Into The Light 17

Born With The Moon In Cancer

by Oliver Twist

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/aso/otwist/light17.php
Summary: Is the trip to Provincetown a good idea, and can Jack save the day? What is the relationship between the guests at the B&B and Daniel's sister Claire?

It was manifestly unfair, he reflected. The ride that Jack had obtained for them from the base at Colorado Springs had been a rough one. Every time they went back down to pick something or someone else up, it happened all over again - another barf bag and the vertigo. Everybody - that was Janet, Jack and his sister - had been perfectly fine except him. He thought that Claire could have had the decency to upchuck at least once. She was pregnant for God's sake! Between the up and down and the waits, the flight had taken hours longer than a commercial airline flight, and he'd spent most of it moaning and heaving.

It wasn't as though there wasn't enough money to pay for regular airline tickets. Hell, with the money that his foster family had left to him and Claire, they could buy first-class tickets for everybody and not even put a dint in the stash. However, neither Claire nor Daniel wasted the money on personal luxuries very often. Almost all of it was plowed back into the fund to do good deeds.

Daniel didn't want to be like a fine piece of china that had to be treated gingerly. His head got migraines when he pushed too hard, and his nose was plagued by allergies unless Janet watched him like hawk. The idea of the free flight had been appealing when Jack had set it up. That had been a good day. Unfortunately, today wasn't one of Daniel's good days.

So Jack, Janet and Claire had all taken turns holding the bag for him and putting a cold, damp cloth on his forehead to ease his distress. Teal'c wasn't there; he was visiting his family on Chulak. Sam had gone to San Diego with Cassandra and Jacob to visit her brother.

At the moment, Jack O'Neill was so close to Daniel in their cramped accommodations onboard that it was hard not to just cling to his hand like a drowning man. Daniel knew that Jack would have preferred to help him unassisted by the women, but that might have earned them some strange looks from the other USAF personnel that were hopping on and off the plane at each stop.

Of the four of them, only Claire had ever been in Provincetown before. They landed at Hanscom Air Force Base. There was another short haul flight later in the day to Otis Air Base on the peninsula, but taking it would have been meant a wait of several hours. At that moment, Daniel just wanted to get off USAF property. He hadn't been completely happy with the air force since the "Reese incident" [Menace] almost two weeks ago. It had put a rift between him and Jack that they were just beginning to work out. Since the incident they'd been very careful with each other, afraid that the anger that had lashed out so unexpectedly in the SGC would emerge again and break their relationship in two.

As they sat outside of the plane hangar on the base, Jack butted himself up against Daniel and rubbed his partner's neck surreptiously as Daniel looked miserably down at the ground. They were behind the building, and Daniel was seated on a beaten up wooden bench. Janet and Claire were stretching their legs, waiting until the cab turned up.

"You feeling better Danny?" Jack's lifted his left eyebrow as he asked the question, "Hmm?"

"These puddle-jumper flights always make me sick Jack," Daniel said impatiently.

"Still want to take the ferry across the harbor?" Jack's long fingers sought out the vulnerable sore spots on Daniel's neck. Jack was remarkably good at this, Daniel thought with gratitude; maybe he should just lean sideways, moan and drool, but they were at a military base.

"You should probably stop that," Daniel remonstrated gently, "Someone might get ideas."

"What?" Jack drew his eyebrows together and didn't let go, "I'm just helping a friend out. Let them get their own masseur."

"But we're not friends Jack," Daniel responded in a low voice, "Unless you suck off your friends first thing in the morning. But you do make a great masseur." He turned sideways to look at Jack.

Jack's eyes glinted at him. This morning was the first time that Jack had gotten close lately, "I'm just saying, we look like any other two guy friends."

"You clearly haven't been paying attention to the rumors around the base," Daniel's eyes closed in rapture, "And when you do that," he sighed as the capable hands hit a knot in his lower neck, "I want so much, much more."

"Promises, promises," Jack responded lightly, "So I was just saying that we could rent a car and drive up Route #6, and cut over on local road 195 to get there. Then we'd have wheels for the trip."

"We don't need wheels. They'll just need to be babysat in the parking lot at the B & B. The ferry ride is shorter," Daniel pointed out, "If we take the taxi to the ferry, we'll have some time to sit down and drink a coffee."

"Taxi, ferry and coffee it is," Jack's finger dug in some more, "Oh, there's a bad knot right there," he said hitting just below the shoulder blade.

"If you do any more, there's bound to be trouble," Daniel leaned harder into his hand.

"You just need to practice self control," Jack's hot breath tickled his ear.

"I've had enough of that lately," Daniel said shortly. Jack looked at Daniel questioningly and his dark eyes lit up.

Just then his sister and Janet arrived to tell them that the cab was turning into the lot.

"We might've found someone at the base to give us a lift if we'd waited," Janet pointed out.

"No, Daniel wants to get the cab and go," Jack's eyes met Daniel's in complete comprehension. As they drove out of Hanscom Air Base, Daniel put his head out the window and took big gulps of air

They made it down to the harbor with an hour and a half to spare. As soon as they bought their tickets, Claire promptly dragged them across the street to the Starbucks in the Hyatt allegedly so that they could sit down while they waited for the ferry.

Janet watched her partner like a hawk in the coffee house. She promptly intercepted Claire's attempted pass at real coffee, which even Jack had to admit had involved an artful decoy with a piece of frosted lemon current loaf for Janet, the installation of Daniel at one of the tables with a vente latte with whole milk and cinnamon on the top and some outrageous satirical gay political magazine that Claire had thrust in Jack's face. Daniel was now so busily sucking back on his latte, he probably would have missed the sinking of the Titanic in Boston harbor.

After ensuring that Daniel was feeling fine, Janet came over to examine Claire's purchases. "Excuse me?" Janet came and stood beside her partner. She gave the young, giggling teenager behind the counter a glance that had made strong men bend over and drop their shorts, "What did she just order?" Claire stood there looking like a martyr who was about to be tied to the stake and burned.

"I can't believe you are doing this to me in public," she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Coffee isn't good for the baby," Janet said shortly.

"A small cup of coffee. We got up so early in the morning. I haven't had coffee for months and months and I'm so tired," Claire gave her a mooncalf stare with her hazel eyes, then she pouted and flitted her eyelashes.

"Those beseeching eyes do not affect me one little bit missy! Daniel's been practicing that look on me for five years, and I'm still immovable." Janet retorted.

By now, Jack had gotten in on the act. Daniel watched them from a table in front of the window. He was blissfully downing his beverage while he looked out at the bay. Real ocean water; nothing in the world like it!

He thought about his childhood before his parents had died. He remembered the summer vacations at San Stefano beach in Alexandria, walking along the corniche, eating pastries and ice cream at Athineos and the orange doors of the concrete cabanas along the beach. He recalled how he'd run screaming into the small rock pool of seawater that had been built for the children. How his skin would dry to a sticky consistency in the sun, and he'd need to clean the salt off in the shower. The smell of the ocean never failed to take him back there.

It was such a different world; sometimes he wondered how this planet could contain such different realities. Languages drifted along the beach from different groups of people: Arabic, French, Armenian, Italian, and Greek. By the time Daniel was a little child, the changing political climate in Egypt had forced many people to immigrate to the US, Canada or Europe, but the beach was still a mini United Nations of different cultures and customs.

He listened in a detached way to Janet and Jack trying to make sure Claire wouldn't drink any coffee. "Sure you betcha' Munchkin," Jack said taking the cup out of Claire's hand and watching her sad hazel eyes follow it longingly, "Coffee isn't really the best thing. How about some nice chamomile tea?" She made a sad whimper as the coffee cup was removed from her hands.

"Weeds," she said despondently, "Chamomile tastes like weeds. It reminds me of the time that Daniel made dandelion wine. They even smelled funny when they were in the boiling water. And after they fermented, the smell was disgusting."

"Decaffeinated coffee," Janet directed patiently, refusing to be distracted, "It's much better for you. I know it's a nuisance, but it's only a little while longer and you've been so good about this. Herbal tea would be best."

"All right, decaffeinated coffee," Claire looked at Janet, and sighed in defeat, "Okay, Jan you are right, even if you are a coffee Nazi."

"Is it Swiss Water decaffeinated coffee?" Janet asked the server. Claire blenched.

The server looked momentarily nonplused, "We ran out of Swiss Water decaffeinated coffee, this morning. We only have the other kind right now."

"She doesn't need the chemicals in her system. Peppermint tea then," Janet said brightly.

Claire stared mournfully at the cup of hot water with the peppermint tea bag that the server had deposited in her hand in a perky manner. She sat beside Daniel at his table, "Danny," she said despondently, "couldn't you at least have looked really sick and distracted them? Look what I'm drinking, peppermint crap."

"It's good for you," he said automatically. He focused on the view outside the window. Down by the wharf where Boston Harbor Cruise Company was located, his eyes followed the outline of a familiar face, a face he recalled all too well. It took him back to the days of his first graduate degree in Linguistics at Carnegie Mellon University and his first serious boyfriend, Michael Navotny.

Michael had been a really sweet guy Daniel remembered, diminutive and gentle. He'd met him in the cafeteria over coffee and sandwiches. Michael was reading some special collector's edition of a Green Lantern comic book, and waiting for his friend Brian who was studying Commerce. Daniel had been busily worrying about a course in African languages. It had taken precisely five minutes to discover that Michael was as queer as the proverbial three-dollar bill, not a university student and in complete awe of someone with Daniel's abilities. In those days, admiration went a long way with Daniel as an aphrodisiac.

A few weeks into the relationship, Daniel had met Michael's best friend Brian at some diner in downtown Pittsburgh. Daniel detested him on sight, although he was polite for Michael's sake. Claire also met Brian on one of her weekends away from Harvard Medical School. They had been, or so she said, in nursery school together - one of life's little coincidences.

Daniel never liked gay guys like Brian, although he believed that were plenty of them - the kind of guys that were a walking advertisement for sexual infidelity and fickleness. He told Claire his viewpoint on this subject, but she seemed disinclined to take sides, giving him just one more reason to detest Brian Kinney.

Daniel's relationship with Michael went into spontaneous meltdown after three sex-filled months. It ended one Friday night when Daniel, on Brian's passing suggestion, had gone to meet Michael at his job at The Big Q at closing time. Michael, whose mere presence screamed 'I'm gay' to the rest of the world, was intent on working his way up the food chain into management at work. They had a fight on the way home about how Daniel's showing up would affect his position at work. And that was that.

He went home that Friday night to his own apartment where Claire was sleeping on his sofa with a girl called Lindsey she'd picked up at a lesbian film night at Carnegie Mellon, a couple of weeks earlier. They'd felt sorry for Daniel and bought a bottle of tequila, some limes and a couple of bags of blue corn chips.

"I don't get it," he'd slurred as Claire patted his hand sympathetically, "It's not like I said anything. I just went to meet him after work. I thought he'd be pleased. Instead, he was so angry. He told me it over between us, just like that! He said I'd been 'insensitive' by turning up at his job. He said everyone would see what was going on between us. It's that Brian's fault! He doesn't believe in relationships. He set me up."

"Well," Claire said trying to be sympathetic, "Michael wasn't really for you anyway!"

"I'm sure Brian didn't mean anything by it," Lindsey said defensively, "he probably thought it would be a nice surprise. Michael is really hung up about his job." Brian was always omnipresent at the gay student union at Carnegie Mellon although he had no kind of official position there. In fact, Brian seemed to be a friend of everybody's in those days even lesbians like Lindsey.

Daniel was horribly sick the next morning, and he felt as though he'd been violently purged of his attraction to Michael. However, it was a long time before he could stand the smell of tequila or the taste of blue corn chips. Afterwards when he passed Brian Kinney by accident in the hallway, Daniel ignored him in icy silence. The next year, Daniel went to England to continue his studies, and then to Chicago's Oriental Institute. Brian, Michael and Pittsburgh were a thing of the past.

However, here he was, as big as life with a cute, very young man with very blonde hair in tow. Claire glanced up and her face brightened, "It's Brian," she said in a pleased tone. The cheerful expression on her face grew more intense as Brian crossed the road, and headed in the general direction of the cafŽ.

Daniel put his head into his hands. What was it about his sister and this guy? Couldn't she see what kind of a man he was? She wasn't na•ve; she had to know that Brian spent half his life in the backroom of men's bars. He put his head in his hands, "Oh joy, oh bliss, it's the home wrecker! And great, he's with a kid who looks as though he's below legal drinking age!" Daniel muttered sarcastically.

"You know Danny, I think its time to let it go. That thing was a very long time ago, almost fifteen years now." Claire said in a dismissive tone. However, by now Brian was upon them.

"Oh look Justin," a sarcastic voice drawled in his ear, "It's the twins of torsion." Daniel had forgotten that he and Claire had taken a weekend yoga class with Brian, but he suddenly remembered that Brian was not very flexible. An evil glint came into Daniel's eye. "Danny Jackson, in the flesh, as I live and breathe or is it Dr. Jackson now?" Brian asked airily.

"Hello Brian, you still like them young and agile I see. I guess it's handy when you need to bend over. And yes, now it's Dr. Daniel Jackson." Daniel underlined the doctor in his name.

Daniel watched as Brian moved his hand in an annoyingly languid manner. Look at me, 'I'm gay' it screamed! A sardonic smile touched Brian's lips.

"Yes, well. This is Dr. Claire Walters, Justin. Claire, Justin Taylor. Claire is a medical doctor Justin. She graduated from Harvard!" A trace of impudent effrontery, directed at Daniel, appeared in the soft tenor voice. Brian Kinney made a graceful sweep with his hand to indicate Daniel's sister, then actually stooped over to kiss Claire's cheek, "Until recently, these were the only two people I knew who could actually kiss their asses goodbye in case of a nuclear holocaust." Brian, Justin and Claire laughed like it was funny.

Daniel opened his mouth to explain about his doctorates, but something in Brian's face made him desist. He realized that arguing with Brian would only make him look petty, which he wasn't. If Brian Kinney didn't realize how many years that his doctorates took him, who was he to inform the hedonistic, self-centered clod! It was unfortunate that the intervening fifteen years hadn't robbed Brian of any of his charm. He was still handsome, sleek and well groomed. How he ever managed to get the time to go clothes shopping between doing business or pulling out his cock for anyone who was available, Daniel couldn't understand. Maybe when Brian died if he donated his body to science, they'd find a cash register inside his chest in the place of a heart.

By now, Claire was talking to the kid. Damn, Daniel thought, Justin looked like he hadn't even graduated from High School yet. "Brian was the worst yoga student I've ever seen," Claire said by way of explanation, "and you must be the young artist I've heard so much about. Brian says you're a genius, so you must have talent."

"Oh," Justin smiled shyly, "I'm okay. I don't know about a genius. Brian told me about you, you're the psychiatrist who used to work for the FBI." Daniel examined Justin studiously. There was something about his respectful manner with Claire that suggested that this was not their first meeting, but Jack would certainly ferret out the truth about this.

"Yes, and she gave it all up to go to Colorado to go and work for the air force doing what was it?" Brian's mocking eyes danced.

"Deep Space Telemetry," Daniel said hastily.

"Right, Deep Space Telemetry. Although what use the air force has for an archaeologist or a shrink in a facility that studies Deep Space Telemetry is beyond me," Brian commented airily.

By this time, Jack O'Neill had waded into the conversation. "Oh I think you'd be surprised, Brian is it?" Jack was over at the table now, "Deep Space Telemetry is really traumatic stuff. Hours and hours of psychiatric treatment is required by the government to ensure that our scientists don't go nuts. By the way, I'm Jack O'Neill." Jack extended his hand to Brian, sizing him up in one glance and taking in Justin's youth and appearance as well. Jack loomed over Justin by at least eight inches, and looked like he could break Kinney in two pieces. Daniel noted as well that Brian carefully took in Jack's protective stance with Daniel with a small knowing smile, not missing for a second Jack's straight military bearing, his short graying hair and the large hands that were callused in just the right places from gun use.

"Brian was in nursery school with Claire in Washington," Daniel informed Jack, "And he was an undergraduate at Carnegie Mellon when I did my Grad degree," Daniel emphasized the word undergraduate.

"I didn't know you went to nursery school in Washington," Justin looked at Brian with a puzzled glance.

"Yeah, it was really special," Brian gave Jack a wolfish smile.

"And you two keep in touch! That nursery school must have been amazing!" Jack flicked his eyes over Brian's well-groomed face and Claire's fixed smile.

"You know how it is, they told us we'd make friends for a lifetime and so we did, although we met up again quite by accident when Claire was visiting Daniel in Pittsburgh. She used to come up almost every weekend for a year. We still send Christmas cards every year, don't we Claire? " Brian gave Jack a dazing smile and shot a conspiratorial glance at Claire.

"Yes," she said directly, her eyes meeting Brian's as though she was telling him something.

Brian turned away from the group, but not before he clapped his hand on Daniel's shoulder in an overly friendly way, "Well, gang must fly. Glad to see that you've finally decided to join the rest of the fags over the rainbow, Danny. And a military man too! Quite," Brian snickered softly, "the coup, if I do say so myself." His dark eyes lingered on Jack's face and shoulders before traveling further south, making a pointed stop at the groin area, "and so nicely hung too! Bravo." As Brian turned heel, he laid his hand on Justin's shoulder and threaded his way out of the cafŽ and into a walkway with various expensive men and women's clothing stores in the bottom of the hotel.

Jack felt as though he'd just been rather swiftly and deftly groped in a dark corner of a men's bar without his consent. Janet came over, holding a Latte Macchiato, "Who are they?" She inquired tilting her head sideways.

"Brian Kinney and his latest conquest, the kid on the milk carton Justin Taylor," Daniel ground out through clenched teeth.

"Hardly," Claire said dismissively, "He's probably almost twenty."

"That makes it so much better!" Daniel said sarcastically, "Why you always defend him is beyond me. You used to put people away who slept with kids not much younger than him."

She sighed patiently, "Justin is an adult, Danny. So whatever you think of their relationship, it's between them."

"He gives other gay men a bad name," Daniel retorted.

"He's Brian," she said matter-of-factly as though that explained the whole thing, "Anyway, I'm sure you've picked up men in your time." Daniel flushed; he noticed that Jack was paying close attention to him suddenly.

"Well yeah, but not that young," Daniel said defensively, "at least not since I was that young myself. And I hardly ever pick people up."

"Parts of your chequered past I don't know about Space monkey?" Jack teased Daniel gently, but his chocolate eyes were still watching the retreating backs of Justin and Brian speculatively as they looked at the expensive clothing in the storefront windows.

"Oh come on Jack, none of us is perfect," Daniel said.

"I think that was my point," Claire told her brother.

He decided to forget it. He tugged on her braid playfully with a smile, "Except for Janet of course, C. Pax then?"

"Always," she responded, "And of course, except for Janet. She has almost no chequered past except for her ex."

"Oh honey," Janet smiled, her pansy eyes warm, "Before you, there was nobody. And Earl was a dreadful, dreadful mistake. Maybe we should pull ourselves together and head to the ferry."

~*~

Down by the waterside, a queue of people was waiting to get on the ferry. There were a few bicycles and knapsacks decorated with rainbow flags. They picked a place to sit; it was a big ferry and there would be plenty of available seats. There was no need to hurry to the front of the line.

Jack rested his arm on the back of the bench and stared out at the Boston harbor. Most cities, even cities such as Boston and New York, were virtual strangers to him. Washington, he knew and understood, because he was forced to go there so often, but its political atmosphere did not touch his heart in spite of its beautiful monuments. San Francisco, the gay capital of the US, impressed him with its beautiful bridges and charming neighborhoods, but it was as much of a stranger to him as this city. Only Chicago and San Diego were vaguely familiar to him.

All his life, he'd lived as far away as possible from large metropolitan areas. Until Daniel had burst into his life, Jack had thought he'd managed to avoid emotional entanglements as well. Not that he'd always been that way, but Charlie's death and the death of so many other people that he'd loved had turned him into a bit of a recluse. When the child inside Claire arrived in the world, he understood that their lives would be forever changed. He knew, as well, that neither Daniel nor Claire understood this in the same way that he did. Janet knew. She'd taken on the burden of raising Cassandra, an orphaned refugee from another planet, and had given it her all. She would do no less for the new arrival. He felt confident knowing that Janet would be there every night if the baby got colic and kept them awake.

The nanny hadn't been a bad idea either, although he was initially opposed to the idea. However, Claire and Janet had been adamant about it. She'd been living in the basement apartment of their house for a couple of weeks already, and Jack had to admit he liked her with her fresh cheeks and her Yorkshire accent. She was going to university part-time, which had been paid for, and she'd worked in a day care in York so she was familiar with children.

He was glad that Janet and Claire would be the baby's parents; after Charlie's death he didn't think that he could agree to parent any child, but he knew in his heart of hearts that obligation, involvement and even love could still be thrust upon him despite his feelings in the matter. In fact, because of Charlie he knew that if he was called upon he could never shirk his duty to any child in what he saw as his family circle. He would even do this for his sister's children who always seemed more distant to him than strangers.

Without being asked, he would die to protect this child because it was simply what he had to do. There was some small part of him that wanted to see this child pass his genetic heritage on to another generation. Perhaps, he'd see the dark secretive O'Neill eyes in this child, a heritage of his father, or the high O'Connor cheekbones of his mother. He remembered how Charlie would look behind him suddenly, and just then he would resemble Jack's long-dead father.

He loved the smell of the sea, the slightly boggy smell of the seaweed, the gulls that cried and wheeled in the wind and the cool breeze that cooled his hot cheeks in the harbor. Sometimes, he thought that he'd made a mistake choosing the air force instead of the navy, but his desire to fly had overpowered any other choice he could have made.
And then there was Daniel, his conscience, his mate, the other half of his soul. If he'd chosen the navy, he might not have met Daniel.

"Smell the salt water," he inhaled deeply, sniffing at the air.

"Are you ever sorry," Daniel touched his wrist. He knew Jack well, and could guess his thoughts, "that you chose the air force?"

"Hell no, I wanted to be a top gun, a fighter pilot. But for crying out loud Daniel, how could I have any regrets after meeting you," Jack's dark eyes swept Daniel's face. He leaned forward and whispered in Daniel's ear, "Daniel, do you think there are a lot of other gays getting on this ferry?"

"You mean aside from the ones that we've already met?" Daniel whispered back. Jack watched Daniel's eyes survey the people getting on the boat - a mixture of families, a few singles and a few obviously gay or lesbian couples. Perhaps, there were a few more than the usual number. That was if you took the foot traffic in State Parks around the Springs as your marker.

"Yeah, what was all that about anyway?" Jack asked him. Daniel had been rude, there was no other word for it, but Jack couldn't forget the way that Kinney's eyes had undressed him. He'd also caught the look that had passed between Claire and Brian.

Sometimes, Jack still had had this niggling, insecure feeling in the back of his head about his relationship with Daniel. In Provincetown, there was plenty of fresh meat - young guys who could tell Daniel all the things he wanted to hear at any time of the day or night instead of a snarky, aging USAF Colonel who insisted on reminding him about air force protocol at every turn. He didn't want to seem like an ancient liability to Daniel either. He was old, nearly forty-five to Daniel's thirty-five, and his muscles and knees felt the effects of gravity more often than he cared to admit either to Daniel or himself.

Unlike Daniel, Jack wasn't good with words and he didn't know which words could use to make things right between them. The expression in Daniel's dark blue eyes behind his glasses was unreadable when he asked him about Brian.

"It wasn't about anything Jack," Daniel sucked in his under lip slightly, making Jack want to lean over and kiss him right there on the bench. "He's just one of those people Claire knows that I don't like." Jack turned suddenly and looked at Daniel's face. He was so beautiful, his love for this man caught at his heart like the edges of a saw. He smiled and touched Danny's face so very subtly that anyone not attuned to their relationship might have missed it, unless they were sensitive to the signs that they were a couple.

Jack glanced upward and noticed the passengers seemed to be getting on the ferry. Justin Taylor, the blond kid who had been with Kinney was standing just a few feet away. He was completely absorbed in observing Jack O'Neill. He had a sketchpad in his hands. Jack caught the young man's intense blue eyes. Justin blushed and slipped the pad into his knapsack quickly.

Once they were loaded onto the ferry, Claire and Janet sat at a bench in the inner cabin, a small traveling set of gin rummy on the bench in front of them. Claire was finding movement difficult and needed the close proximity to the toilets because Janet was plying her with bottled water to rehydrate her system. Jack observed to himself that she'd already used the bathroom three times since they'd left the slip in the harbor.

Daniel plunked himself down on a bench in the sunlight at the front of the boat. Dark glasses hid his eyes from both the glare of the sun on the water or the probing anxiety of well meaning, USAF colonels. He lay back seemingly depleted from the vertigo of the plane flight. A lone whitey-gray seagull squawked in the air just in front of the bow of the ferry. She'd kept them company since they'd pulled out from their slip in the harbor.

Justin Taylor was at a side bench, his head bent over his sketchbook again while his partner investigated the bar in the lounge inside the boat. Every now and then, Kinney gave Claire and Janet a surreptitious glance while watching out for gay fauna from a carefully planned vantage point. Jack made careful note of this, and filed it away under a file in his mind labeled "Claire" for future reference. However, he was feeling restless and wanted to move around a little bit.

"Hey, Danny you mind if I move around a bit?" Jack asked Daniel, who was for all intents and purposes half-asleep.

Daniel shook his head, making a sweeping gesture with his hand, "Nah, go. I'll just stay here. I feel too crummy to move around a lot. I'll be fine once we get on terra firma."

"Could I get you anything?" Jack inquired anxiously.

"Nah, my stomach is still getting over the plane flight." Jack winced. Maybe they should have used a commercial airline. Daniel's stomach was fairly delicate, but if he was asked he'd always take the cheaper route. On the other hand, Daniel had been known to get sick on regular flights as well. It was hard to know what to do.

"You got enough sunblock on, Danny?" Jack said gently, "Sunlight on the water will burn you pretty fast."

"Mother hen," Daniel grumbled.

"Yeah, yeah," Jack hauled the sunblock out of his knapsack and smoothed it over the rebellious face with the patrician profile. Daniel's skin, in spite of many hours of exposure to burning sunlight at digs on strange planets or in Egypt, still had a tendency to burn, peel and freckle from time-to-time. As he stroked the sunblock on at a leisurely pace, he noticed that nobody here seemed to notice whether or not he was touching Daniel. At the base or on missions with other teams, he was always careful. Here, he was just one more gay man in the usual crowd going over to the small town.

"Get away," Daniel's gave him a gentle shove, "You're making my nose all greasy. And the smell is making me feel worse."

"Danny, if you don't do something about it you'll burn like a son-of-a-bitch," Jack said, then looked slightly discomforted at his choice of words, "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"There's nothing to apologize for," Daniel's tone suggested that the subject of Reese was dead and buried. Jack watched Daniel suck in his under lip, and chew on it meditatively.

"I just want you to be okay," Jack stopped putting sunscreen on his neck, but his hands played restlessly in his lap.

"It's really okay Jack," Daniel's hand gasped the fingers of the hand closest to him, and he stroked his thumb down the side of Jack's index finger softly. A shiver of longing swept Jack's frame. He just wanted to get into their room at the bed and breakfast, and fuck Daniel until they both screamed.

"Maybe we should talk about what happened," Jack's said gently.

"I'm sick of talking Jack. It doesn't change anything. I just want to be," Daniel shook his head. "Just let me lie here and snooze. When we get to our room, we'll have some time before dinner." He ran his thumb over Jack's hand again, then raised the hand to his mouth and ran his tongue gently over Jack's palm.

"Jeez, Daniel we're in public here," Jack grumbled, but didn't remove his hand.

"I don't really care Jack," he whispered his voice husky with longing, "You've barely looked at me for the past two weeks."

"I," Jack began, "but you, you..."

"Just let it be, Jack. You run off, and be sure to be here when the ferry docks or I'm likely to start without you at the B & B," Daniel tilted his hat over his eyes and stretched his long legs in front of him with the ankles folded." Jack had nothing to say to that, so he got up and began perambulating about the boat. He stood in the bow for a while, and wrapped his sweater around him. Claire had told him he'd need it on the open water, but he'd scoffed at her. It had turned out that she was right.

Then he found himself irresistibly drawn to Justin and his open sketchbook. The breeze ruffled the young man's longish blonde hair, and made his cheeks shine. Jack moved over to stand beside him. He looked down. It was a sketch of Daniel; Justin worked slowly with a couple of pencils, smudging, shading and crosshatching carefully until he got it just right.

He tilted it up to show Jack, "What do you think?"

"You're good," Jack said amazed. It was Daniel to the life, the line of his cheekbone, the saucy tilt of the boonie that Daniel loved to wear, the patrician nose that was usually suffering from allergies, the fine pink mouth and the well-toned shoulders and upper arms that came from hauling rocks and debris at archaeological sites.

"Oh," Justin looked away into the distance, "I'm not as good with a pencil as I used to be. When I'm relaxed like I am now, I'm better. But sometimes at school it's frustrating."

"Why? What happened?" Jack's dark eyes appeared puzzled.

"I was hit over the head by a crazy phobe with a baseball bat. I was in the hospital with a concussion for some time. He got two years community service. I got life. It's taken months," Justin flexed his hand carefully, "just to get this much back. Drawing used to be second nature to me. Now I have to work at it."

"I'm truly sorry about the attack, but as far as I can tell you're still good at drawing. Even if it takes more time and work." Jack observed.

"Yeah, that's what Claire, Dr. Walters told me," Justin caught at his lower lip with his teeth, "Oops, I wasn't supposed to say that. Brian told me that Claire said you could get blood out of a stone, and to watch talking to you. Don't say I let on that we know her. I only know her because of Brian. He called her when I was getting better."

"So back at the cafŽ?" Jack asked.

"It was a total act," Justin shrugged, "Brian says its important. So don't let on, okay? Brian would be pissed if he knew I screwed up. It's just that Claire knows me so well, keeping up the act is hard."

"Not a word," Jack promised, "I think get it. And for what it's worth, your friend is probably right to keep his friendship with Claire secret."

"She's a great psychiatrist," Justin said, "It's almost like she can read your mind. I would've liked to spend more time talking to her. Anyway, she came just because Brian asked her to."

"Like I said, sometimes secrets aren't bad things especially if you don't want the men in the black Suburbans to turn up on your doorstep," Jack said quietly.

"The NID? Why would they..." Justin's eyes tracked over to Brian sitting inside the cabin; he was apparently talking to the bartender and occasionally casting a glance at Claire and Janet's crib game. Janet was winning.

"Yeah, sure you betcha'," Jack stated watching Justin's eyes, "A word to the wise. Never ask for the answer to any question you don't want the answer to, unless you really need to know. Now, show me your drawing of me."

"Okay," Justin leafed back until he reached the sketch of Jack. He'd caught him perfectly, the lines on his face, the light in his eyes, the muscles in his shoulders, "Don't take this the wrong way Mr. O'Neill, but you'd be great to draw nude - lots of sinewy muscles. And I do mean draw. I bet probably have interesting scars, like your eyebrow," Justin put his hand up to his own left eyebrow, "I guess you won't tell me where you got that one?"

"I would," Jack quipped, "But I'd have to shoot you Justin. And just call me Jack. Mr. O'Neill was my father, and when I'm at work I'm a Colonel."

"There are a lot of rumors about that place you work in Colorado about aliens and stuff," Justin's eyes reflected youthful curiosity.

"You shouldn't believe what you read in the newspapers," Jack responded quickly.

Justin decided to change the subject, "It's so obvious how you feel about Daniel, I mean Dr. Jackson." The kid's eyes met his with shy honesty. "It's so sweet, although Brian doesn't believe in relationships - at least not permanent ones. How do you manage with don't ask, don't tell?"

"I can't tell." Jack teased gently, "You remind me of my son, Justin. He wouldn't have been much younger than you."

"That sounds like a sad story," Justin's open blue eyes met his.

Jack looked away momentarily. The sunlight on the water appeared to reflect a sudden gloss in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly that anyone would've thought that it was a trick of the light. Jack reflected that Justin was such a kid he still didn't know how fate could cut your heart in two. Perhaps, if this kid was lucky he'd never learn that lesson. Jack's tone was gentle when he spoke again, "Nah, not for today. Today's a happy day. The sun's shining, Daniel's sleeping and it looks like Janet has beaten Claire again." He observed the small doctor make a victory sign with her arms at the table. Jack had rarely seen Janet so relaxed and animated.

"Who was the sperm donor?" Justin asked, "or is that classified as well?"

"Not at all." For some reason, Jack couldn't explain he felt absurdly pleased by this question, "It was me. But make no mistake about it; I'm not planning to be the parent. This baby will have two perfectly good mothers. Been there, done that, not something I want to think about doing again."

"I wonder why I don't believe you," Justin's honest eyes met his as he worked on his sketchbook, "I'll bet you never leave anyone behind."

"You're way too smart for, what are you, twenty years old?" Jack's bantering voice was swept away in the breeze. He looked over Justin's left shoulder, "I was just talking to your partner," he said to the Brian who stood there with a guarded look on his face.

"What trade secrets have you been giving away Junior? We're heading into Macmillan Wharf right now." Brian's tone was light, but underneath his words was a purpose, a seriousness that belied an appearance that suggested that he was only concerned about designer labels on clothes.

"He was just showing me his drawings. He has talent," Jack said, getting to his feet.

"Ah yes, and in so many places," Brian played with Justin's blonde hair absent-mindedly, "After grabbing a taxi for the B & B, we're going to go out to play at the "Coxswain's Mate". Apparently, they have a really diverting backroom with lots of well-hung hunks. I don't suppose we could entice you to come there? I've always wanted to do a high-ranking military man or is Daniel the only one who gets to dust off your artifacts?"

"Well," Jack's mouth twisted in a look of pure sarcasm, "You know how we old guys are. We're all kind of delicate and in need of lots of sleep. I thought I'd check out my own bed before dinner."

"And I'll be there," Daniel had woken up with a vengeance and he was standing right at Jack's elbow. The dusty blue eyes behind the black glasses carried an implicit threat in them.

"I wasn't planning to keep him Daniel," Brian gave him a thin, predatory smile, "I'll throw him back into the lake after checking the size, to use a fishing metaphor. You can come and play too, Justin here's just as sweet as Mikey used to be. Just what you like."

"I don't think so Brian," Daniel responded with certain fire.

"Oh look Justin, the archaeologist still has powder in his pistol, such a shame he won't come out and play games," Brian taunted. He yawned and stretched, "Well boys, I have to collect my bags, it's been absolutely lovely. Just remember the Coxswain's Mate, if Dannyboy needs a little holiday. It's at the east end of Commercial Street." He touched Justin lightly on the shoulder, who in turn gave Jack and Daniel an apologetic smile, and followed Brian to the cabin to find their luggage.

Ruminating sadly over recent events at the SCG, Jack turned his attention back to Daniel, "Are you bored with my artifacts?" He asked in a soft tone.

Daniel looked startled, "What? Why? Do I seem bored?"

"In a big city, if you were teaching and I wasn't career military, there would be so many more opportunities for you to get out and meet people," Jack said directly. He was ten years older than Daniel, ten years that meant that he was ready to settle down, ready for a lifetime commitment. They'd quarreled more than usual in the past few months, over missions, over Jack's aggressive leadership, over Jack's refusal to listen to Daniel. Jack wondered whether Daniel would be happier with someone else, someone younger with less baggage. A sad look of longing crossed his features, and suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Jack I..." Daniel began in voice laced with meaning. At that moment, Janet and Claire arrived with their luggage. A boat hand was tying up the ferry and sliding out two gangplanks to the dock. Jack gave a stern look of disapproval to the pregnant woman in front of him, hauling two double knapsacks.

"Hey you with the baby on board," he lifted his head and addressed Claire, firmly fixing her with a gimlet stare, "Did we not say that we'd come and get the luggage if you'd just wait? Nobody said you could haul all that stuff!"

"It's on wheels," she insisted stubbornly, "I'm pregnant, not disabled."

Janet rolled her eyes; "There's no point when she's like this Jack. She just hauled them."

"Gimme," he held his hands out, "We're going to look for a cab."

A hoot of derision escaped from Claire's lips, "It's Friday Jack. That usually means something to the rest of the working world. And it's the first Friday in July. We're a week later than I had originally intended. We're just lucky that we could change our reservations this late in the season. There's no point in waiting for a cab when we could just walk up to Bradford Street and over a couple of blocks."

"We could've stayed at home," he pointed out, "Or gone up to my cabin in Minnesota."

"That was always an option for you two - Janet's the exception of course. Personally, I didn't want to be eaten alive by the bugs at your place. For that kind of fun, we could've just headed to the Canadian bush. It's blackfly season somewhere north of Lake Superior. Why get a fifty bites, when you could really knock yourself out and a get hundreds."

"For crying out loud, next time I'm going to put Teal'c on your tail. I'll make him sleep in your room," Jack announced.

"Tu es impossible mon chum! It's beyond me why you're so much more worried about me wandering around Provincetown on my own when I can make it to Africa and back every year without a mishap," Claire said.

"If you don't understand it by now Munchkin, I'm not going to explain it to you," Jack told her glibly taking the rolling knapsacks out of her hands.

"Personally, I agree with Claire. The fall is great at the cabin, but in July the mosquitoes are just using my backside for target practice," Daniel added.

"Okay people, let's just settle down." Janet put her hand on Claire's shoulder, "You look tired. I think you need a nap."

Just as Claire had promised, there was no taxi at MacMillan Wharf. In fact, Jack had been quite sure that he'd seen Justin and Brian bound off the wharf and nab the only taxi he'd seen. It was however, a pleasant walk. The day was hot and bright with just the right amount of ocean breeze that caught at your clothes and cooled you down. When they reached the corner of Commercial Street, the sweet smell of hot butterscotch popcorn and cotton candy clung to the humid air like a wet dishtowel. For a minute, it reminded Jack of Riverview Park back home when he was a kid.

The park had been a legend in the history of Amusement Parks in Chicago until it suddenly closed in 1967, the passing of an era. He remembered the dense, heavy moist air that accumulated in the Windy City because of air vapors rising off Lake Michigan before a really big thunderstorm broke the hot spell. It brought with it too the memories of his early adolescence when his crushes on other boys had seemed so carefree and innocent. Just being here with Daniel had done all that for him, that and the smell of the hot sponge toffee and seawater taffy.

There was, however, a distinct difference. On the corner of Standish and Commercial was a tall man wearing a bright glittering gown that stopped just above the knee. He had bright silver pink lipstick and a tiara like the Statue of Liberty with hot pink "fuck-me" pumps. He was, appropriately enough, handing out flyers for the drag show, which didn't begin until later that evening.

Jack grinned, "Hey Dorothy," he addressed Daniel, "I guess we're not in Kansas anymore."

They dragged their rolling knapsacks steadily up the incline from the wharf through the intersection. Commercial was busy even at this time of the day with heavy street traffic.

"We'll go over there for dinner," Claire gestured to the Lobster Pot, a half a block over on the right "There's a really good deli down that way and a lot of art galleries. Not to mention a pretty good bookstore."

"A gay bookstore?" Jack asked.

"Well, they have a lot of local stuff on the history of Provincetown and the dunes as well as a fair selection of lesbian romances. You know honey," she gestured to Janet, "that's where I got that new re-release of Women in the Barracks. I read that book when I was about twelve."

"Whoa, somebody's parents goofed up," Jack said jokingly.

"Remember that pink house Mom and Dad rented in Bermuda when Dad worked there for a month? The living room was full of gay romances," Claire said wistfully.

Daniel snorted, "Oh yeah, there were some novels about cowboys on the range."

"These would be lonely cowboys and women in the army?" Jack asked.

"Not after Yvette and the dark-eyed cowboys with roaming hands turned up," Daniel snickered.

By now they were walking left past the Pilgrim's monument on Bradford. Most of the houses were either B & B's or guesthouses. The door to some stood open, revealing decadently sumptuous interiors. The gay character of the town was also in evidence in the names of the local organizations - The Aids Society of Provincetown.

"You can take the bus here straight down to the beach," Claire said, "There are three beaches - family, women and men's."

"What's the difference?" Jack wanted to know.

"I guess it depends on whether you want to take off your top, your bottoms or prefer to remain clothed," she shrugged.

"Jack will be keeping his bathing suit on," Daniel said firmly.

"Whatever you say Kemosabi," Jack responded.

~*~

The Gray Pilgrim Bed and Breakfast was only one long block up from Standish and Commercial Street, and a couple of blocks along Bradford. When they arrived, Martin a short dark-haired man with a strong Boston accent, who was the concierge for the day, had been bustling about making cookies in the kitchen in a room that had been converted into a kitchen and library. Jack had snagged a cookie while Martin fussed over Janet and Claire, insisting on installing them immediately in the large back house that Claire had reserved. Daniel watched the scene with a sense of amusement.

"Oh my God, you're so big!" Martin put his hands to his head in mock horror. "I just hope we're not going to have to whisk you off to the hospital in Hyannis. They say a house isn't really a home until you've had a wedding, a funeral and a birth in it. This place is so old, that there must have been all of them. But the back is a restored carriage house. So, I don't know. But we did have a patron die once. Heart attack, nothing catching." He touched his chest and his hand fluttered, "But she was very old. What a way to go on holidays. So maybe we'll have a birth," he sounded slightly choked with emotion. He fanned himself with his hand.

"Jan is a medical doctor," Claire waved her hand wearily.

"Then we're lucky, isn't that right?" Martin tapped Jack's shoulder.

"Oh yes, extremely lucky," Jack said in a solemn voice.

"You see, we're very lucky. Even in the case of an emergency. No, don't you pick up a thing." Once they sorted out which bags belonged to the women, Martin had them in his hands. He waved one hand in the general direction of Jack and Daniel. "You just help yourselves to the cookies."

"Thank you we will. Co-o-okie," Jack imitated Homer Simpson, and he took another from the plate on the counter.

Daniel smiled watching him. Jack was such a kid. He pressed himself up against Jack, "So, what do you want to do while the girls are having a nap before dinner?" He asked in a husky voice.

Guileless brown eyes glinted back at him, "Oh, Brian mentioned something about the Coxswain's Mate and a backroom - unless you want to view my artifacts."

"Really?" Daniel moved in on him, "Is this a private showing or can anyone view those old things?" Jack was looking remarkably handsome in a stylish pale blue polo shirt that just showed a hint of chest hair and sinewy well-muscled arms.

Jack's pink tongue licked at some stray crumbs on his upper lip, and he looked at Daniel, "Do you think if I practiced," he said to Daniel in conspiratorial whisper, "That I could be as fluttery as Martin?"

"I've heard some remarkably campy remarks come out of that mouth of yours," Daniel observed, "I don't know why everyone assumes that I'm your bum boy."

"Doctor Jackson, I declare such disgusting language," Jack tut-tutted at him.

They were, as Jack had remarked many times and Daniel noted with pleasure, almost shoulder to shoulder in height. Pulling him closer, Daniel gave Jack a first investigatory dry kiss with practiced ease. More interest there than he'd initially thought as he realized with pleasure that Jack had dressed to the left earlier that morning, and that it wasn't Jack's sidearm that was pressing so forcefully into his hip.

He dived in. Daniel's mouth barely touched Jack lips before his tongue pushed into the warmth of Jack's mouth. Jack's lips opened eagerly, like a flower, to give him admittance. He could smell and taste a hint of chocolate on Jack's breath. Daniel ran his hardened tongue along the top of the soft, inviting warmth of Jack's. Jack wound this soft, wetness around his and sucked him in deeper. His blood sang as heat rippled into his belly.

"Mine," he thought to himself stroking the sinewy arms of his partner, "All mine." No backrooms, no sharing, no watching Jack's dick plunged into the mouth of another man. "Mine," his mind insisted again as blood surged southward toward his groin.

Daniel was tired of his caution over the past two weeks. He wanted Jack and he wanted him now. Passion engulfed him as his mind processed how many times he had denied his need over the past two weeks. Now, he felt as if his body was humming with an electrical current that surged through his chest and hardened his dick like a rock.

As much as he loved Jack on the bottom, sometimes he wanted to be the object of Jack's desire, seeking the control that came from being the adored one, straddling his partner like an animal in heat, taking the big dick into him and seeing Jack's face dissolve into a thousand rivulets of desire, his big hand tracing seemingly invisible patterns on Daniel's face while Daniel did him. His want was a palpable ache, begging for Jack to fuck him, and fuck him now.

His skin prickled with delight at the feel of Jack's smooth, strong body. He pushed harder into bruising contact with the satiny smooth dry lips of his partner, and the warm soft heat within.

A discrete cough from somewhere behind him grabbed the attention of his love-addled brain. The two men parted.

"Love birds," Martin emphasized the word, suggesting a legion of meaning behind his words. Daniel was sure that the proprietor wanted to giggle, but Jack had a slight blush of embarrassment on his cheeks, "How long have you two been together?"

"Two years," Daniel responded, releasing his hold on Jack's jaw.

"Two years," Martin responded happily as though no other answer could have pleased him more, "When Geoff and I had been together two years, we were still living in the city. All that canned heat! You can have it. I tell you there's nothing like the sea air. I've given you the large front room with the queen four-poster. You can hardly hear anything from there. And we wouldn't want little Claire to be going up all those stairs, would we? She's so big, she looks like she's going to fall over backwards and slide all the way down on her tush."

"Perish the thought," Jack said matter-of-factly, his dark eyes glinted with lust. "How long have you and Geoff lived here?"

As he slipped his hands around two of the bags, Martin reflected, "Going on twenty years now. We live in the basement and first floor of the house to the right. We built it when we took over the house and the property. What do you gentlemen do?" He hefted the bags with practiced ease.

"Um, Daniel's an archaeologist and I'm in the USAF," Jack told him, "But I don't spread it around that I'm military."

"You can trust me, don't worry." Martin zipped his mouth shut. Then he added smugly, "Nobody else will guess anyway. I have a slight advantage since my Geoff he was in the Marines for eight years after high school. It just gives you a certain bearing. We've had a lot of boys from the forces stay here over the years, and some of them are quite obvious with those jarhead haircuts and all, but I completely understand your position. Everything's on the q.t. You can relax while you're here."

"That's good because I don't usually just blurt out what I do. You understand," Jack kept his eyes on the steep staircase.

"Precisely. I'm afraid this staircase is remarkably narrow as they are in all the old homes here in Provincetown. This house was once a bank, you can see the list of the bank officers on the wall opposite you."

Daniel looked and saw a long list of names going back to the late seventeenth century on a large wooden plaque mounted to the wall. Martin bounded up the narrow stairs with alacrity. Daniel wondered how people from the last two centuries had managed the stairs, hampered as they would have been with their bulky and constricted clothing. Maybe, they were just fitter and stronger. Daniel shivered in excitement in spite of the heat, imagining Jack in a navy Captain's uniform of the early nineteenth century. He imagined the two of them, traveling the world together in some schooner. He, Daniel Jackson as the ubiquitous Science Officer on a Royal Naval Vessel, drawing and cataloguing the flora and fauna of unknown tropical islands around the world, and Jack as the Captain of his ship.

Now, he was hot again. At the top of the stairs, Daniel paused by a window. To the right, the door of another B&B with white exterior Corinthian columns was wide open and he could see a wide staircase and large gilded statues. It looked like a Roman bordello, not at all Daniel's style. He preferred the antique dŽcor of their present accommodations. To the left was a cute little house painted in deep violet, a signboard in stained glass proclaimed it to be Darian's Gay Guesthouse. There was a small fountain with what looked like Mattel-style dolls around it. Daniel blinked.

"He even has Major Matt Mason, the astronaut doll," Martin was saying. Daniel thought that he'd have to send a postcard to Sam telling her about this. She had a Major Matt Mason doll above her computer station at home. It had been a birthday gift from Jack, a couple of years back. Apparently, it had to do with something she'd told him when they first met on her first mission to Abydos. It was before he'd shown them the Cartouche Room, and they'd realized that the Stargate went to thousands of places in the galaxy.

Now, their luggage was deposited in their room and Martin had left the room after pointedly turning on the air conditioning. They had three hours before meeting the women for dinner at six thirty.

Jack stretched and grinned at him, "I could use a little shuteye. What do you think Danny?"

Ignoring Jack's comment, Daniel pulled the curtains shut in the windows that fronted onto street. Then he turned and closed the distance between them. Jack was still standing in front of the white doorway into the room. Jack's hesitant and uncertain manner made Daniel bolder. He was drawn to Jack like a moth to a candle flame. Jack might be worried about their relationship, but that thought didn't even enter Daniel's mind. He just wanted to reknit the bond between them.

"I'm not particularly tired Jack," Daniel's blue eyes gleamed. He dropped his glasses on the night table on his way across the room, and noted with pleasure that for once it was Jack who had the look of a surprised guppy.

"Don't you think you should sleep? You were sick almost all the way here." Jack began.

"Not particularly," Daniel gave him an evil leer.

"All righty, what about your idea this morning to talk over what happened two weeks ago?" Jack prevaricated, "You're the one with the compulsive need to get things off your chest."

"Really, I hadn't noticed that. I've heard a whole pack of orders coming out of your mouth lately, but I've decided that our establishment is now under new management," Daniel pinned Jack against the door and kissed him gently.

"I could flip you off me if I wanted to Danny," a spark appeared in the depth of Jack's chocolate eyes.

"I don't doubt it for a second, but you won't," Daniel's voice was certain, and his hand went up to stroke the slightly bristly chin. He drew Jack's head down to his mouth again. He moaned as his tongue was lured back into the warm moisture of Jack's mouth. His tongue pushed hard over Jack's again as the remainder of air was sucked out of his lungs. He pulled away breathlessly. "I love you, O'Neill," he gasped breaking away for air.

He took the bottom of Jack's blue polo shirt, yanked it over his partner's head and tossed it into a dark red chair in the corner. Then he ran his palms appreciatively over the bare skin of his lover's biceps. They were so perfect. He massaged the pecs and the soft tuffs of gray chest hair on Jack's chest.

The perfume of Jack greeted his nostrils, a heady mixture of masculine sweat, Jack's piney aftershave and soap and the tang of sea air and ocean spray left from the ferry trip. They kissed more deeply this time; the kiss lasted longer and left Daniel still more excited and aroused. He tossed his own t-shirt into the corner after Jack's. It slid onto the floor.

Suddenly, he was on the bottom in Jack's arms and their bodies were banging against the ancient white door over and over. Daniel wondered if would possible to wreck the room before dinner.

They turned and twisted, each man struggling for dominance. Now, he was on top. He nipped hungrily at the Jack's arms. God, he loved those strong arms! Jack moaned. He threw his head back in ecstasy with his dark eyes tightly closed as he lost himself in the moment more and more. Jack's excitement bled into his as he rocked his hips against Jack's, feeling their erections rub together through their jean. He moaned in satisfaction.

Then he bit and sucked eagerly on the Jack's lower neck, and slowly worked his way up to the tender earlobes. Jack's lips moved silently as if he was in deep meditative prayer. Daniel moved up to the earlobe, tenderly breathing heat into its inner recesses and tracing a line around the inner channel. Jack shivered in his arms, and glanced down at Daniel through his eyelashes, his deep molasses eyes showing his vulnerability to Daniel's touch.

"Danny," Jack exhaled his name softly as though it was a prayer.

An intensely protective feeling toward Jack surged through his body. Without speaking, he laid a path of hot kisses down Jack's chest. He reverently traced the scar on Jack's chest with his tongue, and followed the line of chest hair until he reached the metal closing on the pale blue jeans.

Below the waist, he could see Jack's swelling dick, straining hard against the crotch. In his mind's eye his excitement grew as he imagined the big dick with its smooth skin and the weighty sacs with the crepe-like skin beneath them. He could smell the scent of Jack's arousal. He flipped the metal closing on Jack's jeans open, and pushed down the zipper. The hunger to possess it all overwhelmed him.

He heard Jack's head bang against the white wooden door again, and a groan escaped his lips again.

"Oh God, Danny. Ah, yeah that's so go-o-d fuck," Jack pronounced the last word louder than the ones that proceeded as he surrendered to the talented hot pink lips that engulfed the dick with their moist heat. Daniel ran his tongue around the ridge under the swollen glans, dwelling momentarily on a particularly responsive spot at the top. Then he ran tongue down the smooth, silky skin and cupped the heavy sacs in behind, he inhaled the smell of male musk close up and personal.

Jack gasped as Daniel deep-throated his cock, pushing him closer to the point of orgasm. Jack's hands were in his hair, playing with it and touching the back of his neck gently.

Finally, Jack tugged at his shoulders. He glanced upward to the dark eyes that shone with love at him. Jack raised Daniel to his feet, their lips met as their tongues met and dueled lazily. Jack's hands at his waist, freed him from the confinement of his jeans, and tugged at waistband of his briefs. Jack's hand slipped inside and encircled his dick with his hands, and stoked upward with a sure and steady motion.

He moaned and his balls tightened as he became more aroused. Awkwardly, they moved toward the bed discarding their clothing as they moved. Jack pulled the covers on the bed back and then they lay naked side-by-side on the cool, clean sheets.

They kissed lazily, but Daniel had a plan. "I want," he breathed at Jack.

"Yeah I know baby, I know. Don't worry. Got it all in hand," Jack's husky whisper made him get harder, if that was possible.

Then Daniel felt Jack's lips make a trail of kisses down to his nipples. Jack teased them with his tongue, making them erect and his groin tightened more.

They kissed more deeply, his tongue exploring deep into the soft, responsive heat of Jack's mouth, and Jack's tongue in turn was sliding deep inside him. Suddenly, Daniel realized he was making small appreciative noises in the back of his throat. This threw tinder onto the already blazing fire of his Jack's passion. Jack always noticed all the small signals that Daniel was losing himself when they made love, and Jack was a generous and considerate lover.

Daniel's hands desperately directed Jack's head lower. For Daniel, this was the best part. Before Jack had become his lover, he'd been slightly reticent about receiving rim jobs from men with whom he didn't feel that special connection. But Daniel loved and trusted Jack more than any other man he'd been with, and from the first time Jack had applied his hardened tongue to the strong band of muscles surrounding the entrance to the inner sanctum he'd responded with wild abandon. Maybe, it was because he'd been in love from their first time in bed.

Jack's hand pulled on the smooth skin of his dick with a practiced rhythm while his tongue gently washed over his balls before moving on to stimulate the tender skin of his perenium until it became almost unbearable. Then he slipped in behind to work on the tight muscles that guarded his inner sanctum. Jack's tongue tenderly massaged the area, slipping in and around the tender spot. One well-lubed finger slipping inside, and Daniel begged for more as Jack mouthed his cock and enclosed it in the heat of his mouth.

"Please now Jack."

"Good things come to those who wait," was the hushed response.

Two fingers stretched the muscle, and Daniel pushed down enthusiastically. Next, he felt one of the three fingers brush by the sensitized nub inside. Daniel pushed Jack onto his back and kissed him.

"I love you," Daniel said on a gently exhaled breath. Concentrating, he slowly impaled himself inch by wonderful inch onto Jack's fully erect and weeping cock. Just for the moment, he wasn't quite as hard as he'd been. He hissed as he adjusted to Jack's dick. And finally Jack was balls deep inside of him. He felt so full; he could feel the large dick penetrating him to his very core. He moved in and out very slowly, and assisted Jack's dick in running over that small electric nub inside; it was mind-blowingly exquisite. He sighed, and threw his head back.

"So good, Jack," he moaned. Then he smiled down at the brown lust darkened eyes. Until Daniel said something, Jack wouldn't push, giving over complete control to Daniel's position on the bottom. Jack moaned slightly. When their eyes met, Daniel felt an overwhelming surge of trust and love rock his frame. They rolled over until Jack was on the top.

"Do me Jack," Daniel ordered. His inner muscles flexed, stroking the penis buried deep inside of him.

"God, you're so hot and tight," Jack gasped his hips pushing forward to meet Daniel's thrusts in the age-old dance, "So wonderful Danny." Daniel felt Jack's dick rub against the sweet spot inside.

"More? Harder?" Jack said softly.

"Oh God, yes please," Daniel began to lose control over the unstoppable lust that swept across his body. Jack pulled out and then pushed in harder.

"Oh yes," Daniel roared, "Just like that. More, harder."

"Like that? Don't want to hurt you." Jack pounded into him.

"Never going to happen now. I need you Jack. Fuck me Jack, fuck, fuck me harder," Daniel's voice rose like he was chanting a mantra."

"Like this?" Jack pulled himself out nearly all the way, then submerged himself balls deep into the inner heat that was calling out to him.

"Oh yeah, just like that. Oh yeah, more, more please," Daniel's voice became louder as he got closer to orgasm. Jack's hand fucked his dick through the loop of his fingers, stroking, pulling with just the kind of pressure he wanted. Daniel sobbed; he cried; he begged as the inevitable orgasm came closer and closer.

"I can't hold on any longer, Danny," Jack warned. Sweat bathed both their bodies; Daniel worried in a slightly contrite way about Jack's knees.

"Do it now! Come inside me Jack, come for me," Daniel stared into Jack's lust darkened eyes.

"No, want to wait for you," Jack ground out between his teeth. Sweat dripped from his chest and his forehead. In response, Daniel lifted his ass high, withdrawing Jack's cock from deep inside him, then bore down hard onto it pushing Jack impossibly deep into the tight heat inside him.

"Such a nice big dick," Daniel declared with smug satisfaction as the ripples of orgasmic waves hit his body and he relaxed. Hot ribbons of semen spurted onto Jack's chest, and sprayed into his hair.

This sent Jack over the edge, "Unfair Danny," Jack gasped. His dark eyes closed with the sensation of Daniel so deep inside him that it finally milked the climax from his body.

"Oh God I love you so damned much," Jack said as he released himself over and over into Daniel's waiting inner heat. Time grayed out momentarily.

Daniel looked over at Jack lying on top of him. He was heavy, but it felt good. Jack had the distinctive look of someone who'd just been recently and well fucked; he pulled Daniel closer. There was no distance between them in Jack's dark eyes. Jack's penis shrank and slipped out of him; Daniel felt the loss momentarily, but there was no mistaking the happiness on Jack's face, a look that hadn't been there lately. Even before Reese, there had been tension and worry. Worry about him.

"Jack, I'm sorry I was so far away," Daniel lay beside Jack caressing his gray chest hair.

"No," Jack shook his head, "It was me. I get so scared of what might happen, particularly to you." Jack held him tighter, "Danny, I'm an old guy. Here, there are so many young attractive guys, younger than me, less of a pain in the ass."

"But you're my pain in the ass!" Daniel looked up at him through his dark lashes, "We fight, but you make me feel safe and loved.

"Yeah," Jack looked at Daniel. "I never want to lose you."

"I'm not a soldier Jack," Daniel said helplessly, "I just want to do good."

"I know Danny, I know." He felt Jack's large hands stroked his hair, "But its my job to keep you safe, to keep everyone safe. When I stop doing that, I have to stop doing my job."

Daniel felt better the weight that had been pressing on his heart lighten, "You'd still do that. Retire, I mean, if you job got in the way of this," His fingers caressed Jack's chest hair uncurled the gray hairs studiously.

"How can you even ask that?" Jack demanded, "Our family is more important than any job. And soon they'll be one more. Luckily, I'm not the parent so I can relax a little. But children make you vulnerable; you have to put them first. I don't know how I'm going to feel about this child either."

"I think you'd make a great parent, if you wanted to be one," Daniel told Jack decisively.

"I made a mess of it last time," Jack commented darkly, "Look at you, all I wanted to do was keep you safe, and I hurt you."

"As my mother used to say Jack, I'm not made of sugar or salt I won't melt," Daniel commented. "I'm still here. You won't get rid of me that easily. Too many cute guys wanting to look over your scars on the beach around here." Daniel reassured Jack. "They'll be giving you the eyes in The Lobster Pot tonight, you'll see."

"I'm an old guy," Jack protested.

"Old and hot - just like Cary Grant," Daniel murmured, "But you're all mine. Love you so much. Nothing can change that." Jack stroked Daniel's light brown hair. Who could argue with that!

~*~

It was sometime around eleven. The two men in the hall across from them, Jack and Daniel, had gone out to a dance at the Pied with their other friend, Janet. It was sponsored by the "Lesbian and Gay Coalition" of Provincetown; the proceedings were going to fund a case before The Supreme Court of Massachusetts, which was challenging the laws on marriage.

Brian had sneered over this pending legislation. According to him, Daniel, who was apparently a genius with at least two PhD's in Archaeology and Linguistics was just the kind of indecisive traitor who would support such legislation, legislation which would make gays as boring as straights. About Daniel's companion Jack, Brian had said very little but there were dark depths about the soldier that Justin guessed even Brian was reluctant to disturb.

Justin had said very little, but he had reserved his judgment. He had, however, declined to spend the night in the backroom at "The Coxswain's Mate" with Brian. He'd watch television, sketch, stare out the window or perhaps go for a walk. He was content to wait for Brian's return later that evening.

What Justin hadn't said to Brian was how very cute he found them - Jack, the sardonic, gray soldier with the dark molasses eyes from the Air Force and Daniel, his civilian archaeologist boyfriend with the glasses and blue eyes. They were obviously married in all but name. He could see Jack's dark eyes tracking Daniel's movements as they sat around the metal table on the back patio just before going out for dinner. Justin was waiting downstairs for Brian, who was redressing for at least the fourth time. He'd heard their orchestral sex from across the hall, and thought that was sweet as well. Maybe if he was lucky when he was thirty-odd years old he'd find someone to look at him like Jack looked at Daniel.

Justin watched Jack watch Daniel as he absent-mindedly poured himself a coffee and settled down on a iron chair on the patio with a thick tome on "The Evolution of the Diphthong in Latin" by Stephen Evans with a large cookie balanced on his knee. A proud stillness came across Jack's handsome features as he watched Daniel become absorbed in the text. Then Jack sat just close enough to Daniel to prod his knee. He gave his partner a goofy smile; the corners of Daniel's eyes barely flickered although this was clearly an interaction the two had replayed time and time again.

"Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?" Jack snickered.

"I'm reading Jack! And that's so lame," Daniel said in a tone of complaint as he pushed Jack's knee away. He never raised his head, but a secretive smile appeared in the corners of a cool, collected mouth that wouldn't melt butter. Who would've guessed that only a half hour earlier, Justin had heard that same voice shouting, "Fuck me Jack, please!" through their door and over the roar of the air conditioner in their room at the front of the B & B. From the pleased moans that had followed, Daniel had had his request forwarded in triplicate to the right place. Shaking his head, Brian made a caustic comment about how he never knew that the American military created such stand-up guys.

Later in the evening, the owner of the B & B put out fresh muffins and fruit. After sketching restlessly from his window, Justin got up to his feet to go downstairs. As he opened the door of his room, he noticed that the door of the room across the hall was ajar. He could see two very small feet in bright blue socks at the end of the four-poster.

"Merde," said a cross voice, "Caline de bines."

"Ah hmm," he stood in the doorway with folded arms, "If you're going to swear, you could at least let the rest of us in on what you're saying."

"It isn't real swearing Ti-gars," Claire Walters explained, "It's just a little more effective than 'oh sugar.' But I can't find anything on this stupid television. They made me stay here because Jan didn't want me to stay in the back by myself."

"When are you due?" He asked her as she tried, without much success, to make herself comfortable.

"Not soon enough. I want this thing out of me now," she punched the pillows up behind her, "This was supposed to be Janet's job, getting pregnant."

"What happened?"

"Fate intervened," she said cryptically.

"I see," He went over and sat on the bed beside her and put some more pillows behind her back.

"Thanks. It's not so bad, the pregnancy. It makes Jan very happy. I see your hand is much better. You're sketching again."

"Yeah, but I'm just as angry." He bit his lip, "How do you do it? Stop being angry."

"I don't know. Some of it, it just disappeared. Some of it is always there. I just try and put it somewhere else, into something else. The alternative of unending, gut-churning rage isn't that pleasant; and then sometimes life just intervenes and makes you deal with it, whether you want to or not."

"If you'd stop flipping channels, then you'd probably do better. Give that to me." He took the channel commander out of her hands and played around with it. He glanced sideways at her, "I'm getting too old for you to call me Ti-gars, don't you think? Especially considering how small you are!"

She smiled, "It's a term of endearment. Allow me the pleasure of calling someone else little; I get it so infrequently. You were my patient for a short time."

"All right," He found a channel selector and settled back against the cushions, "We have a choice."

"Couldn't we just flip channels?" she waved her hand in the air.

"No," Justin was emphatic, "We need to choose."

"Who invited you to this party anyway?"

"Ah - well, you see, I can go downstairs and get cookies and herbal tea quite easily, while you on the other hand..." he looked meaningfully at her stomach.

"Okay, I see your point. Ah," she pulled a face.

"Are you okay?" He looked concerned.

"Just a kick. This little one is quite athletic," she patted her stomach.

"Can I?" He raised his hand hesitantly.

She took his hand firmly, and placed it on her belly, "See."

"Is that a foot?" Justin said concentrating.

"I think so, maybe a hand. It's going to be a holy terror once it's out, just like its father."

"That's Jack," he said.

She shook her head, making pins slide out of her braid onto the bed, "I didn't really want to use a sperm bank. I thought I might have a better idea what I was getting, if that's possible, and I felt if anything happened to Jan and I, she or he would be raised by family since neither Jan or I have families we'd want to raise our child. This way, there's an undeniable genetic relationship. Jack and Danny would do the right thing for the baby."

Justin lowered his blue eyes, "Brian would never want to raise a baby."

Her hazel eyes were infinitely kind, but didn't deny the truth behind his statement, "You may be right Justin, but sometimes things change for people."

"Brian would never change. He doesn't even want to stay home at night."

"We all fight our own demons Ti-gars." she said softly, "You can't fight Brian's demons for him. He can only do that for himself."

"I don't think he believes he has any demons," Justin responded quickly.

She put out her hand on his briefly, "Sometimes being born old has its problems. You'll find your way, even if it's by the high road."

"The high road?"

"The hard way," she responded.

He bit his lip and laughed, "Brian doesn't believe in things being hard. He says that life is what you make it."

"Sometimes you must alter the world to make it fit you," she said and nodded her head in affirmation. He remembered that was the part of therapy that he'd hated the most, the way she wouldn't tell him how to feel or what to do. After he'd woken up out of his coma, Brian had brought her in for a few days without consulting his family. Her impeccable credentials had impressed his mother; so Claire had spent two weeks with him as soon as he was able to talk. She was less formal than his next psychiatrist. Sometimes, he had the illusion that she knew what he was going to say before he actually said it.

He knew she used to work for the FBI, which still impressed him, and he wanted to ask her a million questions about her life. Brian had told him, whatever she was doing in Colorado Springs, was surely something very secretive.

"I guess," he said slowly, "I'd like us to be more like Jack and Daniel." He looked away and cleared his throat. "Well," he said with false brightness, "Let's look at the television schedule. Oh too bad, it's not later. They're playing "All About Eve" at midnight. I love Bette Davis. Alright, it's either "Unforgiven", "Boys on the Side" or oh there's a Wormhole Extreme Marathon all day on the Spaced Out Channel."

She made a rude noise, "That stupid show! It's more ridiculous than "Sky Wagon: The New Generation" with that ridiculous French actor with the big nose Jean-Louis what's-his-name."

"I don't know, there's all that subtext between muscle-bound Colonel Danning and Dr. Levant, the archaeologist. You know, that episode where Danning thinks that Levant is dead on the purple-plant planet, and he's really being held captive by Klystan, the sea dweller in his cave underneath the ocean, has such a gay subtext. Then Danning breaks the windshield of General Harper's van because he's completely freaked out about losing his friend. And of course, the way that Levant behaves when he's being held captive by the evil Princess Shy'tella and he's always bringing Danning up from the prison where he's supposed to be breaking rocks with Major Monroe and Trell, the alien. Danning is missing half of his shirt, and so dirty. It's very sexy."

"I prefer the moment when Major Monroe develops a crush on the slight, but buxom Dr. Laura Waters the psychiatrist they bring in to analyze Danning's mind after its infected by micro go-bots from the planet Alti'rek," Claire responded.

"Do you think Waters' boobs are real?"

"Oh please, they don't even move when she walks! How could they be real? So, Boys on the Side is it?"

"Absolutely, I can only stand Wormhole Extreme for an hour," he agreed.

Two and a half hours passed. The tissue box was in the middle of the bed, and the actress on the screen was finally in her last minutes of expiring from AIDS while her lover bravely struggled on.

Claire sniffled, "More tissues?"

"Oh God yes, that's so sad," Justin grabbed a handful of white tissues from the box to absorb his tears. "I didn't know it would be so sad. I just thought there might be some lesbian sex, you know."

"You mean like ee-w?" She asked.

"Yeah sorry," He apologized.

A shadow appeared in the doorway. "So what are you two girls crying about?"

"Death," Justin responded.

"Oh so sad," Brian looked weary, "What are you doing in the room of the hot afternoon sex addicts group?"

"Jack and Daniel had sex on this bed this afternoon?" She asked apprehensively.

"Sadly," Brian leaned against the bedpost and toyed with the quilted cover, "Yes. Jack is quite the old hottie, considering. But they're so obviously, boringly monogamous."

"Do you think they did it on top of the bed?" She asked with a slight air of apprehension.

"Why are you worried?" He gestured to her stomach, "You have the Kryptonite to guard against further unwanted breeding!"

"Honestly Brian," she rolled her eyes, "There's nothing wrong with having children. You yourself helped Lindsey have a baby."

A shadow of pain flared up in his dark eyes and he stared at her, "But I'm not afraid for Lindsey." It was said like all of Brian's statements, as a throwaway line, but Justin felt some weight of hidden intent behind his words. Brian nodded at Justin, "Listen, Claire and I have some papers we have to sign. Do you mind?" He waited, knowing that Justin would leave as he'd been instructed.

"No," Justin shook himself, "I'll just go and finish a drawing. So, about tomorrow at the dunes, I'll meet you at the Drake's Dune Tours at Commercial and Pearl at say noon."

"That sounds good," she acknowledged, "I wanted to walk to the dunes as usual. It's quiet out there, no people, just sand and seagulls. I can feel the presence of all the people, the artists who used to live there in the shacks along the National Seashore. It's so unspoiled." She sighed, "But there's no way that I should walk the road this time. It's a long way, and sudden storms can come up over the water."

"Okay," he said and went to bed. For a long time afterward, he could hear Brian talking quietly to Claire on the upstairs deck outside. It seemed that they talked about a number of problems: money invested in a circus that never paid its electric bills, the exchange rate for the Nigeria nira, the weather in some place called Dutsima, children with no parents and leprosy and whispered discussions of Brian's fear of an agency called the NID.

Like everyone else in the country, Justin had heard about the NID, but wasn't sure who or what the shadow organization was. Words rising and falling in the dark of the night, half agonized stories of children they'd once known, but who seemed, incredibly enough, dead. What kind of nursery school had they gone to anyway, Justin puzzled. Then, when all seemed to have been said, he thought he heard the words "I just don't want anyone too close to me. You know what happens", but Justin was just falling asleep. The words of fear in Brian's mouth sounded to his sleepy mind like stones bouncing off the wall of an endlessly deep well to which there was no bottom.

He was suddenly awakened by a woman's clear, bell-like voice, "Well, I see that you've decided to take in the sea air. Hello I'm Janet Fraiser, Brian Kinney isn't it?" The voice had a protective note in it.

"It's too hot to sleep. We were discussing the old days when Danny was a grad student at Carnegie Mellon. You remember, Danny."

"All too well," Daniel's quick response had an acid edge to it.

"Well, I'm going to bed and I think you two should do the same." Jack O'Neill responded quickly, "You mentioned something about going out to the dunes."

"Really Jack, there's no need. I'm perfectly fine. Justin will be with me," Claire protested.

A slight cough of a clearing throat, "No, I think there is a need. I've never seen the National Seashore. You know how I have a weakness for any place without trees. Trees and I," Justin could almost see the careful smile on the soldier's face, "don't get along so well sometimes. But I can't resist a beach."

"You could go to the men's beach. It's quiet nice and you don't need to wear a bathing suit," Brian's tones were persuasive.

"Ah no, not at my age. Too many saggy bits," Jack responded genially.

"Really, I was hoping to see an impressive catalogue of battle scars," Brian continued in a seductive tone.

"Oh those are for private viewings only," Jack responded, "And Daniel wanted to do some watercolors out by the pier. Sea, sand and boats, didn't you Daniel?"

"Ah yeah, I was hoping to get some sketching in," Daniel responded.

"Well, I guess I'll be alone at the beach," Brian responded sadly.

"Oh no honey! I wouldn't want to leave you all alone in the middle of the day." Janet Fraiser said quickly, "I'll go with you to the beach. We'll get sandwiches from the deli down the road. I'm just dying to know more about Daniel's bright college days."

"How perfectly lovely!" Brian murmured politely. Justin was slightly puzzled. Usually, Brian was fairly forceful about what he wanted or didn't want to do, and Justin could tell he didn't want to accompany Janet Fraiser to the beach. Yet, here he was being polite and demure. It was incomprehensible.

He heard Jack's voice speaking in a hearty tone, "Janet is known as Doctor Napoleon around our workplace. She's well known for her knack of shoving a needle in your backside really hard. You'll be in excellent hands. No unnecessary drowning or other unfortunate mishaps."

"My needles aren't that hard," Janet protested. At this comment, three other voices politely coughed. "Well they aren't that hard," Janet continued.

"You keep telling yourself that Janet," Justin could hear the sound of a shoulder being patted comfortingly by Jack's large hands.

"Jan, all needles that are intra-muscular tend to feel hard. And, well, you give a lot of them. Trust me on this," Claire said politely.

"Well, I'm sure it will be delightful," Brian with a forced cheerfulness, "Good night." Everyone drifted off to his or her room. He heard Janet muttering as she ushered Claire down the long staircase at the back of the house to the patio below.

Justin heard the door of his room open and close, and then he heard the bedsprings sigh as Brian sat down beside him on the bed. He was massaging the area in between his eyes.

"Crap," Brian grumbled, "She's brought half the fucking air force with her. And now I'm going to have to go to the beach with that doctor."

Justin rolled over, "Couldn't you just make an excuse?"

"No," Brian said firmly, "That's just what I won't do. As long as that O'Neill guy is around, he'll catch anyone who's watching."

"Watching who? What are you talking about?"

"Claire, they watch Claire," Brian said testily, "They're looking for someone."

Justin sat up, his white skin glowing in the darkness, "What are they watching for?"

"I, I can't tell you," Brian whispered anguished, "Being close to me is dangerous too. What was I thinking bringing you here?"

"You mean you don't want to!" Justin said, "Does Michael know? How could being near you be dangerous?"

Brian gave him a savage look, "That, sunshine, is what I hope you'll never get to find out. And when I say can't, I mean I can't. And Michael, if you'd bothered to ask him, can't stand Claire. He is blithely innocent. He's always felt she was dangerous to me."

"So is she?

"She is," Brian's eyes glowed with feeling in the dark, "Like Daniel, all bright and shiny. And I am all dark and glittering. I want you to remember, if ever you need to know, that those people out there will help you."

"I thought you believed everyone had his or her price and couldn't be trusted," Justin pointed out.

Brian moved his body so that he was holding Justin tightly in his arms and his head was resting on Justin's shoulder. His mouth was so close that Justin felt the hairs on the inside of his ear bristle, "Remember Justin, those two men across the hall stand between us and the darkness. And they put the hope for us all into the palm of Claire's hand. Understand this, you can believe in her. Not because she's perfect, but because she can never betray you - what's bred in the flesh comes out in the bone Justin. Never ever speak about this to anyone."

"Okay," Justin saw the sincerity in Brian's eyes, "I'll remember."

"Good boy," Brian murmured. "Oh good grief! Can you hear the noises from across the hall? O'Neill is disgustingly energetic for a man in his forties." The sounds of loud moans penetrated the walls of their room.

"I turned off the air conditioner," Justin said, the corner of his mouth turned up, "Do you want me to turn it back on, it'll block the noise? It was giving me a headache."

"When we go to sleep," Brian murmured as he sat up and unbuttoned his shirt, "In the meantime, let's just make some noise of our own." Then he gave Justin a dazzling smile which made him feel very special in spite of the fact that his lover had just spent hours cruising other men in the back room of a bar. However, Brian's strange words resonated in the back of his mind. Justin pondered, and not for the first time, what it was about promises and commitments that frightened Brian so very much.

~*~

The next day was hot and the air was heavy with unreleased moisture. Thunderstorms were forecast for later in the afternoon. At Justin headed east on Bradford Street past the Pilgrim's Monument, he thought he would be too late for their tour at noon. Dark gray scuttling clouds threatened to mass together on the distant horizon, but in the blue sky above only puffy white shards drifted across the sun periodically. It seemed like a typical day on the eastern seaboard.

As he turned the corner and headed north down Pearl Street, he found Drake's Dune Tours just two stores up from Commercial Street. The strong smell of cooking caramel popcorn from across the road, scented the air. In front, two long, blue Suburbans were parked in a row. Claire and Jack were seated in the second one. Claire lay back in the seat with her eyes half-closed, wafting the air slowly with a fan in her right hand. As he approached, Justin noticed that Jack was looking her over with a critical eye.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he heard Jack ask as he came closer. Jack attempted to feel her forehead.

"I'm fine," she brushed away his hands, "Don't fuss so much."

"You look a little white," Jack persisted.

"I'm just fine," she said again. Then she noticed Justin and waved at him in a friendly manner.

"Every time Daniel says that he's fine it means that he's bleeding from some vital organ," Jack's earnest brown eyes searched hers as if in doubt.

For one moment a sad expression passed over face, "I'm not Danny," she said softly. "I just had an upset stomach last night."

"You have cramps?" Jack looked concerned.

She grabbed his hand and her eyes met his with a look that spoke volumes, "I'm fine. The tour just takes an hour in an air-conditioned Suburban. It'll be okay. This is my first baby. Janet said it would take its time coming. Stop worrying."

"All right," Jack noticed Justin for the first time, "Hey, good morning sleepy head. You weren't up for breakfast."

"I don't usually get up until eleven," Justin said, "And I never eat breakfast."

Claire shot an indulgent glance at Jack, "He's crazy. He gets up in the middle of the night. It's usually five o'clock in the morning, but he's on holiday now so I think he might have slept in until, what, six-thirty.

"Oh-five hundred hours is when I usually get up," Jack corrected her, "It's what I'm used to after all these years. But this morning I got up at oh-seven hundred. I slept in, which was completely Daniel's fault. Aren't you hungry Justin?"

"Oh don't mention food," Claire muttered, "Leave Ti-gars alone, Jack. He already has a perfectly good mother in Pittsburgh. I'm sure she feeds him."

"So Ti-gars is Quebecois for what, sweetie-pie?" Jack guessed.

"Pretty close. It's, you know, little guy," Claire waved her hand, "Jack always wants to feed everybody he meets. He's a mother hen."

"I guess I'd better buy a ticket," Justin started to turn around to go inside the office to get a ticket.

"Did that," Jack informed him.

"Okay, well I guess I'd better pay you," Justin began to search in his bag for his wallet.

"Oublie ca," Claire winked at him.

"Yeah, like the lady says forget it," Jack beamed. Just then the Suburban in front of them, which was filled with people, pulled out. Jack whipped a power bar out of his pocket and handed it to Justin. "Breakfast, son."

"Thanks," Justin nodded and sat down. They sat in silence for some ten minutes. From their vantage point, they could see all the way down to the water and MacMillan Pier. At the end of the pier at an easel and stool, Justin could just faintly make out what appeared to be Daniel Jackson absorbed in drawing.

"Is that Daniel?" Justin pointed at the sitter on the dock.

"Yeah, that's him," Jack beamed at the reference to his partner, "He's pretty good."

"Just watercolors?" Justin always wanted to know what kind of art people did, "It's sort of a specialized interest.

Jack chuckled, "That's Daniel, completely specialized. But he's good," Jack's face had a wide boastful smile, "He draws a lot at digs."

"Digs in Colorado?" Justin asked puzzled.

"Ah no," Jack rubbed the back of his head, "Usually on holidays - you know in Egypt or South America. In Colorado, we're all very preoccupied with Deep Space Telemetry."

"How does Daniel get wounded doing Deep Space Telemetry?" Justin puzzled, "I noticed that he had a scar on his leg."

"It's a lot more dangerous than it looks," Jack floundered, "It's the heavy equipment."

"I'd heard stories about some kind of project in Colorado involving aliens," Justin decided to bring the subject up again.

"Tabloid nonsense," Jack said cheerfully, "So, what kind of business does Brian have?"

"He works for the biggest advertising agency in Pittsburgh, but he's also good making money with investments for some people," Justin suddenly stopped and noticed that Jack was watching him with a look like a cat who'd just swallowed a canary.

"Investments, really? That's interesting." Jack's face had a broad smile.

Claire poked him, "Come on Jack. Leave it alone."

"It's just that I'm saying that money and investments are interesting," Jack said innocently.

"The only thing that's interesting about money is what you can do with it," Claire shook her head.

"That's what Brian always says," Justin responded.

"Is that so? He and Claire seem to have so much in common. Well, snacks?" Jack asked with a wide smile as he slipped another power bar out of his pocket. He stared at Claire who had raised her eyebrow at Justin, "You betcha', you can't have too many snacks with you." He unwrapped the power bar and bit down on it."

"Jack, no one eats as much as you do," Claire told him.

Jack looked aghast, "What? I went for a run this morning early before breakfast!"

Justin looked over Jack's body; he was who was wearing light blue jeans and a thin short-sleeved white t-shirt that showed off his long legs, trim waist and well-muscled arms. He was carrying a light broadcloth jacket with him, which was carefully folded on the floor beside him. He looked like a man who kept his body in shape because he needed it for what he did every day.

As Justin was speculating on the nature of the many scars that might lie underneath Jack's clothing, an earnest young man with blond hair and a clipboard went around to the back of the vehicle and opened the front door.

"We're kind of light for a load, but the boss says to head on out because we don't want to hold up the other two vehicles that are arriving in ten," he ruffled his hair with a slightly concerned air. "Maybe, it's 'cause the weather's looking a little chancy. A storm can blow up on the Cape pretty fast, and soon you're in the thick of it. But never fear, we'll come right back if there's any problem."

"That's very comforting," Jack's eyes suggested the opposite of his words. Justin reflected that in some ways, he wasn't that different than Brian.

However, the young man in the blue and white striped jersey who was leading the tour didn't notice Jack's tone, "Not really sir, it's not good at all. But we're generally pretty safe on the dunes in the Suburban." He gathered his thoughts together, "Well, I'm Emerson Thoreau Peabody, and I'm going to be your guide for this dunes tour. And we'll be heading down Shank Painter Road in just a minute. I don't usually do the tour, but we're kind of short handed today. So if you have any questions about historical details if you can hold them until we get back... my brother Waldo can help you there."

"You really have a brother named Waldo?" Jack asked in a tone of disbelief.

"Jack, really!" Claire kicked his foot gently.

"I'm just asking the young man," Jack stretched his face in an ingratiating, wide grin.

The young man smiled sheepishly, unsure what to make of Jack's apparent curiosity with regard to his family. "Yes sir, Waldo Ralph Peabody. He manages Drake's Dune Tours. Anyway, I was wondering whether the lady there might be more comfortable in the front of the vehicle."

Claire looked behind her, expecting to see another, elderly, female person behind her, "Oh you mean me. No, it's fine. I'm quite comfortable."

"It's a smoother ride in front Ma'am," he volunteered.

"That's not a problem," she said hastily, "I like the bumps."

"The lady's staying right here," Jack said smoothly.

"Sure thing sir. I didn't mean to offend you and your wife," the young man responded nervously.

Claire looked displeased. "We're not married," she said in an assertive tone, "We're just friends."

"Absolutely, I didn't mean to offend you," He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. Then added as an afterthought, "or the gentleman."

"We're not offended Em. I can call you Em, right? And you are old enough to drive this vehicle?" Jack inquired.

"Absolutely sir, I turned sixteen last April," the young man assured him, "And I'm an excellent driver."

"Well, that's reassuring Em!" Jack told him, "Just let us know when we see Eugene O'Neill's beach shack."

"Right." The young man stared at Jack as though he'd sprouted another head. Eugene O'Neill was clearly not on the agenda for this tour. "Okay, anyway, I need to take a roll call of those present. So which one is O'Neill?" Jack held up his hand, "Right and Walters," he noted Claire, "So I guess that makes you, Taylor. Okay, so we'll get started."

After a concerned look at Claire, Emerson got into the front of the vehicle and pulled out. His well-rehearsed spiel began half way down Shank Painter Road, and continued all the way to Race Point Beach. After a bumpy journey of about fifteen minutes, they stopped at the top of a hill with a wide view of the ocean and the dune grasses, where they alighted. As they climbed the hill, Emerson explained that the dunes were protected, and with a nervous glance at Jack informed his three passengers that it was illegal to throw trash on the protected National Seashore.

"Perish the thought," Jack said loudly and shook his head. Claire gave him a nudge with her foot.

Then Emerson pointed out the various beach shacks that were still in existence, and rhymed off a number of well-known artists, writers and musicians who had lived in the shacks at different points in time, leaving out Eugene O'Neill.

Jack shook his head at him. Emerson had been holding forth in a long-winded, bored tone for some time; Jack, who was not at his best during periods of forced inactivity, was now considering new methods of tormenting the guide further, when he noticed Claire's braid was moving with the wind. He gazed out at the far horizon. He'd clearly been having too much fun winding up Emerson, and ignoring his primary duty, which was to stop Claire from doing anything too taxing or foolish. She was related to Daniel, and Jack hated to think of what kind of problems that a pregnant Daniel would have been. Thank God, technology wouldn't advance to that point any time soon.

By this time, the clouds had made their way inland in a roiling dark mass. Claire stood staring at them like one transfixed, and Jack pulled at her arm. He had a bad feeling about this.

"We need to get back to town!" He hissed urgently, "Get in the car."

"All right Jack, no need to get pushy," she moved back toward the vehicle.
Emerson's radio flared to life. "Em, come in Em."

"Hey, what's up Waldo?" Emerson asked the person at the end of the radio.

"There's a storm rolling in on Race Point Beach. I suggest you take the alternate route back, and come back in pronto. These storms can get nasty," the radio blared.

"Sure thing. Well folks, that's the end of the tour for today, although we'd be happy to give you coupons for another tour at a later date," Emerson sounded relieved by the possibility of getting back to town.

"Great, just get us out of here," Jack said to him tersely.

"Are you in the army or something, sir, because there's no need to take that tone with me," Emerson complained.

"Yes son, actually I am," Jack retorted, "And those clouds are starting to look bad." Heavy drops started to fall on the vehicle.

"It will be no problem getting out of here," Emerson promised as the vehicle lurched down a hill into some bushes along the shorter route. At a small ruined shack, the vehicle slid sideways. Emerson pressed on the accelerator. There was a slightly sickening lurch to the right and the sound of the left rear tire hitting something hard, and the car sunk down on the rear left. Emerson, sweating profusely, got out of the car as the rain started to come down hard with the added attraction of rolling thunder. He returned back to the vehicle and got inside, "She's flat," he announced to his group.

"Okay, let's get out the spare and fix it," Jack got to his feet.

"Um, there's no spare, sir," Emerson told him.

"What?" Jack yelled.

"No sir, we'll just wait out the storm in here. And my brother will be out with a spare as soon as the weather clears. These roads are treacherous in the rain and wind, and he could get hurt."

"You're going to get hurt if you don't do something," Jack bellowed.

"Jack," Claire pulled on his arm.

"What?" He looked down at her and noticed that her face had gone white.

"I um, have a problem." she stared at the floor.

He turned to her and noticed that her seat and the area around it was soaking wet, and that she was shaking. He put his hand on her shoulder, "Oh great, that's your water isn't it? It's broken." He went through situations worse than this at least once a month on a strange planet, this should be a piece of cake, he thought. Then he winced slightly at the thought of Janet Fraiser. Still, he was calm and reassuring for Claire.

"Yes," she stood up, "I don't feel so good. I want to get out of here. I'm feeling claustrophobic."

"Hey," he focused on her, "Pay attention. You can't go running out there it's storming." A roll of thunder confirmed his diagnosis. "Are you having contractions?"

"Yes, no, I don't know. I never wanted to do this in the first place," she was becoming upset.

He moved up close to her. He was so close that he could see tiny beads of sweat forming on her upper lip, "You've delivered other people's babies." He ran his hands down her arms and massaged her hands, "It's okay," he said gently, "you know what this is. We need to time the contractions and see if we can get Janet on that stupid radiophone. I didn't bring my cell."

"Wouldn't have done any good sir," Emerson told him, "Cells don't operate in this area."

"Well thank you Em!" Jack said with exaggerated politeness, "Claire, are you timing the contractions?"

"Yeah," she said.

"Okay how far apart are they?" he demanded.

"I think about five minutes," she said.

"No, no not for a first baby. It's way too fast." He held her hand, "Are you sure?"

She nodded and looked embarrassed, "Um, yeah. Jack, I was born in a taxi. This happened to my mother. Zero to full tilt, just like that. Janet said it was very unlikely, that my mother must've missed the contractions. I didn't feel very well this morning, and I couldn't hold down anything in my stomach since last night..." She was getting more distressed, which Jack decided was in no way helpful.

"Hey," He massaged the back of her neck with his large hands gently, and leaned in closer, "It doesn't matter Claire, forget it. There's nothing you can do to stop this, even if it's early by a few weeks."

"Okay," She bit her lip, "Danny did this once, have you ever done this?" She leaned forward and gasped, "Oh damn, that hurts."

"Yeah, once in Iraq, and I was there when Charlie came. It'll be okay." He looked around at the land outside of the car. He saw a shack several hundred meters away. "There's a shack over there," he pointed out, "Listen, Emerson, you know about these beach shacks. Is that one occupied?"

"Yes sir, that's the old Crombie place, the family used to come out here regular. It's in pretty good shape. There's a woman, Jocelyn Salmon, who's got it for the summer. You know, they're available to artists by lottery. She's an artist and keeps pretty regular work hours. You know she does canvases of the ocean and needs the light to work. She doesn't go out much."

"Okay," Jack said, "You come with me to the shack and we'll see if old Jocelyn's at home right now. Then we'll come back for Claire. Justin, you sit with Claire, and hold her hand. You can do that."

"Sure thing," Justin moved over to take Jack's seat.

"You can time the contractions if you want," Jack told him, " but I don't see what point there is in that. We have to get Claire out of here or the baby's going to be born in this vehicle and sooner than we'd all like."

Time seemed to crawl by for Justin, but he sat beside Claire as Jack had instructed him. Approximately every five minutes she'd breathe hard and squeeze his hand so hard his fingers felt numb. In the meantime, the lightning and thunder was getting louder and close together.

"Sorry," she apologized, "It's not much fun."

"Probably worse for you," he said, "You can scream if you want."

"Don't worry," she said shakily, "That'll probably come soon."

He nearly jumped when one lightning fork came down just beyond the hilltop. Then Jack was back at the truck with a small woman with long reddish brown hair who had an air of authority about her. Justin thought that he recognized her face from an exhibit he'd gone to in Pittsburgh.

"This is Jocelyn. According to Emerson, there's a tarp in the back of the vehicle. You and Jocelyn get it, and I'll carry Claire."

"I can walk," Claire offered.

"Not on my watch," Jack directed, "Justin, get me that tarp." He wrapped it around Claire.

"Okay," she said as he lifted her effortlessly, "Together again." Justin wondered if her mind was wandering.

By the time they reached the shack they were all soaked through except Claire who was shielded by the tarp. Jocelyn gestured to a single bed in the back bedroom that was furthest away from the sea.

The dŽcor of the shack was minimalist. There was a large single pane front window with a stunning view of the wide beach and ocean. The storm was churning up detritus from the bottom of the dark blue sea, and the rain slanted sideways. A lightning bolt hit the water close to the shore. They all jumped, then concentrated on the job at hand.

Inside, large canvases were stacked against every available wall space in what was the living room and the eating area. The air was heavy with the distinctive smell of drying oil paint and turpentine. A small square pine table with a couple of mismatching old oak chairs completed the breakfast area. The living room had a small couch pushed to the side. It was piled high with drawings and sketchbooks, although a small space had been left for a lone sitter. There was also one other battered comfortable chair.

Outside the front of the house was a small area that was obviously for sitting in better weather. There was one small drying room off the kitchen that was stacked up with flotsam and jetsam obtained from someone's walks along the seashore. It was either on the floor or drying against a large metal screen obviously intended for this purpose.

"I don't entertain much," Jocelyn apologized, "I'm lucky to get the time to work here. I also work on found art from the sea."

Jack nodded absent-mindedly at the stuff in the backroom, "That kind of stuff?" He tried to keep his voice neutrally nonjudgmental. Fortunately, Daniel loved this kind of stuff so he'd had lots of practice being neutral at exhibits of inexplicable objects that Jack just couldn't see were art. As it went, Jocelyn's collection of objects was fairly interesting and at least had no objectionable odor like some things he'd seen. He smiled in friendly manner. Then Justin said just the right thing.

"Oh I love Found Art!" Justin told her, "And from the ocean, so creative."

Jocelyn's heart faced face shone, "Bring her in through into the bedroom."

Jack carried Claire carefully into the bedroom, tucked the tarp over the bed and laid her on top of it. Justin observed, with no great surprise, that Jack lifted her as easily as if she'd been a small doll. His sinewy frame was obviously quite powerful.

"That's not going to be very comfortable," Jocelyn commented in her deep, commanding voice, "I have some old sheets and blankets that were here before. They're clean, even though they're old."

"That would be a good idea," Jack combed his hand through his hair while he thought, "I don't suppose you could boil me some water?"

"What for?" She asked.

"I could really use a coffee," he told her.

"I'll get those old sheets and blankets for you first," Jocelyn said, and then returned with her arms full, "Will these do? They're clean, but I was going to get rid of them anyway. They're so old."

"Thanks," Jack said briefly. "Justin, come in here and walk with Claire."

"Walk?" Justin asked, "Why?"

"It helps to open up the pelvis," Claire said, bending over with a contraction, "It'll come faster." Justin walked up and down with her until the bed was ready.

"That's fine Justin." Jack directed, "You probably don't want to hang out in here."

"Are you sure?" Justin asked him.

"Not only is he sure, but so am I. No offense." Claire said clearly.

Jack helped undress her and get her back in the bed. Finally, she had only an undershirt left, but she was covered in sweat. Jack sent Emerson back outside to try and reach Janet at her room at the Bed and Breakfast. There was a tap at the door. Jack answered it.

"Um Mr. O'Neill, Dr. Fraiser is going to get the local sheriff's car and come out to the beach as soon as the rain stops falling."

"How soon?" Jack demanded.

"At least a half an hour, maybe longer," he sounded apologetic, "The doctor was real worried about what was happening out here. She gave me a message for you. She said to make sure you did it right."

"Thanks Emerson." Jack sat down beside Claire on the bed. He leaned over and whispered to her, "I know that somewhere in the back of that mind of yours, you can remember about this. It's going to be okay. We can do this." He sounded totally positive.

She took his arm as a pain torqued through her body, but it wasn't anything like he recalled from Charlie's birth. This pain seemed to be part of him too, part of them both that had made the small person fighting its way into the world. He gasped, "Geez, I could do without that right now. I have to help you."

"I'm sorry," she breathed into the words.

"Look, as far as I can tell from my army training and my past experiences, this baby has moved into the birth canal. That means it's coming now whether we like it or not. You're going to have to push when I tell you." Minutes seemed to extend into infinity. He walked up and down in the room drinking his coffee, then sitting down and holding her hand as the contractions got closer and closer together.

"Okay, push!" he told her.

"Now?" she asked.

"Yes," he took her hand, "Feel free to yell." And yell she did, as well as bellowing and pushing, again and again.

Then it was there, the baby's head with its dark hair, emerging from inside her. He knew from previous experience that the baby would lose this hair, and grow new, softer hair. Charlie had looked like that, but as the child emerged into his waiting hands he saw that it wasn't a boy at all. It was a girl. The face of a girl appeared in front of his eyes, a girl he'd known once upon a time. The baby bellowed out a cry at the injustice of her sudden appearance on the world stage.

"Madeleine, don't cry," he whispered and laid the child on Claire's stomach before cutting the umbilical cord and dealing with the afterbirth.

"Yes Jack, if you like, Madeleine." Claire said to him. "Look, she's got everything - ten toes and fingers and all."

"She's perfect," Jack put a finger on the roseleaf cheek of the baby. Jocelyn had brought a basin of warm water to the door to clean the baby off. After Jack had wrapped Claire up, he admitted her.

A smile appeared on her stern face, "She's beautiful. Congratulations."

Claire's hair was wet and her body was soaked with perspiration. He'd wrapped the baby in soft flannel sheeting. Outside the storm had died down, and he heard the trample of feet at the doorway. The door opened; Janet Fraiser hustled through the door.

"Oh thank God!" she cried out, "Are you all right?"

"Jack did a good job." Claire said, "The baby was early."

"You haven't torn anything?" Janet asked looking at Claire intently. She whipped out a penlight and flashed in it her eyes, "you seem to be completely attentive and awake," she said anxiously, "No suggestion that you're in shock or anything. In fact, you appear incredibly healthy."

"Jan, there's nothing wrong with my eyes," Claire protested.

"Of course not," Janet soothed, "We're just going to take you to the hospital in Hyannis. The people at the hospital will check you and the baby over to make sure you're fine. Jack and Daniel can come along too! I'll just help you get dressed," Janet's dark pansy eyes met Jack's with a look of gratitude, "Thank you," she mouthed.

Sheriff Shayron Amundson, or so her badge read, came into the room behind Janet. The sheriff was a tall blonde with ice blue eyes and long blonde hair pinned up in a French roll. She had a dark yellow rain jacket and pants over her light brown sheriff's uniform. She helped Janet get Claire dressed and the baby ready for transport. She gave Jack a short, appraising glance during these proceedings, "Sir," she instructed in a serious manner, "If you could get yourself and your friend ready and in the back seat of my vehicle with alacrity, then we could make it to the hospital in Hyannis much more quickly. Drake's Tours have agreed to take your other companion back into town with them." She clicked her tongue disparagingly.

"This happen often?" Jack asked Shayron Amundson.

She sighed, "At least once a season, but usually without the baby. Your friend seems to have singularly bad timing. The sand can churn up quickly in the rain. Eugene O'Neill, the playwright, took shelter in the remains of the concrete building beside where you broke down in the storm. Of course, it was intact in those days. So, do you and your partner want to go to the hospital with your friends?" Her frank blue eyes met his directly.

"Of course," he said, "We're all family.

"I see," she said and a smile lighted up her features and she showed a set of fine, white teeth, "Well if you thank Jocelyn, then we'll be off. Jocelyn's studio here has been the refuge of more wayward tourists than I can count."

Jack thanked Jocelyn Salmon who'd been phlegmatic and stalwart throughout the birth, and he gave a nod to Justin as he was taken off home in another Suburban that had been provided by Drake's Dune Tours.

"It was nothing," Jocelyn scoffed, "I had one of my own many years ago. It was a home birth. Glad to be of help. It's provided me with the inspiration for a new painting; I think I'll call it "Birth at Sea." Her face indicated that she was already thinking about taking some stretched canvas and beginning work.

"I'll see you on Sunday, Jocelyn," Sheriff Amundson said as she bundled Claire out of the house.

Jack found Daniel in the main room waiting for him, "We couldn't get here until the storm died down." He smiled and his blue eyes seemed to shine at Jack, "Are you okay?" He said in a tone of concern.

"I'm fine," Jack smiled.

They sat in the rear seat of Sheriff Amundson's long patrol car. Janet and Claire sat in the middle and fussed over the baby who, after her initial cry on her arrival in the world, was now quiet and watchful. Jack's hands itched to touch her. She had his eyes, the eyes of his father - deep and chocolate dark.

At the hospital, he and Daniel spent an hour in the waiting room while the hospital staff got Claire settled in her room. Daniel fell asleep in an orange chair, against the wall, but Jack was restless walking up and down the hall.

Finally, Janet emerged from Claire's room, "Come," she said mysteriously.

"What is it?" He asked her entering the hospital room. Claire was done up in a hospital gown, and she was holding the baby. "You guys want to be alone."

"I don't think so," Janet nodded at Claire.

"Come and meet your daughter, Madeleine Tovah Fraiser-Walters." Claire told him, "We're her parents, but you're still her father." Then she handed him the baby securely wrapped in hospital blankets, "It's okay, and you can touch her for awhile. They're going to come and take her away in a little while."

"Breastfeeding?" he questioned.

"I can't do that Jack." Claire said sadly, "I need to get back on my meds. Still, we knew this going in. You take her and introduce her to Danny because he hasn't met her yet. Jan and I are still talking. We're going to phone Cassandra and Sam and give them the news. We'd phone Teal'c, but he's on Chulak."

Until that very moment, Jack had resolved that he wouldn't care too much about this child. It was easy, he wasn't her parent or responsible for her. He didn't want to feel his heart contract with the same intense feelings that he'd had from the first time he'd held Charlie, but it was impossible. Madeleine was so small, and she stared up at him with his dark own eyes - solemnly as if she knew something beyond his ken. Some deep and dark secret she would tell him in her own good time.

No, he wasn't a parent this time, but she was bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. He said a silent prayer to whatever God had made her whole, and asked fervently that she stay that way for as long as he drew breath. Still, as he carried her down the hall toward Daniel, he thought that there was something about her that Charlie hadn't had. Something in the turn of her head or a strange awareness in her eyes that made him feel certain she was special, but perhaps all babies were special. He went to end of the hall and sat beside the orange chair. He nudged Daniel.

"Danny wake up!" he said urgently, "Look."

As he stretched, Daniel's blue eyes behind his frames caught the light and his mouth swept upward in a smile, "Oh hello, you are so beautiful. You look like your father, you do, little one. But with darker hair, and that's not your mouth Jack. You're going to be so lucky. So many people are going to fuss over you." He glanced up at Jack.

"She's perfect," Daniel touched her lips with a tender finger, "And no one will come and take you away. No one. Even if we have to hide out in the Land of Light with your mother."

Jack's brown puppy eyes suddenly became sad for Daniel, "I'm sorry about Shifu, Danny. I knew you wanted to raise him."

"Only in my dreams, Jack. The ones that taught me not to raise him and give him back to Oma instead." Daniel said firmly "But this isn't a dream. This is a real human baby. Here to stay. Still," he grinned, "there's something about her face. Maybe, she has some of that ancient knowledge in her little brain."

"So you think she'll grow up and build inexplicable machines for us?" Jack commented in a slightly worried tone.

"She's not Sam, Jack. I think she'll want to do something completely different," Daniel laughed, "Especially after your Uncle Daniel gets through with you. We'll teach you Greek and Latin and Arabic and hieroglyphics and everything. Yes, I will."

"But will your sister go along with evil Uncle Daniel's plans?" Jack questioned, "Poor baby, learning Latin in her crib."

"Of course Jack, I do know twenty-four languages," he pointed out.

"At least ten of which are dead, and four are apparently dialects of other languages," Jack sang back at him. Daniel laughed.

Daniel's blue eyes glistened with emotion behind his glasses. He rocked Madeleine with an unbearably smug look on his face. He looked down at her again, his new niece. It was uncanny. "Just like you," he whispered in her shell-like ear and smiled up at Jack. Side-by-side, they walked her back down the hall toward their family.

~*~

It was quite late that night when a visitor slipped into Claire's room. She was fast asleep, and her guests had all left. The curtain around her bed was partially closed, and the visitor silently pulled a brown chair to the bedside. A hand closed over hers, and she opened her eyes with a smile.

"Hi," she said softly, "I see you can still get past the guards. Handy gift that."

"Hey, it's the least I could do, considering how you freaked out Justin this afternoon. Can't you do anything the simple way?"

Her eyes narrowed, "Can you stop cruising the bars night after night?"

Brian laughed, "Ask me to do something else."

"Justin's a nice guy Brian," she shook her head, "You could stop closer to home now."

"And so young! He could help me to the bathroom when I'm too old and infirm to do it for myself," Brian said deprecatingly, "Not much of a future for the lad."

"I've never seen you alone in the end," she tilted her head, "Anyway, Justin's twenty going on forty. Why don't you let him decide for himself?"

"If you've seen in your dreams, then we can both just stop worrying about my future," Brian twisted his face in a sardonic smile, "Just because you're protected by the big mean doctor and half the air force doesn't mean anything. One of these days, some file is going to pop up on someone's screen and then I'll just go poof," He said tilting his head. "Do you think I could smoke in here?"

"Are you kidding, about a thousand alarms would go off! What are you afraid of? Talking? They kept me up for days and days last time. I didn't talk," she squeezed his hand.

"Well," he laughed deprecatingly, "I don't know how I'd respond to such congenial hosts, and the red carpet treatment."

"The same way as me," she said.

"I wish I had your faith in my inner resolve," he told her and looked out the window moodily.

"It will be all right," she continued to hold his hand.

"That soldier's on to me," he added.

"Jack? He'll never tell," she assured him, "But you should go before someone else comes."

He nodded, "Be safe. I'll invest the money like you asked. Next time, Colorado?"

"Okay," she whispered, "Now leave."

After he left her, she stared out the dark window at Hyannis. She lay still and remembered. The last time the NID had picked her up, they'd kept her awake for days without end. Her eyes weeping in pain, she'd told them nothing, not because she was especially good, but because she was incapable of giving them the information they asked for. Those who'd help create her had made her incapable of betraying the others. She was breakable in everything, but spirit. Still, she knew she was more valuable alive than dead. They could do what they wanted, but they would never kill her. The last time, they had finally let her go, as she knew that they would.

She'd gone home to the apartment she shared with her lover. Their relationship had turned into one endless drama of fighting and making up. She loved Tracy, but sometimes love wasn't enough to keep a relationship going. She had dark, cold nightmares with the faces of the dead children and killers she'd known, their faces pressed up against a glass wall while water filled a room over and over again, and bodies bloated and floated to the surface. When she woke up, the smell of putrid flesh was still in her nose. She was swiftly unraveling.

If it hadn't been for Daniel, she wasn't sure what would have happened. He'd turned up as he always did when things were bad, and he'd taken her down another path to another life. An uneasy feeling hung over her heart, the remnants of nightmares in which her brother featured prominently. She was afraid for Daniel, his tendency to prove himself again and again nagged at her mind. All that kept her safe, kept her sane was the sure knowledge that somehow, somewhere it would be all right. The damage would be contained.

She thought about Oma Desala, the entity among the Ancients who protected Shifu and others. Claire had seen her twice in her lifetime. When she was very little, Billy, Junell, Tiffany and Lannie had died over three terrifying days. It was the first time she'd actually seen a dead person, not counting funerals in her mother's family. The cleaned-up bodies of Grandmere Hortense or Grandpere Eustache lying in a stuffy funeral parlor in Kamouraska didn't really count as dead bodies. She'd been the next on the scientists' list of children to fix, but after Billy died they thought she'd be better off broken.

Then the lady came to talk to her. She told her that they were all right, and not to worry. In her innocence, Claire had thought at the time that she was an angel or the Virgin Mary or both rolled into one. Then she'd come back in New York at her worst moment, before Daniel had come to visit, while she was still thinking about what had happened with the NID and if she had enough strength to do again next time.

Daniel had helped her put those thoughts behind her. He talked frequently about Oma Desala. Another plane of existence, it opened his mind to the idea that there would be some way to help those on this plane. She knew it wouldn't be like that. There was no point in moving on until you were done with this plane, and Daniel belonged here. Without Daniel, she would have been a completely different person. The future, she thought, was like a big, tangled ball of yarn being wound up constantly from the shuttle of The Fates.

She just knew that the outcome would somehow be positive, even for Daniel, although he was bound to do something stupid and make a mess of things for a time. He thought he was so unworthy, and had such a deep need to prove himself again and again. She'd seen it in her dreams, but she was bound by her inner guiding spirit to keep her own counsel on the subject. She just wished she could tell somebody, besides Brian, about it.

Next: An Endless Night