; it was Jack who looked away first.
Someone had turned everything upside down, changed all the laws of nature, and no-one had told him. That was the only conclusion Daniel could come up with for what had just happened. Jack wanted him. Or so he said, at least. And what he had walked in on, what he had almost seen Daniel doing, had pushed every button Jack had and then some. That in itself was something of a revelation. He'd never really thought about what Jack might want - when he'd fantasised about being with Jack, Daniel had discovered that his usually-creative imagination didn't seem to want to cooperate. It was as if it took too much doing or that something short-circuited the thoughts before they became too explicit and Daniel was left feeling desolate and alone. Some kind of failsafe for his libido. But, in this conversation at least, Jack had seemed to know the right thing to say every time. Just when Daniel felt himself getting worked up, the anger he should have felt towards Martin transforming itself into a weapon aimed at Jack, he had been able to defuse the tension between them. Somehow. Not with pity, Daniel would never have tolerated that, but with a sympathy that couldn't be faked. A confusion on Jack's part over what motivation Martin could possibly have had that warmed Daniel to the core. That reminded him how different Jack and Martin were, despite what Martin had said so shortly before he died. He'd been so wrong, more wrong than he could possibly imagine. There was so little that Jack and Martin had in common, so little that it didn't even bear thinking about. And that was one of the reasons this just might all work out.
They had parted on relatively good terms this time, Daniel smiling in farewell at some comment of Jack's as he left Jack's office, but leaving some of the bitter words they had exchanged behind him as he departed. It wasn't until Jack went home that he had time to think about what they had discussed, and the things that hadn't been touched upon, whatever secrets there were that had made Daniel go along with whatever Martin wanted him to. Damn, Jack thought, sinking down into the embrace of his couch with a cold beer. Like that's a conversation I want to have any time this century. But even as he tried to forget it, push it to the back of his mind and move along, Jack's mind worried at the thought like a dog with a bone. What on earth could have possessed Daniel to go along with Martin's plans? He had to know. Now that he had thought of it, the sight of Daniel on his knees before the other man, hand reaching towards Martin's belt, was burned into his memory. He'd seen the expression on Daniel's face, the self- loathing clear for anyone to see. There was no way on earth that whatever happened between them in Daniel's office had been consensual. Jack took a mouthful of beer and considered the guilty feeling that overtook him when his body responded to that memory. How sick was that, the way his body reacted to the memory of seeing Daniel humiliated that way? Before he knew what was happening, the beer was standing on the coffee table, condensation running down its surface and pooling on the wood, and Jack was on his way to Daniel's apartment.
"Jack?" "Who else?" Jack answered, then mentally kicked himself at the flippant tone in his voice. "We need to talk." He pushed past Daniel and into the other man's apartment. "Sure, Jack," Daniel muttered, closing the door. "Come on in, make yourself at home." "What did you think you were doing?" Jack snapped, barely waiting for Daniel to get into the living room. "Does that mean that you don't want a beer, Jack?" Jack interrupted him, taking a step towards Daniel then pausing when he saw Daniel's instinctive move backwards. Jack took a couple of deep breaths to try and quell the anger rising within him. It's Martin I'm angry with, not Daniel. "Beer. Beer would be good." Jack tried to make his tone more amicable, to put Daniel at some kind of ease. Ease would be a really good idea if this conversation was going to get anywhere at all. "Take a seat, Jack," Daniel said, gesturing in the general direction of the couch. Obediently, Jack sat, watching Daniel until he disappeared into the kitchen. He had to stay calm; getting angry with Daniel was a bad idea right now. It didn't escape Jack's attention that, on his return to the living room, Daniel stood about as far away as possible from him while still being within reach to pass him his beer. As his hand wrapped round the bottle, their eyes met and Jack knew that he was looking for the fear he had seen in them earlier. Daniel took a seat opposite, nursing a mug of coffee, his eyes on the steam rising from its dark surface. "No beer?" Jack asked, after taking a swig from his bottle. "At least one of us should be sober for this conversation, Jack," Daniel said, with a small grimace. "And as much as I wish it wasn't me, I only plan to say all of this once." Jack took another mouthful of beer to cover his embarrassment. Once again it seemed as though Daniel was a few steps ahead of him, that he'd been expected. "You told me about your history with Martin. But I need to know about the other day. When I... when you..." "When you walked in on us as I was about to go down on him?" Daniel said, smiling slightly as Jack choked a little on a mouthful of beer. "You knew that was what you saw, Jack, so why pretend?" "Maybe because I have no idea why you'd do that?" Jack paused at the look on Daniel's face, half-embarrassed and half-mischievous. "I'm talking reasons here, Daniel, not why two people would. I need to know why you'd do that for Martin." As soon as Jack had spoken, Daniel's face told him that he had hit a nerve, even if unknowingly. "I mean, you didn't even like the guy..." "No," Daniel agreed, "I didn't. But I was afraid of him. I always was. Almost always." He paused, glancing at Jack as he sat there. Jack could feel the tension in his body as he spoke - could Daniel see it too? "And this time round he threatened me." "You couldn't tell me?" Jack leant forward in his seat, placing the bottle of beer carefully on the coffee table. He'd felt his grip tightening on it as Daniel had been speaking and putting the bottle down seemed like a very good move. "He said if I told you, he'd destroy us both. And I learned really early on with Martin that he always kept his promises, one way or another." "So what was it?" Jack pressed, his eyes intent on Daniel. "What did he have on you in the first place?" "Martin said he had enough evidence to get me thrown out of the SGC for good, things from when we were together that wouldn't look good for me, but that wouldn't implicate him." Daniel frowned, taking a mouthful of coffee before glancing over to Jack and seeing the same expression reflected there. "Daniel..." "Jack..." The two men spoke together, increasing alarm clear in their voices. "Daniel, do you think he really had anything?" Jack asked, getting up and crossing over to the telephone. "I... I have no idea," Daniel began, putting down his mug. He ran one hand through his hair as he spoke. "I mean part of me says Martin would be crazy enough to keep something if he could use it against me, but how could he know we'd ever meet up again?" "That's good enough for me." Jack picked up the phone and dialled quickly. "General Hammond? Sir? It's Colonel O'Neill. I know that, sir." He paused, clearly waiting for Hammond to finish speaking. "It's about Colonel Martin - I have reason to believe that the colonel's apartment contains sensitive material likely to jeopardise national security." Jack listened again for a moment, nodding slightly at the general's words. "Yes, sir." As he cradled the handset, Jack turned back to where Daniel was sitting, taking in the concerned expression on the archaeologist's face with a glance. "Well, it's true, isn't it?" Jack quipped. "I mean, about whatever- it-is being 'sensitive material'?" Daniel nodded slightly. "I have no idea what he might have there." "And that's why I need you to come with me when I search his apartment, Daniel," Jack replied. He crossed back to where he had been sitting and reclaimed his beer.
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| Continued in part 3... | |