Two Sides Of The Coin

by dith

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asd/dith/2sides01.php
Summary: Stranded on a world with no Stargate, Daniel has to come to terms with what Shifu taught him about himself, while Jack has to come to terms with his attraction to Daniel - and they both have to get home

"I am not going to listen to you any more."

Daniel ignored Jack, which had absolutely no effect on Jack's complaining.

"I've listened to you before, and what does it get me? Captured, usually. Often wounded. And now, dressed like this."

"Quit whining, Jack. It's a toga, not a tutu. Your manhood is intact."

"Actually, it's a tunic. See, I was paying attention during briefing. YOU are wearing a toga, because YOU are supposed to be the rich guy. I'm the slave. I've got just the tunic."

"What a relief for you. Please shut up and go somewhere else. I'm working."

"I thought you were going to the library."

"This is a library." Daniel waved around to the cubbyholes and round boxes. "This is what books used to look like, when they were called scrolls. This place is packed with them. The history of a thousand years, indexed and filed! I wonder if Alexandria was like this before it burned."

Jack looked around. He wanted to get excited, he did, but all he saw was -- actually, he hadn't even really noticed the scrolls.

"I thought I should spend at least a part of the day hanging around wherever you are, since I'm your slave and all."

"Bodyguard, Jack. And you can, if you want. But... is that boredom actually dripping out of your ears?" Jack scowled at him; Daniel ignored that too. "How many times do I have to say it? This planet is safe. The Goa'uld wiped the address of this planet from their registries back when Ares and Ameratsu fought their little war over who would rule it. Massive casualties on both sides, popular uprising of the people, and so on and so FORTH, and the Goa'uld said to hell with it, no naquada there anyway, and jettisoned the place. The people buried their Stargates and have had a thousand years to develop." Daniel looked around at all the scrolls again and Jack could practically see the lovelight dripping from his eyes. "A thousand years of history, Jack, all carefully preserved! We might find records of anti-Goa'uld weapons -"

"Well, you will. Still think you shoulda brought some of your team."

"Undercover, Jack. Didn't you teach me what that means?"

"I'm pretty sure it means under a cover."

"Jack, I'm begging you. Go find something to do. Go to the gym."

Jack perked up at that. "Ancient Rome had gyms?"

"Yes, and also, this isn't ancient Rome. It's a civilization based on that of ancient Rome. With medieval-level technology. Actually it's astonishing how close to the civilization of the classical Roman empire it has remained." Jack could see Daniel's attention drifting back to the scrolls even as he kept speaking to Jack. Apparently they did have ground glass here, because Daniel had got to keep his glasses - the better to pore over scrolls with. "So please don't pretend you know what should or shouldn't be here. And go to the gym and get out of my hair."

"Come get me before you head home."

"I don't need -"

"I'm your bodyguard, right? Under cover? Not that anyone's going to believe that if they see me hanging out at the gym doing crunches."

"High-ranking slaves can visit the gym. Especially for fighting."

"Fighting?"

"Boxing. Whatever you want to call it."

"I'm off, Daniel. You'll know where to find me."

Daniel bent over the scroll again, but called out as Jack was leaving, "Stay away from the wrestling."

"Yeah, yeah," and Jack waved a hand behind his head and was gone.

---

DANIEL:

Gymnasiums on Optimus were combinations of the local beer hall, music hall, and the Y. All the men dropped by for various reasons at some point during the week. I hadn't been to one yet, but I knew where the one closest to our villa was. I figured I'd find Jack there.

The slave I stopped to ask directed me to the wrestling ring. Sonofabitch.

Yep, there was Jack, sitting on a bench as I rounded the corner. He'd clearly had a few matches already. His face was red, he was breathing a little hard, he had scratches on his back and his skin was slicked with oil.

All of his skin.

He sat on the bench, naked the way classical wrestlers used to be, forearms resting on his knees, catching his breath. I had to stop and think about my own breath for a while.

There's a statue, can't remember if it was Roman or Greek - art was not my specialty - of a boxer. He wasn't a young man either; his profile was battered, his hair a little too long, his hands wrapped in boxing bandages. His body was sculpted perfection, all the muscles of the belly, back and legs defined, including that little dip-shaped muscle over the side of the pelvis that is only defined on the most athletic of men.

Jack looked nothing like the Boxer.

His hair was short and liberally gray; the skin of his arms and thighs was starting to be a little loose over the muscles, the way an older man's is. His belly was even, dare I say it, a little soft. The hollows around his neck stood out and his shoulders, those magnificent sloping shoulders, drooped forward a little and gave away how tired he was. His hands drooped between his knees, too; one of his knuckles was scraped. His commando tan stopped at the neck and the arms; the skin of his torso and most of his legs had a golden cast but was still paler, and on his chest the skin was sprinkled liberally with gray, curly hair.

He looked ridiculous.

He was breathtaking.

He wasn't a Greek idol. He was real. A real guy. My real friend. Every molecule in his body practically screamed out, "Here's a man who's used his body hard for years. This body has kept him alive and countless other people. This body can deal death and save children. This is a real body."

His eyes sparked at me as he caught sight of me looking at him. I saw him snort as I approached. No, no Greek idol here.

I'd never seen him before so obviously worn out and yet relaxed, happy. I wanted to rub those shoulders, find the aches in them with my fingers and smooth them away. His features, rather than looking craggy or old, suddenly looked sculpted out of granite, as if they'd always been this way and would always be this way, as if he too was a sculpture that time would preserve forever, just like this. And yet, at the same time, the muscles in his thighs, in his ass, looked tense, taut, as if he was ready to spring into action again in just a second, just a thought away. He looked tired and dangerous all at the same time. And very, very sexy.

I shook my head a little. Stupid Jack. I'd told him to stay away from the wrestling. One of the reasons was so that I wouldn't see this. I maintained my everyday sanity by not thinking of Jack this way. Now I would have this picture in my head forever.

I guessed I could live with that.

I shook my head as I walked up to him. "Told you to stay away from the wrestling, Jack."

He saw me, straightened. "Yeah, I know. I figured you figured I didn't want to do the naked thing. But I didn't mind. I mean, okay, so someone greased me up with olive oil and I'm pretty sure someone else tried to grab my family jewels and twist them off. But who cares? I'm never going to see them again."

"That's not why I told you to stay away from the wrestling, Jack. You sure they were trying to twist them off?"

"Well, I think so. Hurt like hell and I kicked the guy in the head. Why do you ask?"

"Because wrestling is a form of flirtation, even foreplay, in this culture, especially between peers."

"Huh." Jack took the news surprisingly well given that he was naked and oiled. "Well, if that guy wanted my number, he had a funny way of showing it."

"I'm heading to the baths. You wanna come with?"

"What are you going to bathe for? I doubt seriously you worked up a sweat sitting over books... scrolls all day."

That made me twitch and I scratched my chin to hide it. Okay, so I thought the baths were the best part of Optimus, so what? I had nothing to be ashamed of.

I decided offense made a decent defense. "You, on the other hand, probably smell like something three weeks dead. So I suggest that you join me. Or at least make a visit before you try to come back to the room tonight."

"Yessir, master sir. Buzz off, I'm having fun."

"Fine. I'll see you later. Try not to break any more hearts." I turned away to head for the public baths but the image of Jack was burned into my retinas.

No, that was not a good thing.

---

JACK:

I knew if there was one thing Daniel liked best about Optimus, it wasn't the library, no matter how drooly he got over thousands of scrolls of history.

Nope, it was the baths.

The Optimans knew how to take baths, and they did, a lot. Which, frankly, made the planet bearable, since most of the population was concentrated in the tropical and subtropical zones around the equator.

Jacob had pulled a doozy when he'd found this planet. No Stargate - Jacob had actually noticed an inhabited star system while driving by. Carter told me the odds against this, which I promptly forgot. Suffice to say, it was freakishly, unreasonably unlikely.

Like a lot of stuff that happened to SG-1.

We'd made a short recon mission months ago, but now we were back, because Hammond had decided to grant Daniel's warmest geeky little wishes and give him research leave in Optimus. I went along just because it was a relief to visit a world where places had names and not just a number. In fact, Optimus didn't get a number, because it didn't have a working Stargate. I loved that.

I was here playing Daniel's bodyguard because, thanks to the whim of a malfunctioning time machine, I happened to speak Latin, which Carter did not. Also, in this culture, women did not have the mobility that Carter was used to - and a big black Jaffa with a gold tattoo on his head would have been out of the question. Nope, I got to play the slave while Daniel played the master.

Not that we were very good at it, I suspected, because I wandered around and did whatever the hell I wanted while Daniel stayed in the library.

Maybe that's what ancient Roman bodyguards did.

And every other day or so, Daniel made an excuse to visit the baths. We had some money, enough to make us look as rich as we claimed to be, and we'd used a lot of it to rent the villa. But I had a feeling we'd be eating salad and stale bread before long if Daniel kept spending his cash at the baths.

And Daniel could spend hours there.

If it was a nice day, he'd start in the natatio, the outdoor pool, and swim laps - his justification for at least half the visits. "It's exercise, Jack!" he'd claim. Yeah, right.

But half the time he skipped that and went straight from the locker room, the whaddya call it, I can't remember. Stowed his clothes and went to the hot room to work up a sweat. He spends at least half an hour in the caldarium, dunking in the hot water, rinsing his feet in the cold, and working up a sweat. I had no idea how much that man loved steam before we came here.

Then as often as not he goes through the scraping process, where you get rubbed with olive oil and scraped with a stick. He spends extra money on the scented olive oils and comes home smelling of lavender and rosemary.

This is hard to ignore.

I mean, I'm trying to maintain my colonel persona here, public baths or no public baths, despite the fact that I'm wandering around town wearing a minidress most days. But when Daniel comes back to the room in the villa we rent - and we share the same bed, because apparently that's part of my bodyguard "disguise" - and he smells like something you should put in a vase, well, that's distracting.

And when he smells like something you should eat - that's even more distracting.

Then sometimes he gets a shave -

And he finishes off in the frigidarium, the way you're supposed to, and the cold water is supposed to seal all your pores or some junk like that. In my experience, it frightens your balls back into your body, is what it does. But Daniel freaking loves it.

Comes back glowing like a freaking Christmas tree, every time. And looking about twenty.

Twenty, and dewy, and fresh and clean and smelling like spicy flowers.

And still a little slick from the oil.

I'm not so fond of the baths.

The whole thing is causing me a lot of trouble with my brandishing-guns facade, and I don't even have any guns to brandish to offset this.

Anyway. I figured I'd find Daniel in the caldarium, and I did.

Lying facedown, naked, on a bench while a slave rubbed him with olive oil.

I sniffed as I got closer. Rosemary. Jesus.

When I got closer I wondered if he was being paid extra to be shaved all over. Because I had never seen such smooth skin on any man over the age of puberty. I used to be oblivious to this kind of thing, but let me tell you, a few weeks on Optimus is enough to start you wondering if your best friend is going in for torso shaving.

Anyway, he'd just gotten his oil rubdown, and the rent-a-slave was about to start scraping him. I recognized the guy - he looked like he should be running a pizza joint in Brooklyn and be named Vinnie - and realized Daniel must have had him before, otherwise I wouldn't recognize him. Was Daniel tipping him?

Or did he just like looking at Daniel greased up and naked?

Because I had to admit, as I came up beside Vinnie making the universal "shh" sign with my finger to my lips, that Daniel, greased up and naked, was really something to look at.

In his civilian clothes Daniel looked like a reformed hippy. In his SGC jumpsuits he looked lumpy, awkward. In BDUs, he looked like a soldier - till he moved, and gave himself away.

Naked, he looked like perfection, carved out of milk.

I mean, there was a lot of public art in this town that represented good-looking naked guys, and not one of them could hold a candle to Daniel. His shoulders, spread across the table as he rested his head on his hands, looked wide enough to support the ceiling, or maybe the world. And they tapered down to a small waist, with a perfect dip in the small of his back before his ass swelled up --

Mother of God.

And then there were his legs, lean, not so long as people sometimes thought because he was pretty long in the torso - I once rented a suit with him, so I knew these things - and they almost looked delicate, especially in contrast with that chest. Even his feet - Jesus Christ, his feet looked long and delicate and somehow artistic, as if you should rub them just because they existed.

Many things have been said of Jack O'Neill over the years but not one of them was that I am a big fan of male beauty. Looking at Daniel, however, could make a believer out of me - or an art fan. Or -

"[Shall we start on the front today, Marce]?" Daniel suddenly said in Latin and, stretching, rolled over, his eyes still closed.

And then he was lying there naked and oiled from the front -

Stretching like a cat -

His throat exposed and long, suddenly very long - when had it gotten so long? - and -

ALL of the muscles that led down his chest and across that flat, lean stomach stretched and contracted in turn as Daniel made a comfy little writhing motion that was the most -

I had been going to start the scrapy thing - that's what slaves did, after all, and I was supposed to be being Daniel's slave. No matter how much he said I didn't have to, I saw what the other slaves did, and I figured, when in Rome - or your nearest Rome-derived culture - and I had taken the stick from Vinnie and almost started in on his back.

But looking at Daniel stretching like that, gleaming like that, still with his eyes closed, and all of the front of him smooth and shiny and very naked -

And then he lazily draped the back of one hand across his eyes, to keep out the light, and pulled up one knee, pointing the toes of the other leg, causing the thigh muscle to flex, drawing my attention to the soft hair and the soft flesh in between, and I -

I really had to go.

I shook my head to Vinnie and motioned him to get back to work, backing away slowly, like you do from a man with a weapon, or an ambush.

I figured I'd take a quick dip in the caldarium and head back.

Or maybe the frigidarium.

My pores could use closing.

---

DANIEL:

I know I should have waited for Jack before I agreed to meet with the consul, but I didn't figure it was any big deal.

I mean, he was just traveling through, and we were just two of thousands of travelers in the city at this time - I was one of literally hundreds who had come to use the library alone. This was a big city. Why would the consul be interested in us?

Of course I realize now I should have waited for Jack before I told the doorman to let him in the house.

His shoulders hunched forward as if he were gripping something to his chest, his chin receded, and, I quickly realized, his brain had skipped town. He was barking mad.

"[The old gods are of interest to many scholars,]" I said carefully. I'd asked for fruit and wine to be brought for his refreshment; I put the fig I'd bitten into down on the marble table and wished I could get the fruit knife farther from his hand. He made me that nervous. I started to pace.

"[But you have come from so far away, from so far to the north. You must know more than the others. More than the local scholars.]"

I didn't know what the safe answer was and oh, I needed to know. Brag? Or demure? I chose the latter. "[There are many of us interested in the source of the old gods, Consul. There are many hints in the records but the stories are contradictory. Some believe, as I do, that there were several different homes of the gods, not just one.]"

"[And could you find even one of these homes?]" His dark eyes glittered eagerly as he turned and pinned me with a glance.

"[Consul?]"

"[Could you find it? Could we build a ship and sail to it? Or could we send a message? As the soldiers do when they flash mirrors at each other across mountain valleys?]"

He was getting uncomfortably close to the truth. I felt my mouth go dry. Whatever he knew, he knew more than we'd thought. "[And why would the Consul be interested in contacting the gods?]" I laughed, trying to make it sound like a joke.

He glared at me. Clearly, to him it wasn't funny. "[I have been Consul for fifteen years. I can go no higher in this assembly. But I have visions - visions for Optimus, and for Ishido across the sea whether or not they wish to see it. I cannot achieve my vision if I am still only a Consul. But if I were a god --"

The smile that spread over his face was lopsided, and it struck me that he was, in fact, insane. In the great tradition of Roman emperors like Nero.

Those who did not know history, apparently, really were doomed to repeat it.

I had to tread very carefully. And I had to get us the hell out of here.

And that was going to be tough, because there was no Stargate.

Smiling as sweetly as I thought I could and not vomit on his feet, I said, "[The stories of the gods are only myths, Consul, from long ago. And if they were not, I doubt you would want to meet one.]"

"[But the stories have some basis in fact. That is why you study them, is it not? And the stories say that the gods occasionally honored one of us, one of their servants, and made us one of them, a god as well. Several of the early emperors became gods, and were worshipped as the gods of old were worshipped. If I could get a message to them, I could offer them such rewards... They would certainly reward me.]"

I really, really didn't want to know what he was planning to offer them. I wanted to smile and keep smiling while I backed toward the door, then go find Jack and get the hell off this planet.

Instead, Jack chose that moment to burst in.

"Dammit, Daniel, you said you would wait for me."

I nearly panicked.

The look in Jack's eyes said clearly that he hadn't expected me not to be alone and he wished he hadn't yelled in English.

I wished it too. I stepped up to him and slapped him, hard enough to make a good loud sound, and said, "Shut up."

More startled than hurt, Jack's eyes widened and I looked into them pleadingly. Please, play along.

And he got it, thank goodness he got it, because he dropped to one knee and bowed his head. Something I had never before seen him do.

Thank you, Jack, I thought to him silently as I turned back to the consul, my chin held high. "[Forgive him, sir. He is barbaric... and forgetful.]"

"[As you please,]" said the Consul, but I wanted him to go sit down, and instead he came closer. He put his fingers under Jack's chin and my pulse rate jumped... and so did Jack's, I could see it in his throat. While it was excusable in him, it was not in me. I kept my expression as blankly icy as I could.

"[What language is that he spoke?]" asked the Consul, searching Jack's face while Jack tried to keep his eyes downcast. It would not have been politic for a slave to meet the consul's gaze.

"[A horrifically degenerate tongue of the northern lands,]" I told him, shrugging it off as of no importance. It was so unimportant, in fact, that I went to pour myself a cup of wine. Anything to make sure he didn't see in my face how nervous I was, and how much I wanted him to back away from Jack.

Not that Jack couldn't take care of himself. But if he killed the Consul, getting off this world might be slightly more difficult.

"[Mmm. I can see why you keep him,]" and the Consul smiled conspiratorially at me and I felt very much like I wanted to go right back to the baths.

But I allowed only the barest quirk of a lip that might be interpreted as an answering smile as I said, "[He's useful.]"

I knew the assumption among the house staff was that Jack was my lover - I'd encouraged them to think that, since otherwise they might find it odd that I never brought home any feminine company. But it was one thing for the house staff to think it and leave us alone. It was another thing for this slimeball to think it - and to imply it right in front of Jack. Jack did not know that his undercover persona included that particular feature and I had rather wished not to have to discuss it.

This conversation had to come to a close.

"[Consul, I am sorry to be keeping you -- did you not tell me you had an appointment within the hour that you had to keep on the other side of town?]"

"[Oh yes,]" and he seemed to be easily distracted, dropping Jack's chin and drifting away. "[I hope I get a chance to see you again before either of us leaves the city...]"

I followed him out to his waiting horse and servants and tried not to look like I was hurrying him away, hurrying to get back into the house and shut the thick door and get away from the feeling that there could be a knife between my shoulderblades at any second.

Not to look like I was hurrying back to Jack.

I found him in the hall, still kneeling, by the impluvium. The water reflected late evening sunlight onto his face, still downturned.

"Oh God, Jack, get up," and I offered him my hand. "Your knees..."

"Are fine, Daniel, I'm not an invalid yet," but I saw him straighten a little slowly. "I didn't want to take the chance that His Gropiness there would come back and surprise me acting like a grownup. What the hell was that?"

"That... was a very unpleasant surprise. Jack, I think we have to get out of here."

"What?"

"And I mean, like, now."

"Okay."

Jack is Jack. Everything is an action item to him. Time to go? We went. Out the door, did not look back, did not collect two hundred dollars.

While we were pushing down the street through the crowds of people out buying their dinner from the street-level restaurants and stalls, he said, low, pitched for just me to hear, "Problem?"

"Only in that the Consul is crazy as a loon and wants to grow up to be a Goa'uld."

Jack just nodded. "Problem."

It took us two hours to get to the rendezvous point. We walked out of the city on the stone road, turned off onto a footpath, then into raw land, scrubby silver-gray bushes punctuating the brown-gold hillsides that ringed the basin in which the city sat, between the mountain on one side and the sea on the other.

We paused on a hilltop, looking down over the tumbling stone square buildings that looked like child's blocks from up here, child's blocks bleaching in the sun like bones.

We were quite alone and far enough from the city not to be seen or noticed. Just behind us a small dip in the foothills would provide a covered landing place for a glider, say, after dark. Which was fast approaching.

I kept the comm in my pouch; Jack's outfit provided for little storage.

"Jacob," I said into it. "We're going to need to be picked up much sooner than planned. As in now."

Nothing.

Jack and I looked at each other, the kind of look we often do give each other, the kind of mixture of tired terror and expectant grief that just says, "How is it going wrong this time?"

"Jacob?" I said again.

He didn't answer.

He wasn't there.

I could see it in Jack's eyes.

We both suddenly felt a lot more alone.

---

JACK:

It was late, well after moonrise, when we got back to the house.

We'd had most of the necessary discussion up on the hilltop.

"I don't think we can wait." I'd seldom seen Daniel so antsy. "We've got to get off this world."

"I'm all for it, Daniel. Just tell me how."

Daniel squinched one eye shut, looking out over the sea. "This planet used to have two Stargates. We know that from records on other worlds. There must be at least one still here."

"And we would find it by...?"

"Research, of course. In the library. There is probably some record, a record that wouldn't make sense to the locals but that would make sense to me if I could find it."

"The library."

"Yes, the library!" he said, with that tone of his that meant "Why are you deliberately being dense?"

"The library you said had a thousand years of history in it?"

His shoulders drooped. "We'll have plenty of time for research now," he said grimly.

We headed back toward the house.

A lot of our now limited resources were tied up in renting the house. As long as we had it we'd have shelter, food, and a certain amount of limited help. Security in this culture didn't depend on town cops, it depended on your personal posse - and the villa was built to be defensible, no windows on the street, heavy doors and shutters, the works.

If the Consul had really wanted to take Daniel away, he'd have just done it. Perhaps it was just a fishing expedition. Or perhaps Daniel was telling himself that to make himself feel better about our very limited options. Either way, neither of us was feeling the joy but to return to the villa seemed our best option right now - especially since we had no idea what had happened to Jacob and when - or if, though we didn't say that - he'd return.

So, we hiked back into the city, back up to our own door, starving hungry and trying to act as if we hadn't just been out for a four-hour stroll. The doorman let us in and we slipped back to the sleeping room without seeing anyone else.

It was amazing how many people there were in the house. For Daniel to live "alone" in this town he required not just me, his personal bodyguard/slacker, but also what were essentially a butler, a cook, a houseboy and a chauffeur. Add their random friends and the neighbor's servants into the mix and it was tough to find a minute alone.

We never ran into them in the sleeping room once we'd gotten in there and shut the door, though. I hadn't really thought about it but Mr. Greasy had made it plain. The servants thought we were locked in here having hot monkey love.

"So, the servants leave us alone in here because they think we're having hot monkey love?" I said to Daniel as soon as the door was locked.

And so help me, he blushed a bright, bright red to the roots of his hair. He crossed the room to a small table, broke off some bread that was kept there and dipped it in a bowl of honey. This gave him a few minutes before he had to talk. I grabbed an apple-ish fruit in the meantime and started scarfing it down.

Finally he said, "It's not that unusual in this culture, and I thought we'd need some privacy, and as soon as you let them know that you want privacy they make their own assumptions, so I just..."

"Yeah? You just what?"

"I didn't say..." Daniel just waved the bread.

I was really curious. I didn't know the Latin for "hot monkey lover." "Didn't say what?"

"Let it drop, Jack."

"Hey, it's dropped. I'm just going to get in our bed. I was wondering what you expected me to do in there."

"I'm not expecting anything. I'm hoping you'll shut up." Then apparently something about the idea of me shutting up reminded him of him slapping me and he turned all apologetic. "Jeez, Jack, I'm sorry about the slap."

I almost chuckled, he looked so serious. "Don't worry about it, Daniel. It didn't really hurt that much."

"But it's red --"

I shrugged. I didn't have a mirror anyway. "Who cares? It'll be gone by morning. You do what you have to do when the time comes, Daniel. I'm not going to hold it against you."

Rather than shrugging it off like I'd expected him to Daniel just looked more serious. "Keep thinking that." He washed down the bread with some swigs of wine from a pitcher. I hated that stuff warm. I admired his ability to drink whatever was handy.

"If there's anyone who knows about stuff you have to do, it's me. Don't worry about it, really." Trying to get him to smile, I dropped a curtsey with my minidress and cocked my head in what I hoped was a fetching way. "I'm getting in our bed, sir. I'm not planning to wait up, so you might have to wake me if you want to have your wicked way with me later."

Wincing, Daniel still smiled as he nodded. "That's right, Jack. Laugh it up. Wait till the next time you have to tell a lie you don't like."

So he didn't like pretending I was his hot monkey lover, huh? I felt a little odd about that. Odder than I felt about being the hot monkey lover in the first place. I tried to shake it off, went to clean my teeth and spit out the window before I latched the thick shutters closed. It was my favorite part of the night. "You're nuts, Daniel," I said as I pushed the latch, three fingers thick, through the hasp. "I like all the lies I tell."

I couldn't read his expression - which was a little odd to me too, given how well I knew them. He'd thrust out his lower lip, and he had a little frown on his forehead - a new one, a thinky-looking one, not the usual ones.

He just said, "I wish I did," and went, like he always did, to flop straight into the bed.

It felt a little premature somehow, crawling in after him while my head was still spinning with questions about what the servants thought we were doing in here. "So what exactly is it we're supposed to be doing in here?" I said, because in my experience not asking questions is what gets you killed, and therefore I've developed the habit of asking them.

In this case, however, it was the asking that seemed to put me in more danger. "So help me, Jack, if you don't lie down and go to sleep I'll --"

"What? Punish me? And how, exactly, is that going to happen?" I lay on one side, head propped up on a hand, and poked him. "You're not even asleep yet so don't pretend you are."

"Jack." The tone was warning.

"Hey, master. I have a right to know what you'd do to me if I don't straighten up and fly right, don't I?"

All of a sudden he flipped over and lay on his back, his bare eyes boring straight into mine as he said, "I'll take that strip of leather over there and use it to put welts on the backs of your thighs. Then, since you won't be able to sit or lay back, you'll have to kneel to service me."

I blinked. And blinked again. My eyes flicked over to the leather. I'd thought it was for sharpening knives. And his tone was alarmingly even, and alarmingly serious, as he said it.

"You... wouldn't," I said experimentally.

He sighed and his eyes went back to being Daniel's eyes, which was the first moment that I realized that for a second there they'd looked different. "Of course I wouldn't. You asked me what they thought would happen, I told you."

"No, I asked you what they thought we were doing in here." I should have let it drop, I could tell. But for some reason I didn't.

But Daniel did. "If you can't figure that out, Jack, I'm not going to tell you bedtime stories about it. You're a grown man. Fill in the blanks yourself."

And with that he blew a puff of air over the oil lamp suspended on his side of the bed and lay back down, back to me, body language announcing that the conversation was over.

I lay on my back and watched the ceiling. I liked a climate where you could sleep under a big open hole in the roof; I didn't like a gaping hole over where I would be asleep and defenseless. This villa had decorative gratings over the skylights, too small for knives to get through and too sturdily attached to be removed without making a sound. Arrows might have gotten through but not with much of their fletching still attached. Still, it didn't need much to kill a guy.

We'd taken this house because it had the gratings.

Tomorrow I'd get up there and cover them.

Tonight I'd just stay awake.

I'd have discussed it with Daniel but he was already pretending to be asleep. Apparently he didn't want to talk to me any more. I didn't realize he'd been so upset about telling the rest of the house staff we were lovers.

Of course, if it upset him so much, why had he done it?

Or did it just upset him for me to find out about it?

I was surprised to realize, since I had plenty of time to lay there and think about it, how much it didn't upset me. I never cared what anyone else thought about my love life, as long as they thought I was having one. I often didn't, have one, that is, but celibacy doesn't really go with the whole colonel persona. One's foot soldiers, I had learned over the course of a long career, preferred to think that the old man had three or four hot women every time he had leave, and always arrived back on base rested and refreshed and ready to kick some enemy ass. It made them tense, for some reason I didn't understand, for them to think that I wasn't getting any.

I was always grateful that SG-1 didn't feel that way. Teal'c was too old a soldier to think that I might blow a mission if I hadn't gotten, well, blown recently. Carter was too corn-fed and wholesome; she probably preferred to think that I never had sex at all, which sadly wasn't far from the truth, so she was happy. And Daniel - well, I had no evidence that Daniel had ever thought about it.

Which was odd in its own way, now that I thought about it. Because the shyest guys will often greet you with "Hey, how's it hanging?" after a few years of fighting side by side, much less becoming the sort of blood brothers that Daniel and I became long ago.

Daniel never did ask, never suggested it was time for me to get laid, never checked with me about where the good places were to pick up some uncomplicated company. He wasn't military, and that was a lot of it. I knew nothing about the sexual habits of academics in the wild.

But I also hadn't figured him for the kind of guy who'd be uncomfortable about us pretending to be lovers. I mean, who cared? After all we'd done for each other over the years - and saving each others' lives was a regular occurrence - did he really think the idea of him touching me was going to freak me out?

Except... hmmm. If I was reading the signs right, the idea here was that I would be doing the touching. And anything else he asked for. I mean, I wasn't dead sure, but being a slave in this sort of situation didn't really sound like there was supposed to be a lot of quid pro quo.

Maybe that was what was making him uncomfortable. If so, I couldn't figure out why. Since it wasn't real anyway, what did it matter what people thought?

I rubbed the sore spot on my cheekbone. He hadn't seemed to have a lot of trouble whacking me in the face to give the impression that I was a properly behaved slave.

Except, being Daniel, he'd remembered to apologize after.

He'd apologize at the drop of a hat but he didn't want to talk about what the two of us were supposed to be doing in here in the evenings with the door locked. Not even just to tell me bedtime stories.

I'd have to find a way of letting him know that the bedtime stories might amuse me. I have nothing against men. I like me, and I like a lot of the rest of us too. We're okay. If you're okay with the half of the species that grows hair all over the place and can't see dirt, why not be interested in the sexual habits of same?

And maybe it was just because I almost never did get any that I was finding the idea of at least hearing about it sort of entertaining. Like, you know, video games. Without the video. Or the game.

I'd had a long life but there was a lot I still didn't know. I wouldn't mind learning about some of it.

It looked like we were going to have plenty of time on this planet for me to learn new things.

I put my hands behind my head as I lay back, kept my eyes on the grate, dropped into a light meditative state and listened to Daniel pretend to sleep.

---

DANIEL:

I had the same dream I'd had a number of times before.

It was the tail end of the dream Shifu gave me - or part of it.

I woke smelling the smell of warm Jack in my nostrils, breathing hard, squeezing the pillow tight in my arms, and rubbing myself against what passed for a mattress in this town.

The rough-woven linens provided lots of friction but the straw center below the heavy-woven canvas batting did not provide a lot of quiet; even under an outer layer of down quilting the straw rustled and cracked as I rocked against it.

And I had to stop because I was getting harder by the moment.

I told myself that just having Jack in the bed brought the dream back, that was all. It was uncomfortable but necessary. We had to stay close and this was the cover provided by this culture.

I wouldn't admit, even to myself, how much I liked having the smell of him all over the bed. Of course I couldn't smell myself - people can't - but I could smell the faint traces of the occasional perfumed oil that had also grabbed hold of the bed, and lavender, rosemary, and Jack was a delicious perfume to wake up to.

That's all it is, I said, rolling to the side as if to get up and then sitting there for a moment waiting for the blood to drain from the least thinking part of me.

And then I remembered how much trouble we were in and I had a lot more to worry about.

"You okay?" asked Jack, and I jumped a little. He was right there. He was always right there. How could I have forgotten when I woke up with my lungs filled with the smell of him?

"Yeah. Just, you know, waking up," I said and rubbed my eyes. I didn't have to look to know what he looked like. He always looked the same in the mornings, rested, alert, and ready to face the world without coffee.

I was never ready for that.

"You sleep okay? Good," I said, stumbling out of bed because my hard-on was mostly gone and I had to get out of there.

I didn't hear what he replied, if anything.

~~~

That day when Jack decided to stick close to the library instead of heading out on his own I didn't complain. I still spent most of the day taking notes but I also tried to keep my ears open.

There were four or five other men I recognized by sight who were working in the same area of the collections as I was. We'd gotten to the point where we nodded from time to time but I couldn't remember any of their names.

Then I remembered one - Ari, wasn't that the guy's name? Vocative of Arius. Yes, I remembered him.

When he walked past my table I made a point of not looking like I meant to do it when I looked up and nodded at him. "Ari," I said and looked back down.

Startled, he nodded back. "Daniel," he said, giving my name an inflection that made it sound as if he were adding an e, "Daniele" with a pronounced final e in the Italian way. I'd decided keeping my name, which should sound unusual but reasonable to Optiman ears, was safe enough.

I hoped I'd been right.

Anyway, I hoped that made it seem more natural when I went by Arius' table a little later, ostensibly looking for some scrolls about Ameratsu's last battle. "[Have you seen scroll 638?]" I asked, what I hoped was nonchalantly.

He looked a little distracted, but only a little. "[Ah... I think Maximius has that. I was surprised. He's not been in this area of the shelves for weeks.]"

"[I thought he was researching ancient texts on food storage.]" I craned my head a little over the shelves, looking for Maximius. He was a beefy young man, as I recalled, now that Arius had reminded me of his name.

"[Maybe the Consul has been rattling his cage, asking him questions about Ameratsu.]" When I showed my surprise, Arius shook his head ruefully. "[You too, eh? He's been cornering all of us, asking us what we know, what we believe, if we can make miracles happen.]"

"[You don't seem too worried.]"

"[My family owns most of a peninsula. I'm safe from him no matter what he wants. And his lantern is only half-lit,]" which was a new metaphor on me but that clearly meant the same as the one I was thinking of - batshit nuts. "[I expect to see him coming before he tries to do anything to me.]"

I didn't consider that exactly reassuring. "[You sound ready for trouble.]"

"[I am. You know that four-story house on the north corner of the vintner's square? With nothing adjoining it and the iron spikes on the gates? That's mine.]"

"[I'm jealous.]" And I was. Because just thinking about the Consul made me want to hole up somewhere very safe, preferably quiet, and close to wherever Jacob was hiding in the glider.

He better be somewhere close in the glider.

Until we could hook up with him again, though, I had to try to think tactically. I wasn't Jack but I was no slouch either.

"[Worried?]"

I looked down at Arius. His dark hands were long and aristocratic and rested lightly on the parchment upon which he was writing notes in an impeccable hand. But his eyes were friendly and he seemed to find the idea of the Consul as distasteful as I did.

"[What he wants is impossible.]" Neither of us had to refer to it; he knew what I was talking about; he nodded. I went on, "[And it disturbs me that he wants it. I do not know to what lengths he would go to pursue such a mad goal. And the fact that he is asking all of us--]" I shook my head to indicate disquiet.

"[If you need to, come to my house.]"

I was taken aback. We'd only spoken a few words. "[I would not. But thank you.]"

He shrugged, his shoulders almost too thin to support the weight of even the fine lightweight woolen toga that he wore. It was dyed lavender and contrasted with the green linen tunic he wore underneath. I suddenly realized the meaning of the color. If they had stayed true to Roman tradition, he was a member of a ruling house, one of the old families of kings.

He would not be likely to be intimidated by the Consul.

"[Do as you like,]" he said, unoffended. "[But if there is need. Come and bring your man. Scholars are scholars. We must not let bureaucrats bully us.]"

"[Thank you. I will remember your kindness.]"

I got back to my table more convinced than ever that we had to get the hell out of this town, and with no more idea of where to go.

The universe felt very large, and I felt more than a little lost in it.

Automatically I looked around for Jack. There he was, sitting just behind the aisle, chair tilted against the wall. Was he sleeping? Why was he tired? That worried me too - once I got rolling on the worried thing it was hard to stop - but he seemed to feel my eyes on him and opened one eye, nodded at me, then dozed again.

Okay. The universe wasn't so VERY big.

A little more research, making it look good. Then I had some other questions to pursue. My research agenda was changing, from a history of the Goa'uld wars to the location of the Stargates. It was horrifying to think how many places I might have to look for information, but there was no way to find it except to start looking.

---

JACK:

I'd thought if Daniel got the chance to play schoolboy all day that he'd relax some. But all through the day and into the night he was still antsy.

"Lock the door," I told him, stripping off my tunic as I came into the bedroom. I was more than a little gritty from crawling around on the roof with medieval Roman nails and boards that were almost too thick to nail through, certainly with nothing more than a hammer and my tender hands. But I got the cover on, got the ladder taken away, and got the butler/doorman, Paulus, to hire a couple more rent-a-slaves for the next few days to help watch the perimeter. I watched them for a while and I had no faith that they could stop a determined kitten if one tried to attack but I didn't consider them protection; I considered them an early warning system. If they raised a ruckus, we were out the back and gone.

"Don't let anyone hear you giving me orders," he said a little shortly as he latched the heavy wood.

"Jesus H. Christ, Daniel, we're alone. And they don't understand English anyway."

"The tone makes it clear. And I just hope we're alone."

"What does THAT mean?" Instead of going to the water pitcher and sluicing off a little - I felt like I needed a two-day steam - I prowled the perimeter of the room. I didn't see anything that looked like a place for a spy to hide.

"I don't know. I'm worried that the Consul has spies, that's all."

"Inside our house?"

Daniel shrugged. "Could be. I'm clearly on his list."

I didn't like the idea of Daniel being on that greaseball's list. Of anything.

Daniel went on, "I'm thinking that's why he said what he said. Because he had some sort of information from someone in the house. Why else would he have leaped to that conclusion?"

Uh, because you send off sparks every time you get within a few meters of me? I wanted to say. But Daniel was right. He simply hadn't seen us together for any amount of time - we couldn't have done or said anything to get him to leap to his conclusion.

"Got any ideas about who the spy could be?"

Daniel shook his head, shrugged. "Just gut instincts. Paulus and Grumius, the kid who does the errands, have spent the most time with us, and I trust them. And Grumius is a big gossip - I've heard him half a dozen times telling Paulus or the cook some story about some neighbor's love life. He could have repeated something to anyone in the city and have it gotten back to the Consul - if the Consul were looking for information."

I wanted a hot shower. "Does it matter?" was my next question.

"If this city thinks you're queer as a three-dollar bill?" Daniel just shrugged, but looked sideways at me. "Probably only to you."

"Doesn't matter to me." I caught his eye as I said it, so he'd know I meant it. But he didn't even act like he'd caught the message I was sending him.

Instead he said, "This culture has a certain rudimentary respect for master/slave relationships. It would go a long way toward explaining why we would resist being separated."

"Not running the risk of getting gay-bashed in the street?" 'Cause frankly, I didn't relish that idea. For me or for Daniel. And no matter how much I might like to think otherwise when I look in the mirror in the morning, Daniel was a hell of a lot prettier than me, and that rang the danger bell as far as I was concerned.

But Daniel didn't think so. "I've presented myself as fairly rich, and rich equals powerful. We run the greatest risk being alone - I doubt if the locals would be sure what would happen to them if I were hurt, or you were."

"If it matters, we can do better." I gave up on the idea of putting my tunic back on, threw it on the floor - I didn't even want to look at it again until it was washed - and settled back in the bed. Usually it didn't bother me to be naked around Daniel, but doing it while having this conversation seemed a little, well, bare. I put my hands behind my head and tried to look nonchalant as I leaned back against the cushions. "I don't know. Bat our eyes at each other. Whatever it takes. To explain why we won't go somewhere alone, I mean."

"You already don't let me go many places alone."

I shrugged again. "We'll have to put on a better show."

"We have to get the hell out of here, is what we have to do."

"Unless you've got a spaceship in your luggage I don't know about, Daniel, I think that's going to be a little tough to do."

He was pacing. His hair stuck up in all different directions, which was how I realized he must have been rubbing his hands over it. And his eyes were wide. "I mean it, Jack. We've got to get the hell out of here."

"I thought we decided last night staying here is our safest course of action."

"I'm changing my mind. We've got to get out of town, at least. Somewhere new, with new cover stories."

"We don't have a lot of resources for this."

"Dammit, Jack, you aren't paying attention! You have no idea what you're dealing with here!"

In two steps Daniel was by the bed and leaning over me. For a tenth of a second I had a crazy idea he was going to hit me again - his eyes were that wild, almost shooting sparks.

"Don't you know what's going to happen if they separate us? Or if they kill me? They consider you a slave, Jack, don't you realize what that means? They're going to sell you. To someone who really will expect you to kneel... And that can't happen. I will not let that happen."

He had his arms folded in front of him as if he were already a living wall blocking me off from the rest of the world. It startled me. Daniel in defensive mode I had seen. Daniel being defensive of me I had not.

"Don't worry, buddy. It won't happen."

"Jack." He was making this all too heavy, I wanted it lighter, but I had to look at him when he said it that way. And his eyes really did look like blue fire in the low light. "I know what it means to you. I know what you won't do, what you can't do. I won't let it happen to you."

I didn't know what he was talking about. There was no way he could really know what I actually could not, would not do. He was standing there, thirty pounds lighter than me and three inches shorter, and looking for all the world as if tornado winds could not move him from that spot. The intensity of the look he had on me held me pinned.

I believed him.

"Okay," I told him instead of finding a way to make a joke out of it. It didn't feel like a joke, me slumped on the cushions in our bed, skin bare against the sheets, him standing over me with fire in his eyes and his shoulders set as square as a wall. "It'll be okay. Come to bed."

And the electricity of the moment took on an entirely different tone as I said it. I could feel it. It startled me too, but I didn't take it back. I looked him square in the eye and said it again. "Come on to bed."

I saw his mouth drop open and the breath went out of him, whoosh, like he couldn't hold on to it. Then he whirled away.

There was nothing left for him to do, though, but strip and get in the bed, the way we always did. And he did.

But it felt electric still.

I knew he was awake and so was I. Tonight I could sleep, and I would, I had to. I lay down a little flatter, checked the knife under the pillow, the other one under the mattress trapped in the rope-weave frame, and closed my eyes.

But behind my eyelids I could still see those blue sparks.

~~~

The next morning Daniel was up before I was, which only happened once a millennium or so. I figured I'd been more tired than I'd thought.

Getting old, a voice in the back of my head said. Slowing down.

I'm doing all right, I told myself as I swung out of bed.

I still wasn't used to not having a shower every morning but it's easier than you'd think to get used to the stink of yourself. At least today I put on a clean tunic.

And went out to eat breakfast with Daniel.

We couldn't spend any more time together if we were joined at the hip.

~~~

That day at the library I had no intention of leaving Daniel alone, especially once I noticed --

"That guy's following us," I pointed out to Daniel as he riffled through a stack of scrolls.

"Yes, I saw him," Daniel said quietly.

"Since when?"

"Noticed him when we left the house this morning."

"Dammit." I looked around. The library was a series of rooms, each one with its own shelves and tables, none particularly large. The guy was sitting in a far corner but there was no doubt in my mind - he was watching us.

"Wonder what he's supposed to report back to his boss?" Daniel said, obviously irritated. "I mean, what does he think, that I'm going to yell 'Eureka, I found the gods' address' and run out into the street?"

"That guy? I doubt he thinks anything. Look at him, he's a hired hand."

Nose twitching with annoyance, Daniel turned back to the shelves where the round boxes storing the scrolls were stacked.

I don't know what got into me, but when he turned his back to me, I just reached up, without thinking, and ran my finger along the line of his neck, from just below his ear to the base of his throat.

He froze.

So did I.

"What was that for?" he asked under his breath, though I could see the vein jumping in the hollow of his neck as I drew closer.

"It just occurred to me - if you want to confirm that we're lovers --" I hadn't meant it to come out so soft, it sounded far more, well, intimate to say the word aloud than it had even felt to touch him, "we should look like it."

"I'm not sure whether it will hurt us or help us if the Consul thinks that," said Daniel, voice still even, still quiet. But he hadn't moved a muscle. "Homosexuality is expected here but still not societally acceptable."

"They gonna arrest us?"

"No --"

So I did it again. The skin of his throat surprised me - it felt firm, even hard to the touch. Though the skin itself was silky smooth - Daniel was silky smooth - his throat was muscular, masculine.

Interesting.

"Knock it off, Jack." His voice was hadn't changed.

"Why?" I asked, leaning forward so my breath touched the spot on his neck I'd just stroked.

And with that he made a noise, a peculiar noise, and whirled on me. "Because it's not a game." His eyes were wide behind the glasses, his mouth open - hell, his mouth was always open - and his cheeks were a little flushed. He was angry.

"You look good angry," I told him.

Instead of pissing him off more, the air went out of him. I saw his shoulders droop. "It's not the time or the place to tease me, Jack. You want to help? Take these -" he piled three scrolls into my arms "- and check them for mentions of Ameratsu's forces. Anything that might give us locations and help attach them to a timeline. Okay?"

And without waiting for me to answer he took some more scrolls over to another table.

He reminded me of a girl I'd asked out in junior high. She too made a very big point of sitting as far from me in the lunchroom as possible.

I guessed I'd just gotten the equivalent of "There is no way I am going to see the new James Bond movie with you, Jack O'Neill."

Bummer.

~~~

That night after dinner we both avoided going off to the bedroom as long as we could. We played the dice game we always played; I won, but the game was so based on chance I couldn't get that excited. The butler's nephew came in and juggled for us, and that was a hoot; Daniel tipped him big. And Daniel took another stab at teaching me Twelve Lines, which is apparently all the rage. I'll get it soon, I will. I'm more entertained by listening to him explain the game than I would be by playing it, so I don't really pay attention to the rules. He'll catch on one of these days.

But we couldn't avoid it forever. Eventually, we headed for the bedroom.

And when we got there, I locked the door while Daniel just stood in the middle of the room, staring at his feet, arms locked in front of himself, the bed suddenly even a bigger cause of discomfort than it was a piece of massive furniture.

"You know," Daniel said as if he were just making a passing remark, "I think I'll sleep on the floor tonight."

"Oh, come on, Daniel, don't do that. I won't touch you in bed, I promise. Unless you snuggle up to ME, in which case all bets are off."

He sighed. "Okay, let's get this over with. What's with all the gay jokes?"

I spread my hands. "What gay jokes?"

He turned and looked at me and he really was angry - as angry as he'd been in the library, maybe more so. The muscles in his jaws flexed. "You're touching me, you're making jokes - what, you think since I gave us a cover story that included some 'hot monkey sex' as you so tastefully refer to it that I must harbor secret longings for you and that you get to make fun of them?"

"Hey. Whoa. Reign it in, there, buddy. I think no such thing." But it was very interesting that that's what Daniel had decided I was thinking. Was he really that insecure about his sexuality? "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd mind it this much. I'm not trying to cast aspersions on your straightness, truly."

"Then what the hell are you doing?" he spat out impatiently.

"I'm not doing a damn thing, Daniel. This, we do this." I stepped a little closer and I felt it, like a thickening of the air, like a buildup of static electricity.

"We do what?"

"This." I gestured back and forth from me to him. "This is sexual tension, isn't it?"

My heartbeat raced suddenly and I realized as I said it that I was saying it. I hadn't even admitted to myself that I'd thought it yet, and I'd just blurted it out.

I decided to see if I was crazy. "You telling me you don't feel this?"

We stared into each other's eyes and neither one of us would have noticed if the house fell down around our ears. I could see his tongue behind his parted lips, each eyelash framing those bright blue eyes, the color of heat creeping along his skin, up his neck, into his cheeks again.

"Oh yes," he whispered, "this is sexual tension."

Then, drawing a deep breath, he backed up a few steps.

"Which is odd, don't you think?" he added more conversationally.

I thought about it. "How come?"

"I mean, you're my best friend."

"Friends make the best lovers." Where the hell had THAT come from? Was I under some form of mind-control? I had never before thought for one minute that I was actually attracted to Daniel. I mean, it was hard to ignore that he was a good-looking guy but I usually tried not to dwell on that. Now I couldn't remember why. The thoughts formed one after the other in my head, logical, reasonable. O'Neill has nothing against the idea of sex with men; O'Neill finds Jackson to be one tasty piece of eyecandy; O'Neill would not be averse to the idea of sex with Jackson.

Daniel, I thought to myself, and that shook me far more. Not Jackson. Daniel.

"I don't know what I'm doing," I told him in a fit of honesty, because he was backing away from me more, as if he too were worried that I might have been secretly snaked when neither of us was looking. "I have no idea what I'm thinking. We've spent weeks together on this planet, we're stuck here, we should be thinking about how to get home, and instead I find myself thinking, Hmm, that's an interesting spot on the side of Daniel's neck."

"Well, don't," and he sounded almost desperate.

"What? Come on, I'm the military guy. I'm the one laying it on the line here. You just going to leave me twisting in the wind 'cause you're afraid I'm going to ruin your straightness record?"

"No, no, you'd be a little late for that," and then watched me while I processed it.

That meant --

"I KNEW you knew more than you were letting on," I cried and stepped forward again.

"Okay, hang on, just hang on a minute here." He held up a hand.

"What for? If you're not protecting your straight guy scorecard, then what the hell?"

"Jesus, you are sure of yourself, aren't you?"

Okay, that one gave me pause. I was being a little arrogant. "I'm being a little arrogant, okay," I admitted. "It doesn't help when you call me Jesus." That got him to smile. "But I know you can feel it too. I'm not making this up, this... whatever it is."

"No, you're not making it up. But I think we'd both better forget about it and focus on finding one of those Stargates - or Jacob. All right?"

"Why?" I don't think I'd ever felt more rejected than I felt right at that moment, not since I'd gotten the hang of asking girls out, somewhere around sixteen or so. And that had been a long time ago. Apparently, if you wanted to start asking guys out, you had to start from scratch. "I think, if I'm not wrong, and you're not that straight, then I'd like a little more explanation than just 'Forget it.'"

"Jack, this isn't the time or the place."

"Daniel, this is the perfect time and place."

I didn't really think I had to explain it. We were alone, far from the SGC, maybe not ever GETTING back to the SGC. If there were ever a time to see if there could be more to our relationship, this was it. Our window of opportunity. "Don't you see, this might be the only chance we ever get?" I said softly.

"Okay, let's just think about that for a minute, okay?" Suddenly animated, Daniel started pacing, hopping, waving his hands around - he was animatronics on speed all of a sudden. "Chance for what? Let's think. Chance to date? As in, leading to what? A picket fence? A dog? What world would that be on, Jack? 'Cause that wouldn't be the one where you're in a military that VERY much does not like that sort of thing. Are we thinking about, what? A roll in the hay? Jack's big experimental gay moment? Because, why, you missed out on this when you were in college? I feel no particular responsibility for that."

Oh, he was on a roll, pacing like an evangelist preacher.

"I don't know what's going through your head, Jack, but let me tell you how it looks to me. You're bored, maybe you're lonely, you've got too much time on your hands, you're in a culture very different from your own, you've got reason to think about this stuff, you think, hey, why not? Well, I'll tell you why not. Because it's not like doing something crazy, like jumping out of a plane or eating monkey brains. For most people, it involves feelings."

"I haven't been lonely being here with you," I said.

That stopped him in his tracks. He blinked at me.

"And I never compared this to skydiving or monkey brains." I stepped closer again. "There it is again. Can't you feel it? It's ..." Weird. Crazy. Obvious. Another step, and I could practically hear his heart beat - mine too. "I just want --"

"What? What do you want?" Now he stood there, staring at me as if he'd never seen me, asking me that in the quietest voice.

"I don't know," I shrugged, but stepped closer again.

"You might as well tell me."

"I don't know. When I say I don't know, it's because I don't know, goddammit. I just want to... can I... touch you?"

Daniel blinked like it was going out of style, his hands suddenly dropping at his sides like he had lost a fight.

"You want to touch me?"

"Yeah. I do."

"You touch me all the time."

I reached out a hand, and he didn't move, so I let my fingertips stroke along one cheekbone, the line of his jaw, across the point of his chin, along his lower lip.

"Not like this," I said, surprised at how hoarse, how rough my voice had suddenly become.

We stood like that for a moment, and I swear I felt like I'd never seen him before. The curves and planes of his face - he was so beautiful, prettier than any man should be, pretty in a way no woman could be. Soft lips, the dimples in his cheeks, big blue eyes anyone would kill for -

"No. Not like this."

I could feel heat radiating off him but he didn't do anything else. We just stood there, locked, eyes boring into one another, trying to understand.

And then he spun away. To the bed.

Where he grabbed a pillow and tossed himself down on a carpeted corner of the room without further discussion.

Okay, I thought, with a cold sinking sensation in my stomach. That was a 'no'.

Apparently I really wasn't all that charming, I thought to myself as I walked back towards the bed - the bed Daniel was through sleeping in with me, apparently - and lay down.

I was bone-tired, exhausted actually, but it took a while before I could go to sleep. I'd done something wrong, said something wrong, and now I'd have to fix it. I'd probably done a lot of things wrong, I realized as I drifted into sleep. Starting with volunteering for this mission. Or for reactivated duty. Or for breathing.

I fell asleep with the deep conviction that somehow, someway, I was a schmuck.

---

DANIEL:

I woke up still trying to figure out how to explain to Jack that I really, really could not be his experimental gay date for How To Pass The Time When Marooned On A World Without A Gate.

I didn't know what was going on with him but it was clear to see that he was having some odd thoughts, very odd for Jack, and when we got back home he was going to stop having them, because he'd be back to his regular routine, and if I wanted to stay sane all I had to do was keep him at arm's length.

Because truth be told, this was NOT a new idea as far as I was concerned. I'd spent a fair amount of time over the years realizing that Jack was a damn good looking man - and he had those big masculine hands that always make me wonder what it would be like to have them all over me.

But I managed to get by in a military base by squashing those sorts of thoughts. I was allowed to sweet-talk the nurses in the infirmary into sneaking me ice cream - as long as they were women. Fantasies about muscular SFs who really knew how to handle a P90 were not allowed. No one said it, I just knew it.

And fantasies about the man who was essentially my commanding officer, even though I wasn't even IN the military, were definitely verboten.

And the biggest fantasy of all - Shifu's dream, which still felt stuck in my head like a sticky gear I couldn't get out, gumming up the works from time to time, confusing me about which reality I was in - it didn't help.

Because that version of a fantasy about Jack I didn't even want to allow myself. Could not. Would not.

I rolled over and stretched. Sleeping on the floor played havoc with my back. I could feel all my joints popping into place as I moved, and shoved myself gracelessly to my feet.

I staggered out to the dining area still trying to figure out how to explain to him exactly why it would be a bad idea to choose me to explore whatever new kink he'd just decided to have. I thought maybe it would be clearer to me after some breakfast, and wished, like I did at the same time every morning, for coffee. (It had, it HAD to be more than just a physical craving; the caffeine had to be long gone from my system.)

I was still thinking it as I slumped on the bench by the table and mumbled to Paulus while I rubbed my eyes, "[Where is Jack?]" I pronounced it the way the locals did, making it sound like a barbaric Northern name - Jyak, with a bit of a vocative e on the end when I addressed him because the Optimans simply did not use male names that did not end with appropriate masculine endings.

"[He went out hours ago.]"

Paulus didn't look happy and suddenly neither was I. But I WAS wide awake.

"[Did he say when he would be back?]"

"[He said he would be back for breakfast, sir.]"

I looked at the position of the sun on the floor. It was late for our breakfast.

That was not at all good.

~~~

If I turned out the city looking for Jack it would be noticeable. I didn't mind noticeable, but I was trying not to draw attention to myself.

I had so few resources. I needed a few squadrons of armed SFs.

What had made me convince Hammond to let me come here?

I sent one of the rent-a-slaves to look through our usual marketplaces and devoted myself to pacing. If he was dead already, how would anyone know to let me know? He wore nothing identifying who he was. We were strangers in this city. And it was a city, with hundreds of thousands of people.

If he were hurt, if he'd had trouble - how would I ever find him?

Calling for a wax tablet and stylus from my belongings, I composed a short note to Arius. Right now he was the only friend we had - and we needed a friend, badly.

I'd just sent the cook, who, unbelievably, was named Talmudius, off to Arius' house with the note when Paulus announced a visitor.

The Consul.

Go away, go away, go away, I chanted at him in my head while I gave him a smile and waved him into a parlor.

He had two sturdy guards with him. They took up positions by the door. I didn't give them a second glance.

"[Sir, I apologize that I cannot visit with you long this morning - the slave I brought with me from home is missing today and I must try to find him, he is too valuable to lose.]"

"[I doubt that he is lost,]" said the Consul airily, waving a stubby hand as he strolled through the room.

I didn't bother to hide my glare. "[He would not try to escape, Consul. He is loyal to a fault and has never cause any trouble, at least not of that sort.]"

Through the far door Grumius came in, another rent-a-slave in tow. Whatever he wanted, it would have to wait. I waved him to stay put. He stood, quietly, listening.

"[No, because you let him behave as a free man would. No matter. You have not lost him. I have borrowed him.]"

I had to turn my head to move an ear closer to him. I couldn't have heard him right. My eyes narrowed involuntarily. "[Pardon me?]" I asked, but quietly. I could feel a twitch start in my left eyebrow.

"[I have borrowed him. I need him.]"

"[You need him for what?]" Twitch, twitch.

"[To get your attention.]"

And in that moment I realized that the Consul was just as capable of planning a tactical assault as a sane man, and far less limited by the boundaries of reason. I would never outguess him because I did not think that way, I could not think that way.

Jack could have outguessed him, because that's what he was good at. But he wasn't here.

I folded my arms across my chest and looked up over the top of my glasses at the Consul. What I told him was, "[You have my complete attention.]"

I did not add a "sir".

He did not pretend that this conversation was anything other than a hostage negotiation. "[You will provide me with the information I require about how to contact the gods. I will return, with more guards, this evening, and you will accompany me back to the government house with a written record instructing me how to contact them. The sacrifice to the gods begins at sundown and by sunup I intend to reap the rewards of my sacrifice.]"

"[Your sacrifice.]"

"[My sacrifice. Of peace. And blood. There will be a hundred slaves killed tonight, their blood painted over the plaza where the statues of the gods watch over us still. And in the morning there will be war. But by then I will be a god and I will quickly deal with ANY who oppose me.]"

And the unpleasant little man started for the door.

I blocked his path. "[Where is my slave?]"

"[Safe in my possession.]"

"[I want him returned now.]"

"[He will be returned when you have done as you are instructed.]"

I took a step closer, looming over the little man. I bared my teeth in something only the most casual observer might have thought was a smile. "[I am a scholar, a man of thought, remember? I am not stupid. You have no intention of returning him. But you will. And right now. Or you will never have the answers that you seek.]"

He didn't even flinch. "[I'll have them, and tonight, one way or the other. If you will not, others will. Do not delude yourself. I will not be opposed in this. The time has come, the augurs tell me, and I must fulfill my destiny. Do what you like. You can choose whether you will be a part of the new order or not.]"

I was breathing too quickly. The top of my head felt like it might float away, but all I could see was red. "[You putrid little animal - ]"

I could see my hands reaching out toward his throat, I felt like I couldn't stop them, but behind me I heard a snick of metal against metal and remembered his guards. I could probably kill him. But they would probably get me. And I still didn't know where Jack was - if Jack was.

On the other side of the room was an answering snick. I looked up. Grumius and the rented slave were glaring at the Consul's guards. Of course. That's why they'd come in to begin with. To even the odds.

Apparently, only I hadn't seen this coming.

I wished that I had a Goa'uld hand weapon.

I wished that I hadn't wished that.

I dropped my arms but stood tall and looked down my nose at him. I spoke loudly and clearly, making sure the guards heard and understood.

"[You greasy wart on the back of a diseased sewer rat.]" It felt good, not clean, but good, to tell him what I thought of him. "[Kill me, and your plan will fail, because only I know how to get a message to the gods, who no longer live on this world and who are all far beyond your puny reach.]" His eyes widened; I nodded, and went on, trying to keep my voice clear and even, "[But you kill him and you will find out what the wrath of heaven looks like. Because I can bring you just as much pain and terror as the gods ever could. And nothing you do could ever appease my anger if you bring it down upon your revolting head.]

His jaw had dropped open and he was staring at me. He looked like he had actually forgotten to be angry in his sheer astonishment.

"[Now. Leave. And return my slave immediately.]"

I strode from the room as if his actions were not of the least concern to me. And making straight for the bedroom I checked under Jack's pillow, and under the mattress.

Both knives were there.

I had so wished one or both of them would be gone.

With shaking hands, I took them out and strapped the big one to my thigh, and hid the small one in the folds of my toga.

Grumius followed me. I had to tell him how glad I was to see him, how he had done the right thing, how I owed him a big favor.

Instead I just said, "[Has he gone?]"

"[He has, sir. I must ask. What did you mean? Did you mean that?]"

I looked into his eyes, a clear mossy green unusual among the Optimans. He was a good man, and I shouldn't have underestimated him because he liked to gossip and couldn't seem to manage to find his way home in under an hour when he was sent out on an errand. His big square hand was still fastened around the hilt of his short sword and he looked entirely ready to fight.

He couldn't be more than twenty.

"[You're a good man, Grumi,]" I told him, and patted his cheek. "[I meant it. I would need to return to my home to obtain weapons and men. But I would do so without hesitation, and I will, if he does not return Jyak.]"

Grumius nodded. "[I knew you would not leave without him.]"

"[Of course not. Who said that I would?]"

"[The Consul's guard. I heard his horseman talking in the street as the Consul came in, laughing with his compatriot and saying that you would not be likely to part with a single coin for the dried up carcass of a used slave that they had taken to government house this morning.]"

Carcass? I felt hollow, for some reason my feet felt numb. Carcass, in describing what had to be Jack, that I did not like at all.

But on the other hand Grumius had just told me what I needed to know.

"[Grumi, you just got promoted to my personal guard. Your salary just tripled. And payday's tonight. Will you help me?"

And Grumius, solid fellow that he was, just nodded. "[I knew you would need help. There's going to be an uprising, sir, if what he said is true.]"

"[There's going to be a mass murder if what he said is true. We're going to try to stop that. And we're going to get Jyak back. You ready?]"

~~~

I strode in to Arius' study with Grumius right behind me.

He had struck me before as a very bookish man, but now he looked as at ease planning an assault as he had mapping an index. He wore only a tunic, no toga, and he had a sword strapped to his waist, and several men, presumably his personal warriors, were around him.

"[You were not followed?]" was how he greeted us.

I shook my head. "[I don't think so.]"

"[Good. I received your message. I have sent word to the landholders I know in this city, offering them cooperation, giving them warning. There are no servants left in the house. Word will undoubtedly spread - no way to keep all those servants from gossiping - but that's all the better. We can't shout warnings in the streets, but if people leave now - or arm themselves, all the better.]"

I was relieved. He was an aristocrat, and aristocrats didn't always think of the common man. He wasn't just interested in saving himself; he was interested in stopping a bloodbath.

Arius went on. "[You should stay here. You are a stranger and vulnerable in the streets.]"

"[I cannot. My slave has been abducted -]"

"[As has my nephew and heir. And Maximius' wife. Leave the fighting to those with more to lose.]"

I frowned at him. "[It's not a question of more or less. I cannot lose him.]"

He squinted at me, almond-shaped dark brown eyes peering into my head. "[Don't you see,]" he said more softly. "[Whatever he means to you, he wouldn't want you to die too.]"

Carcass carcass carcass carcass carcass....

"[I doubt that he's dead. He is, uh, an extremely well-trained warrior. I must at least try to find him.]"

Arius shook his head again. "[You'll get lost. And then you'll be dead.]"

Grumius stepped up, and though his eyes were wide, as though he'd never seen a person as rich as Arius up close, his voice was steady. "[The master will not get lost, good sir. I will stay with him.]"

Arius only paused for a second before giving in. "[Wait just a short while. I can find men to go with you. Alone it's suicide. And if he is the warrior you say he is, he would not want you to run to your own death.]"

I could see Jack's face right behind my eyelids, hear his voice in my ear. "Whatchya in such a hurry for, Daniel? Dead now is very much like dead later."

Carcass carcass carcass carcass carcass....

Don't be dead, Jack, I told him in my head. I'm going to be so pissed off at you if you're dead, you have no idea.

I opened my eyes. "[I have to find him. You have to help me.]"

The look on Arius' face clearly said that he didn't know when I had started issuing orders. But once I'd started, I couldn't stop.

"[I need a small squad of men. Good fighters, not amateurs. Men who know tactics, and hand to hand combat.]"

A raised eyebrow. "[And do you know hand to hand combat?]"

I waved an impatient hand. "[Some. Enough.]"

"[Tactics?]"

"[Enough. Just give me five men.]" I stepped closer, looked Arius square in the eye. "[Please.]"

Arius shifted his weight from foot to foot, scrutinizing me. I knew he could see my desperation; I knew it wasn't a good bargaining position; I didn't have a choice.

And Arius knew it. He said, "[And for me... For me you will kill the Consul.]"

A VERY bad bargaining position. "[He'll have a hundred men guarding him.]"

"[No he won't. He'll be in the middle of a pitched battle. I don't think he's expecting it. I've promised other landholders I will try to rescue as many of their loved ones as possible. That means we must take government house. But no one from this country will want to be responsible for murdering a government official.]"

I'd never seen brown eyes look so icy before. But Arius' were quite cold as he said, "[But you aren't from this country, are you?]"

"[No,]" I admitted. "[I'm not.]"

"[Even if my men do it, if they are under your command, it will be less trouble for me - for all of us. And he would have to hang anyway. He has committed treason against the people half a dozen times over today.]"

I thought about how few people I had ever actually shot at, much less killed. I am a man of books, not of weapons.

Jack was a man of weapons. But I was positive he was in a strange place, outnumbered, without weapons. Alone in some cold stone-lined room where they might be doing anything to him... if I was lucky.

Arius was watching me think. He said, "[Your... well-trained warrior. Didn't you say you cannot lose him?]"

I took a deep breath and felt something cold slip into place in my chest. "[What assurance do you need?]"

"[Your word will do.]"

"[I will do it.]"

---

JACK:

I blamed myself for not watching where I was going.

But only a little.

Mostly, I blamed them. And I told them so.

"I blame you," I managed to huff out when the bigger guy tied me to the wall, running a chain through the leather thongs that were holding my wrists together behind my back and the pain of the arms being pulled back and constantly yanked on was really beginning to throb in my shoulders. They hadn't dislocated one yet - but the day was young.

Unfortunately, because I'd spoken in English, the guy hadn't understood me, and it didn't really matter as he yanked up on my arms again, then back and down, fastening them in a position that forced me to my knees.

I didn't really need him to explain anyway. It was going to be a very bad day. That needed no explanation.

~~~

It was a few hours before the little greasy guy in charge came in. By then I had a fat lip and a puffy eye and a bunch of bruises here and there. I'd felt better, but then again I'd felt worse.

Mostly I wanted to know what was happening. The guards had let slip some things that made me think I wasn't the only new guest in this dungeon. And somewhere outside, not nearly far enough away, at one point I'd heard a high voice crying. I hoped to God it was the voice of a woman and not, as it sounded, a kid's voice.

"[What is happening?]" I asked his greaseballness.

He looked surprised, as if the answer should be obvious. "[A new world order.]"

"[Oh. Those.]" I rolled my eyes. "[Look, I'm not from around here, so you might as well just let me go, I'll go on about my business, and you can get on with that whole taking over the world thing, all right?]"

"[I need Daniel's information. More than most. I think he was not lying to me today. I think he has the answer I need.]"

Please please please, don't let Daniel be stuck in some other room like this one. "[I don't believe you. He'd never claim anything crazy like that. Even if you tortured him. And if you did, how can you believe what he said?]"

"[I didn't have to. I just asked.]"

I breathed a sigh of relief - it sounded like truth - though I didn't think that could possibly be the whole story either. I doubted that Daniel had given anything up to this maniac. "[That's funny, because I know for a fact that Daniel doesn't like you.]"

"[Yes...]" The Consul walked up to me where I was chained again to the wall, kneeling, not quite able to straighten up, but keeping him in my sights. "[But he does like you.]"

I tried to shrug. The pain in my shoulders was like white fire. Don't do that again, I made a mental note. "[Sometimes he likes me. Sometimes he doesn't. One of those things, you know?]"

But the Consul was shaking his head slowly, tapping at his lower lip, and looking at me like he was studying a book. "[Oh no, my friend. He does like you. Too much, I think.]"

He stepped closer and put his hand under my chin again, forced my head up. A few inches farther and he could have killed me - and the flex in my neck hurt like hell too, though not as bad as my shoulders. This time I looked him right in the eye. In fact I considered spitting in it.

"[He was quite arrogant when speaking to me, too arrogant, really. Perhaps I should take something more away from him. Perhaps I should take something from you.]"

Me on my knees in front of him, him fingering my chin kinda thoughtfully. I didn't like where this was going.

"[Try it,]" I said, jerking my chin toward his crotch to make it clear that I understood the threat and that he didn't scare me. "[Give me the chance. And I'll bite it off.]"

His forehead screwed up like I'd just given him a math problem he couldn't solve. Clearly this guy didn't get enough people in a day disagreeing with him.

"[I can prevent that,]" he said in a matter-of-fact way, "[by having all your teeth removed first.]"

While I contemplated that prospect and really started to - well, wish and think all kinds of things that related to weapons I wished I had and places I wished I was instead, some minion came in, and I thanked the god of luck that looks over me for the interruption.

"[My lord,]" said the flunky, and kneeled. "[The captain of the house guard wishes to see you. He believes that he has spotted groups of armed men putting themselves into position around government house.]"

The Consul shrugged. I could feel for the guy. Fighting off battalions of pissed-off people was so boring. "[Arrest them. Or kill them.]"

"[They are quite numerous, sir. And many of them wear the colors of landowners whose family are here.]"

Family, huh? Well, that answered that. I wasn't the only door prize the Consul had picked up today. If there were landowners out there whose families were in here, that was a sure sign the people in here weren't voluntary guests.

The Consul shrugged again. "[Very well.]"

He and his flunky left together. There was no door, no bars, but it didn't matter yet; it would take me hours to work my way through or out of the leather thong, which was cutting into my wrists and which would cut deeper as I worked on it.

Yep, I thought to myself, feeling a chill settle over my heart, it's a bad thing when being left alone like this for a few hours seems like the best of all possible outcomes.

I had never given up the habit of prayer in moments of stress like this and before I knew it I whispered out loud to the universe, "Keep Daniel away. Keep him safe."

After all, I could take care of myself.

---

DANIEL:

There were crowds of people in the center of town; there were always crowds of people, people wearing everything from layers and layers of fine hand-dyed and decorated lightweight wools and linens to nothing. They were young, old, clean and filthy, hungry, fat, and almost everyone had to try desperately to avoid horseshit in the road and filth in the gutters and mud in the places where feet had killed all other vegetation.

But today the crowds weren't surging purposefully back and forth like they usually did. Today the crowds were milling, stirring, the plaza a big bowl in which they were slowly whipping themselves into a froth, the buzz of voices slapping back and forth in the bowl the way water would. It was clear something was up.

And along the alleyways around government house, which sat square and straight along one side of the plaza, lumps of people caught in the flow of traffic, murmuring to each other, staring at the building, and contributing to everyone's impression that something was about to happen.

In front of government house, in front of steps that sloped so gently down to the pavement, men were putting together a rough pen made of wood, with sides and a roof that had clearly been premade, lashing it together with heavy hemp and leather.

I didn't like the looks of that.

Neither, apparently, did a lot of the other people.

But we weren't going to hang around long enough to see it used.

"[Well, we have to get inside,]" I said, turning to my loaned hired guns without guns, hoping I didn't sound as nervous as I felt.

They muttered at each other, and the man farthest in the back laughed.

But I hadn't said anything funny.

I took a deep breath.

I turned to look at them. They fell silent. Stupid children. Like kids in school.

I walked through them to the man in the back. "[Go home,]" I said to him softly.

His eyes widened. He was a big guy, built like a wall, and easily both taller and heavier than me. But he looked... frightened, for a second.

God, I hated that look.

But I stared at him.

And he turned and left without another word.

"[All right. The rest of you stay close.]"

I didn't know their names. I didn't want to know their names. I didn't want to be on this planet and I didn't want to be alone.

I didn't have a damn thing I wanted.

The government house was big. Most of the main floor was public meeting halls and courtrooms. Big and airy, not much more than colonnades.

But below the floor was a maze of chambers winding between the stone supports of this floor space and that one, a winding rat warren. For rats.

And their stolen treasures.

I thought Jack was probably down there somewhere, alive or dead. But as I scanned the building I felt sick thinking of how far we might have to look. The steps stretched for easily a hundred meters, and extended back into a hornet's nest of attached buildings, two and three stories tall, feeding back into the city proper. If he was back there, how would we ever find him?

We needed someone who knew where he was, that was all.

We needed the consul.

And as we strolled down the alley we hit another group of men that looked about as convincing at strolling nonchalantly down the alley as we did.

"[Daniel!]"

It was Maximius. Who did Arius say they had of his? His wife, wasn't it?

I grasped his hand, smiled as if it were a cheerful sunny day and we were both on our way to the library.

Maximius wore a toga but below it I could see two tunics. The Mongols had worn silk tunics under their armor; arrowheads often got caught in it, were easier for the warrior to draw out. Maybe the Optimans had developed something similar. Because I also saw a number of hard pointy shapes clustered around Maximius' middle. When it all went to hell, I had the feeling that he would toss off the toga and start dealing mayhem.

I knew how he felt.

"[Have you had any news of your wife?]" I asked him. I wanted to be kind, to feel kind for a moment.

"[Yes, thank all the gods.]" He pointed behind him. There was a small woman behind his men, dressed like a servant in rough cloth and with a bare head. Her tiny heart-shaped face was stern and stony. "[Her sister went into the building pretending to be a servant, managed to hear from the guards that there is a large group of captives being held on this side, below the first courtroom.]"

"[How would we get down there? I do not know the building, I have never been in there.]"

Maximius wiped sweat off his forehead. It was warm, and the weapons under the toga must be heavy too. "On this side, the first courtroom is the frontmost room. There is a small staircase to the rear of the room, next to the outside wall of the building. You'll be able to see it in the corner, it has a thick, short door, that leads into a tiny tube of a staircase going both up and down.]"

The cells would be down.

I nodded. "[I'll go with you.]"

"[I cannot enter the building until Arius gives the signal.]" The man looked agonized. He was fairly young, maybe twenty-five, and had a wife probably the same age inside this building.

"[What is he waiting for, then?]" I snapped.

Maximius didn't seem to know. He looked around. It was clear to both of us that at least half the crowd was armed and ready to storm the building. It was well past noon and the wooden cell at the front of the building was almost done.

Maximius' light brown eyes flicked up at the roof as if looking for a sign, then back at me. "[I don't know,]" he admitted.

"[Fine. Let all these people wait out here. You and I can go in together.]" I couldn't stand out here and wait much longer. It had already been hours and I had no idea what was happening to Jack. The best option was that he was simply incarcerated. He could be being tortured; or he could be a cooling slab of meat and bone lying anywhere in the city.

I didn't know what I was going to do if I couldn't find him. Finding a Stargate, finding Jacob, getting home, none of it interested me at all. If I couldn't find him I would just keep looking. It was, after all, as good a way to pass the time as any.

Not that I usually had a lot of luck looking for people.

And if I found him and he was dead...

Well, going home wouldn't matter then either.

"[Come on,]" I told Maximius, and headed for the stairs.

"[I can't -]"

I saw him look around at my soldiers, at his own. He wasn't alone, couldn't act alone. If someone told Arius he had disobeyed orders, he might be in trouble when the government got patched up together again. And he didn't want to run afoul of Arius, clearly.

Easy enough.

"[Well,]" I said, walking back to him, "[these fellows are under my orders. I'm going in anyway. If you come with me, you run the risk that Arius will find out.]" I looked him in the eye. "[However, if you don't come with me, you run the risk that I will find my own slave and leave the building before even attempting to free any of the other prisoners, including your wife.]"

He looked puzzled, as if I had suddenly slapped him. "[You would do something like that?]"

"[I will.]"

"[I did not think you so callous.]"

"[Well, you don't know me, do you.]"

My teeth hurt from clenching them. I felt surrounded by useless, brainless people who did nothing but prevented my progress.

It was a familiar feeling.

It felt all too much like Shifu's dream.

I half-wished it was, that I would wake up again and be me again, gentle me, with books and a lab and translations to do.

But I felt the pommel of Jack's knife dig into my palm as I clutched it through the fabric of the toga, and I knew I wasn't going to wake up. On the other side, a borrowed sword weighed down my skin.

I had no more time for discussion.

"[You and you,]" I said, jerking my chin at two of my men. "[Follow us at a distance. Grumi, stay right behind me, in walking position. I'm just a man visiting the courts as if it were a normal day. You two, just an arm's length behind us. Maximi. Let's go. And your men, circle around to the right, be at the door when we get there, the door closest to this side, you understand?]"

I couldn't wait, started off. If we did it right, we would converge on the door as a wedge, force our way in even if they tried to keep us out. If we did it wrong, I'd go in alone.

They were not going to be able to stop me today.

I strolled, watching my feet as if I were thinking, hearing Grumius' breath behind me. After a few paces Maximius caught up.

"[So, Daniel, what did you think of the Gallatine prophecies, I heard you had read them yesterday.]"

He was making conversation. I could feel my breath hot in my mouth as I walked up the stairs, and started looking around.

A lot of people were standing on the stairs, many of them looking at the wooden cell and talking, looking distressed, or angry, or confused. A dozen soldiers were lashing on the roof.

"[I thought they might contain information about the last movements of Ameratsu's troops,]" I said honestly, flicking a glance back over my shoulder to check the position of my men. Miracle of miracles, they were where I told them to be.

"[I'd heard you were studying the last days of Trebellius Libo, to see if you could trace his route through the fire mountains to --]"

And that was the end of that conversation, because at just that moment there was a shattering crash behind us.

We whirled. Pieces of the crowd had converged on the cell and suddenly, as if they'd been planning an assault of their own, pushed it over. The wooden beams hung brokenly from their bonds and a tumble of bodies lay amongst the wreckage, most of them Consul's guards who stood up to find themselves immediately engaged in hand-to-hand with the saboteurs.

Within seconds a full-blown riot raged in front of the government building, up the steps, and trailed into the alleys.

"GO!" I shouted at Maximius and ran full-bore for the right-most door.

His men were there first, wedging their shoulders against the planks as someone inside tried to close it, to bar it against us.

Maximius and I both hit it at a dead run and pushed for all we were worth. I felt my skeleton creak as I shoved with all the rage I'd had tamped down inside me all day, and I could feel the door slip back a little. Then Grumius was there, shoving his shoulder next to mine and pushing, his toes sliding on the slick stone steps. Then the rest of my borrowed men hit us like hockey forwards and the door swung inward violently.

Inside people scattered as we pushed our way in, Maximius and I shedding our togas, edged weapons suddenly bristling from every hand.

The open hall was full of screaming, running people, but there was a knot formed up under one pillar, a thrashing set of bodies hacking at each other, falling, dying, maybe fifty men at the base of a pillar that had seen a thousand years and would survive being splashed with a little blood.

Maximius moved as if for the door at the far end of the colonnade but I stopped him with a blade in his path.

"[I think the Consul might be in there,]" I said, pointing.

"[Who cares? I just want to find my wife!]" Maximius snarled, and shouted to his men to form up with him.

"[And if he survives today to try again?]"

I didn't know if he would buy it but it was all I had left. He did pause. Looked at me. And looked at the knot.

My last card. "[Come with me and he won't.]"

Maximius shook his head. "[I will not murder an elected official.]"

I strode forward, knowing I had him. "[No one is asking you to.]"

Arius' men arrowed in front of me, hacking a path through the crowd. I hoped that the people we hit were the enemy. There were so many people swirling around, stabbing and snarling at each other. In the movies battles are always pitched like sporting events, with uniforms or colors on each team so you can see whom to fight, whom to kill. Real battles are never like that. In the shoving, screaming, pulsing mass in the middle, there's always chaos, and when it moves away, it leaves broken dead bodies behind.

I tuned it out.

Following the back of Grumius as he helped plow the way for me and Maximius, Maximius' men behind, from time to time their backs against ours as they turned away a falling blade, even angry fists.

In a cocoon of bloodshed we arrived at the center of the fray.

And there was the Consul, a sword clotted with blood in his right hand, still clutching his toga with his left, furiously hacking at the people who managed to get through the remnants of his personal guard who were ranged before him, keeping the pillar at his back.

He looked very, very surprised to see me.

We faced off as my men engaged the last of his. He could see his dreams of godhood crumbling before his eyes, and he still didn't believe it. He chopped at me and screamed to his men as if there was somewhere for them to go, as if he would get to fight another day.

I was no swordsman but neither was he.

Our clumsy swings rang, however, because we both put the force of fury behind them. I was surprised that the blade in my hands didn't break. The vibrations did make my palms, my hands numb.

Numb suited me fine.

Finally he took a two-handed swing at my face, dropping his toga, shouting his anger, and I swung my sword like a baseball bat and knocked his strike aside. In the next second I pushed the flat of my blade forward, pressing his arms down, pressing him back to pin him against the ancient stone.

"[Where is he?]" I had my lips next to his ear as if we were lovers.

"[Gone. Dead.]" But the flick of his eyes in the direction of the stairs was better than a lie detector test.

"[Liar.]" I pressed my weight and the flat of the blade cut through his tunic and a line of blood appeared on his chest. "[What would you gain by being so stupid?]"

He looked up into my eyes. Blood and sweat was smeared across his forehead and one cheek; his eyes were wide and spit flew from the corners of his mouth as he hissed at me, "[I would take something away from you.]"

I felt ice in my veins, ice in my stomach, under my fingernails and in my feet. I could have been a stone statue, I felt so hard and cold. That couldn't be true, could it? Would he really have killed Jack just to get back at me? Before his scheduled sacrifice, even?

Around us the battle raged on but the rushing in my ears made it quiet where I was. I picked out of the battle the three remaining men of Arius'. Grumius approached but was stopped, trapped by a side battle.

The men Arius had loaned me were good fighters, battle-hardened. Just soldiers. They did not take initiative. They took orders.

I gave the orders with my eyes.

As they approached, two on one side, one on the other, I turned back to the Consul. He had a name; what was it? I had known at one point. Oh yes. Aulus Antius Petronax. Insane. Criminal. Dead.

"[I warned you,]" I said softly, and nodded at my men. My orders.

All four of us attacked.

One blade he turned away but three of us managed to cut inside him, one low on the right, one high on the right, and my blade stabbed him in where I thought he had an organ called the heart.

Still puzzled, he fell to his knees, and I couldn't hear but I could see the hacking cough of a man stabbed in the lungs, blood flecking his lips, but it didn't last long.

I must have gotten the heart.

I turned away before he'd even finished falling. "[We have to go,]" I said to the men left nearest me.

We pushed our way out of the crowd, grabbing Maximius, Grumius, and the last of Maximius' men as we went.

The rioting didn't stop, the battle didn't stop, just because the man who'd started it was dead. That was the way it worked. I'd seen enough battle to grasp these simple facts.

Eventually, word would spread, the people loyal to the Consul would surrender or flee, the city would settle down except for the leftover looting and the side battles where a neighbor took advantage of the chaos to get back at the guy who'd been pissing him off for years or who slept with his wife. There would be blood shed throughout the night, possibly into the morning, and even if a provisional government could be put together by Arius before sunrise (and I had no doubt he would do it) it would be years before the fighting really stopped, the tears were shed, the records were written. And the mothers would never be comforted.

There hadn't been a murder of a hundred slaves on the plaza steps. Instead there'd been the death of hundreds, maybe thousands of other people. Because some had believed the Consul's promises and threats and others had stood up against him.

And probably much of it, too much of it, was somehow my fault.

I would worry about it later.

Looking down, I saw a spatter of blood along the hem of my tunic and on the skin of my shins. It was probably the Consul's. Aulus Antius Petronax.

I hadn't felt like it before but suddenly I had to stop. I thought I might throw up.

Only Grumius paused with me, patted my back, patted my hair as I straightened, spat. My mouth wasn't dry. It was full of spit, as if my body were trying to wash itself clean from the inside.

"[I'm glad he's dead,]" was all Grumius said, and I didn't answer him. Instead I ran to catch up with Maximius.

There were a lot of cells under the floor to search, a lot of tiny rooms that might contain a lot of people. Hopefully they were all still alive.

If only one were alive, I wanted it to be Jack.

And I hated myself, hated that I could even hope that selfishly, because I knew even if it were true, I didn't deserve it.

---

JACK:

There's a space where you know you aren't going to get out of this but you have plenty of time to think about what you should have done differently to not get IN it.

I hate that space.

I tend to fill that time with endless scenarios playing over and over in my head, me working out just what I should have done differently in each case in order to not wind up with my knees throbbing against cold stone, my legs numb, my shoulders in agony and my wrists tied to the wall with a chain and possibly on their way to gangrenous by now from lack of blood flow.

The repetitive insistence of pain tends to really wear a person out, yet when you can't really stand, sit, or lie down, it requires all of your attention.

I had gone through angry to furious to murderous to tired to resigned, and now I just wanted it over.

Actually, that wasn't true. I wanted it never to have gone down like this. That's why I was playing over and over in my head what I should have done to keep from getting in this position.

Mostly I shouldn't have left the house this morning. I was so irritated, and a little worried, that Daniel had spent the night on the floor. I wanted to give him whatever he wanted, and apparently he wanted space.

That's what I'd told myself, anyway.

With the crystal clarity of hindsight, however, it was clear that I was hurt and I wanted to go away and lick my wounds a little. Poor Jack, hasn't been turned down in thirty years, can't stand a little rejection even from his best friend. Spoiled brat, that's what I was.

I should've stayed where I was supposed to be and done my job.

God only knows what had happened to Daniel since I'd wandered out and left him snoring on the floor.

I shouldn't have let him sleep on the floor in the first place. He's allergic to dust, after all.

I could picture his back, the triangle shape of him as he lay on the floor, the way his hair stood up on top of his head as he lay there, and I wished, I wished, more than anything else, that I hadn't left him alone there.

I'd had a responsibility, to get Daniel off this planet and home. That was the only reason I was here, the only thing I could do. And I'd blown it. Big time.

Way to go, O'Neill.

Teal'c wouldn't have screwed up like this. And neither would Carter. Except that Carter wouldn't have gone along in the first place. She never seemed to be around when Daniel was traipsing off over the horizon. Maybe she moved in different orbits. Maybe she was on a different plane of existence.

Maybe I'd never see her again.

I could just see her smile, the one that made it seem sunny even in the depths of the mountain. And I could hear Teal'c, not his voice, but the way his hands slapped on the staff weapon when he swung it around to bear on an enemy.

I'm so sorry, I kept telling them in my head.

Teal'c had gone on these kinds of missions before. He might come back with a crying, broken Daniel, a near-dead Daniel, a Daniel who wouldn't speak to him because he'd shot Daniel's wife, but he always came back with Daniel.

It didn't look like I'd be going anywhere with Daniel.

And what would happen to him when I was gone? A lot of people thought of Daniel as a harmless geek, but I knew better. He was actually an active danger to himself. Like a puppy who doesn't realize that the drop he's jumping over might be a thousand feet deep. He always had his eyes so fixed on whatever there was to learn just over the horizon that he couldn't even see what he was stepping in.

I thought of Daniel when he'd first joined SG-1, baby-faced and earnest. I was pretty sure I was the only one who caught him crying in his office. I wouldn't have given him away.

And over the years he'd become more and more part of the team. I trusted him with a P90 at my back, absolutely. But I wouldn't ask him to go it alone.

Now, in effect, I was asking him to go it alone. And it was hardly fair of me.

Even as my brain was spinning in these depressing circles my hands were working at the leather. It cut into the soft part of my hands, but I felt confident that eventually I could get it loose enough to get off.

I was also pretty sure I wouldn't have that much time.

Daniel, I thought to myself as I let my head droop forward, trying to relieve the pressure in my neck that was turning into throbbing spasms. I even liked his name.

I shouldn't have left. I should have laid right down on the floor there with him.

Of course, if we knew we were about to die, there's probably a long list of things we'd do. Mine involved pinning Daniel to the floor and getting the answers to a few questions. Like, exactly what did he not like about me? My breath? The hair? The clothes? The jokes?

"People LOVE my jokes," I rasped out loud.

Weeks of sleeping in the same bed, of watching Daniel at the baths, over every meal, almost every hour of the day, and I was still going to die without knowing what it was about him that I couldn't get tired of looking at.

Peculiar, that.

I lost track of time as I kept shifting and shifting, trying to rock over a half an inch and relieve some of the pressure on my knees, raising up a little to try to relax my shoulders, leaning back a little to let up on my neck. It became an absorbing dance in and of itself, the constant movement to try to find a position that was not no pain, but less pain.

So I lost track of the scenarios where I convinced Hammond not to let Daniel go on this trip; where I convinced Jacob to come with us so he wouldn't get lost; where I brought Teal'c with me; where I sent Teal'c in my stead; where I sent Carter to look after Daniel as his pretend housewife; where I did a better job of checking in with Jacob more regularly, had a backup evacuation plan, brought more weapons despite the risk of discovery, or just plain ended up fishing, in Minnesota, with Daniel sitting on the dock by my feet reading a book.

Because I couldn't really imagine him fishing.

The plain truth was I'd been enjoying myself before it had all gone south. I liked hanging out with Daniel. After a hundred or so worlds it all starts to get a little repetitive, truth be told. But Daniel's never boring. Puzzling, fixated, insane, infuriating, right, or wrong, but never boring.

I'd gotten caught up in the little fantasy that we were really somewhere else, outside of the world, outside of the Stargate, where we could do something else, be something else.

Where I could run my fingers along his face and he'd let me.

For all that he was loudmouthed, honest, and heart-stoppingly beautiful, Daniel was pretty closed off. From everyone, I thought, but especially from me. When we weren't arguing we could close ranks pretty tight. But whatever was in the middle of Daniel making him tick - that I didn't know.

I would have liked to find out.

I should have asked him more questions, made it clearer that I wasn't really curious about the hot monkey love, I was curious about him. What he thought about it, what he liked and didn't like about what he thought, what he liked and didn't like about me.

A thousand opportunities lost between one heartbeat and the next.

I had been so stupid.

If I could get out of here, I told whatever higher powers might be listening, I would ask Daniel to teach me a thousand words for "moron". And I would tell him he could use them all to refer to me.

As much as I'd liked touching him, as much as I'd wanted to do more, what I really wished was that I was going to get to spend more time with him.

I heard guards moving through the hallway and shouting from time to time. I couldn't make out most of the words. Sounded to me like words for outside, and reinforcements, and casualties. It didn't make any sense. The casualties were going to be us, weren't they?

I wished that kid would cry again.

There was no light except that cast by a torch outside the room. It was enough to show me the walls and floor but I wished I could see daylight. Was it still day? How long had it been?

Would Daniel find a way home without me?

When another group of feet came clattering down the hall they didn't sound any different to me - coarse men's voices shouting, and the occasional clang of a weapon hitting the narrow stone passageway's wall.

But these didn't run by; they trickled down the hall slowly, getting closer, as if they were walking, maybe looking in each room.

And then I heard his voice.

"Jack?" said Daniel's voice, uncertain, like flutes, like music, like magic.

"In here!" I shouted back, my voice hoarse and dry but just as loud as I could make it.

The slap-slap of feet in leather sandals on stone and there he was, standing in the doorway.

I thought for a second it wasn't him.

The man in the doorway stood with feet spread, as if waiting to absorb an attack, and sword in front, the hard nubs of masculine knuckles wrapped around its hilt. His jawline was hard, with straight edges, and his forehead creased in a frown. Blood was spattered on him and his arms and neck gleamed with sweat.

Then he stepped into the room. "JACK!"

And his eyes looked just like Daniel's eyes, and I recognized him.

"Now you, I'm glad to see," I said, but I almost couldn't speak, my throat was so thick.

He sliced through the wrist leather cords and I couldn't stop myself, I almost pitched forward flat on my face, but he caught me.

Supported by his arm I realized I couldn't even lift mine. My shoulders were agonizing knots and I couldn't make my arms work. But I grinned at him. "Yes," I said, "I'm awful glad to see you."

"Are you all right? Are you hurt?" His hands felt like fire as he ran them over my face, my neck, shoulders, sides, looking for wounds, looking for blood.

"I want to stand up," I muttered. I should have pushed his hands away but they felt good, warm, except for the places where I couldn't feel them. "Help me up, dammit."

Hooking his arms under my shoulders he hauled me up.

I kept myself from falling over by leaning against the wall behind me but I couldn't stop myself from making some noise as my knees straightened and the blood went back into my lower legs. I looked at my hands. They were blue, but the fingers wiggled when I willed them to.

"Are you hurt?" he said again, looking into my eyes, forcing me to meet his.

"I'm fine," I lied, and tried to take a step.

I almost fell and he caught me again.

"Just give me a minute," I said, and I don't know what my face looked like but as I looked at Daniel his eyes overflowed with tears.

Stepping into me he framed my face in his hands, those long masculine hands I'd just seen gripping the sword. They still felt hot, and strong, and held my face tight.

And leaning forward just the couple of inches he needed to, Daniel kissed me.

Maybe he'd meant it to be gentle, maybe he couldn't help it, but the next second I felt like I was being held up by Daniel's hands on my face and his mouth on mine, his tongue sweeping along mine, his tear-flavored lips opening, pushing, tasting, crushing against mine.

And I couldn't do anything but lean into him, letting him hold me up, and kiss him back.

He gave me breath to breathe, and the blood throbbing in his fingers could have been his, could have been mine; my heart was beating his blood.

It went on for a few moments, hungry and devastating and hard, and I felt him shiver, then he was trembling, then he was shaking, and I was holding on to him because I'd managed to get my arms around him and he was crushing me, crushing me to his chest.

I'd never been held so tightly in my life.

Yet his voice sounded as if he were doing something normal as he said, "Can't imagine why I'm shaking."

"Adrenalin reaction, maybe," I suggested, also as if we were playing cards back at the SGC.

"Perfect time for it," he muttered. But he didn't let go.

Except the next second he had to. This was obviously not a place for us to stay. "Can you walk?"

"I will," I assured him.

He had blood on his tunic.

"Are YOU hurt?" I suddenly felt panicked. It was so close, too close, getting out of here; if it was yanked away from me again...

Absently he glanced down at the blood. "Oh, that's not mine." Looping my arm over his shoulder he started us toward the door.

I had to remind myself that yes, this was Daniel. The color of the eyes was right.

~~~

Climbing the stairs was agony, that's the only word for it. Hellish and slow. My knees ached like someone had scraped up the surfaces of the joints and shoved an iron bar through them.

"Son of a fucking bitch," I rasped without heat as we made it to the top. There'd been fourteen.

"You're doing great, Jack. Just hang on."

Daniel steered me through a big hall with pillars in it; there were dead bodies scattered here and there, bloodstains everywhere, and people sitting on the floor, groaning, crying, holding their wounds.

"Bad day up here too, huh?"

Daniel's eyes flicked around as he steered us out. I knew he couldn't be seeing far without his glasses but a guy coming at you with a sword is pretty easy to identify even as a blurry shape. "Yeah...." He dragged the word out. "The Consul had a good horoscope this morning and decided it was his big day for godhood. He kidnapped family members of most of the people we've been working around in the library."

"You mean the rich guys with no interest in politics."

Daniel stepped out through the door first, checked around before coming back for me, looping my arm over his shoulder again. "Yeah, those were the guys. They didn't like it."

"And what about you?"

Daniel's eyes flicked over to look at me from just a few inches away. "I didn't like it either."

And as we stepped out of the building we saw it.

On the plaza in front of government house there was a heap of broken wood that had been a something just a short time before. Most of the pieces of it had been separated and lay about, edges torn and broken. The Consul had been spitted through with one of the planks and the plank braced upright with heavier beams of wood around its base. He was suspended, crookedly dead and twisted, in midair.

I expected Daniel to flinch and look away. Instead he looked at it, his expression blank, clinical if anything, as we descended the marble stairs, his arm around my waist still holding me up.

We shuffled down the sweeping staircase and immediately cut back into an alley rather than crossing the plaza. There were people around, again, mostly absorbed in their own problems, but if there were anyone looking for us we didn't need to come to their notice.

We zigged, we zagged, then I believe there was more zigging. I let Daniel drive. I was exhausted anyway and he seemed to have some sort of plan. With every step my knees and shoulders loosened up a little more; I was concentrating on that, on the reduction of pain and the regaining of mobility.

Not the kiss, I told myself. I wasn't thinking about that.

After one more zag Daniel pushed open a door, helped me inside. It was a shop, one I didn't recognize. It was empty but there were vats of olives - we could smell the fruity rich smell as soon as we opened the door - and huge baskets of raw vegetables and, off to one side, probably not for sale, probably someone's dinner, a loaf of bread.

Daniel poked around and found a small container of olive oil with a wax seal. He broke the seal. "Dip the bread in it," he said, his eyes still scanning the place while he handed it to me. "You need the energy, and the bread will be dry."

I did what he said while he went traipsing through the shop.

I was chewing a mouthful of the bread and oil when he came back muttering. "No damn water," he explained. "There's a well at the top of the street. I'll be right back."

He clutched a jug in one hand.

Seized by panic I swallowed too fast, almost choked. "Wait! I'll go with you."

"You don't need to."

He didn't want to wait for me, I realized, and realized too what it meant to be so much older than him.

"Check outside the door before you go through it," and it was an order even if it did sound like a dry choke.

And he did, and was back really quickly, almost half a gallon of clean clear water in the jug for us to split.

I tried to remember what it felt like to leave the public baths, having soaked so long that my fingers were pruney and with every bodily odor long gone. I stank and my face was stubbly.

Daniel petted my head as if I were mink.

"Drink just a little first." It was an order, and I wondered when he'd started giving orders.

He was full of surprises today.

His hands went over me again, feeling the swollen joints, checking the cuts on my wrists, looking at the inner membrane of my eyelids, at my pupils. His fingers pushed through my hair feeling for knots or bumps; he found the one where they'd knocked me out.

I winced.

"Sorry," and he did sound really sorry, but he kept looking, checking the cut over my black eye, the fat lip, gently feeling around the edges of my kneecaps inside my swollen knees.

"I'm okay. Stop fussing." My voice was getting clearer as my throat got wet.

"Sorry," he said again, sounding a good bit less sorry, and went on examining me. "Were you hurt?" he asked me softly, and I felt like if I didn't answer him sufficiently he was going to strip me and take a microscope to me.

"Not bad." He could see, couldn't he?

He sat down on the bench I'd sunk down on, looked me in the eye. His voice was level and quiet, his serious voice. "Hurt at all?" he said.

Okay, I knew what he was getting at. "No, I'm fine. His Greasiness dropped by at one point and threatened to - made stupid threats but he got called away, didn't have time to chat."

Daniel's eyes bored into mine. I tried looking away, down, at the food, at the water, but every time I gave up and looked back he was still looking at me. He didn't say anything.

"Fine, okay, he offered to fuck my face and I offered to bobbit him and he offered to have my teeth knocked out, but nobody's offers got followed up on, okay? I'm fine, aside from nearly dislocated shoulders and knees that feel as if they're made of broken Legos." I groaned to distract him while I shifted on the bench. "I really hate the whole chained to the wall thing."

Daniel kept looking at me, that searching x-ray vision look, till I guess he was satisfied. He reached over to the bread where I'd put it on a table near us, tore off a hunk, chewed it, swallowed it. "I'm awfully glad he's dead," he said conversationally.

And we had nothing more to say about that.

Time slipped by unnoticed for a little while as I enjoyed having food and water in my stomach and no chains on me anywhere and Daniel apparently enjoyed looking at me.

He was just drinking me in like I was a ten-dollar movie.

"You gonna keep doing that?" I finally asked him, not because I wanted him to stop or anything, mind you, just because I was wondering how long it was going to be for.

"As long as I can," and his brow had the not-good crink in it and his voice was so serious. Didn't he realize we'd kind of won? We'd gotten away from the bad guy in one piece?

"Well, that's as long as you like, as far as I'm concerned," I told him.

But instead of staying where he was, looking at me, Daniel twisted a little and leaned into me, leaned his shoulder into my chest, as though all of a sudden he needed to crawl inside something.

I put my arms around him and just rocked him for a moment.

And he was still shivering a little, and as I rocked him the shiver became, again, a full-fledged shake. Something like adrenalin letdown. Something worse.

"What about you, you okay?" I muttered quietly into his hair, because after all I'd left him alone for a whole day and the city had had a riot while I was gone and anything, just anything could have happened to him.

"I don't know," he half-moaned and ducked his head, tucking it under my chin like a kid would do.

Something had happened to him, something I missed.

But he didn't seem hurt, beyond a few scratches, and if he wanted to tell me --

Shit, he'd never tell me.

"Wanna tell me about it?" I said.

"No." He burrowed into my chest, my arms.

After I thought about it a minute I said, "I'm sorry I left you alone."

He snorted into my chest. "I'm sorry I dragged you out to this miserable planet."

"It wasn't miserable. We were having a good time," I reminded him.

He pulled back to look at my face. He looked astonished. I almost grinned, seeing that astonished look again - wide eyes, mouth hanging open. "A good time. In a medieval culture without running water in the houses, with nothing to do but hang around and watch me read."

"Oh, I did some other stuff too. Don't forget the wrestling." When he started to look as if he really feared I'd been hit in the head I stopped teasing him. "Yeah, a good time. We were having a good time. I think I was going to get the hang of Twelve Lines in another week or two."

Daniel just shook his head disbelievingly, and I did grin. Then he leaned back into me, and I kissed the top of his head, because it was good, blessedly good, to be back in the world where I could see him and smell him and touch him.

I remembered what I had promised in the cell.

"You have to teach me a thousand words for 'moron' so I can answer to them when you call," I whispered into his hair, smiling.

"As if you'd come when I call," he said, shaking his head in disbelief, his skull hard and real against my chest.

I kissed his hair again, running one hand down over his side of his neck, his shoulder, because that seemed to make him shake less.

He sighed, and my heart broke.

Daniel had had a bad day too.

~~~

"Don't we have to, you know, keep moving or something?" Daniel asked.

Eating and drinking had given way to sitting holding each other and while it was clear we would both be happy doing that for a century or two he was undoubtedly right.

In the very faint distance the noise of people had returned to the streets. Eventually the owners of the shop would come back.

"I don't think we can go back to the house," Daniel sighed, and my gut clenched.

"Why not? The Consul's dead."

"He might have friends that would come looking for me."

And wham, just like that, I knew what Daniel had done, whose blood that was on the front of his tunic.

What I said was, "Got any other ideas for a place to hole up for a while?"

Daniel shook his head. "I think anywhere in this city will be tough for us."

"Got another city in your pocket?"

One of Daniel's lightning-fast smiles came and went and I felt rewarded. But what he said was, "Let's get on the move." And he sat up and left me alone. I felt very alone.

"If we get out of the city, we can try to contact Jacob again."

Daniel shrugged. "Try it now. We're alone."

Of course we were. My brain must still be fogged. Daniel pulled the comm out of his pouch, along with the hard case containing his glasses. He put them on and cleaned up after our stolen meal while I tried hailing our Tok'ra chauffeur.

"No luck," I said, even though he could, of course, hear that.

"Might as well get going," he answered and we slipped out through the door.

"Got any ideas on where to go?" He approached doorways and corners cautiously, as if expecting ambushes.

"Yes," he said, surprising me again. "If we can get down to the docks we can probably find someone with a boat willing to take us across the ocean. I think this continent was a late settlement, I think if we want to find either of the Stargates we have to get back to the more original settlements, and both of those are in Ishido now."

"Great." I really was glad to have a plan. "We can charter a ride."

"Well..."

I hated the way he dragged it out.

"Just say it."

"We might have to work for trade. Unless it's a VERY small boat. I used up most of our money."

"Used up? What do you mean used up? You make it sound like you brushed your teeth with it."

"Well, I paid it. To Grumius."

I couldn't stop myself from busting out with a "What the hell for?"

"He did bodyguard duty. Well, I might add."

Well, I couldn't begrudge him that. But I didn't manage to sound too thrilled as I said, "Great. There won't be much time to waste at the public baths anyway."

"Look, I -"

"It doesn't matter." But it did. If we couldn't get out of this city... If we couldn't find a Stargate...

No. It didn't really matter.

"I shoulda given Grumius a present myself," I said, pushing myself to my feet. It ached, but in a manageable way. "Come on, let's blow this popsicle stand."

"I think it's a vegetable stand," but Daniel followed me out the door.

~~~

Finding our way to the docks was easy: it was downhill.

Finding anyone at the docks was hard.

It looked like a number of craft had pushed off when the trouble started in the city. Didn't want to get commandeered, or worse, I guess.

We looked at the empty berths.

"What about stealing one of those?" Daniel said, and pointed at some light craft moored in the shallowest part of the bay. The full moon glinted silver off of aged wood and reflected off of dark pools of water on the decks of the lowest-wallowing ones.

"How far you want to get? 'Cause those will take you around the block but not much farther."

I contemplated how much fun it was going to be to navigate, with no instruments, and a co-pilot who knew more about almost everything in the world than he did about sailing a boat.

"You expecting us to get all the way to Ishido in one of these things?" I asked him, turning around. Daniel, too, looked silvered in the light, the color washed out of his face and hair, a pewter man.

"Oh no, no," he mustered quickly. "That's days away, the ocean as big as the Atlantic. Just maybe up the coast, the next big city."

I could just picture how this plan was supposed to work out. We'd have to get there, and work for a while to earn fares to Ishido, which would be hard to get and cause suspicion because the two countries were not warm and fuzzy toward one another. Then the voyage and on the other end looking for a Stargate we weren't supposed to find -

I suddenly felt tired. "This is going to take a while, isn't it?" I muttered.

But Daniel was starting toward one of the docks. "There's a couple of ships still here," he called out, and I followed him, my feet sliding through sand and onto the weathered planks of the dock. It stretched straight out while the beach sloped down and away below it, sand to sea. I stepped over some shells, careful of my bare feet, trying to hear him over the slap-swish of the waves and the bumping of the moored craft. "This one is pretty big, maybe someone from the crew will be around --"

There was a shout from the ship, then a couple of more shouts, and I saw Daniel's head jerk back.

Then there was more noise, confusion, shouting and thuds from the ship and Daniel was running, running back towards me, arms motioning at me to go, go, go --

But I couldn't run, I could barely turn, and as I did I saw more dark shapes, man-sized, apparently sprouting out of the sand dunes behind me,

and Daniel caught up with me, slid in the sand on the pier, and swung me around, a heavy sack of deadweight he was stuck with,

and behind us more men were pounding up from the ship, a dead run, slower than Daniel,

and behind us three guys with something pointy in their hands slipped down through the sand,

and suddenly Daniel twisted me and SHOVED and I fell through the air and landed WHUMP on the sand just below the dock and holy fucking God that hurt but I really just had the air knocked out of me and before I could roll over and stand up Daniel dropped down next to me and rolled just like you're supposed to and when he stood up he whirled and

"RUN!" he screamed at me while he faced the slope they would have to come down and shit, I didn't even have a weapon, and I couldn't have run even if I would have.

And the shapes slid down the slope, a lot slower than we had fallen, and the combat computer that was trained into my brain couldn't decide whether I should drop or run because those were bows and arrows in their hands and Daniel was standing over me, frosted down half his face and one arm with the beach sand and he glittered in the moonlight, light sparkling down the arm that held the sword that raised to protect us both.

He stopped.

They stopped.

After a few seconds one of the dark shapes separated itself from the group and stepped forward. He didn't glitter, he gleamed, with something dull but metallic strapped to his forearms and his shins and lapped in plates over his chest. The bow in his hands swept upward dramatically, a fat-bellied arc.

His skin was darker than mine and his eyes had a definite almond-shaped tilt to them.

He did not look Roman.

He shouted something at Daniel and Daniel blinked. He raised a hand, as if to say wait, wait, I'm thinking. Then he responded, slowly. Not in Latin.

The armed man spoke again.

I could hear the persuasive tone creep into Daniel's voice, the "We are peaceful explorers, really" story that never worked out for us.

And metal-armor wasn't buying it, either. He said something to the men behind him, snapped his fingers at them, gestured at us.

Daniel said something else, more frantically.

"Daniel?" I said.

But the other guys came forward, poked us in the back with the universal signal for "March," and we slogged our way through the sand up to the dock again.

Retracing our steps far out on the pier I got a better look at the ship, slung low and flat to the water, with decorations on the prow that glittered like gold. The larger mast set toward the bow had been painted red.

That didn't look Roman either, as far as I could tell.

"Daniel?" I said again.

"Well, we've been captured by a scouting party from the army of Ishido," he said as if it explained everything.

If I hadn't been so tired I would have considered crying.

---

DANIEL:

It was a huge effort just to get them not to tie Jack up again.

We stood in front of what seemed to be the captain on the deck of the gently rocking ship while he explained that we were now prisoners of war and I desperately, desperately scrabbled around in my brain for whatever nuggets of Japanese I could remember.

There were a lot of problems with this, the primary one being that the vocabulary used in travelogues, which was what I had studied briefly way back in the day, was very unlike the vocabulary used to express concepts like "prisoners of war". But I was pretty sure I had that right.

"Daniel, just tell me what you're talking about," whispered Jack behind me, and I could feel my last nerve twanging.

"Please, Jack, shut up for a minute!" Learning Japanese isn't hard, no matter what they tell you. It's using Japanese that's damn near impossible. I was scrambling not just for words, but for the polite form of words, and trying to guess how far above me I should assume a ship's captain was. If I was right, we were prisoners of war, NOT slaves. Since my apparent rank was supposed to be relatively high, I could assume the same rank with the Ishidons - but I had no money with which to back it up, no one to pay our ransom if that's what they wanted. And I had the additional problem that I didn't actually want to return to the city I was trying to leave.

"{We can pay you to sail to Ishido,}" I said slowly. "{We are not prisoners.}"

"{You ARE prisoners,}" the captain disagreed with me. Grinning a little, he seemed to be having a good time. I doubted his was the only ship in the harbor; if he'd gotten left behind to secure the pier, he must have thought he was going to have a boring night. We were definitely livening it up for him; he hadn't expected to catch two random nightbirds. "{Good news for you,}" he said, using simple words, rubbing my face in my less-than-stellar Japanese. "{You can sail to Ishido for free!}"

There was a round of guffawing at this level of wit and I could feel the muscle in my jaw clenching.

"{We are NOT prisoners. Take me to your supervisor,}" I got out through clenched teeth, addressing the captain as a peer.

"{That would be extremely difficult,}" the captain replied with mock solicitousness, which is Japanese for "no".

"{I am terribly sorry,}" I replied, not being sorry at all, "{but it is necessary that I speak to him. Now, please.}"

Shrugging, the captain consulted with some of his other men. They all laughed again and I tried to ignore the red film that was settling over my vision. It was ridiculous, stupid that they should be here, stupid that we should be in this position, stupid to talk to them. If I'd had one good P90 I could have --

"{Is this a weapon?}"

He was examining the contents of my pouch. He had the communicator. The one we needed to contact Jacob. If Jacob ever showed up.

"{No,}" I said immediately, and immediately could tell he thought I was lying. So I didn't lie. "{It is a communication device. I can use it to talk over long distances.}"

"{The Optimans have no such device that we know of,}" he sniffed, but examined it carefully. His profile, angular gold in the torchlight, looked fragile. Given a few seconds' opportunity I knew I could break it.

"{Then your information is faulty,}" I snapped. Whatever he did I didn't want him to throw it away.

"{How does it work?}"

I kept silent.

"{Fine,}" and he shrugged, but he stowed it in his robes. I made a note of his face. "{You will be our guest this evening,}" the captain finally decided. "{You may see my supervisor in the morning. You may not.}"

He wasn't giving me what I wanted but he while he addressed me as someone below him his phrasing was polite. I suspected he was telling the truth to some extent.

"{There is no need,}" I protested but some of the soldiers started to shove us toward a hatch in the deck.

"{Oh, there's a need,}" laughed the captain and we let ourselves down a rope ladder into the darkness because we had no other choice.

The ladder was hauled up, the hatch was closed, and we were plunged into dark. A second later as my eyes adjusted I saw that there were fist-sized portholes high up along both sides. We did, at least, have fresh air.

"I am hating this day," said Jack tiredly behind me.

"I cannot believe this. I cannot beLIEVE this," I hissed while I paced the length of the cabin. It seemed to run most of the length of the ship, but I couldn't find any other exits. There were pots to piss in and that was absolutely all.

My stomach felt hollow as I wondered what they planned to fill this hold up with.

"So, is this just a happy accident, or...?"

I'd forgotten I hadn't filled Jack in. "Uh, no, no such luck," I said absently, still surveying the walls, the portholes with eyes and fingers. "This is a planned invasion. For today of all days. Can you imagine the luck?"

"I doubt it's our luck. I imagine it's our greasy dead friend."

I stopped and looked back at Jack. "What do you mean?"

"Didn't he say he wanted to get in good with the gods? What better way than to re-start the war between their respective peoples?"

"Oh my... That's what he meant. He said a sacrifice of peace. I didn't know what he meant. It sounded like a quote, uh, a quote from something I couldn't identify..." Wow. That had been one crazy, crazy man.

Now, of course, he was a lot more dead than crazy.

Jack nodded; I could just see his head moving in the dim light. "So he arranges for the Ishido people to invade on the day he decides to go godlike."

"He'd been planning to sacrifice slaves. He said... he said their blood would run down the steps of government house."

I could see the glitter of Jack's eyes, darkness in the darkness, and knew he was looking at my face, watching me. "He did, huh."

Translation: you thought he was going to kill me.

That's right, I didn't say. And I couldn't have that.

I went back to pacing. "I don't suppose you know some super-secret top military way to get us out of here, do you?"

But before I could pace back Jack was there where I was, hands on me, awkwardly whacking me in the chest in the dark before they closed over my upper arms, pulled me close.

And that felt good, just Jack's body heat in the cool hold filled with chill sea air. But then he folded me into his arms, pulled me closer, his chest flattening against my chest, his face buried in my neck, and that felt a whole lot better.

I would have patted him and backed off but he didn't let me. I tried to be subtle, leaning away, but he just kept leaning in. I stepped back; he stepped after, until finally I had fetched up against one of the sloping walls of the ship, and Jack was breathing in, as if he was breathing me, the base of my neck, under my ear, the top of my head.

"I thought I'd never get a chance to ask you," he breathed, the strokes of his hands on my arms starting to produce friction. I didn't say anything, and he went on, "I wanted to ask you, well, uh... oh, never mind."

And his face slanted over mine and he kissed me.

Hot bottle rockets went off in my brain. The taste of his mouth was like the taste of everything I'd ever wanted to eat when I was hungry. There was something nagging in the back of my head, something I was thinking, or supposed to think, but I had no time for that. Jack, warm, alive Jack was kissing me, and I had to think that was a good idea, even just for this few minutes. The best idea that had happened to me all day.

I groaned, fastened both hands in his hair, and kissed him back.

Grunting, he adjusted his footing, pressing me back into the wall. He was a few inches taller, only a few, but it was the difference between me kissing up and him kissing down; he spread his legs to brace and bring himself a little lower and I stepped between them, angling my body into his.

He gasped against my lips and I figured I'd brushed something sensitive. "Sorry," I murmured into the kiss.

"I'm not," he growled and grabbed my arms again, yanked me full up against him.

I had to admit that was good, better than good, better than almost anything ever, actually. He wasn't a carcass. He was warm and standing tall and alive and even though now we were trapped in yet another damn prison we were better off than we had been. At least, I thought so.

I wrapped my arms around his middle and squeezed, hard.

Half-laughing, half-gasping, Jack muttered, "I don't think I'm going anywhere this time."

Which was true. It wasn't like he could.

"Right. Uh... we should probably get some sleep while we can."

Jack went still, which caused me to notice I was still holding him pretty tight. I let go, drew a ragged breath when I stepped back, just a bit. I really had to. Jack had no idea..., well, about lots of things. And it wasn't fair to play off this curiosity phase of his when he had no idea what he was getting himself in for - not with this, and certainly not with me.

"You think so, huh?" he said, with a tone that clearly implied "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Yes. If these ships, or if this ship is what I think it is, it'll be full of prisoners come dawn. If the Ishidons were besieging the city we'd be in for a long wait, but these are hit-and-run boats, down in the harbor. Before dawn they're going to load up with whatever captives were taken in the night and probably take off for home."

"Before dawn."

I sat down on the deck, already feeling cold and alone, so much less than I was when Jack was holding me, but it seemed like the best plan. I wished I still had my toga, it was a little chilly.

Then, sighing, Jack levered himself down, a little slowly - his knees must still be bothering him - and pressed his back against my side. I was instantly warmer.

"Whatever you say, Daniel," Jack said in a voice that was uncharacteristically soft.

I felt better when he argued with me.

And truth be told I didn't want to sleep. I was afraid of what I might dream.

But I was exhausted, and Jack was there, and we were both alive, and I drifted off, hoping as I did so that he would too. We'd wake up together in the morning and figure out a way out of this, or maybe we'd both die in our sleep.

At least we'd be together.

I saw the flashes of brown and yellow light behind my eyelids that indicated I was falling asleep, and then the flashes, always the same flashes, ever since I was little, of a monster with long teeth. I wondered, as I often did, what he meant, but I knew if I started thinking how glad I was I hadn't studied much Freudian psychology I'd wake myself up, and I wanted to sleep.

So I slid away.

~~~

"Please let this be a dream," I mumbled to myself.

"It's no dream, Daniel. I know what you're doing. And I'm going to stop you."

Sam was standing in front of me, Sam, a marshmallow Valkyrie with fire in her blue-grey eyes. Her lips were thin and she looked like she'd had about enough of me.

I opened my mouth to apologize for whatever had pissed her off but instead I heard myself say calmly, "Sam, I'll send over the third-level blueprints. You can assure yourself they're just what I said they were. Would that make you feel better?"

"I'm not stupid, either, Daniel. Since when did you think I was stupid?" My Sam, almost snarling at me.

And I couldn't stop myself from saying "Since I got to be so much smarter than you. Sorry, Sam, there's nothing I can do about it now. I'm sorry it sticks in your throat the way it does. But can't you lay off the world domination thing for a change?"

I couldn't bear the look of fury on her face. Jerking my head to the side I caught sight of myself in a mirror. Smooth-shaven, close-cropped hair, a perfectly creased lavender shirt, English cotton, tucked into a pair of linen pants that had clearly been tailored exactly for me.

Oh no, not again, I thought.

"Sure, Daniel. I know how smart you are. And how busy. Too busy to check out that mission you sent Teal'c on, I know that." She was snatching up a notebook and a briefcase from the desk; hers.

"Sam, you know it wasn't like that." No, it wasn't. I knew exactly what I had sent Teal'c into. Hell.

"Yeah? Well tell that to Jack. He's onto you, Doctor Jackson, no matter what the rest of the world thinks."

Please don't leave me, Jack, I thought to myself, while I said, with a little smile, "No one is 'on to' me, Sam, because everyone already knows what I'm doing. Everyone who needs to know. Try not to take it personally when that doesn't include you." I pushed a buzzer on the wall; some random worker bee appeared instantly. "See Dr. Carter out, would you?" I asked him mildly, and didn't give Sam a second look.

No, no, no, I thought to myself. This was a dream, this wasn't real. But what if Optimus had been the dream? What if this was real? What if this was what I was doing? It was different, just a little different from the dreams I'd had like this before --

I pressed another buzzer. "Chelsea, what's General Hammond's location?"

"He's with the joint chiefs, sir," said her disembodied voice.

"Good. See that I'm notified when his plane takes off, would you?" I was flipping through a folder. It had a letter in it from George Hammond that was a little too complicated for my taste. Better if he had a reason to pay attention to something else for a while - such as information that one of his grandchildren had been in an accident. Didn't matter which grandchild -

No. No. No. No. No.

I was struggling to wake up. I could feel my throat moving, the way it does when you're in a dream but talking but not talking aloud. I hoped it was me waking up, not me trapped inside that me that I hated, that me that I knew was me --

There was a warm hand wrapped around the back of my neck, and someone was pressing little kisses across my cheek, my mouth, my chin.

I opened my eyes. It was dark, black. Was I still inside the dream?

"Muh," I said but a voice said "Ssshh. It's okay."

I wiggled a little but a big warm hand swept down my neck, across my chest, stroking a nipple, soft, then hard. I made another noise.

"It's okay."

Hot, moist breath against my ear; a hard chest against my shoulder. I reached up, wrapped my arm around his neck. I wanted him to know I was awake but I was so afraid I wasn't. Sometimes things like this happened in the dreams, things that ended up badly, so badly -

"Sssshhh," he said again, the tip of his tongue flicking out to touch my ear, and I sighed and pulled him close. The hand smoothed down, lower, sweeping across my stomach, down one thigh, bare below where the tunic had hiked up, then up under the edge of the fabric.

"MMMMMPHHH!" I started, but his mouth was against mine again, muffling me, and that couldn't be bad.

Except sometimes it was, in the dreams. But in the dreams he smelled of toothpaste, not sweat. And he was frightened, not soothing.

And he was practiced in the dreams, not tentative.

His hand closed around me, fingers finding the edges, sliding down over the head. My breath hitched in my throat as my groin jerked toward him involuntarily.

He squeezed.

"HEY!" I cried out, and now my eyes were open, I was awake, that wasn't the dreams. That hurt.

"Take it easy," I stuttered.

"Sorry, sorry," and he sounded really contrite. What possessed the man to grab my dick and wring it like the neck of a chicken that had pissed him off?

But now he was going more gently, softer, smoother, and the sensation of his hand, hard and tight, had me writhing, trying not to make noise, bottom lip caught between my teeth, and I had a fleeting second to wonder how long this had been going on because it was going fast, really fast, and I was hard as a brick and --

"Okay now?" rumbled Jack's voice, and I could feel it vibrating in his body pressed against mine.

"Yes," I gasped, and couldn't seem to figure out what I should be telling him. What was it I should say? I couldn't remember. Something about stopping, something about not -

"AHH!" I tried to keep my voice down, but it was pushing up from low in my belly, clenching all my muscles, and suddenly I was coming before I even had really figured out what was happening.

Panting, I felt myself relax all over, like the proverbial puppet with strings cut.

The tang of semen was in the air now along with sweat and seawater.

Jack's hand disappeared even as he still pressed little kisses along my face and throat and I thought vaguely he must be wiping it on something, what? the floor? and I could hear my heartbeat thudding in my ears.

"Now sleep deep, okay?" whispered Jack. "Everything will be all right. Don't worry."

I almost snorted at him and I wanted to explain to him how wrong he was. Not only were we prisoners, but he didn't even realize that I wasn't what he thought I was, not at all. He thought he was comforting a friend. He had no idea what I would do to him if I had the chance. Had done to him, in an only very slightly different alternate reality.

But I was boneless and warm and the pleasure had been sharp and unbelievably good and Jack's voice was whispering "Go to sleep" in my ear and as much as I didn't think I should, I did - sometimes - do what Jack said. Sometimes.

So I sighed again, and wiggled my shoulders down into the wood, and tried to sleep, and suddenly I was.

---

JACK:

I was a little disappointed when Daniel drifted back off to sleep but hey, I'd told him to.

And it was better, way better than the day could have turned out, to have him leaning into me, snoring like the adenoidal geek he was, than it would have been to have him dead or me dead or both of us separated in what was really a pretty big city.

All in all, having to fall asleep with a hard-on wasn't that bad.

I did wonder, as I drifted off, what exactly had just possessed me. I hadn't thought about it, just did it. I'd drifted off to sleep almost immediately and Daniel rocking in his sleep and mumbling to himself had woken me up in a very few minutes.

I couldn't make out all of what Daniel was saying but I definitely heard a "Jack, don't leave me" in there, and a "not again". I didn't know what the dream was about but it couldn't be a good one.

And there was Daniel laying against me and really who knew when we'd have a minute alone? And I will admit, though not in front of a judge, that some part of my brain, a part that I would have never allowed to the forefront if I hadn't been so tired and desperate myself, thought to myself, hey, it's better to get forgiveness than permission.

And Daniel could have stopped me, stopped me at any moment, 'cause I knew he was waking up - slow, groggy, the way he did even on a good day - when I stroked down his chest, over his stomach, up his thigh.

And then I slid my hand around his cock and squeezed and he jumped and hollered in my ear.

"Sorry, sorry," I whispered and he was awake enough now but he didn't tell me to stop, he just told me to take it easy.

Which was easier said than done because frankly, if I treated him the way I treated me, that was the way I liked it.

But apparently Daniel was a slightly more delicate flower in that regard.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and I was desperately worried about messing this up. It should have been easy, a quick hand-job in the dark. After all, I've got a cock myself. How different could it be?

But it was different. Different shape, different size, different feel in my hand, and apparently different handling was required.

I squeezed a lot more gently and was rewarded when Daniel's breath hitched and he jerked toward me. I couldn't be doing it all wrong.

And then it was fast, so fast. Daniel could apparently go from zero to sixty in seconds, and before I'd even quite figured out how fast to go or how hard to grip he was coming, gasping, pulsing, and then I felt the wetness.

Poor baby must have needed that.

And when I told him to go to sleep, he did. So I couldn't really blame him, could I?

And I didn't, though I did drift off myself holding him close so that he couldn't sneak away in the night and hoping a little hope that this wouldn't be the only time.

~~~

It was indeed still quite dark out when the hatch clattered open and they dropped down the rope ladder - which was quickly followed by several sunburned boys.

Daniel awoke, slowly, again, and rubbed his eyes. The Ishidons had let him keep his glasses but he kept them stowed away in the pouch still strapped on his belt. They hadn't let us keep any tools and we didn't have any money, so the glasses now represented the sum total of our worldly wealth.

"Good morning," I said experimentally.

"Good morning," Daniel replied as if we were meeting over pancakes in the commissary.

So much for my hope that he might kiss me good morning and we could get on with the rest of our lives from there.

"Okay. Well. As you can see, we've got company." I waved at the boys, who were cowering across the hold.

"We'll have more," said Daniel flatly.

"Right. Let's talk to them as they come in, get a sense of where they're coming from, who they are. Evaluate. See what we might do about a breakout."

Daniel looked at me and his eyes were still so blue, but cool and emotionless. "I think a breakout in the middle of the ocean is going to do us very little good, Jack."

"I think so too, Daniel. We'll have to do it before we set sail or after we arrive - and before gives us better chances." I knew what he'd said about the Stargates both being in Ishido but it seemed to me that we'd do better there if we arrived under our own steam than if we arrived as prisoners of war.

Daniel shrugged, and there was no breakfast to eat together anyway.

I wanted it to be a few hours ago again.

~~~

Over the next several hours there were a few women brought aboard but mostly men, veterans of the riots, most of them, by the look of them. Great, I thought, cursing the Consul again. Had the riots even been part of his plan? Or was the sea invasion supposed to just catch them off guard?

Daniel and I kept circulating, gathering names, trying to think up ideas, figuring out who would be helpful in a breakout and who was in shock, who was stupid or useless or frightened. I'm always amazed in such situations to see who keeps his head and who loses it. One tiny little woman who reminded me of Janet answered all my questions, asked her own, and had even managed to smuggle in a small sickle-shaped knife, I didn't ask her how. Yet one big burly man sat crying in a corner and would not speak to anyone, until he finally exhausted himself and slept on the floor as if dead.

I left Daniel talking to some kid who seemed to have all the answers, the way you do when you're seventeen, and greeted a new arrival, a barrel-like man with thick fingers who'd just slid down the ladder.

His name, he told me, was Gaius, which to the best of my knowledge was the Latin equivalent of "John". I doubted it was real. There was something about him, something about the way he stood and the way he talked, that just screamed out to me that he was a liar, and that was before I'd even asked him his name.

But he was a decent-sized guy and could be useful in a fight if he knew how to carry himself, so I levered myself down the wall to sit by him and talk, keeping our voices low. Our captors were amateurs in my book, letting us wander around at will and talk to one another, but they could change their minds at any minute.

"[I was captured in the school district,]" said Gaius, and I automatically figured he'd been nowhere near the neighborhood. "[Just walking along - well, sort of running, actually, because I could hear the fighting - and ran boom into the patrol working the way up the street, completely silent.]"

And I bet you weren't running toward the fighting, I thought to myself, but I figured I could keep that idea for later. "[Have you done any fighting?]" I asked quietly.

"[Fighting? No. But I've gotten things done.]" And he winked at me.

"[Gotten things done.]" My tone made it clear I had no idea what the hell he was talking about.

"[You know - a sharpened stick or a needle in the right place, and boom, your problem's gone, you know?]" His eyes were a deep liquid brown like a puppy's and suddenly I felt bad for puppies everywhere, having this guy's eyes.

"[Oh yes, I do know.]" I shifted a little and he shifted with me so we could keep talking almost nose to nose. "[I don't suppose you still have any sticks. Or needles.]"

"[Fresh out,]" and he giggled, actually giggled, which would have been cute on anyone else but on him was simply bizarre. It was clear to see the man had chest and back hair like a wall to wall carpet. Such men should not giggle. "[But if you need something done, you just tell Gaius, and I'll do it.]" His large square hand brushed as if accidentally across one of my knees. "[You understand?]"

Oh, I understood all right. There was one in every cell. "[You'll take care of some things for me if I take care of you, have I got that right?]" I said in as neutral a tone as I could manage, hoping he didn't see my throat as I swallowed.

"[You are as smart as you look,]" he giggled again, and his hand brushed again, a lot less accidentally, and higher up on my thigh. What exactly was wrong with me, that Daniel found me less than interesting while warthogs like this came galloping along for no adequately explored reason?

Meanwhile, I wasn't paying attention, and Warthog was moving in. Suddenly I could feel hot breath on my cheek. "[We're going to have to look out for each other, after all I've heard the Ishidons do some crazy things with their prisoners --]"

"[Get up.]"

It was Daniel, who had suddenly appeared as if he'd sprouted from the floor; he had his legs braced, arms folded, and the person he was issuing the order to was me.

I looked up.

"[Get up,]" he said again, just as levelly.

I was kind of hoping he'd lend me a hand but he stood there with his arms crossed so I stayed where I was. He knew my knees were bugging me, dammit. "[I'm fine right here,]" I told him.

"[Yeah, he's fine where he is,]" added Gaius Warthogius, giving me help I did NOT need, and bouncing to his feet instead. "[Shove off, dinky,]" he added, pushing into Daniel's space, while I contemplated the translation of the word "dinky". Yes, I was pretty sure that was what that word was.

"[He's mine,]" Daniel replied, not moving an inch, and tucking his chin down so he was looking up at the guy who was trying to face him down.

Huh?

"[Every day is a new day, pretty boy,]" said the warthog, and even I winced as he added, "[Go play with someone your own size.]"

My evaluation of Gaius' intelligence shifted rapidly downward.

Daniel was staring at him as if his eyes were fastened on him. "[You don't listen,]" he said softly, nodded once, cleanly, as if he understood. He dropped his eyes. Then in the next second he swung up from WAY low, telegraphing like crazy but faster than I would have thought possible, and the back of his hand CRACKED across Gaius' face, the sound snapping through the little crowd like lightning.

All conversations came to a halt.

Shocked, and definitely hurt - I could see a little trickle of blood - Gaius backed up, way up, twisting his face away, hands spread before him in the universal gesture of surrender.

Daniel didn't look at him again.

"Get up," he said to me again, in English this time, and offered me a hand this time. I scrambled up.

I was at least as shocked as Gaius and had no idea what to say. As we walked conversations started up again, quietly, all over the hold. Everyone was pointedly not looking at us. I wished I was not looking at us too.

Finally I said, "If you wanted to talk to me --"

"I didn't," snapped Daniel. We had ended up in the bow corner, starboard side, near the portholes looking out to see. A sunbeam angled between us.

"If I'da needed your help, I'da yelled for you." I was puzzled and pissed at the same time.

"By the time you'd realized you needed the help it would have been a lot tougher to give it to you," he spat and looked out the porthole that was too small to allow us to escape.

I was losing track of the different ways in which he was surprising me. I started to say that I knew he'd had a bad day, but I only got as far as "Daniel, I know you --"

And for the second time in five minutes he shocked me, as he suddenly shoved and had my back against planking, his forearm over my throat. "You don't know me. I can see what you think. Poor little Daniel, to be taken care of. I'm not." He pushed a little harder and his face looked alien and the look in his eyes - I could only describe it as "batshit nuts." "What I am, is hell on earth, Jack. And you are this close - THIS CLOSE - to unleashing me."

My hands gathered the front of his tunic, crushing the linen, but linen is very, very strong. I gathered, pulled UP, and suddenly Daniel was balanced on his toes. I gently put him away from me.

I wanted to tell him there was no need for theatrics, that he had my full attention, but I was angry and I didn't think I'd like the way it came out.

Instead, I looked at him.

The cold blue fire in his eyes damped back down into the clinical look and, frowning, Daniel turned away.

I let him go.

I'd seen Daniel crazy before but never like this, never as a thin layer over a core of hard cold logic. He wasn't shaking it off. He was sinking deeper into it. It didn't seem like him but yet in some odd way it didn't seem all that far from him, either.

I suddenly remembered a conversation Carter and I had had ages ago, I couldn't even remember how many years or what we were discussing, but I remembered the look on her face as she said, "Daniel doesn't always take the high road." I remembered I couldn't get her to say any more about it.

It had stuck in my mind because it had seemed such an odd thing for her to say, and at the time so patently untrue. Daniel always took the high road, even if the high road was lined with snipers aiming at his head.

She'd seen something I hadn't, I now knew. Something I was seeing now.

Something I didn't understand.

It didn't change Daniel as far as I was concerned. Well, it did, because that was Daniel, there was always something new to learn about him. I felt in my gut, certain, that it was still Daniel, my Daniel, not so very different from the guy I thought I knew. But this new twist on Daniel was bugging me - and it was clear it was bugging him more.

I had no idea what to do about it.

So I went back to trying to plan our escape.

~~~

We didn't plan fast enough.

Daniel had thought we might stay in the harbor a couple of days, but that proved to be optimistic when we felt the ship lurch and heard the snapping of sail.

Daniel, just an arm's length away now where he'd stayed since the incident with Mr. Warthog, met my eyes with the sort of Oh no expression that I did know well.

Yep, once again we were screwed.

~~~

We spent the crossing trying to keep moving in the tiny room during the day, keeping fights from breaking out over the food and water they dropped in from time to time, and trying to ignore the smell of the pisspots that someone had to empty out the portholes every so often.

I'd been in better prisons, but I'd been in worse.

And every night Daniel kept me wrapped in a near stranglehold and pulled over him like a blanket.

I wasn't sure what would be best for me to do so I did nothing except let him. Twice he mumbled in his sleep, his muscles moving in slow struggles that looked to me like he was trying to run, or maybe trying to hit. I couldn't tell. Both times I put my arms around him and squeezed, whispered in his ear, and he quieted down. I wished as hard as I could that everyone else in the hold would disappear, that we were back on Earth, maybe in my house, so I could rub his back, give him a beer, maybe lick him all over, whatever it would take to get him to open up to me about whatever was bugging him. But no matter how hard I wished nothing changed, and he remained stubbornly uncooperative on the communication front.

I wished he were guarding government secrets instead of something I really needed to know.

Unfortunately I hadn't figured out a way to get him to spill before the sea breeze changed and we tacked. Through the portholes drifted first the sounds of landfall and then the smells: people's voices, shouting, calling, laughing, the slap of craft against docks, the bump and rattle of wheels, then the smells of fish and seaweed. And then bump, we were docked again.

A new country. With a language I didn't speak. Still on an alien world and no idea how to get home.

Still no fun in sight.

---

DANIEL:

When we came up on deck and we caught our first glimpse of Ishido I had quite a shock.

I had thought that the country was roughly equivalent to the Roman side of the settlements.

But this city was easily three times the size of the one we had just left, spreading out of sight on all three sides of the bay. The pointed roofs with layered edges that I associated with Japanese architecture alternated with a style of flat roof that sloped away toward the back of the building - sort of like a Roman temple, in wood, it looked like. Plus frequent hexagonal towers that didn't correlate to anything I could recognize immediately.

Behind this city, instead of the short cone of a volcanic mountain, rose a vast mountain that seemed to pierce the sky - surely the result of tectonic folding, not a building up volcanic runoff.

And on one side of the city, where smoke arose here and there in what looked like controlled bursts, there were --

"Are those power lines?" asked Jack as we jostled for position between the guards who held us together in a group on the deck of the ship.

They looked like them, the familiar old-fashioned droop of wires strung between poles looking oddly out of place in a landscape that also included hand-drawn carriages and open bins of fish.

Not that that meant anything, I told myself, reminding myself how many modern cities I had seen with a fishmarket on the waterfront that looked just like this - fish ranging from tiny to huge lined up in trays right off the water, and customers haggling over them, contributing to the babble of voices we'd heard while still under way.

But before we could really get a good look at the city the ship was docked and we were being herded down a gangplank. Looked like it was going to be tough to organize any kind of resistance on this end - we'd barely docked and they were getting us off the ship, and who knew how they were going to separate us when we got into that big square building squatting on the waterfront.

"Stay close," Jack muttered next to me and I felt a sudden surge of panic. They couldn't separate us, I couldn't have that.

I was scanning the crowd, looking for something, anything, that might help us when I saw him.

A tall man, seated on a horse, two other horsemen behind him. Nothing could more clearly indicate that he was a man of authority, not when everyone else I could see was on foot.

He was watching the line of staggering prisoners, I could see his eyes flicking along each one of us as we stumbled along, our leather slippers slapping in puddles of seawater and nameless other liquids that tend to gather on the edges of waterfront walkways.

I couldn't tell if he was looking for something in particular or just entertaining himself with the view. But he looked like our only chance.

"{Noble lord!}" I called to him, hoping that linguistic drift hadn't gone too far afield for that to sound sufficiently polite. "{Help a fellow noble man whose luck has gone! Please! I am a stranger here and deserve your help and pity, not your abuse!}"

"Got something, Daniel?" Jack said quietly behind me.

"Trying to get that guy interested in helping us out," I told him, jerking my head toward the horseman.

"Why would he be interested in us?" Jack asked reasonably but apparently the man was, because there was a clop plunk of hooves and then he was near us, in the line.

"{You speak Japanese,}" he said to me, and I looked up at him - way up. He was tall, and so was the horse.

"{I do. I am a scholar and a traveler. I was engaged in peaceful research when I was abducted by the men on this ship. I would like to arrange safe conduct home.}"

"{I do not think that can be so,}" the man said mildly, though there was a crink around his eyes that indicated that something amused him a little. "{To capture prisoners outside of battle is dishonorable. No Ishidon soldiers would do such a thing.}"

"{I am sure the Ishidon warriors are brave and honorable,}" I said graciously, "{but I have never raised my hand to one in battle.}"

"{Yet you have seen a recent battle,}" he replied, raising one perfect dark slash of an eyebrow, and raking his eyes over me, taking in the bloodstains that I felt like I had been wearing all my life.

"{I did not say that I have not fought in battles,}" I said with as much haughteur as I could manage.

The man stood looking at me for a while, contemplating. His horse, a beautiful golden brown, chestnut I think they call it, stepped first to one side, then back, clearly more impatient than its rider to keep moving. He looked like he was sizing me up.

"{What would you have from me, visitor?}" he finally said. "{Your fate is in the hands of your captors.}" And he nodded toward where a knot of sailors from the ship had clumped, clearly wanting to push me on and yet unwilling to interrupt my conversation.

Which gave me some idea of how important this man must be. That, and the heavy sheen of the fabric he wore, a deep rich red-brown with gold patterns woven into it, the robe wrapped around him and tied with many turns of a fabric belt. I really wished to never see the tunic I was wearing ever again. "{As one free man to another I ask for sanctuary. The actions of these men are not legal. I must be freed to find my way home.}"

He himself had given me the pertinent information. I suspected he knew it. If the ships' captains should not have taken captives as they had, there might be some legal redress. At the very least he might be willing to intervene on our behalf. He looked like he was considering it. I wished I knew what would tip him over the edge.

"{If it is as you say, investigations will have to be done,}" he finally said, and I could hear one of the sailors behind me groan. Yes, there was more happening here than met the eye.

One of the sailors, sensing that, from his perspective, it was all about to hit the fan, ventured forth with a "{Good sir, our captain has determined that the Empress' orders would best be served by -}"

But the horseman cut him off. "{Yes, I can see how the captain decided to serve the Empress' orders. Capturing children and women. Well done.}"

There were some angry mutters from the soldiers. I decided to throw in my two cents. "{If the good sir were to order these people returned to their homes, I am sure their families would -}"

He didn't let me finish either. "{Kidnappers ransom. Kibamusha do not. I cannot offer sanctuary to so many. But I will bring the matter to the attention of the court.}"

He had pulled up on the reins and I had one shot left. "{Then take me with you. Me and my slave. We would welcome a chance to learn about your land under your hospitality.}"

He looked back at me. "{There are no slaves in Ishido.}"

I twisted around, grabbed a handful of Jack's tunic, pulled him forward. "{My slave. I will not go without him. But please, take us with you. We will return your kindness with whatever thanks we can.}"

He'd been about to let the impatient horse bound away. But when he caught sight of Jack he whirled it around again.

For long moments he studied Jack and I wondered what the hell he was looking for. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. But Jack returned his gaze coolly. And he was our best chance for getting away from the ship's captain, against whom I had a very serious grudge, to say the least.

"{Good sir,}" he said, speaking to me though his eyes were still on Jack, and one of Jack's eyebrows quirked up. "{Allow me to extend the hospitality of my home to you upon your first visit to our shores. You must allow me the honor of providing you with shelter until the legal disposition of your arrival has been determined.}"

"{If you extend the invitation to both me and my slave, I will be happy to accept,}" I said, taking one last opportunity to be stubborn. If he wouldn't take Jack, I'd have to stay here. Yet Jack was what he was looking at.

Finally the horseman turned his eyes back to me. "{There are no slaves in Ishido,}" he said again, as if repeating a quote. Then the crinkles in the corners of his eyes came back, and his horse danced toward me as he said conversationally, "{And who are you trying to fool? That man is no one's slave.}"

I could feel my mouth drop open as he whirled the horse and it stepped daintily up the walkway, while foot travelers backed away and gave it room. The two men who had been behind him advanced, and one held out an arm to me.

"Daniel?" said Jack. "How screwed are we?"

"I have no idea." But I backed up a step, to stay by Jack.

The other rider offered a hand to Jack.

"I think we just got a reprieve," I told Jack.

"There's all kinds of things about frying pans and fires that are going through my head that I shouldn't have to explain to you," said Jack.

"He's a, a knight, and he has invited us to stay with him until the legal question of our disposition as prisoners has been sorted out."

"That the best you could do?" But Jack looked pleased.

"Are we going to accept?"

Then Jack looked at me. "Since when did you start asking for my opinion?"

Frowning at him, I took the hand the rider was offering and swung up behind him on the horse.

Jack did the same on the other and then we were cantering up the walkway to the roads of a new city.

---

JACK:

The riders made their way through a twisty maze of tiny streets and I tried hard to pay attention, to keep orienting myself in case I had to find my way back here.

Finally we joined a widish road that ran through what looked like a business district - restaurants on either side of the road, diners throwing things that had been half-chewed in the street where dogs fought over it - and stayed on it a while, long enough for me to wish I had a real saddle to sit in and wonder about the state of my ass, when we finally turned off on a side path and fairly soon after that through a set of tall red gates.

Behind the gates was apparently where they kept Paradise.

I didn't want to betray my cool calm composure but the garden, if it was a garden, was gorgeous - layer upon layer of color, a gray gravel path that gleamed like jewelry on the neck of a beautiful woman, a trickling little stream that pooled up here and there and in one of which I saw a flash of fish. The whole effect was cool and manicured and the absolute opposite of Minnesota but it still had a trace element to it of wildness, of raw nature, in the thrust of a broken branch on a low horizontal tree and in the tumble of boulders that fell into one side of a pool.

Man, it was gorgeous.

I wondered if the guy on the horse who'd been looking at me like he could see through to my internal organs had built all this. If so, he'd had a good idea.

We left the horses by the gate - someone scurried out to get them - and walked along a path up to the house, which I hadn't even noticed when we came into the garden and which was hidden just behind a turn in the path, a low-slung jewelry box of a house with pointed roofs and dark wood and panels of white paper here and there.

"See if we can have a bath," I told Daniel as we cleared the path and came up to the entrance. The air smelled of pine and flowers. It was early summer in the place where we'd just been and a lot of the grass had already been dried crunchy gold underfoot. The climate was clearly a lot moister here and green lichens devoured the sides of granite boulders in the shade of the house.

"I want food first."

"No, you don't, you want a bath first."

"You're right."

We were both hungry and as it happened someone had been warned we were coming because a woman wrapped in a plain grey robe greeted us at the door, pointed to where we could leave our shoes - which, I figured from the look on her face, would probably be burned - and led us inside to offer us a platter of something hot and fried and just plain fantastic.

She and Daniel had a little conversation while I stole most of the hot fried things.

"She says she would like to give us a full meal after we've bathed, which I'm pretty sure means she thinks we stink very badly."

"Which we do," I pointed out.

"Absolutely. But apparently when you eat fried things you are full before you have really begun eating. This is supposed to tide us over."

"I'm good with that."

We wiped our hands on our tunics although they weren't really greasy and the woman led us to a room on the far side of the house.

The smooth slats of the floor had space between them and there was, oh thank you thank you, a huge tub of steaming water, wooden and a meter high and at least two and a half across, in the middle of the floor.

"Tell her to get lost so we can dive in," I told Daniel, almost moaning at the thought of hot water against my skin.

"She's here to help us. You don't get in until you're clean."

"You don't say." I gave the woman the hairy eyeball. She was plump and pretty and about thirty plus and I didn't usually strip in front of women like that.

But she said something in Japanese and dimpled and smiled and mimed taking off our tunics, so Daniel shrugged and did. There's nothing that boy wouldn't do for a hot bath. So I followed suit.

She led us toward the tub and chattered away. Daniel frowned, chattered back, only a little less slowly from my point of view. She went away, came back with a folded wad of cloth which she placed on the floor in front of me, nodded and backed away.

"For you to kneel on," Daniel explained, and knelt himself.

Deciding that one of these days I would have to explain to Daniel that bum knees meant it hurt to hold still and it was tough to run, not that I couldn't necessarily kneel, I sank onto the fabric gratefully. They were, in fact, still a little sore from a certain stone floor I was happy not to be going back to.

Our waitress handed Daniel a flat bowl and a small square of fabric, me the same. On the floor between us she placed a pot.

"Rinse, then soap yourself up," Daniel instructed. "That stuff is the soap."

Even sluicing the hot water over me felt incredibly good. "You know, we could do this all by ourselves," I pointed out as the woman puttered around the room while all I wanted to do was scrub my crotch like there was no tomorrow.

"Or we could do this in a big crowd. Public bathing is probably very popular in this culture still. It's a traditional Japanese thing, like with the Romans. In fact I think it's supposed to impress us with how rich our host is, seeing this private bathing room." Daniel looked unconcerned, and he was lathering up his torso, scrubbing at his armpits with a vengeance.

Of course. He loved public baths.

At least he didn't have the money to spend on them here.

Not yet.

"Okey doke," I said with a mental shrug and went to town on everything I could reach - which, in a kneeling position, was just about everything.

"We'll rinse, then soak awhile, then probably get out and soap again, so don't go nuts," Daniel warned mildly, watching me scrub my skin till it was red. Picking up the soap pot he put in a finger, rubbed some soap between two fingertips. He smelled it. "Not much lye; a heavy base, maybe lanolin or -"

"Who cares?" I wouldn't mind if it took the top few layers of my skin off, as long as I was clean.

"I just mean it's safe to use on hair."

"Great," I said enthusiastically, glopping some up on my fingers and scrubbing it into my head so fast our waitress laughed at me.

Then we used the bowls to swoosh hot, hot water from the tub over ourselves.

"Don't get any suds in the water," warned Daniel as we climbed into the tub together.

"Please shut up for a minute," I murmured as I sank into steaming hot water up to my ears.

It was very, very good.

~~~

When we'd soaked, then soaped and rinsed again, and soaked some more, and Daniel had become sort of a nice even lobsterish color, we decided we'd had enough. Our waitress-lady, whom Daniel informed me was named Yorokobi, provided us with towels upon towels, and then when we were dry, a robe for each of us.

"These are soft," I said, feeling the rough skin on my hands catching on the smooth fabric as I ran my hands over it.

"It's silk," said Daniel, frowning at it.

"What's wrong with silk?" I slipped the robe over my shoulders, tied it at the waist.

"Nothing's wrong with silk. I suppose it's not that unlikely that the silk farmers would have brought their silkworms with them; I wonder if they eat native plants or if the worms will eat local - "

Suddenly he broke off as he looked at me.

His mouth was open again.

"What?" I said. I looked down at myself. Did I have a stain on my front? No, just robe. It was a pretty red color, brighter than I would have picked for myself, but nice.

"Nothing," said Daniel, eyes leaping back to his own robe. Which was a deep blue that was a shade darker than his eyes.

"She picked that one just for you," I pointed out.

"Yeah, I'd say the same of that one," Daniel rejoined, waving at my midsection without looking at me.

I looked down again. Nope, no stains on my front.

Whatever.

"Do they have pants in this culture?" I asked Daniel, aware of all the clean me that was now swinging in the breeze under the robe.

"I don't know," said Daniel, his brow scrinching up.

~~~

As it turned out they did have pants.

Yorokobi led us into another room where we got pants, sock-things with extra space for toes, and not just one but three robes.

Daniel frowned at them too. I figured much more thinking and his brain would explode.

"These seem to be based on the Heian period styles, which is when I think Ameratsu was last on this world. I would have expected them to have evolved a lot."

"Power lines?" I reminded Daniel. "Maybe they've been saving their fashion energy for other purposes."

"Right." He went on frowning at the robes as if they could talk to him but just weren't putting out.

"Hey," I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. "You're doing good."

"Huh? Oh. Thanks." He blinked, and his eyes focused on me. "Oh. Thanks," he said again, as if he'd just noticed I was there.

It was nice to see a flash of my old Daniel back again.

His robes were different colors of blue and brown; mine were brown, grey and green. Yorokobi fussed around us, tucking things in and smoothing things out until we looked reasonable, apparently.

Then she led us into another room, where there was a long low table loaded with food, and I groaned again. I could have kissed her. She giggled at the look on my face, backed away.

That's when I noticed our horseman at the end of the table.

He motioned us to sit and eat, and I proceeded to stuff myself with all kinds of things I couldn't identify, most of which were damn tasty, while he and Daniel chatted about how-the-hell-should-I-know-what.

I got a good look at him while I was eating. His hair was black and tied back, twisted up into some sort of a knot, not like Yorokobi's bun, but tied at the top. His cheekbones were wide and angled, his nose straight, and his eyes were large and caught everything.

Like me, staring at him.

I waved some chopsticks in his general direction.

I think he suppressed a smile as he went back to talking to Daniel.

"[Anything good?]" I said to Daniel. I didn't think I wanted to be caught speaking English in front of him, though of course we had in front of Yorokobi. I should be being more careful. This planet was sucking away all my cautious instincts.

"[Information on the city, the countryside, the government. The emperor is the descendent of Ameratsu, just as in ancient Japan, and still has a tremendous amount of power, but the warrior class has a lot too, and even common individuals have a lot of rights. They seem to have had some sort of Magna Carta-like event many hundreds of years ago.]"

"[So this guy's a samurai?]" The subject in question turned when he heard the Japanese word from my mouth.

"[No. The samurai developed later, after this culture was transplanted here by Ameratsu. The kibamusha are horsemen, like knights. Mounted warriors.]"

"[Great. Remember what I said about frying pans and fires.]"

"[You didn't say anything about them.]"

"[Oh. I just thought it then.]" I smiled insincerely at our host and reached for more rice.

"Shigeru," he said, and I almost dropped the bowl.

I looked questioningly at Daniel.

He mouthed Sorry at me, then looked at our host, said something that took a long time and probably included a lot of apologies, then indicated me and said something that sounded like "Jyaku".

Our host bowed toward me. He smiled. "Jyaku," he said.

"[And this is our host, the gracious lord of the seven valleys and master of the company, Hatoyama Shigeru.]"

I bowed at the guy who was loaning us clothes and feeding us actual food. "Shigeru," I said as I bowed.

His smile broadened into a grin and he looked about twelve. For a minute, something about his face reminded me of Daniel, which was stupid because he didn't look anything like Daniel.

But I caught myself grinning back.

---

DANIEL:

As the lunch dragged on I began to wonder whether we were only there to provide Shigeru with some new entertainment, as he answered my questions with the absent air of someone reciting lessons and looked over at Jack at least as often as he looked at me.

I wondered if there was something he was seeing that I didn't see.

I looked at Jack, sitting so easily cross-legged on the floor and eating everything he could get his hands on. His hair was sticking up from the bathing and he was stubbly. I wondered if we would be able to get a shave. But his skin was a healthier color.

"{I know some of the color combinations of robes have symbolic meanings,}" I said to try to figure out what was causing all the looking. "{Does that combination -}" I indicated Jack's robes "{- have a name?}"

"{Indeed,}" Shigeru nodded solemnly. "{That color combination is 'Spring comes to the Mountain'.}"

I spit my tea to avoid snorting it out my nose.

Jack raised an eyebrow at me, but I steadfastly refused to meet his eyes, so he went on eating. There was no way I was going to point out to him that his robes symbolized a magical springtime coming to a snow-topped mountain. Jack did not like grey hair jokes.

I began to wonder as the meal dragged on how long Shigeru intended to entertain us or if this was all preparatory to being dragged off into a fancier version of a cell.

"{Please forgive me, I have no idea what your customs are for travelers like us. May we learn about your people while we are here?}" Translation: Are you going to let us wander around or are you going to keep us locked up?

Shigeru was leaning on one knee, relaxing, and looked over at Jack at least as often as he looked at me even though Jack knew no Japanese and was spending all his energy eating.

"{You're welcome to move about the grounds,}" Shigeru said carelessly. "{Perhaps in a few days we can travel to my country estate. You would enjoy that. We grow several kinds of food there, and make mead.}"

"{That would be interesting, but must we impose on your hospitality so long?}"

Shigeru gave me his attention. He looked amused. "{Are the courts in your country so swift-moving? It will be a while before the case even comes before the court, and then it must be argued.}"

Great. Some things were the same in every culture. "{What about the people who traveled with us?}"

"{What about them?}" He looked entirely unconcerned.

"{They also would like to go home. And they deserve not to be mistreated. What has been done to them? Have they been enslaved?}"

Shigeru leaned toward me. "{There are no slaves in Ishido. They will have been portioned out to estates in the area. In return for which the captain will have received certain goods.}"

I blinked. "{That... would... make them slaves, wouldn't it?}"

Shigeru shook his head ruefully. "{The law does not allow it. But it happens all the same.}"

"{How are they legally held on these estates if they are not slaves?}"

Shigeru sighed. "{They are pre-emptively billed for food and shelter, then kept to work it off.}"

I leaned forward myself. "{But under such a system they will never pay the debt back!}"

"{This I know.}"

"{But that's terrible!}" I was searching my brain for words that meant even worse than terrible.

Shigeru's eyes flashed at me and he jerked his chin in Jack's direction. "{Fine talk for you, eh? Didn't you claim that one as your slave just a few hours ago?}"

Uh oh. I raised my chin. "{Because he is. But he was not a free man on the streets of a different city yesterday just to find himself a slave today.}"

"{No. Today he is in my house. And he will adhere to my rules.}"

I didn't like the sound of that but decided to keep it to myself right now. I wasn't sure what we might do that might violate Shigeru's rules but I had a feeling it was inevitable.

~~~

I wished I'd discussed it with Jack when the evening rolled around. We'd seen the stables, the garden, the temple in the back (with some insignia to Ameratsu that someone had defaced by hacking at them with a blade, and wasn't THAT interesting,) and a variety of other operations around the house that impressed us again with its size and scope. And we'd eaten another enormous meal, and Jack had just said he felt almost human.

Then as we left the dining room I'd turned around and Jack wasn't there.

It had been such a pleasant day so far that the sensation was not unlike falling into another nightmare.

I turned to Yorokobi who was leading me down the hall.

"{Where is he? What did you do with him?}"

She maintained a silence as she led me down halls and up levels, into a room in the middle of God knows where. She opened a cabinet and took out mats.

"{Either you tell me where my friend is right now or I will start walking through these walls looking for him,}" I said, grasping her upper arms and shaking.

Her eyes widened. I let her go as if she were on fire.

Her tone was perfectly polite and even as she said, "{Jyaku has been shown to his room. Do not insult the lord Shigeru by thinking that he would harm a guest in his own house. That is unthinkable.}"

I'd seen a lot of unthinkable things recently but I could see her point. "{He is well? Unharmed?}"

"{Well. Unharmed.}" She said these things as if she didn't think I was a lunatic but I could see in her eyes she was ready to get the hell out and leave me to my sleep. "{Just call if you want anything,}" and she backed out of the door, sliding a paper-covered panel into place.

Translation: you're being listened to.

I paced for a while but I couldn't convince myself that I should go and find Jack. Basic survival procedure determined that we not be separated. On the other hand, I had every reason to believe he was perfectly safe and well-cared for.

On the other hand, we were something rather similar to prisoners here.

On yet a third hand, if I ignored procedural rules, I'd be ignoring Jack. And while I normally didn't mind that idea, in this case I was happy to use the excuse of not ignoring Jack as a reason to follow his rules.

I waited a while. Around me the sounds of the house slowed. I could hear someone snoring down the hall. Some sort of bug chirped outside and a breeze rattled the paper-paneled door.

Sure, Jack was probably fine.

But that was enough of that.

Sliding the door panel aside, I slid out of the room.

---

JACK:

I didn't even notice as I was heading down a hallway after some Yorokobi look-alike that Daniel wasn't right behind me until we'd made a few turns.

"Hey!" I said, which she didn't understand, but she'd stopped right outside a cherry-stained wooden panel, and kneeled.

"Daniel?" I said to her, waving my hands in what I hoped was a questioning way.

"Hatoyama Shigeru," she said in this breathless, reverent voice, and bowed her head.

What the hell?

I slid open the door.

On the other side sat Shigeru at a low desk. He raised up off his knees, bowed slightly to me. "Jyaku."

"Shigeru," I said, bowing a little, then, "Daniel?" because that was really what was concerning me.

Shigeru was looking at me in a measuring way.

"[Master?]" he said in Latin, taking me completely by surprise.

Oh hell's bells.

I hadn't had a chance to coordinate stories with Daniel, but as far as I knew we were sticking to the slave thing, which he thought would keep us from being separated. Still, there was something about the look Shigeru was giving me. This guy was no moron.

"Daniel," I said instead of agreeing with him on the whole master thing.

He sighed. "Jyuujin," he said, stepping forward and thumping me on the chest with a hand.

Okaaayyy. "Jyuujin?" I asked, and thumped him back.

He looked delighted, approving. "Jyuujin," he said and pointed to himself. "[No slave. You understand? A man.]"

"[A free man,]" I answered slowly.

"[Yes!]" He looked pleased with me. "[No slave. In Ishido, no slave. This is important. This is strong to me. Do you understand?]"

Yeah, I understood. It was important to me too, but not as important as not being separated from Daniel. We hadn't done so well the last time.

But how to explain that to him? He was clearly stretching a few words of Latin he had picked up from God knows where, and I had no words of his language. None.

Yet another reason to need Daniel.

I hoped Daniel was right about the tone conveying the meaning.

"[Look,]" I said in Latin, hoping he'd get at least some of the words. "[Daniel is my friend. That is the most important thing, okay? We've come a long way together and I intend for us to get home together someday. I need to know where he is. We prefer to stay together.]"

Shigeru contemplated me for another moment, hands locked behind his back. Then he paced to a cabinet, his sock-clad feet making no sound on the mats, and opened it. Inside there was a selection of curved, polished blades. He took one down, handled it like he knew what he was doing, came back to me.

My mouth went a little dry.

But he reversed it, turning the grip toward me. "[No slave, no master. You a free man. Fight.]"

Fight Daniel? This guy had gone off his rocker.

But then, he did think Daniel was keeping me as a slave. And that clearly offended him.

And I did not feel like looking a gift sword in the mouth.

"[I understand,]" I told him, taking the sword carefully. He nodded as I examined it, went back for a scabbard and a matching belt knife and gave them to me.

It did feel good to have them thrust through my belt.

"[But where is Daniel?]" I asked again.

Apparently he couldn't believe my persistence. "[There is a bed here,]" he said, and gestured at the mats made up into a bed on the far side of the room.

I was starting to feel confused. Wasn't that his bed?

"[Ah... no thank you.]"

And sweeping his robe's sleeves behind him, Shigeru seated himself, very gracefully, on his knees again in front of his desk, looked down at the scroll there.

Apparently I was left to my own devices.

I thought about it myself for a few moments, wished I could put my finger on what was odd about Shigeru's performance, but I didn't see him stopping me, so pretty soon I slid open the door, slid out.

I could feel his eyes on my back as I closed the panel.

Clearly, if I was going to be so stubborn as to try to return myself to my master, he wasn't going to stop me.

That was a bit of luck there.

I made my way back towards where we had eaten supper and surveyed the landscape from there. Where might they have taken Daniel? It would be rude to start sticking my head in every room but if I had to...

About then I heard a voice approaching down one of the corridors. It was insistent and it was rising in pitch. It was Daniel's.

I managed to make my way through a series of corridors and find him there, talking insistently to a man who was guarding a door.

"Daniel," I said softly and his head whipped around.

"That's a relief," he said and grinned at me, the wrinkly nose grin that means he's really happy that I just don't get to see often enough. "Come on, let's go to bed."

The man in the hallway glared at us.

"What'd you say to him?" I whispered as we tried to make our way quietly.

"He claimed he was guarding the girls' dormitory. I was telling him he better not be hiding a tall gray-haired Air Force colonel in there."

I smiled. "Or words to that effect."

"Yeah," Daniel said as he slid a paper panel open revealing a mattress mat already made up. "Words to that effect."

"Big enough for two?" I asked him as he went into the room. A candle flickered in the corner and the room suddenly seemed small, intimate.

"Huh?"

I pointed at the bed.

Daniel looked at it, then at me, then at it. He turned aside, slid off his robes but left on the pants. He laid the robes neatly on a shelf in the wall cabinet, and placed his glasses on top of them. Sitting on the edge of the bed he peeled off his socks, laid them neatly aside where he could reach them in the morning.

Then he got under the comforter-thing that was the top layer of the bed.

And reached over and turned down the other corner for me.

It didn't take me long to shed my robes, lay them on a shelf in the wall cabinet like Daniel had done, and slide in between the covers.

Daniel had watched me undress, which made me oddly nervous. I left the sword within arm's reach on my side of the bed, slid the knife under my pillow.

As I rolled into the bed he said quietly, "Shigeru give you that sword?"

"Yeah. It was the weirdest thing."

"What was?"

"I think he made sure we were separated so he could tell me I wasn't a slave, and I didn't have to do what you said."

"He told you?"

"Yes. He knows some Latin, does our boy Shigeru. Just a little."

"Or so he wants you to think."

I inclined my head in agreement.

"That's interesting. He's definitely very firm about the fact that there are no slaves in Ishido even though there clearly are." Daniel had a thinking look on.

"Yeah? You want to tell me about it?"

"You want me to tell you about it?"

I looked at him, lying on his side, eyes big as saucers without the glasses covering them up, more relaxed than he had been since that meeting with the Consul, and I felt something relax in me too. "Please," I said, and laid down in the bed facing Daniel, settling in for a long debriefing.

~~~

We had fallen asleep decorously sticking to our own sides of the bed.

I woke up with Daniel spooned against my back.

It was startling, it was a first. He wasn't clutching me like he had been on the ship, and yet there was nothing particularly tentative about it either. It felt like he had just rolled over in the night and it was the most natural thing in the world for his front to meet my back.

And we happened to fit together.

I lay there for a while, listening to him breathe, feeling his breath on the back of my shoulder. There were distant sounds of people, doorways, somewhere something that sounded like a chicken.

In here it was peaceful. And Daniel was sleeping.

Nothing good lasts forever and eventually Daniel woke up, groggy like he often did. I could practically hear his eyelashes flutter, then the little "mm" and "reh" noises as he woke up, stretching his muscles a little. In a second he'd be up and gone.

I tried to think of ways to stop him.

But before I could he'd rolled over onto his back. I sighed, and sat up.

~~~

A guy named Mokusei was assigned to take us to the library.

There was some confusion at first; apparently he was assigned to take Daniel to the library. Shigeru couldn't figure out why I wanted to go to the library too. I couldn't follow him but I could just see it on his face: this guy does not read Japanese. Why drag him off to the library?

But he was determined that Daniel should get to go, and if Daniel was going, so was I. No more wandering around separated, certainly not out in the city.

Daniel and Shigeru exchanged a long series of sentences about blah, and blah blah blah, until finally I slid Shigeru's sword through the belt at my waist and said "[Let's go,]" in that tone you learn when you get to be an officer. The tone that cuts through butter, and crap.

Okay. If I was going too, apparently I needed my own guy, and Daishi was added to the party.

"[Daniel, are you explaining the folly of assigning a bodyguard to the bodyguard?]"

"[I think he's as much to keep an eye on us as anything. It would be devastatingly embarrassing if we were to go missing before our legal case gets heard, since Shigeru has brought it in the first place.]" Daniel's eyes were darting back and forth between all of us - Mokusei was a hefty-sized fellow with arms like oaks, and Daishi looked like his bigger, meaner cousin.

So we all trooped off to the library so Daniel could play with the books.

Mokusei took Daniel off to the section that he'd said he'd be most interested in, and I settled down on the straw floor to be bored. It's a skill, being really bored. Shadowing Daniel at the library was like a long stakeout - hard to sit that still that long, but plenty of time for daydreaming.

My daydreams involved fishing, and Daniel, or beaches, and Daniel, or occasionally a big, heavily frosted yellow cake with chocolate icing. And Daniel.

He had gotten to be a feature of my every waking moment. Like breathing. Or my heart beating.

But as I was getting comfortable, Daishi grunted at me and disappeared, apparently trusting me not to break and run for the horizon at the first opportunity. I wondered if Mokusei had the same orders Daishi had.

I had a sneaking suspicion Shigeru wouldn't be all that sad to see the back of Daniel.

But before I really got settled into thinking about it Daishi was back with a stack of paper - actual paper, not the papyrus stuff the Optimans had used.

He grunted again - big talker, Daishi - and placed them in front of me. Then he went to sit on a mat and lean against the wall and be bored.

I looked at the pile. The first sheet was a map. A large map. There was a star on it on a coastline, a star in a bay that could easily have been the bay we docked in. And all around it, etched in the teeniest, thinnest pen lines I had ever seen (if that's what they were), were lines. It was a topographical map, a very finely detailed one, and if I wasn't mistaken, it was of the countryside around here.

Which would be useful. As well as interesting.

I looked at Daishi. He was snoring.

I had something to do.

~~~

Basic body maintenance takes a lot of time when you have the time to do it. There was something to be said for these cultures where dinner was easily two hours, bracketed by walks in the garden on one side and a long hot bath on the other.

Just as Daniel and I were considering whether we might actually turn into prunes if we stayed in the bath one minute longer, Yorokobi appeared with a wicked looking knife.

"Ah ah!" I told her, eyeing it warily and holding up a finger, the index finger that says "No way" in any culture.

But she just giggled at me.

While Daniel watched dubiously Yorokobi proceeded to spread something slick on my face and give me a very careful shave, all without getting a single hair in the bathwater.

My hair was getting long and raggedy, longer than perhaps it had been in forty years, but it was the stubble I was glad to get rid of - it would be a while before the hair was hanging in my face causing me problems.

"[She's some kind of genius,]" I said, rubbing my chin. It felt good, clean, to have the stubble off. And even though there were no mirrors and no one gave a damn, I didn't like the idea of grey stubble all over my face. And I knew it was grey. No one had to tell me.

Daniel, on the other hand, was looking like some mahareeshi of a cult you ended up seeing on the news and wished you hadn't. No one with lips like that ought to be so fucking hairy in the face. But he'd had plenty of time for his five o'clock shadow to become practically a whole calendar.

I got out and dried myself and wrapped up in the nice warm robe while Yorokobi gave Daniel a scrape. He ended up, yes, glowing like he was twenty, and Yorokobi clucked admiringly at him as she admired her handiwork from every angle. His hair was getting longer too, and on him it just looked -- good.

I didn't have to understand the language to understand Daniel's "Yes, yes, I know, leave it alone" noises. She just chuckled as she took her tools away and Daniel climbed out of the water, wrinkled and red and clean-shaven.

I walked toward him with one of the drying linens. He stretched out his hand to take it.

I just walked past the hand, moving in to wrap the linen around his head, rubbing slowly, letting the moisture sink into the cloth, then down around his neck, and along his back.

He let his hand drop as I moved the towel around to his chest. Through the fabric my palms rubbed firmly across both his nipples at the same time. I felt his stomach muscles jerk, but he didn't make a sound.

He did, however, meet my eyes.

I had to look away, the expression in his eyes was so serious, so sort of sad, and yet so electric all at the same time. It was as if his eyes couldn't help telegraphing something he was feeling, even things he wouldn't admit to, even things he couldn't say.

I wanted to keep going. I did. A braver man would have. For some reason I couldn't do it. I wrapped the towel around his waist, tucked in the corner, maybe a little slower than I had to, but then I took my hands off him. One word, even one slightly more forward look, and I would have dropped to my knees and licked the rest of the water droplets off him.

It shocked me when I realized it.

I was far gone, I didn't know into what.

He didn't say anything, and I went out to the dressing room, where Yorokobi had some dry things for me. I didn't think the pants were really meant to be slept in, but they more than likely would be.

Anything else would just be too much.

By which I mean too little.

I blame the clothes. If I hadn't been so concentrated on getting into the pants, which were kind of blousy around the bottom and had a waist tie thing that really could have used simplification, well, I would have noticed that they'd done it again.

When Yorokobi led me out into a wing of the house I'd never been in, I realized once again that Daniel was not in sight.

"Son of a bitch," I muttered under my breath. "[Look, do we have to do this again?]"

But Yoro didn't answer me, and I was beginning to think she was just stubborn, because I was pretty sure she was psychic and understood me perfectly well. She just smiled and nodded and kept leading me. Up a step, through a hall, down a step, turn left, walk through a large open space, up, right, whoops, we're on a porch, around, in, up and hallway, second door on the right - I knew a definite effort to confuse me when I saw one.

And at the end, just like the woman the night before, Yoro kneeled on the floor outside a wooden panel, said "Hatoyama Shigeru" quietly, and bowed.

I went in. Yup, there he was.

This room had armor in it. Various suits of armor on stands, and pieces of individual armor on shelves. Of leather, woven and stiffened with wax, and of metal, from half a crudely hammered skullcap that had a place of honor and must have belonged to someone important to a piece so light and finely worked that I would have sworn it was titanium except that we weren't on Earth which was the only place I had seen titanium.

Power lines, I remembered. Maybe it was titanium. What the hell did I know?

Shigeru didn't even try to talk much, just looked at the armor and waved at interesting pieces. They were interesting, too. A long tradition here of swordfighting, unless I was mistaken, and I wasn't.

One leather helmet had a long gash in the top of it, still crusted with blood.

Clearly it wasn't all to be used. It was a shrine, a remembrance, of people who were past, battles that were past.

Shigeru approached and reached a hand toward me. I jumped when he just touched the pommel of the sword. I'd forgotten I was wearing it.

"Bellator," he said, with conviction. Latin for fighter. Warrior.

"Ita," I told him, knowing he must know Yes in Latin.

"Hai," he replied.

Hai? Well, I knew that from the odd Japanese movie. I nodded. "Hai," I said. "Miles." Two syllables. Me-les. Soldier. Me.

"Senshi," he said, and tapped me on the chest.

It was a firm tap, not tentative, nor painful. Solid. To indicate he was there, and I was here.

I nodded in what I hoped looked like a game fashion. "Senshi," I agreed.

"Senshi," he said again, tapping himself in the chest. Well, that much was obvious. Though miles meant foot soldier as much as anything else, and he clearly was not one, and I doubted senshi was equivalent to miles.

He clearly wanted to point out that we were the same.

Yeah, sure, I thought to myself, waving my hand between us. "Senshi," I agreed. "Jyuujin."

At that he looked tremendously pleased. "Jyuujin," he agreed.

I pointed to the helmet with the bloody slash.

He nodded, serious again. He cut a hand above his head in the air, then another hand above that. Tapped his chest, then did it again.

Above the guy above him. Grandfather?

If it was grandfather, grandfather had had a glorious death, I suspected.

He let me look around for a few more minutes, then went to a door. The far door. Not the one I had come in.

He opened it, then turned to look back at me, broad shoulders angling in the lamplight. He said something quietly in Japanese, extended a hand toward me.

The invitation was clear at least to that extent. Come take my hand.

I looked at his face. He was, I suddenly realized, handsome, in a take-no-bullshit type of way. Not pretty, but handsome. A good-looking man; definitely a man.

An intelligent, compassionate man, as near as I could tell.

And a hand. Out. Toward me.

Things slid into place a little and I realized as I looked into his face and he could see me realizing it.

And he nodded, very slightly.

"Hai," he said, and extended the hand again.

I pulled back, without even thinking of it. I started to turn, just to leave through the door I'd come in.

I realized he was still standing there behind me.

I looked back at him. "Daniel," I said, pointing out the door I intended to take. Not the door he was standing in.

Slowly, he nodded, once. But he didn't move.

I left him standing there.

I was a little dazed as I wandered up hill and down dale, trying to get back to where I'd started. I almost forgot to listen for Daniel's voice.

I'd just been propositioned.

Probably the slowest, quietest, most elegant proposition I'd ever had. But a proposition nonetheless.

I realized why Shigeru was always looking at me. He liked looking at me. In fact, now that I thought back to it, he'd started looking at me right before he'd pulled us out of that line of prisoners from Optimus, and he hadn't stopped since.

I rubbed my freshly shaven chin.

Some piece of my brain cried out for sanity, cried out with Oh surely not! But it would be stupid to deny what I knew for a fact. Shigeru liked me. A lot. And unless I very much had my wires crossed from these whole crazy last few weeks, liked me in a way that was not at all platonic.

I wondered if he knew about Plato. He was smart. Educated, I could tell.

My feet kept looking for Daniel even as I thought.

I did, however, have a nasty turn when I arrived back at the room where we'd slept last night. I knew it was the same room.

Daniel wasn't in it.

Okay, what the fuck? I thought, turning in place helplessly for a moment.

Process of elimination, some automatic part of my brain said.

Right.

No need to start by opening doors and waking up everyone in the house, which seemed to be at least a million people. I'd start by walking through every wing I could, hope I'd run into him.

It wasn't THAT big a house, surely.

My brain had to stay alert as I threaded my way through the house. It was not designed for straight lines, but it was designed for much of it to catch cool breezes from the east, and that gave me an orientation. So I could cover the floorplan, make sure I'd at least checked each door in that wing before I moved on.

It was, by my internal clock, a quarter of an hour before I found Daniel.

A quarter of an hour is a very long time. The human brain can accomplish a lot in fifteen minutes, and that's just on the conscious level. On the unconscious level, where things like heartbeat are controlled autonomously by parts of the brain so deep that there's no stopping them, fifteen minutes is much, much longer.

It took that long.

I found him in a side room several wings over. He'd left the door open. Inside he was seated on a tatami mat, legs crossed in that awkward way he had, and he was staring fixedly at the door like he expected it to grow a head.

When I walked through it, he only said softly, "I figured it was better to wait here and just let you find me."

I've heard a lot about thumping hearts in my lifetime, and I'd always thought it was a load of crap. Hearts do a lot of things, in my experience, most of them involving spurting blood, but thumping was not one of them.

But I'd been wrong. Because I could feel mine thump right then. He'd known I would find him.

"Good idea," I said, but I didn't think I was completely in control of my voice.

I stood inside the door while he sat staring at the door and me in it.

When his eyes met mine I thought I could feel my skin melt.

"Kiss me," I ordered him hoarsely.

I didn't give him time to yap about it. I was inside, pulled him up, pulled him into me, before I had stopped to think about it myself. It had to happen; I would make it happen.

And oh yes, oh yes, Daniel's mouth opened to mine, his hands clutched the front of my robe, putting in wrinkles Yorokobi would never get out, and then around my neck, dragging me closer, dragging me into him.

We floated there in midair, breathing some sort of rarefied air that must not have had our regular ration of oxygen in it, because I was lightheaded and felt fine, like I was flying without a plane. I could feel my heartbeat in my lips as Daniel licked them, then bit them, then sucked them into his. I wanted my mouth inside his. I wanted everything inside his.

"Daniel, let's do it," I rasped against his tongue.

Breathing hard, his mouth released me. "Do what?" he whispered from an inch away.

"It. Whatever. Whatever there is. Whatever you want. I want it. Come on." I wanted to beg, please, please, please, but something inside me wasn't ready for begging, was too fragile for that, too crushable. But inside I was begging, where I couldn't let it out.

Daniel groaned and twisted his fingers in my hair. "I'm not saying it's not a good idea," he said into my teeth.

"Too many double negatives. Make sense." My words ruffled his hair.

"I'm trying to think," he muttered.

"Well, stop it," I said, more sharply than I'd meant to.

"That's not what I do."

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Stopping thinking, I mean."

"Well, no one mentioned starting talking, and you're certainly off and running with that one."

"I'm not. I mean, I am. But - look, back the hell up, would you?"

I let go. Somewhere in there I'd wrapped my arms around him. I dropped them. But I didn't back up.

He did.

"Look," I said. "Let's get this over with right now."

Blinking fast, his eyebrows raced for the top of his head. "Over with?" he said, with a dangerous tone to his voice.

I groaned. "In the sense of -"

"Never mind. Never mind. Okay, look. No, that's not right. Never mind. Look at it this other way." Two explanations down and he hadn't even got either of them out yet. "Jack, I don't think you want me to fuck you."

The way he said it made it sound pretty unappealing, I admit. "I'd like to say I'm not that kind of a guy, but I'm not so sure any more."

Daniel's mouth was open but he wasn't kissing me any more so the hell with it. Still, words kept coming out. "And you don't want me to fall in love with you, do you?"

Those words too sounded hard, cold, and simple compared to what I was feeling. I barely knew what they meant. "I guess... I don't?" I said experimentally.

"Okay, so look, look, let's not get crazy over this weird sexual tension thing. We've been in each other's pockets for a while now. It's, uh, I don't know, never mind, but I don't think we should just - "

I had a more than half-hard dick that disagreed with him. But years of practice with women was flipping various switches in my brain. On the base level, what I understood was a no. Right. I knew the no. Gotten the no before. Recently. Hated the no, but grasped it.

But as for anything else -

I grabbed Daniel by his upper arms, shook him. "Don't you want me, Daniel?"

That open mouth and big blue eyes turned toward me again and I thought, that's it, I've got him. Admit it. Admit it, you irritating fucker. Admit it!

There were several things going on behind his eyes, though, and while I didn't follow all of them, they didn't add up to an unqualified Yes.

What the HELL? I thought to myself.

"You can't even say that?" I asked him a little more gently.

Dammit, couldn't he see I was the one who was supposed to have hangups? What the hell was he playing at?

It was something, though, I could tell. I could see him struggling, could see his throat moving almost as if he wanted to get the words out.

Could see him shut me off.

"Don't," I said, shaking him again. "Just tell me. Fucking tell me."

"Jack," he said, and leaned his head forward to poke into my chest, and he sounded incredibly, incredibly tired. "Let's go to sleep."

No! I wanted to say, and shake him. What if we died tomorrow? Did all the stories about virgins dying in battle mean nothing to him? Was he going to leave me twisting in the wind forever? Until we were dead and forgotten? Nothing was worth that.

But then he looked up at me again and instead of thumping, my heart melted.

And I knew it was all over anyway.

I would wait as long as he said to, as long as he wanted to, longer if necessary. To the end of this life and into the next one. Because it was over for me, I was gone.

Deep, deep into love with Daniel Jackson.

No way out, even if I wanted one.

Which I did not.

"Okay, Daniel," I said softly, and pressed my lips to his forehead. "Let's go to sleep."

And we undressed just like we had last night, but this time I was in the bed first. I tucked the belt knife under the pillow. That was me; that was my job.

Then I put the cover down for him.

And when he got in, I shoved myself full against his back, wrapping him up in me.

"Hey, you don't have to --"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Shut up, Daniel. Sleepytime, remember?"

It took longer than it otherwise might have, him lying on his side, me spooned against his back. Neither one of us was used to it and we didn't have the impetus of exhausted hunger that had driven us into sleep every night on the ship during the sea crossing.

It was a long time of being there.

But eventually I felt him, heard him drift off. Contemplated for the thousandth time in my life all the infinitesimal changes that a body undergoes when it gives itself up to the helplessness of sleep.

Contemplated for the first time in my life that I was in love with a man.

A pretty irritating one, at that.

I didn't notice when I fell asleep, because my dreams were all about the same contemplations.

---

DANIEL:

"Wake up, Jack."

He was on the floor of the cell, arms wrapped around him to provide him with a little warmth. He needed the warmth, because he was naked. He looked tired.

"No thanks," but there was no acid in it.

"Come on, get up, be good." I waved and the man behind me put the meal tray down on the table, left. He locked the door behind him. I didn't have a key. And the tray was cardboard, the dishes paper, and the table one solid piece of welded steel. Jack didn't get an opportunity to make any weapons. Or tools.

Not ever.

"Wouldn't you rather get up off the floor?" I said reasonably. "Or at least lie on the bed?"

The bed was also one piece, no sheets that could be torn up and used as garrotes or ladders. But it was soft, and it was cleaned regularly.

Always right after I left.

I hadn't been down here for days and I was already hard thinking about the muscles in the back of Jack's thighs. They flexed whenever he got up off the floor, but not quite the same way they flexed when I had him on the bed on his hands and knees while I fucked him so hard he forgot his name.

"No," he said, and again, it was a flat dead word.

"Come on, Jack," allowing myself to sound just a little bit impatient. "You know what's going to happen. Why are you being difficult about this? Do I have to get some of the guys in here with the ties?"

If there was one thing Jack hated more than being in this cell, it was having a bunch of goons standing around holding him down - and watching - while I fucked him.

He didn't hate the fucking, though. I knew that.

Even though, for a long time now, he'd been hating me.

"Don't you have something to do?" he sighed, and the muscles in his neck slid over one another as he turned his face away from me. "Something to do with destroying some other part of the world? Iceland, maybe? Or Fiji?"

"Would you like me to do that?"

"What I would like is to get the fuck out of here."

"Sorry, Jack. And I'm surprised. I thought you'd take the opportunity to insult me. I thought you'd say something about liking it if I dropped dead."

Then he did look at me, one eye cutting through the gloom of the room like a laser of hate, trying to burn through my head just by looking at me.

"I don't want you to drop dead, Daniel," Jack said evenly. "I would like to see you strapped to some convenient chair, so I could kill you. Myself. Slowly."

"Whereas I would like to hear you scream my name while my dick is buried so far inside you that you can taste it." I started unbuttoning my shirt. "It's funny how we want such different things from each other, isn't it?"

I walked up to him, knowing he wouldn't hurt me. Oh, he could snap my neck in a second - he'd done it. But then after I came back out of the sarcophagus - which hadn't been all that hard to build - he had a very bad time indeed.

And it didn't have to be bad. It could be good.

"Come on, Jack. Behave yourself," I said again, reaching out a hand to run it down his chest. I loved the way he flinched. "And good news."

Maybe I'd get him some clothes next time so I'd have something to take off him, I thought as I wrapped my hand around his bare cock to pull him closer.

"Fiji's perfectly fine," I whispered in his ear as I took him into my hands.

~~~

In these rooms, sunlight didn't hit. It was diffused by the paper panels. It glowed into a room, and later on in the day, glowed silently out.

Nonetheless when light hits a certain point, I tend to wake up. If I'm at home and everything is copacetic, I go back to sleep.

That hadn't happened in a long time now.

I woke with my neck stiff and realized I hadn't moved, not for hours, maybe not for the whole night. I was still in the same position, Jack spooned up against my back.

Hadn't I moved? Usually I moved at least a little when I dreamed those dreams. Sometimes I woke up humping the mattress, come everywhere, taste of ashes in my mouth.

Not this time.

My body had had a good night, wrapped up safely in Jack, while my mind had wandered back out into nightmare territory all on its own.

I used to sort of like my mind.

I let out my breath and turned my head slightly down. Jack's arm was underneath my lips. If I just stuck out my tongue I could taste him.

So I did.

He tasted real.

As real as it got. Realer.

Not as real as the horror in my head. But pretty real.

And then before I knew it Jack was moving, wrapping me up, pulling me back into a hug.

God, he was the perfect combination of warm and soft and hard.

"You 'wake, Daniel?" he murmured against the back of my head.

"You know I am." I wanted to not sound like an asshole, but I never woke up the way I was apparently supposed to.

"I wanna tell you something," Jack said, still softly.

I was suddenly seized with the conviction that he was going to tell me something he'd dreamed, probably something sweet and sleepy, maybe even about me. And then he was going to ask me what I'd dreamed about. And he'd be hoping that maybe I'd dreamed something sweet and sleepy about him. Because that was the sort of romantic Jack was. It didn't take a genius to see it. It was practically tattooed on his arm. "Big Sap", it should have said.

But I hadn't dreamed something sweet and sleepy about him.

"It's going to have to wait," I said, bouncing to my feet, and racing out the door.

I didn't look back to see the look on his face.

~~~

I tried not to even look at Jack while we ate and our bodyguards took us to the library. I was afraid he could see it on my face, see what I'd been dreaming.

Shifu had told me. The evil in my subconscious was too great. The only way to win was to deny it battle.

My subconscious was no longer all that sub-. It knew I wanted Jack, before I even knew I wanted Jack. Wanted him like a three year old wants a shiny toy, or an evil dictator wants a world - wanted him as a plaything to use up and throw away, to play with roughly until he was broken and bent and I had no use for him any more.

I couldn't allow that.

It wasn't just that no one should be treated the way I treated Jack in the dreams. It was that they hurt me to watch, hurt every time, and even in the dreams I was powerless to stop them.

They were like warning signs for a whole toxic area of my brain, like Shifu had left them for me to remind me of what was in me if I let it out. And yet they didn't make sense, because the dreams seemed to recur whether or not I let them out. I had no control. Possibly over anything.

Certainly not over me.

I wanted to make love to Jack. I did. I wanted to do everything to him, with him, for him that I could think of. I wanted not to be alone any more, and I wanted him to see something in me that Sha're had seen, because she was never going to be there to see it any more and I couldn't live without it.

She had seen me as a man.

I wanted to be a person, to be human, not just to be dictionaries and libraries and words and this thin crust of mental acrobatics called language. She'd thought I had blood and bones and muscles and skin and because she thought them, I had them. It wasn't as if I'd never made love before. It was as if I'd never been real before.

But even Jack didn't see me, not all of me, not the human me - much less the unhuman me that I'd seen all too much of lately. He saw some piece of me, he grasped the geekiness and the books but he never really noticed -- how comfortable I was with a gun in my hand, for instance.

And he always thought I needed to be protected.

And I would give anything to keep him from knowing that he should probably worry more about protecting the rest of the world from me.

Protecting himself from me.

And while I was thinking through this some part of my brain was cataloging information in the scrolls Mokusei brought me. I wasn't getting a lot of work done. But I was working.

Until Jack's voice sounded right behind me. "Daniel."

I turned. He stood over me, big meter-wide sheets of paper in his hands.

"I think you should look at this," he said.

We tried to keep our voices down while Mokusei and Daishi kept a respectful distance.

I pushed up my glasses, took a good look at the map on the top of the pile Jack had brought.

"Are these what I think they are?" I asked, disbelieving.

"I think so." Jack's fingertip trailed along hatchmarks curving in an S-shape towards the closely packed topographical lines that indicated a mountain. "Ameratsu's troops. Retreating. To this point here."

"And then disappearing."

"As if they went through a - " Jack didn't finish the sentence, still looking suspiciously over at the twins, but his hand made a sweeping circular motion in front of him.

Yeah. As if they did.

"Okay. Okay. Let me find some confirmation of this. Is there a date? Oh there is. Great. Let me see what else I can find. If that's their exit point, that'd be one of the, uh, what we're looking for." Neither Daishi nor Mokusei could possibly know any English but I didn't even want to say "Stargate", didn't want them wondering what that was. "Let me see if there's - oh, that annal is here already. Mokusei brought it to me." Blinking, I looked up at Jack, confused. Mokusei had brought me the exact material I would need to locate Ameratsu's final location on this world and perhaps the Stargate she'd used to leave?

Jack did a thing with his lips and one eye. "Yeah, Daishi brought me this. This map." He tapped it with a fingertip.

Huh. Just what we were looking for.

Suddenly, not so reassuring, seeing what might be our way home.

~~~

Shigeru himself actually showed up a couple of hours later. He came to talk to me, walked right past where Jack sat at a nearby low table.

"{The brain requires food and air as well as work,}" he said. "{Come, return with me to the house. Lunch will be waiting. And afterward, there are things you can do outside.}"

"{Uh, thank you, but I will be busy here,}" I said distractedly, deep into trying to figure out if this kanji I was looking at was based on the root for "old" or "dead". Slight difference in meaning there.

"{Of course. Then allow me to take Jyaku with me. He must be tired. This is not the sort of work he is used to, is it?}"

"Huh?" I looked around. There was Jack, in fact. Lying on his back looking up at the underside of his table. He seemed to be tracing the patterns in the wood grain with his fingers.

"{Well no, this isn't exactly his area of expertise,}" I admitted. Poor Jack, he looked so bored. What could it hurt to take a couple of hours off? Maybe after dinner I could come back here - or maybe Shigeru could arrange for some of the materials I needed to be moved to his house temporarily.

Jack deserved something nice.

I contemplated the possibility that I also still felt guilty from my dream.

I calculated that possibility at better than sixty percent.

~~~

After lunch Jack went off to do something in the garden and I got sidetracked by something Mokusei told me about the foundations of the house, the way they'd been built four hundred years before.

I got absorbed in it and then he led me around back and it was a while before I got around to going and seeing what Jack was doing. Not because I felt I had to be with him every waking moment. Just because it was good safety protocol.

Protocol, apparently, had taken a hike, because I came out on a porch to see Jack in the garden, stripped to the waist, and flexing every muscle that you could see drawing a huge bow that looked at first glance to be twice as tall as he was.

The tallness of the bow was a visual illusion but it was very tall, taller than any bow I'd ever seen (and I'd seen a few). The offcenter bowbelly should have looked awkward, uneven, but it didn't. In conjunction with the form of a man it looked graceful, proportional even, and organic, as if its uneven natural shape extended and amplified the natural uneven shape of a human body.

I'd like to say Jack pulled it effortlessly but there was effort. I could see it trembling slightly in his arms as it stacked toward the end of the pull. But he had it under control, aimed it, let fly.

The arrow did at least make it into the target.

I was standing far enough away that I couldn't quite hear Jack chuckle. I could see him shake his head ruefully.

I was also standing close enough that I could see Shigeru's hands when he emerged from under a tree's shadow, right behind Jack.

He placed his left hand over Jack's left hand, reinforcing his grip on the bow. Jack stood, as an archer did, left side toward the target. Shigeru's body matched his. From where I was standing there could have been inches between them - or Shigeru could have been pressed full-length against Jack's back.

I could feel a frown starting.

Then Shigeru, who still had robes on, chest and shoulders broader than Jack's and heavier than Jack's, crimson and gold silk robes with a pattern on them reminiscent of the spread wings of a bird of prey, rocked back a little onto his right foot, wrapped his right arm around the outside of Jack's right arm, hooked his fingertips on the string.

Uh huh, I thought to myself, as Shigeru tucked his head in the curve of Jack's neck, lips moving - talking about the art of archery, no doubt, I thought to myself through the ice cubes forming in my brain - and whispered in Jack's ear.

And the next thing that happened was that Jack actually leaned back into Shigeru, relaxing into his arms, and laughed.

Huh, I thought again, wondering what part of the archery lesson that required.

Jack looked relaxed, looked happy. And Shigeru looked pleased - no, smug was the word I was looking for.

Yes, smug.

Something made a loud snapping sound - it might have been something I stepped on, it might have been my jaw - and Shigeru and Jack both looked up the hill toward me, simultaneously, for all the world as if I had interrupted them.

I nodded and braced my feet on the porch and crossed my arms in front of me.

And stared at them.

A lot of things were clear now. Things I should have noticed sooner, would have, if I had taken the trouble to see past the end of my nose.

No, I wasn't very bright.

Shigeru came up the hill toward me. "{He's learning fast,}" he said informally, a happy lord of the manor in his garden, enjoying his riches.

"{I can see that.}"

If Shigeru had been blind and deaf he would still have gathered that I was unhappy in the extreme. I didn't just look at him, I glared, I could feel it, and I couldn't make it stop.

Shigeru considered me for a minute, then turned, waved a sleeved arm down to where Jack drew the bow again, muscles in his chest tautening.

"{He was born to fight,}" said Shigeru.

"{He has many unexpected talents,}" I gritted through my teeth.

"{And the fighting arts have an inherent beauty, inherited from nature and the very combative existence of the basic elements, and that makes him beautiful too, does it not? His resemblance to the wilder side of nature?}"

He stepped closer to me, looking down into my face.

I didn't budge a centimeter.

"{It does,}" I admitted.

"{Beauty is not infinite. It must be hoarded, tended, otherwise it cannot grow and spread. If one man finds a beautiful vase, but has no room for it in his house, he must leave it for another man to buy, must he not? Because beautiful things by their very nature should be enjoyed, and it is the economy of the world to ensure that this is so.}"

He stood carelessly balanced on the soles of his feet, a palm draped just as carelessly over the pommel of his sword, as if he weren't prepared to stab me with that sword if I made one move toward him. As if he wouldn't enjoy it.

"{I disagree,}" I said, raising my chin to look down my nose at him. "{Beauty has no inherent nature whatsoever; it is created through our observation. Whether it is finite or infinite is unknowable to us. A thousand vases may be all as beautiful as one another, but we see only one, and we enjoy it, so we call it rare and beautiful, but in the interest of accuracy, we are wrong.}"

"{But a wise man does not smash the beautiful vase so that no one else may have it.}" He paced a few steps; his legs were long and traveled fast. "{Nor does he lock it in a cabinet, preventing anyone from enjoying it, even himself.}"

"{People are not vases.}" I was losing patience with him.

"{Oh but they are.}" He nodded, all the while keeping his eyes on Jack's motions, the rippling muscles of Jack's torso, the sweat droplets forming on Jack's forehead, the v-shaped notch between Jack's eyebrows indicating his growing determination to get an arrow in the center of the target. "{People are vessels, fragile, shaped by the hands of others, subject to being broken by careless hands.}" He looked back at me and I had no trouble imagining whose hands he thought were careless. "{The rich man has fifty vases; to him none are unique. And he fails to even see the vase that does its work for him every day, bearing a new load of flowers. Yet the flowers would not be in his life without the vase. It is the failure of his sight.}"

"{I don't know. In my experience, the thief who thinks the rich man is so unaware often breaks into the rich man's home in the middle of the night to steal his treasure and finds the rich man armed, ready to stab the thief in the heart.}" I rocked a little on the balls of my feet. "{You may be failing to remember that even the rich man who has learned to overlook the vase would react violently to its sudden disappearance. For it is a piece of his life, you see. Its removal would create an terrible gap.}"

"{I see what you mean,}" said Shigeru.

We stood and watched for a moment. Jack's fingers, square and strong, let go of the string. The arrow thunked into the target.

"{If you'll excuse me,}" said Shigeru, "{I would like to explain to Jyaku why he must relax as he lets the arrow go, that if he is tense he will convey that to the bow and the arrow will not travel straight.}"

"{Of course,}" was all I said.

Shigeru walked back down the little hill. Jack, who had his head lowered and was fussing with an arrow, looked up as Shigeru approached, and his expression was carefree and welcoming and happy all without saying a word, and I wanted to go inside to nurse the sick lump of heavy fury that was forming in my stomach.

Was he right? Did I have a right to keep Jack away from him if he could seduce any part of Jack, body or soul? I didn't know, I'd have to think about it.

But what Shigeru didn't know was that deep down, on this particular issue, I didn't care about rights. It wasn't about what I had a right to do or not do, feel or not feel. Maybe it was true that if I couldn't, wouldn't take advantage of whatever Jack was willing to offer, I couldn't, or shouldn't stand in the way of his offering it to someone else. But the simple truth of it was I didn't think I could let that happen.

No, I corrected myself. I knew damn well I wouldn't let that happen.

But, I reminded myself, the whole point of holding back was to keep Jack from getting hurt, to keep from hurting him myself. If I wasn't willing to hurt him, wasn't keeping him from Shigeru if he really wanted Shigeru sort of hurting him too? I didn't give a damn about what Shigeru wanted - but what Jack wanted, that was a different matter.

I looked back down the hill. Jack was rubbing his chest and shaking his head ruefully. Shigeru was laughing and holding out a robe. Apparently Jack had finally figured out why hairy-chested men did not do archery stripped to the waist. He slid one arm into the robe, shifted the bow to that hand and slid in the other arm - all assisted by Shigeru, who then untied his own belt and unwrapped it lightning-fast only to reach around Jack's waist and wind it there, leaning in close each time he crossed it in the back, with both hands, both arms reaching around Jack's body.

He didn't tie it quite as fast as he'd untied it.

Nice way to impress Jack with how quick you can strip, I snarked in my head as Shigeru brought the ends back around to the front, tucked them in, then smoothed his hands down the collar, smoothing the front of the robe into the belt and the belt around Jack's waist.

Meanwhile Jack just stood there, and from this distance I could swear I could see color in his cheeks. Which might just be from the exercise.

Yeah, right.

When Shigeru straightened Jack's eyes were on his face. Shigeru was only a tiniest bit taller than Jack; their eyes were almost on a level as they met, Shigeru's eyes, which I could not see, which were a sunny golden brown, and Jack's eyes, which I could see, the deepest inky brown you could imagine.

From my angle I could see what Shigeru saw in those eyes.

They were glittering, hell, they were sparkling, unique, warm, beautiful.

I turned and went into the house to contemplate my moral qualms about hurting Jack.

~~~

I was distracted through dinner, which meant conversation was limited, since Shigeru didn't speak Latin and Jack didn't speak Japanese.

I didn't give a damn.

~~~

In the bath that night Jack wanted to discuss the maps.

I wasn't as interested as I should have been.

"So look, do you think we can just break out of here and head out there? Do you know if there's a DHD with the gate?"

Our voices were low and quiet; Yorokobi was not in the room.

"No, I don't know, Jack."

"Would more research help? Or should we just cut our losses and go?"

I shrugged. "The gate might be deep underground. In fact, it probably is. We know the Ishidons buried it at some point in the past. There's no way to guess when they buried it or if it's ever been uncovered. And if we leave, we lose Shigeru's protection."

Jack looked at me. I don't know what I looked like but he looked puzzled by something.

"What happened to we gotta get home, we gotta get outta here, Daniel?"

"We do have to get out of here. We know there's a gate. We can work our way there. Shigeru's help would be better than trying to do it without him."

He was staring at me as if he could see into my mind.

Of course you can't, Jack, I told him silently. If you could, you'd never have kissed me back.

"So... you're saying Shigeru is our only hope," Jack said slowly.

I shrugged again. Jack's eyes widened so I looked away. "I'm saying he's a powerful ally. It wouldn't do to alienate him after all he's done for us. He's probably saved our lives; at the very least he's saved us from becoming slaves, maybe separated, somewhere else in Ishido."

"Right," said Jack softly. "You said the most important thing was for us not to be separated."

I looked back at him. His eyes were so beautiful, not the least bit soft or feminine and yet something about them seemed to me the epitome of humanity - all the passion, all the capability for life and death and everything in between. He was so beautiful to me.

Shigeru's voice, talking about tending beauty rather than hoarding it, drifted into my head.

"Well, we weren't separated," I told him, each word feeling separate and meaningless in my mouth. "And now we're fine. We're safe here. It probably wouldn't even matter if we didn't sleep in the same room."

Jack's head tilted back, as if he were contemplating - or as if from a blow. "Right. Right." He nodded, as if he understood.

I suppose he did.

~~~

We knew the drill. No slight of hand required. Yorokobi appeared as we were dressing after the bath, waited for Jack.

Just Jack.

I finished dressing, my head down as I tied my belt, not looking up, even though I could feel Jack's eyes on me.

Then I couldn't feel them any more.

When I looked up, he'd gone.

For a few minutes I just stood there, fingers still on the smooth, cool silk of the belt, eyes on the door, mouth open. I wasn't thinking. I was just frozen, left there, like a wind-up toy that can't move when no one is looking. I just stood there. No one came.

Eventually I moved.

I walked out and through the garden. The house wasn't so confusing now. A couple of days' residence and anything could seem familiar, I thought.

Anything could change, more quickly than you thought.

I walked around and around, tracing the edges of the fencing that marked the boundaries of Shigeru's city estate. I could get out, I was sure of it. Shigeru certainly wouldn't mind. I could steal a horse and make my way toward the mountains. I thought I could find the Gate, even alone. Why not? I could come back with reinforcements from the SGC. Supplies. A vehicle.

Jack was safe.

I didn't know how many times I'd made a circuit of the fence.

It occurred to me that if I walked too close to the house I might hear something I didn't want to hear. I didn't know which room was Shigeru's, but it was bound to open to the fresh air, and I had a suspicion that Jack wouldn't be all that quiet.

I went inside, found my way alone to our room, the room we'd shared just the night before.

I paced, then I lay down on the futon, fully dressed. Stared at the ceiling. Turned on my side and stared at the wall. Rolled over and stared at the door.

Stared at the door.

Sat up and stared at the door.

My tongue felt thick and dry in my mouth. There wasn't enough oxygen getting to my brain, there couldn't be, I could feel my pulse pounding and the rushing in my ears had to be my own heartbeat.

Was this what the Goa'uld felt like, I wondered, before they conquered a world? Decimated a population?

Fondled their first real slave?

Where was the line, I wondered, as I sat, staring at the door. Where was the space between what was okay to want and what wasn't? It seemed clear enough - when you infringed on someone else's personal freedoms, that wasn't okay. But when they wanted you to conquer them? When they worshipped you, looked at you with nothing but reverence and love in their eyes, when they begged you to be their god and take their lives in your hands and do with them what you will - that couldn't be right, either.

But if they offered -

And if the idea of it tasted so good -

That must be what they felt. The sweet sharp taste of it. The power. The swelling pleasure in knowing that you held them in the palm of your hand.

Yep, that must be what it felt like to be Goa'uld.

I knew what I was going to do.

Because if I had to feel this way, I might as well act appropriately.

I went back to the bathing chamber. Yes, Jack had left his sword there. The sword Shigeru had given him. He was so sure he wouldn't need it with Shigeru around.

I grabbed it, unsheathed it, and left the sheath behind.

---

JACK:

I had expected Yorokobi to take me to Shigeru again. What was weird was that Daniel was also clearly expecting it. Expected it, and ignored it, if his face was anything to judge by as he patently looked away while Yorokobi gestured for me to follow her.

His face turned away from me; the curve of his neck.

That was what I was thinking of as Yoro led me through the house again. A different room.

She knelt by the door, said his name, as if I didn't know he'd be waiting.

In his bedroom, apparently, as I slid open the door.

He was standing just inside.

The futon mat lay on the floor, with silk pillows and the fat comforters Daniel told me were called kakefuton piled on it in folded cylinders.

This room was his bedroom.

Shigeru was standing, hands clasped behind him, staring at the door as if he'd been waiting for me to come through it.

Just like Daniel had done last night.

I thought about how Daniel had looked when I'd found him, when I'd pulled him up into my arms, when I'd crushed his mouth with my mouth.

I turned to go.

Shigeru cried out something I didn't understand, laid a hand on my shoulder.

I looked back at him.

He said something, I shook my head, I didn't understand, I wasn't the one who knew all the languages. He said something else. One hand came up and he laid his palm against my cheek. He had calluses from swinging the sword, and from the reins of his horse.

His hand was warm.

I wasn't moving or talking. I just looked at him.

He was waiting for something.

I didn't know what.

Finally he made an exasperated noise. "Danyaeru?" he said, and flicked an angry hand toward the door. He sounded so condescending, he half-pissed me off. What did he have to be sarcastic about?

"[No, not Daniel,]" I snapped back, and Shigeru smiled. Clearly, his day was made if I wasn't going to go scurrying back to Daniel's side.

Sure of himself, isn't he, I thought.

He moved as if to put his hands on my shoulders, but I stepped back.

He released a torrent of rapid Japanese.

[Look, I don't even know what I'm doing here, all right? I don't know what you want from me, I don't even know what I want from you, and I'm nervous and you're pissing me off and I don't even know what to say to you and to top it all off you wouldn't understand me if I did!]" I let loose back at him.

We stood there for a second, frowning at each other.

Finally Shigeru had had enough.

"YOROKOBI!" he shouted at the top of his voice.

She took a couple of minutes to get in, so she couldn't have been right outside the door. She folded gracefully down on her knees in front of him. He said something to her, long sentences, rapid-fire. She turned, still on her knees, to me.

"[His lordship would like to know if you are now willing to spend the night here with him,]" she said, eyes modestly downcast, in perfect Latin.

Why you little minx, I thought to myself.

"[Tell his lordship I'm still thinking about it,]" I tossed back. Let them stew, goddammit. She seemed to relay this to Shigeru.

Shigeru started talking. A lot. He paused every few sentences to let Yoro catch up.

"[His lordship says that he thinks you know, but perhaps you would like him to say to prove it, that he has the greatest admiration for you. You are a fighter, like him, a knight. He says that two people so alike must have a great deal in common. He would like the chance to find out how much you have in common. He wonders if you would like to stay here with him and help him find out.]"

"[Just me?]" I said warily.

Which apparently he understood, because he started answering, while Yoro translated. "[He is happy to provide shelter for Danyaeru if you would like, because it would please you. But Danyaeru is also a grown man, a free man. You have no responsibility to him. You can do as you please.]"

"[I do have a responsibility to him. It is my job to guard him.]"

Yoro translated, Shigeru responded, she said back, "[You have fulfilled your mission as far as anyone could ask you to. Danyaeru is safe. In this country, as a foreigner traveling under Hatoyama's protection, he cannot be harmed. He can go anywhere, do anything he likes.]"

Shigeru stepped close again. This time both his hands cupped my face, and his eyes were very close to mine. They were a deep warm color, and so obviously displayed his sincerity that I couldn't even hold on to my cynicism.

"[What do you want, Jyaku?]" he said himself.

It was a good question. Right this moment I wasn't sure. I didn't feel all that interested in getting back to the Stargate, saving Earth, any of that stuff. I wanted Daniel - wanted him so bad it hurt, down deep in my gut, with a pain I couldn't ignore.

But that didn't look like it was gonna happen, anyway, whether we were here, at home, or in Timbuktu.

And Shigeru wanted me.

That was a very odd sensation. It had been a while since anyone had wanted me, and I liked it. I liked it a lot. It took years off my soul and lightened my heart.

And he was a good guy.

And he was a damn good-looking one, too. Not like Daniel, nothing like as beautiful as Daniel. But damn good-looking.

And there was something about him, something about the way his eyes changed from serious to laughing really quickly without the rest of his face moving at all, something about the way his bottom lip, which was a strong bow shape and dark pink, moved when he talked, that seemed almost right to some deep lizard part of my brain.

He could see me thinking as I looked at him.

He stepped back. Untied his belt, unwrapped it. Talked. Yoro translated.

"[It is too simple a question. Few men know what they want from life or from any individual moment in it,]" said Yoro's sweet low voice. Shigeru opened his robes, shrugged out of them. He left them heaped on the floor. "[Are you frightened? Have you loved a man?]"

Yes, I thought instantly, then squashed the thought. "[Not the way you mean,]" I admitted, eyeing Shigeru's torso. His chest was broad, flat, and muscular. Not Teal'c muscular, but the muscles were lean, and well defined, and flexed as he moved. Trying to do anything to him - or with him - would indeed be a learning experience and a half. The idea was intriguing - but that was all it was. Intriguing. In my brain. It wasn't flipping my switches, wasn't doing anything for me.

But I was riveted, unable to look away.

Stripped to the waist, he knelt in front of me, his head bowed forward like Yorokobi's.

Her breath caught a little - she could not be used to seeing her master like this.

His voice, deep and loaded with conviction even though I couldn't understand the words, went on. Yoro said softly,

"[I offer you myself.]"

Reaching up, Shigeru untied his top knot. Untied, his hair fell past his shoulders, nearly to his waist. With long black hair streaming down over his shoulders, chest, and back, he looked fifty times more naked than he had a minute ago.

He bowed his head, spread his arms wide.

I admitted to myself that I had never seen anything quite like him. I felt honored and humbled at the same time.

"[And if I may add,]" Yoro said quietly, "[the love of a strong man is a valuable gift.]"

Yeah, I thought, as I swallowed. I was getting that.

"[Don't kneel to me,]" I said, reaching down and giving Shigeru my hand. He playfully tugged down on it. I resisted, couldn't help laughing, pulled him up. He was funny at the most unexpected times.

When he was standing, I said, "[Look, you're fantastic, all right? You're --]" Did I really want to tell him he was hot? Would that even translate into Latin? That he was obviously smart as well as a powerful guy and that clearly he was too good for a well-worn Air Force colonel who was just trying to get off his planet and never come back? "[--You're all the good things, okay?]"

He smiled, and the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners really was damn adorable.

"[But this,]" I waved a hand back and forth between us, "[this isn't the best plan, is it? I mean, I'm not going to stay here forever, and you're too good for --]"

He interrupted me to step past my waving hands, into me, and quickly put a hand around the back of my head, holding me still while he kissed me.

Whoa, I thought.

His mouth was big, wide and warm, and the kiss was respectful, restrained, until I opened my mouth, half by reflex, and then he pressed in like it was the last attack at the Alamo. His hands were everywhere, his tongue was everywhere, and the way he kissed - I didn't have time to analyze all the details, all my scrambled brain could deliver was that he was good, very good.

Damn good.

I gasped a little when he let me go.

Okay, so maybe he could flip my switches if he tried really hard.

All kinds of wild things were whipping through my brain - I didn't even know what he really wanted from me, after all, and if Yoro had to translate the whole time that was going to be awkward, and anyway what if I really wasn't that kind of a guy? What if he wanted something gross? What if he wanted something that would hurt? What if he -

He kissed me again, and this time his hands moved lower, sliding over my ass, pulling me tight against him. It felt very odd, and very good, and I moaned.

Bastard had quite the negotiating technique.

But still, as weird as these last few weeks had been, as good as this might be, as nice as it was to be so wanted, what I knew that no one else did was that it was Daniel I was in love with. Stupid, useless in love with. And there were rules about that sort of thing. A gentleman didn't go sleeping with someone else just to piss off the person he couldn't have. Or for... Shigeru kissed the base of my throat, and I swallowed the noise he almost made me make. Or for fun.

And it would piss off Daniel, I knew that.

Or at least I thought that.

It would have pissed off the Daniel of a few days ago, the Daniel with the sword and the blood on his shirt and the wild berserker eyes.

But that was a little different from the Daniel who had told me just this evening that it was safe here and we owed everything to Shigeru.

Would that Daniel even care?

Shigeru murmured something against my ear. "[This is a great gift I ask for, but I do ask for it, nonetheless,]" Yoro translated.

Shit, was she still here? Surely I should ask for her to --

Shigeru's hands squeezed.

I lost my train of thought.

"Uh... oh, uh... [I have no gift to give that is of equal value,]" I managed to get out.

Shigeru shook his head at Yoro's translation of my words, answered me himself. "[You are gift,] he said, skimming his hands up over the outside of my arms, up over my shoulders. "[Very rich gift. I have nothing. But if you agree.... I give you... sky door?]"

I felt suddenly frozen.

Sky door?

Was this guy offering me a Stargate?

If I would sleep with him?

"[Sky door?]" I said experimentally.

Sighing, Shigeru stepped back. He could see he had my attention but not the way he wanted it. He started speaking quickly, in Japanese, Yoro translating again. "[I know what you're looking for, of course. You are close to finding it, aren't you? I will help you the rest of the way. You want the sky door, the ones the gods used.]"

"[What makes you think we are looking for this door?]" My every colonel nerve was on full alert.

Shigeru snorted. Actually snorted.

"[Danyaeru asks for scrolls that have to do with Ameratsu's last battles. Why? These were right before she left this world. And the language you two speak when you are alone is not the language of this country or of Optima. You must, by definition, be from somewhere else.]"

"[In the far north of Optima the tribes are --]"

Shigeru snorted again, raised an eyebrow at me. He couldn't have been saying "Oh please" more plainly than if he'd known the English for it. "[You seek the sky door. I would like to give it to you.]" Coming back to me, Shigeru traced my scarred eyebrow, my cheekbone, my jaw with his fingertips. He near-whispered something Yoro translated as "[You are worth the sky and the stars and a pocketful of worlds.]"

Okaayyy then.....

"[You know where it is?]"

"[You don't?]" And his eyes were twinkling, like he knew a really good joke. "[Didn't you find an excellent map in the library today?]"

I wasn't sure this joke was funny. This guy was playing us, I knew it, knew it like I knew my own name. Suddenly my confidence that the map was genuine plummeted. It was planted, I was sure of it. But it, and this conversation, meant Shigeru was offering something he figured he could deliver - a Stargate, which might or might not be working, but which also was most definitely our best shot at getting home.

Which was suddenly very much where I wanted to be.

Shigeru looked at me. Said something to Yorokobi, who stood and left, keeping her eyes down the whole way. Clearly, her services weren't needed any more. He'd played his final card.

And he could see how seriously I was considering it.

There was silence after the quiet thump that indicated that the door had shut, that we were alone.

We stared at each other for a while.

God knows what he saw. I could barely figure out what I was seeing.

I wanted to be home. I wanted to be at the SGC, breathing recycled air. I wanted Carter and Teal'c. I wanted to pat Hammond on the head and eat bad military food. I wanted to see what had grown in my fridge while I was gone. I wanted pizza.

I wanted to get Daniel alone. Really alone. And talk to him. Not on a mission. At home.

And I wanted to get Daniel home.

Shigeru's thumb stroked my bottom lip and I felt it, really felt it, something hot in my stomach that I knew was a spark. Maybe I could fan it. Maybe Shigeru could.

Maybe it would be good. Maybe it would be worth it.

"Okay," I said, and nodded my head.

"Okay?" He tested the word out, cocking his head to one side, looking questioningly at me.

"Okay. Ita. Hai. Whatever." Sure, why not? Hell, I was seriously considering it even before he'd offered me a Stargate in return for my maiden voyage into -- "Okay."

I untied my own robes, shrugged them off, let them slide to the floor. I advanced on him like a fighter would.

"Okay?" he said, backing up a little, his eyes wary.

"Okay," I growled, and grabbed him around the neck.

Twisting, he broke the hold, danced away. "[You angry?]"

"Yes, dammit, I'm angry. You're playing me and it's pissing me off and I have to do what you want anyway and I'm pretty sure I half want to and I don't like being confused, okay? So never mind. Don't make this difficult. Let's do it. [Hold still.]"

I knew he must not have understood any of it but the last part, but he said, "[No,]" and danced away like he was fucking Mohammed Ali.

"[Why?]" I said, pursuing him. I tried to hold his head still. I intended to kiss the hell out of him.

"[Because,] he said, spinning around me and ending up behind me, with his right arm across my throat.

I wasn't in serious trouble, because his left hand stroked my chest even as his right arm tightened. I got my hands around the outside, pulled down. He was like granite.

Okay, buddy, if you want to push me, I'll push back, I thought, stepping way back with my right foot and suddenly hanging off his forearm as if I were doing chin-ups.

Just like we'd been practicing it all our lives he fell the way you have to, around to his right over my leg, my weight breaking the hold. Almost as if it were choreographed I dropped to my knees and he fell on his back, sinking into the pillows on the futon right beside me, looking up at me. "[Because if you angry, you not scared,]" he said quietly as my eyes widened, looking down at him, and he took advantage of my surprise to yank me down on top of him.

Oh, I realized as we sank down together.

I could feel myself smiling against his kiss.

We wrestled across the mat, across the floor, slowly, gently, as if it were kata, as if it were foreplay, Shigeru making it both, until we'd reached a position where he straddled my hips, with my hands one in each of his, held down by my side while he went back to kissing me, devouring my mouth, my throat.

And he was still careful, but he was pressing himself into my belly, and I could feel him getting hard, and aside from that being an odd sensation, it sort of alerted me to what was going to happen. He had a dick, it was getting hard, and then it was definitely going to be involved with some part of me. Possibly several parts of me.

I didn't know what he wanted to do exactly, but he was going to have sex with me.

He was going to make love to me.

He'd gotten me to give myself up for a hot night and a Stargate.

And he was going to make it good.

And that wasn't right, wasn't even close to right.

I liked him, and I liked what he was doing to me. If I could relax and let him drive, it was going to be good, very good.

But it wasn't going to be Daniel.

And I wasn't interested in men, I realized.

I wasn't interested in anyone any more.

Except for Daniel.

"This is not a good idea," I whispered.

"Shh," Shigeru whispered back, slid a little farther down to trap my legs while he bit one of my nipples.

Which, admittedly, was --

"Seriously," I said louder. "Not a good idea."

Shigeru mumbled something back which I had the uncomfortable sensation might be the equivalent of "Suck it up and don't be a cocktease."

And while I had some sympathy for his argument, I was feeling increasingly like I couldn't go through with this.

"No," I said, trying to sit up. "Not right now."

But apparently Shigeru didn't get the memo on no meaning no, or maybe he figured we were playing, how the fuck would he know? because he pinned me back down.

I pushed as hard as I could; he held me like a rock.

Uh oh, I thought.

"[No,]" I tried again, "[I cannot.]"

"[You can. Don't be scared.]"

Uh oh, I thought again.

I could break his hold, but that would be messy, and indicate a very real fight, and I wasn't sure that in a very real fight, I would win. Shigeru was younger than me, and as much as I hated to admit it, in better shape.

I was beginning to feel as if I had walked off a bit of a cliff.

I was about to tell him I wasn't scared, I was pissed off, when I realized it wasn't true.

A big strong man was holding me down and I had agreed to let him. And he was going to do - something, I didn't know what, but something I really thought he shouldn't, not right now, not like this. And the fact that he kept telling me not to be scared was starting to convince me that a smarter man would be, probably should be.

And as he slid himself against me, he pressed his belly down onto me, and rubbed, and I moaned. He was going to make it feel good.

That made me feel worse.

I had no idea what to do, having never been in this situation before.

But at that moment, the door burst in, flying off its channel.

And then, standing on the broken door, Shigeru's sword in his hand and cold fire in his eyes, was Daniel.

And I was frightened.

Daniel didn't say a word. He just kicked.

Straight at Shigeru's head.

He surprised Shigeru but not entirely; the kick caught Shigeru on the shoulder. Grunting, Shigeru rolled, came up on the other side of the bed, and in the next instant had grabbed a blade off the wall and tossed aside the scabbard.

Then there were two angry armed men facing each other over a bed I was lying in.

Not good.

"Okay, hang on, hang on!" I shouted in my best colonel voice as I scrambled up.

But Daniel was already circling, circling and suddenly hissing like a snake, spitting at Shigeru in rapid-fire Japanese, punctuating his statements with little thrusts of the sword tip.

Shigeru, all pretense of politeness gone, sneered and snapped something back at him.

Which enraged Daniel even more, if that was possible. His voice got all cold and calm, and that I did not like. If he went at Shigeru with the sword, I thought Shigeru would take him apart.

On the other hand, Daniel had that light in his eye, the one he'd had at the government house, the clinical cold one, the one that had looked at the dead broken body of the consul without guilt, without even much interest.

"Let's back off," I tried again, but then they stopped circling.

Daniel raised his left hand, flat, palm towards the ceiling.

And just flexed his fingertips in a "come here" gesture. At me.

That was all.

I didn't even think about it, I scrambled through, over, out of the bedclothes and behind Daniel.

Who took the opportunity to launch into some sort of a scorching speech.

Shigeru tried to interrupt him but Daniel just talked right over him, cutting off each word as if with a knife as he spit it out.

Diving abruptly, Daniel picked something up from the side of the bed. A little ceramic container, a pot? What was that?

Daniel advanced, brandishing this thing that meant nothing to me. Shigeru tossed his head proudly, said something that sounded dismissive.

Daniel's eyebrows drew together and I thought for an instant that Daniel really was going to fly at him and kill him.

"Don't," I said, and laid a hand on Daniel's sword arm.

In the next heartbeat I thought I'd done more harm than good, because Daniel turned that icy blue glare on me, and spit his next words at me, in English. "You want me to leave you to it? Sorry I interrupted?"

"No. Come on. Let's just go."

Daniel spit something at Shigeru, whose face clouded over for the first time, turning actual brick red with fury. He roared as if he were a caged lion and Daniel had poked him with a red-hot iron. I couldn't catch everything he said but he sprinkled his answer with Latin words for hospitality and guest and assassin. I hoped the last one had nothing to do with us.

"Please, Daniel. Let's go. Can we go?"

Daniel gestured with the sword at the wide open door. "He says we won't be murdered in our sleep. For whatever that's worth. He says I insult his honor by even suggesting it." He looked over his shoulder back at Shigeru, whose hair was still streaming, unbound, and who looked like a stallion made of fire about to jump over the moon. Daniel said something else in Japanese, then gestured again with the sword - to me. "Go. Back to my room. If you don't mind."

Silently, I marched back through the house to the room Daniel and I had shared just the one night before. No one came to see what was happening; presumably the whole house had heard the uproar, but had no interest, or Shigeru had ordered them to mind their own business, because they stayed out of our way.

I was glad for their sake.

We reached our room, and Daniel slid the door shut behind us. Someone had left lamps burning and made up the futon. I wondered if it had been Daniel, if Daniel had been sitting in here waiting for me again.

"Daniel, I --"

But as I turned to talk to him he swung the sword in a vicious arc, missing me by inches. The blade sliced through a paper panel on the wall and its frame to embed itself deeply in the corner beam of the house. It twanged almost painfully as it bit deep into the wood. His hand released it and left it there.

I could feel my jaw drop.

"Is that really how desperate you were, Jack? Or was it curiosity?"

He advanced on me and I backed the hell up. No playful wrestling match forthcoming. That was not in his face. His jaw muscles flexed.

I wondered how to explain. "It's kind of complicated - "

"Oh, complicated, was it? Something is complicated for you? That's funny, when I try to talk to you about complicated you insist I make it simple."

He grabbed, I dodged, but he caught one arm and I'd taught him about holds. He dragged me down.

I pushed up with my feet, intending to scramble, but I got caught in the kakefuton, and then he leaned on me, using his weight.

"Go ahead, Jack. Dumb it down for me. I bet you can do that."

He was awkwardly sprawled along his side, holding me down on my side. Reaching out to tangle his fingers in my hair, he used the leverage to keep me still while he maneuvered into a more favorable position. I pushed up with one leg, trying to get some leverage and push forward, even if I lost some hair, but he gripped tighter, twisted and pushed, and since no one goes far without his head, I flopped back down, immobilized, and flattened onto my back.

With his right hand he grabbed the front of my pants and PULLED, ripping them right off my groin.

Levering himself up on his knees he straddled me, just as Shigeru had done, but there was no pause, no thinking, no easing into anything. He leaned over to capture my mouth and bruise it against his while his hand dragged roughly along the sensitive shaft trapped between us - mine.

I couldn't help letting out an "aahhh!" noise and bucked up against him. It was so much sharper, so much harder, so much more real...

"Is this what you wanted, Jack? You wanted him to jerk you off like this?" Sitting up, Daniel wrapped both hands around my dick, squeezing and sliding one hand off the tip only to follow it with the other, over and over again. It was excruciatingly good.

I couldn't catch my breath, couldn't catch my brain. "No, no..." I managed to get out.

"No? You wanted him to suck you?" Daniel muttered and slid down, holding me down by my dick this time instead of my hair as he released my legs, pushed them up roughly, and dove down to shove my dick in his mouth.

I almost screamed as the heat surrounded me and Daniel's teeth scraped the head a little.

He sucked hard.

I thought I might explode.

"No," I managed to say again, but couldn't say anything else, couldn't explain, couldn't stop this, didn't want to. It felt perfect, rough and real and right, and the adrenalin turned it all into something crystalline and cutting and bright.

"No, huh? So you knew he wanted to fuck you." Daniel reached for the little container he'd brought with him, dug his fingers in it, brought them up so I could see them, some sort of goop on them. "You knew it? You knew it and you were going to let him?" His voice dropped into the quiet, dangerous register. "Did you want him to?"

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but before I could Daniel's fingers were sliding between the cheeks of my ass even as his other hand still ground and squeezed at the base of my cock. I gasped, arched, but Daniel just kneed one of my feet off the floor and I fell back onto the bed, back onto his hand, writhing, no leverage.

And then the fingers were circling, pressing, both pressing hard, then -

"Relax or I'll make you relax," Daniel growled and I had no idea how he was going to carry through on that threat but before I knew what was up he'd managed to slide one of his fingers inside me, and that was huge, had to be bigger than a finger, it felt enormous, then he leaned back down and sucked again on my dick, hard as he could, and as I plunged my dick upward into his mouth I thought I could see stars, but as I fell back to earth another finger was there, pushing, and then boom both were inside me.

"That what you wanted so bad, Jack? You gave up too easy. Should have asked me again," Daniel murmured, teeth nibbling at the sensitive head of my dick and I was shaking, too full, it was too much, too much happening all at once, too fast, but that was all I could do, shake, because Daniel had me in his mouth, one hand hot and hard around me, one hand hot and full inside me, pressing, relaxing, and then I realized he was fucking me with those fingers and I started to shake harder, and then he curled his fingers while he sucked me hard into his mouth, into his throat, and his fingers brushed something that felt insanely, amazingly, freakishly good, something I'd never felt before, and I cried out as I came, shaking uncontrollably, and he sat up but I was coming and coming until I fell back, limply, onto his fingers again which pushed so deep inside me and brushed that spot again that I jerked, all my muscles jerked.

I was breathing hard as he wiped his hands off on what was left of my clothes.

"That what you were waiting for, Jack?" said Daniel, and his eyes glittered, and they really didn't look like my Daniel's eyes, they were still cold and clinical as he studied me up and down like a book that was displeasing him but they were hot too, with a lust he didn't bother to disguise and I could see his own erection through the thin silk of his pants.

"But no. You wanted him to fuck you, right?"

Daniel reached under the pillow and pulled out the belt knife, threw away its sheath, and then he slid the knife right into the silk of the pants I was wearing, and sliced cleanly through the side. Same on the other side, and suddenly I was naked and lying limply on the bed, still shattered and wondering what the hell was going on, while Daniel knelt over me and wrenched the rags of my clothes away.

Still holding the knife in one hand Daniel rubbed the other hand in the come that was lying across my softening dick and the hair around it, then rubbed it over himself. "You want the real experience, we shouldn't use any fancy, newfangled technologies like lube, should we?" he muttered, and I felt the second flash of real fear of the night, because he didn't sound like himself, didn't look like himself, and right at this second I didn't think I could do anything to move.

But before I could try he tossed the knife away, making a glittering arc into the shadows, and grabbed that container again, scooped up the whatever it was onto his fingers. He slid back down to push it inside me, moving it around. I groaned, made as if to slide away, but he wrapped his arms around my knees and PULLED and I slid closer to him instead of farther away.

I heard him slicking himself up, heard the way his hand slid along wet skin, then felt the blunt head pressing up against me, between my cheeks, where I was already greased up and I caught myself thinking, Daniel's cock, that's his cock and he's going to fuck me with it, that's ... but I couldn't think because it was going to happen, I knew it.

And then I could think. And I thought, yes. I want it. Go ahead. You can have anything. Everything.

And then he pushed inside me.

And it hurt pretty bad...

I knew he saw it in my face.

"Relax," he said again, and pushed forward, and holy God it hurt. He felt huge, ridiculously huge and hard and something must be wrong, it hurt so bad.

I couldn't help but groan, and it didn't sound like a good groan, because it wasn't.

"You wanted this, right? You wanted Shigeru to show you what the whole man on man thing was about, right? Didn't you figure he'd fuck you just like this? Or did you think he'd be bigger than me? Or smaller?"

Gasping a little himself, Daniel stopped, and I realized he was all the way inside me, his thighs nestled under my ass.

"Hadn't thought... about... him doing... this... at all..." I managed to gasp out.

"Oh come on, Jack, you knew this was what he had in store for you. You said he could have you. You knew this was what he wanted." And sliding out, I suddenly felt empty, before Daniel slid back in again, filling me up, stretching me beyond what I thought could possibly happen.

So that was what Shigeru and Daniel had been talking about.

"Didn't say he could have me," I panted, looking up at Daniel at last. He was kneeling between my legs, holding them up, and the muscles in his shoulders stood out. The part of him that was inside me slid out and back in again, and I gasped. "Said he could have a night," I groaned, the filling sensation taking me by surprise yet again. Not really hurting this time. Pushing, but not hurting. Filling.

"A night." This didn't seem to cheer Daniel up. If anything, he frowned harder.

He slid out of me altogether, and I wanted to protest. It had felt good, I wanted to say. Painful, peculiar, but good.

But he backed up, grabbed one of my forearms, and yanked me upright.

Surprised, I barely helped him.

"Get up," he said, and my mind, already exploding, had no idea what he was talking about. But he twisted around behind me, still on his knees, the hard red part of him jutting up and forward.

I stayed, confused, on my knees, wondering what the hell he was doing till he slid in behind me, under me, spreading my knees with his, and pulling me back onto him.

I breathed out and tried to relax as I felt that amazing smooth head pushing at me again. And he did slide inside. I was on his lap, balanced on his thighs, with his arms holding me upright, holding me to him.

"One night would have been one too many," Daniel said into my shoulderblades and I felt his mouth on them as I slid down, way down, onto Daniel, who felt huge and unreal and too real all at the same time. He was deep inside. Deeper than anything could be.

My mouth opened, no sound came out.

I was suspended, nothing holding me up, nothing holding me down, air in front of me, but Daniel, smooth, hard, hot Daniel behind me, below me, inside me, around me, and I didn't know where to look, what to do, even how to breathe.

Then, "He... offered me... a Stargate..." I rasped.

Daniel's hands lifted me up, slightly, then pulled me down, hard, and I jerked and almost cried out again, because he had touched that spot, that spot inside that was so painfully good, and because it was stretching and full and too much all at the same time.

"Yeah? Well he didn't offer me anything. And what he wanted was mine. You're mine, aren't you, Jack?" Daniel hissed, sliding me up and letting me fall back down again. Against him. Onto him. Into him.

"Yeah," was all I could say, practically breathless.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" said Daniel, doing it again.

"Yeah," I said again, letting my head hang forward, feeling the sweat break out all over me, trying to let Daniel do the work, but I couldn't help pushing up, it was as if it was involuntary, to get off that heavy hard thing stretching me, and then to push back down, because the heavy hard thing felt good sliding in, felt incredibly good pushing in and bumping that spot and filling me up, and I wanted to be held up by his arms.

"But it doesn't hurt me," said Daniel, and groaned as if to prove it. I could feel him throb inside me. "Remember that, Jack. Even if it hurts you, to me it just feels good."

The words made no sense and I was busy feeling. Experimentally, I squeezed those muscles.

Daniel groaned again, a low deep groan that seemed torn out of him. I liked hearing it, so I did it again.

And Daniel's hands slid from my hips to around my stomach, one reached up and twisted one of my nipples, slid through my chest hair and twisted the other as he pounded into me as if he'd lost all control.

And he felt so good sliding in and out of me that in a very few minutes, fewer than I would have thought possible, I felt the pleasure gathering, pushing, then bursting through me again, my cock bouncing as I came, even though nothing came out, I was empty but Daniel could still make me come, Daniel was magic, Daniel was mine.

And Daniel felt the muscles pushing, squeezing, and he moaned into my ear, "Again already, Jack?" but then he gasped and I could feel him pulsing inside me, and I knew he was coming inside me and that was -- amazing.

And I loved everything about the feel of him sliding out of me, his legs sliding against mine as he untangled us, as he laid me back on the bed, straightening my legs, even wiped me off with the towel he'd grabbed as well as himself before he lay back among the cushions.

I couldn't have moved, I could only turn my head and stare at him and he was flushed, a dark pink blush on his cheeks, on his lips, and sweat standing out on his forehead.

He threw his hand over his eyes and apparently went effortlessly to sleep.

I was stunned, couldn't have been more so by a kick to the head, stunned in every dimension, for every reason. But I didn't want to wake Daniel up, and without Daniel to talk to, there was no way to think about what had just happened anyway.

But even in my dazed state I wasn't going to let him lay there alone.

I rolled against his side, tucking my shoulder there, and resting my head on his shoulder.

And his arm came up around me to hold me close. No petting, no stroking. But holding.

So I went to sleep too.

~~~

I woke up because Daniel woke up.

Fast. Much faster than he ever did.

And it was only barely sunup.

I blinked, shoved away to sit half-up, while Daniel bolted upright, stared at me as if I were a ghost, tore the kakefuton off both of us and looked at the bed.

Where there was blood.

Not much, but a little.

My brain wasn't even connecting the blood with the slightly sore parts of me but Daniel went paper-white pale as he looked at it.

"Oh god, oh no, it can't have been real, no, no," he said, and it was clear he wasn't talking to me.

And he looked around, at the sword embedded in the wall strut, at my pants which he'd tossed aside, at the clothes thrown around.

At me.

And I half-raised a hand toward him, still trying to figure out what to say, but he backed away, eyes huge, muttering "No, no, no, no," and scrambling, twisting, diving out the door before he barely had it open.

Leaving me to sit there blinking.

Not the best morning after.

~~~

I lay there for a while, thinking lots of different things and nothing in particular, wrapped up in a kakefuton, feeling like hollow hell.

Finally I figured, well fuck this for a lark, and got up.

I had no idea what had happened. I mean, I knew what had happened. I was there. But I wasn't even sure how it had felt, and I had been there feeling it, too.

It had felt a lot more right to have Daniel touching me than Shigeru.

And to be in Daniel's mouth -

And to have Daniel inside of me -

Frankly, my brain had exploded. I didn't think anything about it. I didn't know what to think.

On the one hand, it had been the best sex I'd ever had in my life.

On the other hand, it would have been nice if Daniel had stuck around to let me tell him that.

Daniel had been rough. Out of control. On the edge of insane.

Completely mine.

I knew it.

I wondered if he did.

I went to the bathing room. The wet floor indicated someone else had already been there. Yorokobi was not around; some one of her look-alikes waited on me, handed me soap and towels.

I would have liked to talk to Yorokobi, actually, but no such luck.

Not a lucky morning.

~~~

What I was not expecting was to find Daniel and Shigeru together.

They sat on opposite sides of the dining room, both kneeling. They could not have gotten farther away from each other if they had tried.

I suspected they had tried.

"Jyaku!" cried Shigeru and started to his feet, an involuntary smile on his face as he caught sight of me.

Then he turned and looked at Daniel, who was looking icy daggers at him, eyes narrowed.

Shigeru ignored him to come toward me. "[You are well?]" he asked as he drew closer, his eyes traveling all over me, and he suddenly, painfully reminded me of Daniel asking me the same thing after the escape from the Consul's cell.

When the hell had I become the damsel in distress?

"[I am well,]" I said, sounding a little irritated - for crying out loud, I was a very large, very dangerous colonel in the Air Force! - and dammit, he'd been the one to give me a real scare. And he was a little too tricky for me. I wouldn't trust him at my back. But at my side? In a fight, yes. In peacetime...

Shigeru looked searchingly at me again, back for an instant at Daniel, and I realized sound must have traveled. It seemed impossible that Shigeru did not know what had happened last night. At least the rough outline.

I wondered if he knew his very nice sword was stuck in the wall of our bedroom.

He was still looking worried and I knew he was worried for me and I wanted to reassure him. "[Really. I am well.]" Thumping myself in the chest I said, "Senshi," and smiled and shrugged, to remind him I was a big boy, I could take care of myself.

Daniel startled, looked up at me for the first time, apparently struck by hearing me speak Japanese.

But when I looked into his eyes he looked away.

Shigeru's eyes were the same warm golden brown as always. Half a grin slowly appeared. "Senshi," he agreed. But looked unconvinced.

Dammit, he was the one who needed the no means no training.

On the other hand, I was the one who had told him to go ahead, after he'd repeatedly asked if he could.

Oh, it was all fucked up. Never mind. I didn't need to be babied. By anyone.

"Jyuujin," I said softly, pointing at myself, nodding. "All right?"

Raising his eyebrows, Shigeru finally backed off. "Jyuujin," he agreed, in a tone that said, Absolutely.

I was a free man, I knew it.

Daniel's voice startled us apart. "Shigeru has offered to let us use their Stargate."

Blinking, I cocked my head towards where Daniel sat, still as a stone and very far away. "Really."

"Really. Actually, he's willing to let me use their Stargate. To go anywhere I want that isn't here." He should have smiled but he didn't. He also still didn't look at me. "But I said you must also be allowed to use it."

So Shigeru was worried that Big Bad Daniel was going to haul me off through the Stargate to some other horrible place to carry out his nefarious plans for me.

I wasn't that lucky.

The way Daniel was looking right now, I wasn't sure he was ever going to speak to me again.

And I had a feeling he was beating himself up about last night and would never talk to me about that, either.

In fact, everything was just going to hell in a handbasket.

Just in time to go home.

"Great," I said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my tone. Apparently Daniel had also decided that speaking English didn't matter. Not that we had been much good at being undercover Roman provincials. "Where is it? When do we get to go home?"

"Apparently, it's right outside the city."

I blinked again, looked at Shigeru. Well, you surprising devil.

Daniel went on. "They found it over a year ago, during an archaeological exploration of their own. It has a cover bolted into it, which they did not remove because their records indicated it was there for safety reasons. But they moved the Gate. And its DHD. And they've been studying it."

"How far have they gotten?"

"Not too far. Their records indicate what it is but not how it was used; the Goa'uld kept that information secret to themselves and their most trusted Jaffa. So they know the DHD is used to activate it, but they don't know how. And no one on this planet has seen a Stargate work in hundreds of years."

"Sort of like our world, huh?"

"Sort of. Eventually they'll figure it out."

"If they're lucky. People who can figure out Stargates are rare. How many planets are lucky enough to have their very own Daniel Jackson?"

He did look at me then, and his eyes were like cut glass, so sharp, so sad, that I wanted to go to him and wrap my arms around him and maybe whack him in the head till he talked to me. Eventually, he had to talk.

"Aren't they curious about how we got here without using a Gate?"

Daniel shrugged. "Oh, they're curious."

I had a sinking sensation as I realized that no, he didn't have to talk. This was Daniel, after all. He had had a number of things happen to him that he never discussed. Oh, he debriefed well, with high points of the data, but never elaborated. He could explain until the cows came home without ever once unburdening.

I'd get him to talk. I could make him.

Maybe at home.

I suddenly realized that my bargain with Shigeru had gone rather badly and yet here we were getting the Stargate anyway.

"Uh... he's willing to let us use the Gate now?" As in, without anything in return? Like... me? I didn't say.

"I think he'd be willing to do absolutely anything to see the back of me," said Daniel tonelessly. "But you can ask him yourself if you want."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Just that you can ask him yourself if you want. He's willing to have Mokusei and Daishi take us to the gate today. As close to now as we want."

And then he could have said it a lot of different ways, but his voice was quiet, strained, as if he were forcing himself to speak as he said, "Shigeru says you are welcome to stay if you would like, to establish relations between our world and this one. I'd be happy -" he choked a little on the word but he didn't look at me, "to report in to General Hammond and explain while you... remained... behind."

Oh he would, huh? Pitching my voice low, even though Shigeru wouldn't understand, I said softly, "Whatever happened to let's not get separated?" He didn't look up, just kept his head down, and the curve of his neck hurt me. "Whatever happened to me belonging to you?" I added in a near-whisper.

Daniel's eyes closed as if something was cutting him, as if something was hurting him. "I... didn't... mean it," he managed to rasp out, eyes tightly shut, bending forward a little over his stomach as if it hurt him.

He couldn't have hurt me more if he'd taken a Beretta and shot me.

But looking at him, I knew it wasn't true.

"That's not true," I told him, taking a step towards him.

"I meant it, but I couldn't... I shouldn't have... it's not..."

I moved toward him again, but he held up a hand, warning me off.

If I'd have ignored it, things could have been very different, I think.

But I didn't. I stayed where I was.

"Daniel, what do you want?" I asked him, forgetting Shigeru was watching us, forgetting where we were or who we were, just wanting him to tell me.

"Home," he said, without hesitation. "I want to get you home."

And something warm bloomed in my chest.

But then he added, "I won't keep you if you want to stay."

"Fuck that," I told him briskly. He didn't mean that, I was sure of it. The Daniel of last night wouldn't have meant it. I didn't know what was up with this Daniel. But I was getting used to his multiple personality disorder. "We're going. And I mean now."

~~~

It took us three hours to get to where the Stargate was. Three hours is a lot of time on a horse if you're not used to it.

I didn't give a damn.

Knowing we'd be soaking our aches and pains away tomorrow in a good old Earth hot tub, if for once luck smiled on us, I almost smiled as I slid off the horse, feeling all my leg and ass muscles protesting.

Daniel, on the other hand, winced and limped a little until he loosened up. Which he did quickly because he was everywhere, working like a wild man.

Leaving me to negotiate a working agreement with Shigeru.

Who wasn't the head of his government. But who might do as a duly appointed representative.

Shigeru and Yorokobi had accompanied us to the Gate, as well as Mokusei and Daishi. Daniel put their muscles to work, because the cover on the gate was bronze, it was heavy as hell, it was bolted on, and it had been stuck there for several hundred years.

The archaeologists on the site refused to believe Daniel was an archaeologist as well when they saw the way he swung a hammer at the metal.

But a Stargate is damn hard to damage.

"[You'll want documents indicating that as the first contact of Earth, we prefer to have you present at negotiations,]" I told Shigeru through Yorokobi, watching Daniel with one eye. He was organizing one crew to shear off the bolts with one hand and another crew to rig a pulley system with the other.

"[In Japanese. How will you know what they say?]" said Yoro, translating.

I looked back at Shigeru. His eyes were twinkling, he was teasing me. But he looked a little sad, too.

Not everyone can win, I tried to tell him with my eyes. In fact, the way things were going, it looked like none of us would win.

But I still had an uncrushed hope or two.

"[We will bring translators of our own. We do have other people who speak Japanese.]"

~~~

Daniel's crews were making fast work. They made an effort to preserve the bronze but the bolts were sheared off, slowly.

Meanwhile I explained to Shigeru through Yoro how the first contact process worked, maybe being a little more forthcoming about warning them to prepare their requests ahead of time and be ready to negotiate than I would normally be. I considered the Ishidons friends. I shouldn't have. I really only knew a couple.

Okay, I really only knew one.

But he was all right.

"[The court case will be very problematic.]"

"[If you need us to come back, we will.]"

"[That would help. If I drop the charges made on your behalf, the rest of the cases are likely to be dropped as well. And I may not get another chance to pursue this for a while.]"

I realized that it hadn't been an accident, that day that Shigeru was down looking at the docks. He had known what was going on, what had happened. He hated the not-slavery in his country enough to try to do something about it. We'd just provided him with an opportunity.

I was the accident.

I didn't know what to say. I was suddenly feeling warmly toward Shigeru again, and I would see him again after all.

I remembered Shigeru saying something to me about pocketfuls of planets. Or something.

"[Tell your boss that he is a lightning bolt and a sneaky fox and that lightning may start fires but that foxes tend to get caught in traps, so be careful.]"

Yoro looked puzzled, her soft lips pursing.

"[Just...]" I waved my hand with a "get on with it" motion.

She translated - I guess they still had foxes, or remembered what they were - and Shigeru looked startled, then pleased.

He bowed.

I bowed back.

But he caught my eye and grinned at me as I rose.

Yep. Dangerous.

"I'm ready to hook this up," shouted Daniel from across the work site.

I looked over at him. He was stripped to the waist, covered in dirt and grease and dust from tools and ancient artifacts and work, squinting at me.

He looked like home.

~~~

We dialed an intermediary planet first, and explained to Shigeru that we were doing so, so they wouldn't follow and expect to see us. Oh, they could, but they'd wander around a very pretty planet with a lot of buttercups for a very long time without any company.

They had a problem, which was that no one knew their own Stargate address.

I told them we'd get on that - something in our system might match their coordinates and might work now that their Gate was uncovered, explained the benefits and drawbacks of leaving it that way, told them if they wanted to establish contact they could expect a MALP if we could work out their Gate address, a ship sometime within a few months if we couldn't.

Told them a lot of stuff. Didn't care any more. Wanted to get home.

When we emerged onto buttercup world Daniel strode straight to the DHD, started dialing Chulak practically before the Ishidons' gate broke contact.

I wanted to stop him, wanted to stay here for a few minutes, hours, years, till he talked to me, till I understood what was going on, till I made him understand how I felt.

But that would have required that I understood how I felt.

And beyond knowing I loved him, I didn't.

Well, I couldn't blame me. A lifetime of being a guy and not talking about feelings was behind me. I didn't discuss stuff either. Not the big stuff. Not stuff like suicide bombs, or Charlie, or Sara.

And not, apparently, Daniel.

I could figure something out. I wasn't stupid. If I had time...

But then the Gate was established and Daniel walked right into it.

~~~

Without GDOs we had to go to Chulak first. We knew the SGC was in regular contact with Chulak and we'd have a way of letting them know that we were coming, to let us through.

I explained all this with half my brain to our Jaffa contact there, the rest of me tuned in to Daniel, who stood behind me, arms crossed over his sweaty, dusty chest, a borrowed green silk robe tied around him. I could feel him glaring. I could hear him saying nothing.

In less than an hour we were walking through our own Gate.

~~~

It'd be tough to convey all the big grins, the clapping, the cheering we got as people saw us back.

Turned out Jacob had been buzzed by some outriders of Ba'al's and had to duck and cover. And didn't do either well. And then they chased him, and then he got captured, and he'd managed to get word to the Tok'ra through a sympathetic source, and Teal'c and Carter had had to go get him, and it was a whole big thing.

And the Tok'ra had actually sent a ship to Optima to find us, but they couldn't, and that was a whole thing too, and folks thought we were dead, but of course not at the SGC, 'cause they didn't believe in that sort of thing.

It was good to see them again too.

In the midst of all the back-clapping and hugging and crying and laughing I managed not to see Daniel at all. I was in the infirmary while he was giving a brief debriefing, and then when I was getting debriefed, no one seemed to know where he was.

I gave the very quick, very short version of events, which after all were of no strategic importance to the SGC, which I pointed out to Hammond.

"Nonetheless, I want you back here for a full debriefing," he said, like I knew he would.

"Absolutely, sir. Give us a couple of days to re-adjust? And eat pizza? Like, a week?"

He smiled, shook his head. God, it was good to see him. I desperately loved his little blue eyes. God love him. "Three days, colonel. Take it easy and rest. Come back ready to dive in. There's a lot you've missed."

"Are we still part of SG1?"

"As far as I know."

"That's good enough for me. Everything else can wait."

Right outside his door Carter was waiting for me with a big, blindingly bright smile, and Teal'c was with her. I wanted to give her a big hug and swing her around in a circle like you do, but Carter wasn't big with the swinging.

"Sir, we wanted to take you out to dinner."

"Indeed."

Something big, made of beef, sounded good to me. "Daniel ready to go?"

Teal'c looked puzzled. "He is not. He said he required rest first."

"Well... He's been working hard today."

"So I surmised."

"You don't look that tired, Colonel."

"I hide it well, Carter. Years of practice. Look, give us a night to sleep and figure out what planet we're on, okay? Maybe even which time zone. Let's do it tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?" Carter looked disappointed.

There was no way I was going out if Daniel wasn't coming too.

"I think that is an excellent plan," Teal'c saved me. "You have been through an ordeal. You require time to reorient yourselves."

"Sir, are you all right?"

"Of course I am, Carter." And I was, too. Janet had given me a clean bill of health. I hadn't said a damn word to her about anything, but you don't get through many years of special forces without getting over any shyness you might have once had about medical issues. I dropped my pants for her and asked for an examination. She carried one out, said I had some light abrasions and nothing was wrong. She asked if I had anything to report, and I told her I did not. She said she'd include the information in her report, and I'm sure she did - forty paragraphs down where no one would ever bother to see or care. And if they did, I'd like to see them try and ask me about it.

I knew I was fine but had to check. Now I knew for sure. I was fine - but Daniel was not.

Which I didn't really think was Carter and Teal'c's business, not yet.

"Daniel Jackson is not all right."

Teal'c was never big with the bullshit.

I looked him in the eye. "I think you're right, T."

"Will you speak with him?"

"You betcha. Maybe not tonight."

"Should we leave him alone?" Carter sounded worried.

"I think I should. I think he's had enough of me to last a lifetime," I said lightly. "You guys do what you want. I intend to eat pizza."

"I'll go with you," Carter said decisively.

"I believe I will visit Daniel Jackson," said Teal'c, and I figured if anyone would get inside that door, it'd be Teal'c.

~~~

I was wrong.

Teal'c called two hours later to say that Daniel Jackson had tossed him out - very politely, but tossed him out all the same.

He inquired about the status of the pizza.

I explained that Carter had eaten all of it.

Which was a bald-faced lie, as three-quarters of it was nestled snugly in my stomach.

But I knew Carter wouldn't mind.

"I am unsure about the best plan of action," Teal'c added.

I sighed. Me too. I didn't think Daniel was a danger to himself or anyone else. Actually, I thought he probably was really tired. I figured he deserved a night of sleep.

"He'll be okay. Let's meet up tomorrow night." I looked at Carter over the phone. "And I do mean tomorrow NIGHT. Give me some time to get a haircut and throw things away in my kitchen and watch cable."

Carter squinched up her face at me. "I threw things away in your kitchen."

Fabulous Carter. "You knew we'd be home, eh?"

"Indeed," agreed Teal'c over the phone.

"Okay, good, I love everybody, everybody loves me, get the hell out, see you both tomorrow."

And I hung up and threw Carter out.

~~~

It should have been tough to sleep, and it was.

Not because of the unaccustomed quiet, or big soft bed.

It was strange to sleep alone.

~~~

I'd figured I'd have to go over to Daniel's and beard him in his den. Since I had no fucking clue what I was going to say, I avoided it.

Instead I went grocery shopping, got the haircut, got the oil changed in the car, and asked to get the cable reconnected.

Stupid bastards never come right away. Three days was the soonest they could do that, they said.

I wanted to say something about how considering how many times I'd saved Earth I deserved maybe a little better service, but, you know, you can't.

So I rented some DVDs.

But when I got home I decided I was too antsy to watch them. But I couldn't go over to Daniel's yet either.

It was a crisp fifty degrees out and my yard was covered in dead leaves. I'd forgotten what dead leaves even looked like.

So I was raking them when Daniel showed up.

Of all the things that might have happened in the universe, that was what I expected least.

So I think I was sort of gawking as he walked up to me, hands in his pockets, jacket open over one of his stupid flannel shirts, looking just like Daniel ought to look.

And then he said, "You cut your hair."

Involuntarily I brushed a hand over it. "Well, yeah."

He nodded. He hadn't gotten around to cutting his yet. It was shaggy and stupid looking, down over the tops of his ears, and I wished he would let it grow more.

"You should let yours grow more," I said.

He looked at me with an odd sort of crinkle in between his brows, then down at his feet. "I had to come say..." he said to his shoes. "I had to come and... apologize."

Uh huh.

"Apologize for what?"

His head shot up and his eyes sort of narrowed and his brow was still crinkled and he did that thing where he looks at me with one eyeball, like a bird.

So Daniel.

"Apologize for..." He waved a hand as if to indicate the universe.

I raised my eyebrows as if to indicate that he could elaborate.

"For... interrupting you and Shigeru." He still spit out the name. "For..." Back to looking at the feet. He took his glasses off. Pinched the bridge of his nose. Still looking down. "For hurting you. For..."

He was silent for long moments.

I waited.

"For... what I did to you," he finally managed to get out, and I saw a tear trickle down off his nose and disappear into the dry autumn leaves at his feet.

"Oh." And I felt a sinking, sick sensation in my stomach. "So does that mean... we're not gonna do it again?"

His head whipped up, and he looked at me with the most incredible combination of disbelief and horror. "Are you insane?" he half-shouted.

"I don't think so. No."

"Jack, I -- Christ, I think I raped you! Didn't I?" Horror and disbelief were giving way to confusion.

I considered it. "No, I don't think you did."

Daniel gaped like a fish.

Clearly he had no idea what to say.

So I said, "I wanted you, Daniel. I wanted you - hell, every which way. I told you so. I meant it." I took a step toward him. "Did you mean it? Any of it?"

Daniel was still staring at me, jaw hanging open, eyebrows making for the stratosphere, forehead eight kinds of wrinkled.

"Did you mean what you said about not meaning it? 'Cause I gotta tell you, Daniel, I think you did. I think you meant it when you said I was yours."

Daniel slid his glasses back on. Apparently he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "I shouldn't have said it."

"Why? Tell me why or I swear to God I will --"

"What? Shoot me? Kill me? Tear my head off? You're always saying stuff like that, Jack, but you never do it." He shook his head as if he couldn't even believe it what he was hearing.

"You may see me do it yet. Tell me why. Tell me why, NOW."

"Tell you why I shouldn't have said it? Didn't I make that obvious?" Wrapping his arms around his chest, Daniel sank back into his shoulders, retreating while standing still. "Are you hurt?" he said more softly.

"No. Tell me why you shouldn't have said it."

"Why? Holy -- Don't you have the bruises to show why?" He swallowed. "Wasn't there enough blood to show why?"

I shrugged. "You didn't hurt me."

"I did."

"No, you didn't. Not really."

"You said it hurt."

"Not as much as it felt good." I paused. "Fantastic." I thought about it some more and added, "Right."

Which seemed to push Daniel right over the edge.

"That was NOT RIGHT!" He was shouting at me, but I could tell I wasn't the one he was angry at. "Nobody should be treated that way. Nobody should --"

"I liked it."

Deflated, he stared at me again, absolutely astonished.

"You were the one who didn't like it, then," I went on.

"It's not that I didn't like it," he said, sounding a bit strangled.

"So you did like it."

He was shaking his head. "You want me to admit it, Jack? That I got off on hurting you?"

"NO!"

In a few more strides I had him by the collar, was shaking him like I'd been longing to do for too long.

"You did not get off on hurting me. You knew I wasn't hurt."

"I didn't."

"You did! I know you didn't miss it when I came. Hard. Twice. You were there, as I recall."

His hands came up to grip onto mine, tried to pull mine off, but I hung on.

"And you put your arm around me when we fell asleep, do you remember?"

"I remember," he whispered, eyes big.

"So tell me. Tell me why you shouldn't have said that I was yours." I gathered up the collar as if I was going to strangle him with it. "Because I am so yours, Daniel. Why not say so?"

"Don't say that," he rasped, squeezing his eyes tight shut. "Don't."

"Why the hell not?" I was deeply considering throttling him.

He should have fought me back.

But he just stood there, hands on mine, eyes closed.

Waiting for me to do whatever I would.

And I looked at his face, worried even with the eyes closed, and remembered him in his sleep, struggling to move, to talk, saying into the dark, "Please don't leave me, Jack."

"What were you dreaming about, Daniel?" I said quietly.

His eyes snapped open.

"I know you were having bad dreams. A lot. I was there. Every night. You said 'Please don't leave me, Jack'. The night I - The first night on the ship. What were you dreaming about?"

He swallowed, mouth open, nothing coming out.

"And then in the morning -" I didn't specify which morning, he'd figure it out, "- you said it was real. No, you said, it can't have been real. What did you mean?"

"That I'd -" That was apparently as far as he could get.

I waited, but he had nothing to add.

So I added, "Then you said you shouldn't have said that. Shouldn't have said I was yours. What would be wrong with being yours?"

The muscles in his face were jumping, he was holding his jaw so tight. But I had a lot of questions and I wasn't quitting until at least some of them were answered.

I changed my grip, letting go his now wrinkled shirt, sliding my hands around his neck.

"I love you so much, Daniel," I said quietly. "Can't you love me back just a little bit?"

And for the third time, I surprised him silent.

He just stared.

Looking at me.

Astonished.

Till finally he said, "Jack, I --"

But he didn't even finish his own sentence before he had pulled me against him, captured my mouth, kissed me so hard I thought I might have bruises.

Gloriously, fantastically hard.

"No, I can't love you back a little bit," he growled, between bites and licks as he kissed me as if he wanted to eat me alive. "I don't want to love you a little bit. I want to own you. I want to keep you. I want to tie you up naked in my bed and not let you out for days and feed you honey just to taste it in your mouth. I want to fucking possess you, Jack."

I almost laughed into his mouth. My heart was pounding and I was desperately afraid I was going to have a heart attack now and not get to enjoy any more of this. "That's okay with me," I said into his teeth.

"It's not okay," muttered Daniel, my sweet gentle Daniel, and gripped my arms as if his hands were made of iron. "Love shouldn't be about possession and control and... and obsession. It's not right."

"What should it be about, then? Butterflies and rainbows? I hate to tell you this, buddy, but that ain't us."

"You shouldn't give in to me so completely."

"Why not?" I pulled back to look down my nose at him, thumped myself in the chest. "Jyuujin," I told him.

He gaped at me, then laughed, that curious little joyless laugh that he did sometimes, let his head fall back on his neck. "Oh, I know it," he muttered. "But I am... I don't know what I am, but I'm..." He couldn't seem to finish the thought.

"You're a good man."

He sighed, as if all the air had been let out of him. He still had my arms tight in his hands; I still had my hands around the back of his neck. "I want to be," he said, so small and lost.

"You are," I said, matter-of-fact.

"I'm not."

"What makes you think this all of a sudden? Been swiping cookies at the SGC? Got a speeding ticket?" Suddenly thinking of a blood-spattered tunic and Daniel's cold clinical eyes, "Regretting putting a homicidal maniac out of our misery?"

"No," he said immediately. "Maybe I should be, but no."

"You shouldn't be. That's the way it goes."

"The way what goes?"

"War."

"See, that's just the thing," and his hands flexed on my arms and I wondered if the guy was actually going to leave bruises - and then angst about them. Goddammit. "I didn't kill him because it was war. I killed him because it was necessary, because it was expedient, and in the last analysis, I killed him because I wanted to."

Jesus.

His eyes really were so blue. His jaw set so hard. His face so hard.

It was true he didn't usually look like this. Sound like this.

But he was still Daniel.

I said, quietly, "That doesn't bother me."

"IT BOTHERS ME!" He shouted it as he shoved me away. Practically screamed it. And I was glad to hear him get it out but not sure what I could do about it.

"I'm not the one to judge you, Daniel, not over that," I said.

"But someone's got to. I can't just do whatever I like, not without being accountable to someone, something. I'll end up --"

"What?"

"-- I'll do horrible things. To everyone. Especially you."

"And you know this how?"

"Shifu," he said, tightly, refusing to elaborate.

Uh huh.

Shifu's dream, was it?

Dream.

Dreams.

"Do bad things to people in those dreams, do you?" I asked him, a little more gently, moving towards him, slowly, not wanting to startle him.

"Bad."

"Bad things to me?"

He looked again at me, and his eyes had that sweet, serious, sad look that made me wonder what was so horribly wrong, and what could ever put it right.

"Bad," he agreed.

And his hand trembled a little as he raised it to run it over my face.

"But I would never let you do bad things to me, Daniel. Or to anyone."

He snorted, humorlessly. "Tried to stop me," he said.

"Moreover - and this is the important thing, so I hope you're listening - you wouldn't do those things. Not really."

"Could. Would."

"Wouldn't."

"Did. When I --" His trembling thumb brushed over my lips.

"No, you didn't. And I wouldn't let you."

"But you couldn't stop me," he said, forlorn, sad.

"Oh yes I could."

"But you didn't."

"Because I didn't want to."

He was studying my face, intent, with the book-reading look.

I tried to figure out what would reassure him.

"Okay," I said, backing up a few steps. "Try to make me."

"Make you what?" he said, startled.

"Anything. Fall. Kiss you. Kneel."

He winced at that last one.

"Come on," I said. "Try it."

"Jack, I don't want to hurt you," he said, sounding miserable.

"Daniel, you're about five seconds away from implying that I am old, weak, or incompetent, and I am going to tell you now that that's really going to piss me off. You think you can make me do anything I don't really want to do? I'm telling you you can't."

Dubiously, he regarded me.

I flexed my fingertips at him. Come on.

Slowly, he swung a hand up, tried to grab my collar.

I grabbed it, twisted it up behind him, held him immobile.

"You think you can hurt me?" I whispered in his ear. "I'm telling you you won't."

I let him go. Backed up.

"Come on," I told him, gesturing again.

He still looked dubious.

"Come ON!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, ripped off my jacket, tossed it away. "And make it good. I'll know if you don't. Might break your arm just to prove it."

He pulled off his jacket too, wrapped his glasses in it, tossed it aside, and then like lightning he was coming at me, low, broad shoulders aiming at my gut.

I'll give him this; he's fast.

He didn't connect; I danced aside. He caught my arm, though, pulled and twisted. Same maneuver he'd pulled before.

I went down kicking him in the head.

"Oof," he grunted, and I figured he was seeing stars, even though I'd pulled the kick.

Nonetheless, he tackled me.

I twisted, slid, got out from under him.

Wrapped my legs around his waist, immobilized one arm.

"Getting the idea?" I said as I let him go.

He rolled over in the leaves, breathing deep then sneezing.

I dropped on top of him.

"That as far as you get?" I asked, settling my arm under his chin, pressing lightly on his jugular.

He shoved like a madman, shoved with the air of desperation of someone who's trapped, and managed to get his shoulder up into my crotch where he could get some leverage. Reaching up, he wrapped his hand around my head, shoved.

I fell lightly backward, off him, letting him go completely.

So he pushed himself up on his knees.

And I wrapped my legs around his waist, twisted, and had him down in the leaves again, on his back.

"What is it you're doing to me again?" I said, breathing heavily, but still plenty of air to talk.

His eyes were darkening.

Again he twisted, shoved - he'd been practicing that with Teal'c, I hadn't shown him that - and this time got his hand around the collar, twisted, and pulled.

Trying to choke me with my own shirt collar.

Since the biceps are always stronger than the triceps, I couldn't pull him off. Instead, I ducked my chin, went limp, fell on him.

Which surprised him.

And when he loosened his grip, I continued on, pushing with my legs, keeping my head ducked, to do a somersault over his shoulder, end up standing on the far side of him.

"Daniel," I said, panting a little - he was making me work, and his face was red and he was breathing hard too, "you can't do anything to me unless I let you."

Sitting in the leaves, looking red-faced and spent and disheveled, Daniel shook his head. "If I was -"

"-- You're a strong fighter. No one is saying you're not. But you can't control me. I wouldn't let you. And you wouldn't want to. I don't care what happened in Shifu's dream."

"Even if I ruled the world, Jack?" He spat it at me, still fighting for breath, bracing himself on one arm. "Even if I could destroy the SGC, the United States, hell, the whole planet in a heartbeat? Even if I had an army of soldiers who would do whatever I said? Like pulverizing buildings? Killing innocent people?" He finished on a whisper. "Holding you down for me?"

"Even if," I said, dropping to my knees and putting my arms around his shoulders. "Even if." I laid my forehead against his hair. "And you would never do that, Daniel. I don't care what happened in the dream. I don't care who told it to you. You would never, ever do that."

"The evil in my subconscious --"

"-- May be evil. I don't know. I've met a lot of guys with shit in their heads that was pretty fucking dark. You think you're going to scare me? I've met men who've killed people and enjoyed it. I mean I worked side by side with them, Daniel. I'm talking about guys for whom the best part of their day was the part where they watched someone die. You think you're evil? I tell you you're not."

I tightened my arms, wrapped my legs around his waist too, held on tight. "You're a good man, Daniel. And I love you, dammit."

He tried to push me away, half-heartedly, then laid his head on my shoulder, then wrapped his arms around me back, then pulled me tight, held me tighter, crushed me against him, and I realized when I could feel the vibrations in him that he was crying, crying against my shoulder.

I rocked him a little.

"I'm pretty sure you shouldn't. Love me. You know," he sniffled, and I laughed and wiped his tears away with a dirty hand and he mopped at his runny nose with the hem of his shirt.

"It's a little late," I whispered to him confidentially.

Slowly, carefully, one of his arms crept up to sneak around my neck.

I let it.

Slowly, gently, he pulled my face closer to his.

I smiled.

Then he kissed me, and I had Daniel's lips to explore and taste and touch and they were mine, all mine.

"What if I just want you, what if I don't --"

"Shut up. You love me. Don't be an asshole."

Which made him chuckle, like I knew it would.

And then he pushed and I let him and we rolled over in the leaves.

He was on top.

I let him be on top.

I liked him on top.

"I do want you," he informed me, running his hands up my ribs.

"Don't tickle, goddammit."

"I want you, oh boy, I want you like --" Apparently he'd run out of similes because he went back to kissing me.

And that was okay.

Excellent, in fact.

For a good long time.

When he came up for air again he said, "I want to do it right."

"Huh?" I was feeling a little distracted. Too much talking. Not enough kissing.

"I want to do it right this time," he mumbled into the skin below my ear.

"If you do it much more right than you did the last time I'll pass out," I told him honestly.

"No, it's... It's not supposed to hurt." His eyelashes fluttered against my earlobe.

"It's okay." I arched my back a little, trying to see if I could get the parts I wanted to meet to meet.

Oh yeah. And they did.

I rocked a little.

Eyes glazing over, Daniel pulled back to look at me. "I want to do it right."

"Okay, whatever, right, wrong, let's do it." I sounded a little breathless to me too.

"Not in the dirt," Daniel said firmly. "In the house."

"My sheets are clean!"

"They won't be." He sounded determined.

"All right, all right, in the house."

He swung off me, stood with that anti-gravity stance of his that proves so much about the muscles in his legs, offered me a hand.

Then dragged me into the house.

We had our clothes off before we were even down the hallway.

He smelled of sweat and fall leaves and dirt and somewhere below it the scent of some good soap, and I thought he smelled delicious, perfect.

We'd smelled a lot worse in the last few weeks.

"We need a towel, and lubricant," Daniel said as if he were announcing a packing list for an offworld mission.

"You're so romantic," I said, pulling him into the bathroom, tossing his requests at him, then kissing him while his hands were full.

He smiled when I let him go.

Oh yeah, this was going to be fun.

---

DANIEL:

Jack led me into the bedroom, jumped into the bed like he was about ten.

Bouncing a little, he rolled over.

Naked.

So I could look at him.

"You coming in?" he said, as if this were a wading pool, as if this were his birthday party, as if life were easy and the galaxy just his own personal ice cream truck.

I wanted to be like that. I wanted to feel happy. I wanted to feel as though I weren't a huge mistake.

Jack always made me feel as if I weren't a huge mistake.

"Yes," I said, crawling in after him, crawling all over him, my legs tangled up with his, my stomach against his, my chest against his.

I felt warm all over, hot where he touched me, and I'd never before felt so much of my own skin, or been so aware of all the muscles and bones inside it. I felt human. I felt real.

And then, "Thank you," he said, and I felt my heart press painfully against my insides, reminding me again how real I was, and I closed my eyes.

"Don't thank me yet," I said, and reached down to where he was getting hard against me. Why couldn't I say what I should say? Why couldn't I talk? Here he was thanking me for nothing, and I should be thanking him, for forgiving me, for loving me, for making me real. I could explain so much. Why couldn't I explain that?

But as my fingers closed around him and he let out a little sigh of happiness, I opened my eyes and was looking right into his - that inky dark gaze that knew so much and gave so much more. He knew. He understood. I didn't have to tell him. That was what he'd been trying to tell me all along. That this, this was sufficient unto itself. All we had to do was believe it, and it happened. This whatever it was between us - it was just there.

Jack really was so very much smarter than most people gave him credit for.

And he shoved against my hand, and I couldn't believe I was holding this hot, hard part of him, that he was trusting me so much, giving in to me so much.

Again.

"I should have been gentler," I whispered against his throat.

"I like it a little rougher," he told me back, his breath stirring my hair.

Oh god. Oh god. Don't tell me that, I wanted to tell him, and I also wanted to say Tell me more. I wanted to know everything he wanted, so I could give it to him. And just the sound of his voice as he said it, as he meant it, made my blood boil, made my dick hard, made my skin scorch against his. I hadn't wanted to admit to him or to myself how fantastic it had felt to push him and pull him, control him and, yes, possess him. I'd never felt anything like it, anything so wild, anything so terrifyingly good. There was a part of me that wanted to feel it again.

And that still horrified me.

So I said, "But slow and steady can be --"

"Oh," he gasped, as my hand, slow and steady indeed, moved up and down the length of him.

I wanted to show him what it should really be like, how good it could be. And it had to be just as good. If it couldn't be better - and I was worried that it couldn't be, how could it be? - it had to be just as good. It just HAD to be.

It had to be as good to love him as it was to own him.

I would MAKE it be as good.

"Slow," I said, breath whistling through my teeth, as I fought the desire to flip him over and fuck him till he screamed. That was something I would do in the dreams. Not something the real me would do.

"Slow is -- unh -- fine," he said, his eyes glazed over but still looking at me as he fucked my hand, deliberately, yes, and slowly. "But it doesn't have to be gentle and soft. I can take it, Daniel."

I felt my eyes close involuntarily and I groaned. "Don't say that."

"Aaaahhh. Meant it."

His head tilted back and his eyes closed and his mouth opened and he was so gone, so mine. I had dreamed him like this so many times, I felt my heart thud as I wondered suddenly if this was real, if any of it was real.

"Daniel. Come on." Jack grabbed my wrist where my hand was stroking him and pulled me down. I felt myself tense against him. He wrapped his other hand around the back of my head, pulling me close, burying his face in the hollow at the base of my neck, licking the spot there before he bit it. Bit it. I groaned and I knew he felt my cock jump against him. "Let go."

"No."

"But I want you to," and his breath was smoke and fire against my skin.

"NO."

Jack rocked again like he had outside in the leaves and this time, with no clothes between us, the sensation was like a bullet to the brain. All that smooth, hot, hard skin - his and mine - slid together, and I could feel his balls, tight inside that delicate, hairy, masculine skin, snuggle up against mine and I almost lost my mind.

"Come on, Daniel. Do what you want."

I'd been insane before and it hadn't felt like this, I thought crazily as I gave in to the burn, gave in to the hot and the hard, gave in to the sound of Jack's voice ordering me like Jack's voice never had and I held his hands down at his side, pressing him into the bed while I devoured the throat he showed to me.

Not like this, I thought as my teeth scraped his skin a little and he bucked. Not like this.

In the dreams I could never stop myself, never control what happened.

I sat up, my hands were shaking, my lips were wet, but I could sit up.

Blinking, Jack lay under me, catching his breath.

"Don't stop!" he said, and sounded so annoyed, so unbelieving, so much like my Jack that I had to laugh.

It was real. It wasn't a dream. He was real.

And I didn't have to hurt him. I didn't have to do anything. I could do anything I wanted.

Real was so, so much better.

"Slower," I said, feeling my heart lighten. I think you fixed my heart, Jack, I wanted to say, but he wouldn't know what I meant.

"Ah, come ON! It doesn't have to be slow. You aren't listening. I'd prefer it NOT be." And he wrapped his legs around me again, immobilizing me like he'd done outside in the dirt. But then neither of us could move.

"Not this time. Not this time." I licked my lips. The things I said, came out; the things I did, I did. It was wonderful. "Please, Jack. Please."

Jack stopped moving, looked at my eyes. "All... right. This time." Releasing me from the vise of his thighs, he sat up, grabbed my forearms with his hands, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from the way the muscles in his legs, his stomach, his chest, his arms moved.

He looked into my eyes from a few inches away.

Whatever he saw there, he got it, but he didn't leave it alone. "All right, Daniel. We'll do it your way this time. But it won't be forever. Don't forget. I know you." He kissed me, and I couldn't think, couldn't talk, couldn't wonder how on Earth anyone could kiss like that, if it was practice or native talent, until his mouth let me go and he whispered, "And I am yours."

I would not whimper. "Don't say that," I whispered back.

"I just did. You're gonna have to listen to me eventually. Just realize that I'm not fragile, and I want you like I had you. Crazy. Wanting me. Hard."

I shook my head. "If I can't do this right," I told him, looking into his eyes so he had to hear me, "I'm not going to do this at all."

"Fucking Ph.D.s. So panicked about the right answers, the wrong answers." Suddenly rolling over, he had me pinned. "Here's a thought: It's not a test, Daniel."

"It is for me." And it was. One I had to pass, wanted to pass more than anything in my life.

"No, it's not," and he shook his head. "You're so good at figuring out puzzles, Daniel. Can't you figure this one out too?"

And he slid down against me.

And I let him. I could let him.

He slid down, farther down, I could feel the hair on his chest against my chest, my stomach, then my thighs as he settled between my legs.

And looked up at me as he took me in his hands.

And I knew as long as I lived I wouldn't forget what that looked like.

"It's okay," and he kissed me.

My arms stretched out and my hands twisted the sheets as he took my head in his mouth, licking gently, with little motions of his tongue, while his hand slid up and down my shaft just the slightest little bit.

"You don't have to..." but I couldn't get a whole sentence out.

"I know. I want to. I've wanted to a long time. I used to go watch you at the baths, Daniel, did you know that? I've seen this --" he licked me again, and I bucked, "--just lying there, soft, while you rolled around naked and oiled up on that bench, and I didn't even want to admit to myself that I was wondering what you'd taste like. But I was." He licked me again, the tip of his tongue swirling around the tip of me, and I gasped, felt the muscles in my arms stand out as I clenched them with the effort of lying still. "You taste good," he said.

"Jack. Oh Jesus. Jack, you have no idea how good that feels. Where did you -" I couldn't finish the sentence.

"Yeah? What does it feel like, Daniel? I always did want to hear bedtime stories from you." He chuckled, while he had me in his mouth, and that was something I'd always wanted without ever realizing it. "Tell me," he encouraged me again.

Now he wanted talking. "It's, uh, soft, and slippery wet, and feels so good when you -- oh yeah, when you do that --" I couldn't think of what to tell him, could barely think at all. "Hell, Jack, you know what it feels like."

"Not to you. The first time I touched you, I did it too hard, remember?"

"Huh. Oh, oh yeah. Yeah, I remember."

"You like it soft and gentle like this," he muttered, his voice rumbling in his chest against my thigh while his fingers stroked, wet from his mouth, against my shaft, which was harder than it had ever been before in my life and it felt so good, the pleasure twisting at my nerve endings until it was almost very like pain, it was so good.

"So for you, I'll be gentle, I will," and he licked me again like a lollipop, and I bucked for him again, completely out of control.

"But for me," and he let me go and I let out the breath I'd been holding like a sob, I'd been so close, "for me I want it a little rougher. Okay?"

I lay there, gasping, for a minute, Jack looking down at me, apparently waiting for me to say something.

"Maybe sometimes," I said, my lighter heart pounding hard in my chest - for him.

I had to look at him for a while. I didn't even realize I was squinting without my glasses on, but I was, and I could see him, clear as crystal, all the dents and scars on his body, the lean long length of his arms, his legs, his cock, those mobile lips that said so much even when he wasn't talking, the hair that was spiky silver all over his head.

All he wanted was that I give him whatever he asked for.

That couldn't be wrong, could it?

I could trust myself by trusting him, couldn't I?

Because whatever Jack wanted, he should have.

"I'll try. I... want to."

"Want to what?" He was stroking a hand down my stomach, petting me.

"Want to do... whatever you want, oh God help me," I whispered.

"See?" And he smiled just a little as he nodded. He moved his hand down again and stroked it over the hard, insistent part of me, and I jumped as if shocked, and he smiled wider. "Cool," he said. And when he wrapped those long, callused fingers around me and I moaned out loud, he said smugly, "I am so in charge of you."

Okay. Okay. I got the point. "Don't get too cocky, Jack," I said, reaching up to pull him down on to me.

And while he settled on top of me, fantastically heavy, I slid my tongue into his mouth while I slid my dick right against his, and made him jump like he'd made me.

"How cocky is -- oh, do that again -- too cocky?" he murmured into my mouth, as our hips slid and rocked together. "You saying you don't like the fact that I'm hung like a bear, is that it?"

And I chuckled. I couldn't help it. He was so funny, always funny. Always Jack, just the same in bed as out of bed, just the same for me.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm terrified of your huge dick," I muttered, stroking us against each other again, unbelievably sloooowwwwwwlllyyyyyy.

"So terrified you'd never let me inside you, would you?" Jack said, looking into my eyes as he rocked again.

He really wanted to know. If he was ever going to get to fuck me. Now he was serious. Jerk. When I wanted to be serious, no, but when he had a real question....

"Jack," I said, putting up my hands, holding his face, "there is absolutely nothing I would not let you do."

He swallowed. "Really?"

"Really." I nodded. "You want to try it now?"

"Your eyes are the most beautiful color of blue I've ever seen in my life," he told me, making me blink.

"Uh... thanks?"

"I'm a little nervous so I'm afraid I'll forget to tell you, and you ought to know."

"Nervous about... fucking me?" It was easier to think it than say it, but I managed to get it out.

"No, about asking you... uh... to fuck me again."

And that widened my eyes even more, and upped the blink rate unavoidably.

"Really?" I couldn't believe it. I really had hurt him, I knew I did.

"Really."

"You're not just trying to make me feel better about..."

"Do it your way. Any way. I don't care. When I like something, I want it every chance I can get. We never know how much time we'll have. No one does, but especially us. Let's not waste it pretending. I know what I want. Fuck me."

It hit me in the gut to hear him say it, say it and know he meant it. "Say it again."

"Fuck me," he whispered in my ear, and I almost came right then.

"I had no idea you liked to talk that way, Jack," I managed to say while I tried to breathe and tried harder not to come.

"See? Lots of things you don't know about me. I got surprises," he said, reaching up to trap my nipples too between his fingers.

When he twisted both of them at the same time, I jerked.

"Oh yeah, you're full of surprises," I managed to say.

"I figure I can't be doing this right if you can still talk," Jack muttered. "But then, this is you we're talking about. There's no limit to the ways you can talk."

"Fine. I'll tell you this. Do that again, and I'll come all over you. And if you make me come too fast, I won't be able to fuck you, Jack." I said it fast, quietly, in his ear, and my breath was hot and moist and I felt him shudder. "And I want to fuck you. Slow. I want to do it right. I want you to feel how it could be. How it's supposed to be."

"I think," he mumbled as I licked and bit his throat, "it's just supposed to be with you."

"That's right," I said, and smiled as I nibbled his ear. "With me. But good. Slow and sweet and good."

"It doesn't have to be," he breathed.

"Yes, it does. This time. Because I love you. And that's the way I love people."

"I know. My sugar-sweet Daniel. So fucking opinionated."

His sugar-sweet Daniel? Sweet? Jack thought I was sweet?

I rolled us over so I was on top. In charge. And moving things along. The way I wanted to.

And he let me.

And sliding down his body I started to kiss his chest, his stomach, his thighs, and he wiggled a little under me.

"Tickle?" I asked him between kisses.

"No," he said, his voice quiet. "Feels... sweet."

"That okay?"

"Yeah. I'm okay with that."

And I kept kissing, soft little touching kisses, and rolled him over so I could kiss my way up his calves, along the backs of his knees - which made him make a much louder noise, surprising both of us, I think - and the backs of his thighs, across both cheeks of his ass, soft, sweet little kisses, tiny touches of lips and tongue and teeth, and I could see his muscles clenched in anticipation but I kept moving up, along the small of his back, along his spine, tracing each outline of a vertebra, each shoulderblade, and then up his neck.

I wanted to write my name in kisses on every inch of him. Write love all over him.

He was no longer tensed.

He was boneless.

But occasionally, just slightly, pushed himself against the bed. And I bet he was still hard.

"If I forget to ever mention it again, I want to do this more than I want to keep breathing," I said, running my hand along his back.

"I'm informed," he told me.

"And I do want to fuck you," I said in the same calm tone.

"Okay," he responded.

"Say it."

He didn't say anything.

"Say it, PLEASE," I said, running a fingernail down his spine, making him shiver.

"Yes, okay, god, pushy pushy pushy, talk talk and more talk. Go ahead and fuck me already."

My hand stilled. "I'll do whatever you want."

"God, Daniel, I want you to, okay?" he groaned into the pillow.

"Okay," I whispered.

He lay there, arms spread, facedown on the bed, while my hands went away, and I wondered if he knew what I was doing.

"How do you want me?" I asked him when my hands came back to him.

He seemed to think about it. "I want you wherever you hit that spot."

"What spot?"

"The, uh, prostate, is it? Is that what that is when you touch that spot inside that feels so insanely good that I think I would scream if you kept going and scream if you stopped?"

"I think that's it," and I tried not to let the smile sound in my voice.

"Laugh it up," he muttered. "Wait till I find yours. Then we'll see who's laughing."

"Would you like that?" I practically purred, and saw the muscles in his ass tense as he ground himself into the mattress. Oh yes. Yes he would.

"Not only would I like that, but the thought of it is practically pushing me over the edge," he told me, and I believed him. It was doing amazing things for me, too, the thought of Jack trusting me, letting me explore inside him, letting me push inside him --

When had we gotten to this point? HOW had we gotten to this point?

But then, maybe it didn't matter. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe all that mattered was that we were here, as unlikely as it was. Thinking these things, doing these things.

"Not bad for a straight boy," I teased, and when he turned his head to say something sarcastic to that,

he caught his breath instead, hard,

because my fingers, slicked and warm, had suddenly slid right between the cheeks of his ass.

And were moving, gently, everywhere. Massaging, pressing, everywhere.

"Oh YEAH," he groaned, and automatically spread his legs.

So trusting. So unembarrassed. And I was glad he could be. He should be. Who knew him better than me? Who should he trust more?

Who knew me better?

"Okay," I said, softly, silkily, laying against his back. "Do you want to lay down, or get up on your knees? Because I think it'll be easier to hit that spot from back here."

"You think? You don't know?"

"Give me a break, Jack. I don't happen to have a Ph.D. in this."

"You could have fooled me," he said, rocking back toward my fingers a little. I stroked everywhere, all around.

"What does that feel like?" I asked him, figuring turn about was always fair play.

"God, Daniel, it feels, uh, hard and hot and slick..." His voice trailed off. "I'll get up on my knees," he said decisively.

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm fucking well sure, Daniel. I'm not an invalid."

"All right. All right. Don't get testy."

"I'm testy because I'm hard as a rock, so hard it's starting to ache a little, to be honest with you, and you're talking as per usual and asking questions and HEY!"

Because one of my fingers was pressing right at the entrance.

"Okay, you're in charge of this," I said softly. "When you're ready, push back."

And he didn't even hesitate; he pushed.

And I slid inside.

Oh man.

"Oh yes," he said, and pushed back more.

Slowly, slickly, my finger slid deeper in.

"Feel okay?" I asked him, my voice sounding a little hoarse even to me.

"Feels fantastic," he sighed.

"Whenever you're ready --"

"Please. I'm ready," he said, fighting for breath. I could see his skin flushing red, feel the heat coming off him in waves, feel him tremble, and I was amazed at his courage, his willingness to jump right in to something he'd been told all his life he shouldn't have, his boundless capacity to enjoy. This was something he'd never had, and here he was wanting it like water, like air.

Wanting me.

"Got to stretch you more," I said, and feeling like I was fighting for breath too.

"Always with the step by step," he moaned, pushing back against me.

"It's not supposed to hurt. It will not hurt."

"IT DOESN'T."

"Okay. Okay. I don't want to scratch you. I don't have any condoms and didn't cut my fingernails --"

"Daniel!"

"Okay."

And then I gave him two fingers, one had slid right inside next to the other one like it belonged there, and I was stretching him, twisting them gently this way then that way, and he groaned again.

Really loudly.

"Daniel," he said, apparently finding it hard to talk, "If I forget to mention this ever again, I'm really, really glad that you're doing this."

He made me laugh again.

I stroked his back with one hand while I moved the other one inside him, as gently, as carefully, as firmly as I could.

"I'm gonna come," he warned me, "it's too sweet," and he was rocking against my hand, rocking against the bed.

"No you're not," I said quietly, and, using both hands, half-lifted him so he was on his hands and knees, kneeled between his legs, spread him wider.

He dropped his head down to lay on his arms. Leaving me to do whatever I wanted. I swallowed. It couldn't be real. Nothing like this ever happened when I was awake.

Except, sometimes, with Jack, it did.

"I want to touch your cock, it's red, I've never gotten to see it this color," I suddenly said, feeling stupid for coming up with some random observation at a time like this, but wanting to tell him, wanting him to know.

"If you do, I'll come."

"I know."

And gently, very gently, I pulled him back against me, rubbing myself between his slicked-up cheeks, feeling myself almost burst with the pleasure of it.

"You're in charge of this too, okay?" I whispered and just slid myself to the entrance, knowing how this part felt after the fingers, how it felt much bigger, blunt, smooth, soft and hard.

He didn't say anything, just pushed back against me almost that same second, trapping me in him, first the head, very slowly, then he paused, relaxing, then the rest of me, pushing back into me until he had me, finally, right where he wanted me.

"Perfect," he whispered, and I shivered as I pulled him tight against me, just like I wanted, just like I needed to be.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, unable to hide the quiver in my voice, giving away, I knew, how bone-deep terrified I was of hurting him again.

"Of course it doesn't hurt," he told me, reaching back for my hands, pulling me against him until I was draped over him, shaking his head disbelievingly while I touched him, my hands smoothing along his sides and his beautiful thighs, his hands covering mine. "Because you love me."

"No, really, Jack, tell me if it hurts," and for a minute there I was afraid he could tell how close I was to crying, how fragile I felt.

He chuckled softly, pushed himself into my lap.

"It's perfect," he said again.

And rocked.

Slowly, carefully, I slid back out of him, then back inside, while Jack made noises as if I were filling him up with sensation that he couldn't get enough of. All that big strong muscled Jack, masculine, hairy, hard, was flexing in my hands, tight around me.

All mine.

And along the way, I could feel myself bumping up against that nub that made him moan like heaven and hell were having a really good party and he was invited.

I was far, far from hurting him.

"Okay," I said, and took over the motion, rocking, stroking, gliding, filling, every stroke bursting with impossible pleasure, and I slowly, quietly, lost my mind.

I had no idea how long it went on. It could have been forever for all I knew. I was suspended in a place without time where there was just the two of us, me trying to make him feel how much he was to me, and him taking me higher.

I was loving him. The way I wanted to. The way I needed to. And he was letting me.

He did everything for me.

I'd never be able to do enough back.

"I'm going to make you come a thousand times," I told him, feeling my legs shake, my hands shake, my voice shake, maintaining the same slow pace, the same even touch, and I felt him tensing, felt him pushing, felt him holding his breath, felt him drawing together, and then,

all of a sudden,

all his muscles clenched, inside and out,

and he gasped, soundless,

as the mother of all orgasms absolutely gripped him, shook him, and left him twisting and gasping for air, practically convulsing, his come shooting everywhere, and I wished he were holding on to me, that I could hold him from every side, all at once. I could have screamed for joy, watching him, feeling his pleasure so pure and sudden and hard,

and we collapsed, soundlessly, to one side, on the bed.

Groaning, I followed him, I had no choice, and he was gripping me inside him, and I had no option but to stay inside him and that suited me fine, would suit me fine if it lasted forever.

"You here with me?" he whispered, and I could feel his muscles involuntarily rippling around me, and I groaned again, louder, and mumbled something I knew he wouldn't understand. We had a lifetime ahead of us, years, for me to try to explain how he made me feel, all the words from all the languages in all the galaxy that couldn't begin to explain him, that I would use to love him.

"Come on," he told me, and maybe he could feel me losing the battle with burning pleasure, but I know he heard me, because the noise I made was long and low and animal, and I held him to me, happy not to be able to breathe, lost in the world's longest orgasm, before I slumped over him again, hot, sweaty, and absolutely boneless.

It was a while before either of us could move.

"Don't fall asleep," was all he said as I rolled off him, softening, leaving him empty, and slid down by his side, the sweat on our bodies mixing and dampening the sheets. "Not right this second."

"Really? Okay," was all I said.

And for a little while we held on to one another, my hands roaming over his arms, his back, his neck, reminding me he was real, wondering how I could tell him that I'd been so worried for nothing, that I'd never felt anything that felt that good, and now I was worrying about whether or not it would ever feel that good again.

I knew what he'd say to that.

With a trembling hand I reached for the towel, wiped myself off a little, wiped him off a little. He let me. He stretched under my hands, as lazy and luxurious as a cat. A sun-warmed cat.

"Messy," I observed as I tossed the towel down by the side of the bed.

"Worth it," he observed, and I looked at him, and I could feel a slow, sunny smile finally spread across my face, probably looking goofy as hell, and I could feel my nose crinkle up.

"That's what I was waiting for," he breathed, stroking the back of my neck.

"What's that?"

"Relaxed, happy Daniel." His chest was still rising and falling fast; he was breathing a little hard. "See, we can do it all the ways there are to do it. We got all the bases covered."

He was so sure, so comfortable, so happy. My Jack.

"As long as you think so," I sighed, sliding over to slide an arm around him.

"Didn't you think so?" he said, astonishing me by snuggling into my arms, though he'd demonstrated his interest in snuggling several times. I wasn't used to people wanting to snuggle me.

"Well of course I thought so, I want you badly," I said in a matter-of-fact way.

"Whereas I, of course, have no carnal interest in you," he said, throwing his arm over my chest.

And I realized he did. He really, really did. In me. Not just to experiment, not just to live out some long-suppressed gay fantasy, and not because I forced him to. He wanted me. Actually wanted me.

It was mind-boggling.

Of all the scenarios I had considered I had to admit I hadn't really considered that one. I wasn't sure why. It wasn't as though no one else had ever actually lusted after me. Maybe just because I had wanted him so badly that I was sure he would never want me back. Maybe because we still seemed such an unlikely pair, at least to me.

Maybe because I was a moron.

"I owe this chest chocolates and roses," Jack told me, stroking his hand along said chest.

"That's what I like about you, Jack, you're a traditionalist."

"And you're a good guy."

I sighed, wiggled closer. "Keep saying it, Jack. When you say it, I believe it."

"You are. I like sleeping in the same bed with you. So much I'm willing to make love to you all day and all night if it'll keep you here."

I opened an eye and peered at him. "That'll be tough to do, and have jobs."

"It'll work."

"Um, we have jobs at the SGC. In the military. Saving the world on a regular basis."

"It'll work."

"Okay." I didn't want to fight. Believing him was easier. And he might be right. Again.

"That was a first. I liked it."

"What's that?"

"You just plain agreeing with me."

"Don't get used to it," I told him, burrowing into his arms, suddenly realizing that maybe I could have some of the things I wanted too. Like his arms around me at night. His smiles. His eyes looking into mine. His orgasm-induced screams echoing in my ears.

Oh, life was looking up.

"Shit!" said Jack, and I had that familiar falling sensation in my stomach. Now what was wrong? One more thing going wrong and I swear --

"I just realized Carter and Teal'c are coming over to take us out to dinner in, uh, like an hour and a half."

"Okay," I said again.

"God, you'll agree to anything after sex like that, won't you?"

"Don't take advantage of it."

"Don't be stupid, of course I'm going to take advantage of it. But look, we smell like we've been ... which we have. Shouldn't we, like, shower?"

"Probably." I put my hands behind my head, watched Jack lever himself up off the bed, walk over to the bureau, start rooting around in the top drawer for clean underwear and socks.

Eventually he noticed me watching him. "Aren't you going to get up too?"

"Still thinking about it," I told him. It really wouldn't do to let him think he could boss me around completely. There was still better than a fifty-fifty chance that I wasn't going to listen to him anyway.

He stopped, took a good long look at me lounging naked on the bed. His bed. In which we'd been making love to each other. Because we loved each other. It was a whole new world. It felt just like the old one, but more real, more sweet, more hard - more right. Maybe it'd be easier, now, to tell dreams from reality. I knew where I was. And Jack seemed to know who I was. And maybe that shouldn't have been enough for me, but it was. It was enough.

"Daniel, my good fellow, I have been waiting for days, weeks, months, through several countries and languages to scrub your back in the bath. I'm going to the shower and you're going with me and I am going to soap you up, possibly until you beg me to stop. Now get up. Out of that bed. And come bathe with me."

He took a step closer to the bed, and I could feel it in the air, the electricity between us, thicker than ever. I looked up through my eyelashes at him and he put out an imperious hand.

"Now."

"Okay, Jack. Just don't get the idea that just because I'm doing it now, I'm always going to listen to you. There's no rule about that either."

"Yeah, whatever. I love you. But don't push your luck. Get the hell up. Now."

---

Carter and Teal'c couldn't stop grinning, so they didn't really notice that Jack and Daniel couldn't stop grinning either.

"They instituted a new policy about reviewing promotions while you were gone, sir. You've got about twenty personnel files to review on your desk."

Jack groaned and Carter looked apologetic. "I did try to stop them, sir."

"I'm sure you did, Carter. But you didn't succeed, didjya? Close only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades."

"Surely that saying applies equally well to any explosive weapon," Teal'c observed, eyeing an avocado, apple and onion salad that might have made a lesser man back away slowly.

"I think the alliteration between the horse shoes and the hand grenades is what got the hand grenades the privileged position in the saying," said Daniel, absently licking the rim of his beer glass.

Jack raised an eyebrow at him, and suddenly Daniel blushed, bright red, to the roots of his still shaggy hair, but no one else noticed.

"Did you guys know that Daniel's not going to listen to me any more?" said Jack, looking at Daniel but addressing Carter and Teal'c.

Carter choked, while Teal'c's eyebrows both climbed.

Daniel scowled. "You better not be laughing, Sam."

"Sorry. Sorry. I was just thinking, uh, I hadn't really noticed you listening to the Colonel a lot before."

That made Daniel positively glower, while Teal'c camouflaged his expression behind his large, and opaque, glass. Jack just smirked and swirled another piece of steak in the sauce on his plate.

"Besides, Jack, I thought you weren't going to listen to me anymore. In fact, I distinctly remember you saying that. Back in Optima. While you were wearing a minidress. Don't you remember?" And Daniel blinked innocently while destroying a bite of his own steak.

"What? Oh yeah." Jack looked thoughtful, stretching his legs out in front of him, carelessly booting both Teal'c and Daniel in the foot as he did so. "I remember something about that. But then that was before I realized how good you were at giving orders."

Both Teal'c and Sam's hands froze, halfway between plate and mouth.

"You're talking about Daniel, sir?"

"Indeed. I was about to ask the same question."

Daniel's lips were squinching up in ways that were telling Jack that he was very possibly in real trouble, but Jack was quite comfortable in trouble.

He looked at Daniel, the gentle, soft look, the look that meant he was serious and giving in all at the same time. "Daniel can give orders. He's trustworthy."

Carter was puzzled but didn't hesitate. "Well, of course he is!" Then she looked suspicious. "Did someone say he wasn't?" she asked, looking fully determined to seek out the reprobate and beat some sense into them.

"No one we'd believe," Jack said quietly, taking another sip of his beer, watching Daniel look up, down, anywhere but at the rest of them.

"I would not hesitate to follow an order of yours, Daniel Jackson, if you were actually to give one," Teal'c said most formally.

"Why, thank you, Teal'c," and Daniel managed to meet the Jaffa's eyes, those deep, serious eyes, and nod.

"Just as long as you remember I'm above you in the chain of command," Carter said carelessly and speared another mushroom.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. And you know it."

Jack leaned back in the chair watching Daniel discuss where exactly a civilian consultant SHOULD fall in certain situations that might or might not be strictly construed as military engagements. Teal'c sat back and ate, since there was no need for him to explain that he would do exactly as he chose whenever he chose.

And Daniel caught Jack's eye.

Jack just nodded.

And the corners of Daniel's eyes crinkled. That was all he could say.

All he needed to say.