'Leaving Time' 11/11 Jack/Daniel NC17

[janedavitt]

I've been working on this final chapter for two days to the sound of pitiful moans and whimpers as I hit 'delete' many, many times.

I think I'm done now.

Thank you to all who've read and left comments; this is one of the darkest, weirdest fics I've done (well maybe not as weird as the one with the vampire zebra...) and I needed the encouragment :;hugs::

Special thanks to padawan_alli who's going to beta it before it goes up on my web page.

This part is about 5,500 words.

Previous parts are here



Leaving Time

Part Eleven


Jack eases out of Daniel's bed and stares down at him for a moment before starting to get dressed. Daniel stirs, one hand groping across the portion of bed Jack had fought for all night, because Daniel's not used to sharing, and then starfishes out and settles down again.

After finding his way around Daniel's bathroom in the dark Jack goes to the couch and flips on a lamp. It's five in the morning and he's tired enough that the room's wavering around him. Habit, not inclination, has woken him and he's resentful enough to feel like doing the unthinkable and crawling back in beside Daniel. First time he's slept properly in weeks, dammit...

Daniel's writing spider-dances in front of his eyes and he blinks, focuses, and starts to read the notebook, skipping over two pages of notes made before Daniel was captured because he's mentioning dead people all over the place and it makes Jack feel vaguely uncomfortable.

Daniel's used a pencil to write. Figures. He always has one tucked in his pocket. It starts out needle-sharp, the way he likes them; pointed enough that the first time he uses it there's always a little explosion of graphite, a splutter of lead he has to blow off the page. Jack's watched Daniel's lips purse up to do that more times than he can remember. By halfway through the notebook the words are thick and soft on the page, bigger than before, because written small Daniel wouldn't have been able to make them legible.

It looks like a child's writing until Daniel chews and gnaws away enough of the wood to get a workable point again.

I've got a splinter of wood stuck between my teeth. It's shredding my tongue because I can't stop poking at it and now my gum's bleeding too. I want to tell someone about that but I can't because Alice isn't listening to me anymore. She's got her back turned and I hate myself for being grateful that I can't see her face. I didn't know anyone could scream that long or how much worse it would sound now her voice has broken. She should stop trying to scream now. I wish she would stop. Her fingers are bleeding and so is her neck.

I can't reach her. She's too far away to touch. The cages are just big enough for that.

The stargate is buried now. I'd forgotten how big a hole you have to dig to do that. Why are they that big, anyway? Why not much bigger, or much smaller? Who chose the size? Must ask Sam. There's probably a scientific reason involving an equation and if Jack's listening I'll never get to hear the end of it.

Is it crawling deeper inside her the more it tightens?

I can't help her. She won't come over to me now. I did try to get it off. I did.

Good time to rescue us. Any time now, guys. Jack?

The 'gate's buried. I worked as slowly as I could but it didn't make a difference.

They didn't come.


Jack wouldn't believe I'd helped kill a child. It's the truth, but I know he wouldn't believe it. That's not why he didn't come in time. I know it isn't.



"Oh, you would try and make me feel guilty, wouldn't you?" Jack mutters. "I came as fast as I could and you know it."

Daniel had known it. Had to have known it.

He skims over Daniel's laboriously detailed account of his findings at the site, working under hostile eyes. Heard about that already. The excitement Daniel had felt at his discovery, unsullied by what he was enduring, shines through until the night Alice dies. Jack reads that page, scrawled in the dark by the look of the uphill, criss-crossing words and closes his eyes wishing he hadn't seen the letter Hammond had sent to her husband.

Your wife died (Sacer, sorry, so sorry, please, we're sorry, take it off her, take) in performance of her duties (can't look away, mustn't, must watch, she has to see me watching, can't just be him, don't want her to see him as she dies) and was a credit to her country and her profession (eyes not right, not her eyes, how long have they not been her eyes oh God she's been in here with me for days). You can be proud of the contribution she made (blood pouring from her neck, across the ground, towards me, coming in here, soak in, go into the earth, please, can't sleep in her blood, smell her blood) and Doctor Jackson wishes me to convey his sincere regret for your loss.

(That was her neck breaking. Quiet now. Quiet.).



Jack turns the page fast enough that it tears, the dry rustle like leaves shaken by the wind, and finds Daniel lucid again because he's been given water and food for the first time in days and Alice's body has been taken away.

It's the little things that make a difference.

I told him about the brelenith and he smiled and touched me with his hand, touched my face. He's never done that before, always been careful to avoid his skin on mine. I disgust him. His eyes tell me how loathsome I am, and I won't believe it because I'm not, but it's getting hard to remember that anyone ever looked at me and liked what they saw.

I thought it was a good sign; that he was finally seeing me as something more than a monster.

I smiled back, wishing his hand wasn't cupping my face like that because it's what Jack did that time I was dying and Sacer's hand on me, not Jack's, felt wrong. I smiled.

Shouldn't have done that, shouldn't.

He always hurts me for longer if I try and communicate. That time I said his name over and over with every kick I thought he was going to kill me but I couldn't stop doing it.

Calling out a name on my knees, not daring to lift my head. It must have looked like praying, but there are no gods left on this plane to save or damn me. Missing in action, just like me.

I smiled and he put the collar on me and stayed to watch for a while as it began to tighten.

I can feel the Lindess in my head. It's in my head. I saw the collar on Alice and I know what it must look like where it goes in, a hole, a big round hole and I'm leaking out of it.

I can't get it off and it's shrinking as it dries. I used water to keep it wet, used spit and piss and if I could cry I'd have tried that, but it didn't work. It's bleeding dry into me and I can feel it changing me.

I'm not me anymore. I don't know how I know that, but I do. I'm more, not less, but I'm lost, chopped up and spread thin.

Sacer sits outside the cage watching me and he doesn't touch me now. I'm suffering enough even for him and there's this terrible envy in his eyes that I don't understand because he'll have this soon himself. He won't tell me much but I know they've started to make the rings.

I know a lot about Sacer, this world, now. I'm connected. Like a blind, deaf man watching a television connected, but now and then I get something, a flash, a gestalt... I've got a jack in my head. Two. A jack and a Jack. That's a play on words. My favourite toy.

Jack. Sam. Teal'c. Short words. They don't take up much space on the page but symbols don't have to. Names are shorthand for a person, all that they are. I can think their names, or write them, and have them there, just for a moment. I fall asleep reciting names of people I haven't thought about for years, remembering them, and always coming back to those three.

I'm writing this and I don't know what it's for. I know I don't have much longer before I won't be able to. My hands hurt. Sacer stamped on one a while back and I think he broke a bone but that's not why it's hurting. Dark and moving, under the skin. I can see it.

Besides, there aren't many pages left.

It's either the last of my journals, in which case it's just for me, like all the others, or it's something I'm writing hoping that it'll be found and one day my friends will get to read this, and I can leave them a dignified, well-thought out, tear jerker of a message saying goodbye and thank you for coming, even if it was too late.

But if I thought there was even a chance of that, it would mean that I'd start to listen for Jack's voice again, just in case he was early, although it's too late to be on time, and I've made myself stop doing that because it hurts too much when he doesn't appear. The countdown ended when the collar went on. I can't be saved now and I'm glad they won't have to watch me change.

I saw Simon change. Sam would have cried, I think, without shame or reserve. I didn't. I wish I had in a way, because it was worth tears, but it seemed like a weakness and I was still stupid enough to think that mattered, that Sacer would see how noble humans were, how brave, if I didn't, and maybe have some mercy.

Stupid of me.

For all I know, Shalin don't even have tear ducts.

I can't believe I care what people think about me when I'm dead enough to censor myself. That's just so fucking military and God knows I've had enough of that the last few years. Told when to wake up, what to wear, Jack getting annoyed when I don't show up for lunch with them, pushed through the 'gate and dragged back when I've only just started -- This is the first time I've actually been able to finish a translation on site instead of working from photos.

So, you're not reading this, okay? Teal'c, turn your head away, Sam, look down, Jack pretend my writing's beyond you. You're not seeing this.

I love you all.

You know I do.

I'd die for you. "Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends."

I never thought I would be asked to. Never had a lot of friends. Never thought I had a scrap of hero in me. I still don't. Dying for friends isn't hard. I'd only be a hero if I died to save Sacer.

Although I can hear Jack's voice snarling at me that I'd be a Grade-A idiot if I did that. It's funny how he'll appear in my head to yell at me, but never comes when I'm thinking about how much I wish I'd told him what he means to me. You'd think that would have him hotfooting over to bawl me out for being mushy.

Jack blinks and his gaze flicks warily, eagerly up to the top of the facing page. Daniel starts talking about Teal'c on the first line.

Not that Jack minds that of course. Teal'c's a hell of a guy. He deserves a page to himself, and although Jack doesn't feel comfortable reading this part in detail, he's glad to see Daniel make it pretty damn clear that when it comes to killing Sha're goes, he and Teal'c are good. Which goes a long way toward explaining Teal'c's mother cat attitude in the gym.

And he's going to make sure Carter reads what Daniel has to say about her because she'll get pink and flustered and smile and he loves her when she loses her composure like that. Daniel's got this knack of dealing out these sweet, heartfelt compliments --

Jack turns the page and it's blank.

He turns back, and yes, Daniel had stopped with an inch of paper to spare and the writing's getting wobbly as he tells Sam how much she's meant to him, but he'd finished because there's a period there after he's written 'goodbye Sam', which means Jack isn't going to find out what Daniel said about him.

Ever.

Because Daniel can tell him now, if Jack asks him to, but he's not dying, they've crossed a line, and it won't be the same.

On the plus side, the notebook's safe. Jack realises that he'd half been expecting Daniel to say that he loved him, which he did, but he said it about Teal'c and Sam, too, which makes it the kind of love you're allowed to put a name on and Hammond can't do much about that and wouldn't want to.

Jack flips the pages a final time and then puts the notebook down on the coffee table feeling a pang of disappointment.

He's not sure what the big deal was about him reading it.

Put like that, it sounds awful. He's just read about Daniel getting kicked half to death on a daily basis by someone Jack didn't hurt half enough when he killed him. Daniel scared, guilty and grieving and sharing it with nothing but a blank-paged book. Daniel in agony, determined not to break and feeling himself fade instead, bit by bit, sucked into an alien consciousness.

Daniel so fucking certain they'd come and so fucking certain it was too late to save him.

Jack pushes the notebook across the table so that it slides a little way and stops.

Yeah. Bad. Terrible, all of it.

Deep down there's an anger smouldering that Daniel went through all that, but they're all dead, every one of them who hurt him, and Jack's learned not to hold grudges past the grave.

He's got Daniel back and no matter where they take it from here -- and that's something he's going to have to think about; they both are -- he's got no regrets about what they did last night.

It'd been what they needed to do to heal. Fight and fuck and fall asleep holding on tight. Jack's ass is tender where it doesn't show but he'll know about it all day and he's got enough bruises darkening his skin to make him hope they don't get sent off-world for a while, because Fraiser's going to know he didn't get them playing with the Goa'uld. Doesn't matter.

"Morning, Jack."

He looks up to see Daniel huddled into a dark blue robe, bare legs sticking out, leaning against the wall as if it's a mattress.

"Daniel."

He's smiling. Can't help it. Daniel's hair's ruffled, his chin's shaded with stubble, and his eyes are heavy, but he's got a knowing, mischievous smile on his face, and he's doing nothing to hide the fact that he's hard under a layer of towelling.

Jack could stand up, walk over, and have Daniel's cock warm in his hand a moment later. He flexes his fingers, almost feeling the quiver and jerk of solid flesh between them.

God, he could. Could do anything he's dreamed of doing, and he's thought up plenty, and get nothing from Daniel that sounds remotely like a protest.

"What would you do if I said I wanted to fuck you against that wall?" Jack asks, taking advantage of the surreal quality of the moment, with the room lit by the pale light of early morning and the pool of lamplight beside him, day meeting night.

Daniel turns his head slowly, as languidly as he'd rolled it against the pillow as Jack mouthed and bit gently down his body. He shrugs, the movement enough to work the loosely tied belt looser, so that his robe falls open across his chest and below his waist.

Oh, yeah. Hard. His cock's at the point where it needs a touch or two to coax it thicker, longer, but it's there on display and Jack's admiring it just like Daniel wants him to.

Daniel pats the wall with his hand as if testing it for suitability, long fingers spreading wide. He brings up his other hand and turns to fully face the wall, sliding his hands up and out until they're level with his head. His robe's dropped down enough to bare his shoulders and the upper curves of his back and it's cutting into his arms now. Jack can see the furrow the robe's carving across muscled skin. The belt's hanging down, swaying as Daniel moves his feet wider and then takes a deliberate step back, arching his spine so the flat, hidden curve of his ass becomes a well-defined shape beneath the robe.

Daniel leans forward and rests his forehead against the wall, waiting.

"This," he murmurs, just in case Jack hasn't got the message.

"Hypothetical question," Jack says, hearing the words catch in a dry throat.

"Isn't it a little early in the morning for those?"

Jack stands up and sees the anticipatory shiver go through Daniel, hears the soft, breathy moan he remembers from last night, with Daniel all but chewing his ear off as Jack's fingers pushed into him with a deliberation designed to hide his nervousness.

"Daniel --" He puts his hand on Daniel's bare shoulder, intending to turn him, kiss him, turn him down. He's tired; the finger-brushing with Daniel's toothpaste hasn't done much to take care of the thick, sticky taste of sleep in his mouth and he needs to get out of here, go home and change.

He's never had to say much to make Daniel understand him. Daniel sighs and his head bends lower, in defeat, not invitation. Jack strokes the back of Daniel's neck and curls his fingers through Daniel's right hand, easing it away from the wall.

"I'm an idiot," Jack whispers into Daniel's hair. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Why did you?" Daniel twists, lying back against the wall, his hands coming up to hold onto Jack's arms. "If you didn't want to, why ask?"

"Because I needed to know?"

Daniel frowns. "You couldn't have asked if I'd had second thoughts in a less ambiguous way?"

"This early in the morning?"

"Point taken." Daniel glances down, gives a disconsolate grumbling noise, and pushes Jack away so that he can fasten his robe. "Breakfast? And don't ask if I'm on the menu, because I'm only prepared to humiliate myself once a day, and that was it."

Jack grabs at his arm. "Daniel -- the only one looking like an idiot in this room is me. And when the first cup of coffee kicks in, wait for me to start crying into it for missing out on the chance to, uh ..."

"Nail my delectable ass?"

"It is, but that's not how I'd have put it." Jack considers. "Close enough, though."

Daniel brushes a kiss across his cheek that Jack chooses to interpret as forgiving, and heads toward the kitchen. Halfway he stops and glances down at the coffee table then picks up the notebook, weighing it in his hand.

"I read it," Jack says.

Daniel's tongue swipes across his lips. "Okay. And?"

Awkward. Jack swallows and walks over to him, rubbing his hand along Daniel's arm. "I don't know what to say, Daniel. It's the last time I let you go off-planet without us there to watch your six, let's put it that way."

He says it, knowing it's just words. Daniel won't let what happened stop him and if Hammond thinks there's even a chance Daniel's not up to dealing with everything the universe has to throw at him he'll be grounded, not baby-sat.

Daniel rolls his eyes. "Jack."

"Okay, okay." Jack rubs at his face. "I hated reading it but at least I know now and that's better than what I was imagining."

"If you were imagining worse than that, don't share," Daniel says, wincing.

"No, it's just -- I saw you, Daniel and nothing in there comes close to finding you like that, in that fucking cage --" Jack's voice cracks and he takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Okay, tell me again why we're doing all this before breakfast?"

Daniel makes a soft, impatient sound. "We don't have many chances to talk like this. I'm not letting your empty stomach stop me."

"Well, you should," Jack tells him. "I get testy when my blood-sugar's low."

Daniel closes his eyes.

"What language are you counting to ten in this time?" Jack asks interestedly.

"Greek," Daniel says without opening his eyes. "I go alphabetically. Goa'uld was Monday."

"And why are you counting, just so we're on the same..." Jack realises that he hasn't picked the best figure of speech and shuts up.

"You read it and you don't want to ask me about anything?" Daniel opens his eyes and stares at Jack.

"You were, ah, pretty out of it in places..." Jack hedges. He's lost here. He can't whine that Daniel didn't give him a page or two to feel good about, not when Daniel had most likely been saving him until last, and then just got to the point where he couldn't hold it together any more. Besides, it's good that he didn't in some ways. The thought of what Daniel might have written about him, freed from restraints that, judging by his outburst the night before had been chafing, is scary.

"Yes, I was," Daniel says, nodding. "I think Sacer was drugging me until he realised it was affecting my translation work. The way I reacted to Alice's death..." Daniel's face closes down. "It didn't seem real and I kept yelling at her to shut up. I just -- I couldn't stand it."

"Hey," Jack says, pulling Daniel close and tightening his grip when Daniel stiffens. "No, dammit; let me. I can fuck you, but I can't hug you? Give me a break."

"I'm not going to sob all over your shoulder, Jack," Daniel says. "It's --"

"Too early?"

"Too late." Daniel's arms wrap around Jack, squeezing him hard. "I had a nice, private breakdown at the weekend. Cried, screamed, broke stuff, got drunk."

"Didn't do you much good," Jack says. "You came back wound even tighter."

"Maybe I needed you to finish the job," Daniel says. He waves his hand around for a moment and then puts it back on Jack's ass. "See? Unwound."

"Glad to be able to help."

Daniel nuzzles into Jack's neck, bites it hard enough to draw a yelp, and moves away. "You didn't answer my question."

"What?" Jack fights back a yawn, wishing Daniel would make coffee because he's going to have to go in about ten minutes and he's in serious danger of falling asleep at the first red light.

Daniel stares at him, shakes his head and goes to the kitchen.

Coffee. Thank God.

"Good bye, Jack," Daniel calls out. "See you later."

Jack sighs, finds his coat and shoes, and lets himself out without pushing his luck.

He's too old for guessing games but he takes the notebook with him anyway. Maybe he missed something...

He's in the shower at home, reaching back to finger the swollen skin around his asshole, with a wince at the sting of the soap followed by a tingle of pure lust he doesn't have time to deal with, when he finally gets it.


***

"You look like hell, Jack."

"Why thank you, sir. I was just going to remark on how well you were looking."

Hammond shakes his head, the glimmer of an indulgent smile showing.

"Well?"

"Sir?"

The smile vanishes and Hammond's expression hardens.

"Don't play games with me, Colonel. I need to know if the situation between you and Doctor Jackson has been resolved."

"Yes, sir."

"Amicably?"

Jack thinks of anything that isn't Daniel's cock pushing into his ass, inch-by-inch, moan by moan. With Hammond a few feet away, it's easier than he expects. "Oh, I think that's a fair description."

"And the inquiry?"

"I just spoke to him in his office. Daniel's willing to play ball on that, sir. Let you go with stress following his ordeal as a reason for his initial verbal report." Jack drops a folder on the desk. "I think this sets the record straight, General."

Hammond doesn't reach out for it. "You understand that I'm in a difficult position here, Colonel."

"No, sir." Jack focuses on the wall behind Hammond's chair. "The rescue mission succeeded as well as it could, given the unusual circumstances, and Doctor Jackson's made a full recovery. I'm not aware of anything ongoing that would present a problem when it comes to SG-1 going back in the field. We're solid, sir. Ready to go."

"Off the record?"

"Sir?"

"You're happy to carry on working with Doctor Jackson? You trust him? That was one hell of an experience he went through and it's only been a few weeks."

Jack lets himself meet Hammond's gaze, his face relaxed and open.

"As happy as I have been since he joined the team, sir. Daniel's tough. He's also a pain in the ass from time to time but you know as well as I do that we need him."

Hammons nods, mouth pursed thoughtfully.

"He's a good man to have at your back." Jack considers that and adds, "For a civilian."

Never hurts to remind them of that.

"He is, Colonel. No argument there. I'd hate to lose either of you from the team. Glad I won't have to. Dismissed."

Lying to Hammond always makes Jack feel vaguely guilty.

He's glad he didn't have to today.

Much.

And now he's thinking back to Daniel in his office and wondering if there was something he could've said better --



"You know, a clue would've been nice."

Daniel looks up as Jack walks into his office and then grins as Jack takes the notebook out of his pocket. "Twenty-two pages? You needed more of a clue than the one you gave yourself?"

Twenty-two pages and the cover said there were twenty-six. Jack supposed in some people's eyes that would count as a hint.

"You could've torn them out to wipe your ass with, Daniel!"

"On a planet with that many trees?"

Jack fingers the staples through the notebook. He can tell now that the tiny, thin strips of metal have been bent back and then squeezed closed again but he doubts anyone will ever think to look closely at it.

"Four pages about me?"

"Mmm."

"Three more than Teal'c and Sam got."

That gets him an eye-roll. "It wasn't a contest. And most of it was me yelling at you for never letting me tell you what was on page four."

"Which was?"

"Sheer filth, I'm afraid. I have an active imagination. Possibly a paragraph about the photograph under my pillow. And you had a day to read it before Teal'c asked for it back to copy." Daniel's mouth twitches. "And edit."

"Yeah, well, I was busy." Jack glares at him. "You were in a bad way and if you think I was going to sit around reading when you were hooked up to every machine Janet's got --"

"Well, that was your chance."

"So you're not going to tell me what it said?" Jack asks incredulously.

"I just did."

"In detail?"

"No." Daniel's gaze meets his. "But I can show you sometime."

"Not here," Jack says, knowing he doesn't need to say more than that.

Daniel nods. "Never here," he agrees. "But that still leaves a lot of places."

Yes. It does.

"When did Teal'c tell you? And why didn't he tell me?"

"He didn't think it was any of his business and he assumed I'd say something eventually. And he told me yesterday." Daniel stares at nothing. "When he realised if he didn't tell me that you'd never had a chance to read it --"

"Oh, so you admit that!"

"-- things would just keep getting worse between us."

"You thought I'd read it and still wasn't going to say anything? Daniel, you have to know I wouldn't have done that to you."

The wheels of Daniel's chair scrape across the floor as he pushes away from his desk, "To be honest? I didn't know what the hell was going on and not being able to ask anyone was driving me crazy. I could see the notebook in your pocket, but no one was mentioning the fact that Doctor Jackson had some interesting ideas about what he'd like to do to Colonel O'Neill when they were both naked, which was confusing." Daniel shrugs. "And I had more than that to be angry about. It was just the --"

"Icing on the cake? Final straw?"

"If you like." Daniel tidies up some papers and then shoves them aside. "I wasn't being fair. I was angry with you for reading it and not saying anything, then when you gave it back and I realised you hadn't read it, that was even worse -- then I saw the pages had been taken out and I -"

"Came to the gym looking for me."

"Yes."

"So when you found out it was Teal'c, not me, you --?" Jack lets that one hang in the air.

"I said thank you," Daniel tells him. Jack gets a glint of blue eyes as Daniel glances up at him. "What do you think I did?"

"Let's not go there."

There's a faint flush on Daniel's face as if he just has. "I've got something for you."

Jack takes the folder from Daniel and lifts his eyebrows inquiringly.

"It's my final mission report. The one Hammond wants to see."

"He's not asking you to cover anything up, Daniel."

"I know. I wouldn't."

No. Daniel wouldn't.

"It's just better this way."

Oh, yes, it is.

Jack hesitates and then nods, tucking it under his arm.

"Got to go," Jack says. "See you at lunch?"

Daniel gives the stack of paperwork on his desk a longing glance and Jack rolls his eyes. "Lunch, Daniel. Or I'll come and get you and drag your skinny butt down there."

It's a test of sorts, of both of them, because he says that, or something like it, to Daniel at least once a week and he has to know if he still can.

Daniel opens a book and starts to read, not even bothering to look at Jack. "And I'll spit in your Jello when you're not looking if you do. I'll eat when I'm hungry, not when you are."

Good enough.

Maybe they can do this.

Maybe.

***


The next mission is to a desert world, the one after that to a wilderness of marsh with non-stop rain. It's a month before they step out into a clearing surrounded by trees, drenched in sunlight and the smell of the local version of pine fresh.

Jack watches Daniel, his gaze colliding with Sam's and Teal'c's. There's a silence, tense and anticipatory, and then Daniel turns and smiles at them. "Hey. It's not raining."

Teal'c glances up at a pristine blue sky. "Indeed it is not."

"Makes a change," Sam says.

Jack pushes his sunglasses into place. "Less chatter, kids. Move out. And, Daniel?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"Stay human. That's an order."

As he heads for the tree line he hears Sam murmur, "Do you think you could get the colonel to stop saying that on every mission? Because it's giving me the creeps."

Jack gives a fallen branch a suspicious look, a swift kick and another look, and walks on.

It needs saying. This is Daniel they're talking about.