It’s the first time his mind has felt clear since he’s been…wherever he is. He can feel a cool air move against his skin and the soft bed beneath him, but everything is dark. His caretaker, a woman he’s never seen, has assured him that he will see just fine, once the bandages are off of his eyes, but Daniel can’t help the tendrils of fear that she’s wrong. His memories are still a little hazy (okay, a lot hazy), but he does remember this society had not been the pinnacle of advanced technology and eyes are tricky. He can’t live without his vision. Daniel wants to give in to the panic, but he forces it down relentlessly - he doesn’t have time for that.
“It’s time,” Leda says gently. He can feel the dip in the bed where she’s settled beside him. Over the past days, she’s learned to move slowly and make noise to telegraph her presence, and Daniel has - mostly - stopped jumping and jerking when she forgets or moves too fast. Not to say that it’s been easy - it’s been awful, but it’s almost normal now.
Her hands come behind his head and start to unravel the bandaging and he is hit with another surge of fear. “Wait,” he pleads, lifting a hand to stop her progress.
“It’s okay,” she reassures him, slowing down but not ceasing. “Just relax.” After unwinding the rest of the cloth, she pulls away and waits. Left with nothing to do but try, he slits his eyes open.
It’s so bright. The world is a mess of blurry colors. His heart races, and he struggles for a minute to catch a breath or keep his eyes open. There is no familiar weight of his glasses on his nose, either, which isn’t a good sign.
“Give your vision a moment to adjust. You haven’t used it for a while,” Leda coaxes. Daniel forces himself to take a breath, and then another, and shapes start to resolve into objects around him. It’s still painfully bright, but that’s to be expected, and he would be better off with his glasses, but he starts to believe there really might not be any permanent damage. Leda leans a little closer, “How’s that?”
“Better,” he nearly slurs it, relief mixed with still feeling groggy, but the word feels truthful.
“Your eyes,” Leda smiles, “It’s nice to finally see them.”
“Leda…” he focuses on the woman’s face above him, noting as he compels his eyes to stay open that she is pretty, and looks so young. Certainly not like the hardened military people he’d been dealing with in the city.
“Welcome back,” she murmurs, still smiling.
“Where am I?” he tries to take in as much of the room as he can without turning his head. He still feels like he’s been run over by a truck.
“Many miles from the city,” Leda’s voice is soft, and her face turns solemn as the smile fades. “This house belonged to my uncle. We're safe here.”
“The city?” Mostly, Daniel remembers snippets of this woman (and, rarely, others) caring for him. Remembering anything else about recent events has brought headaches and terrible dreams, so he’d stopped trying to do so or even to stay conscious long enough to do so. Now, though, he tries to focus. It comes in bits and pieces - the city, the warring factions, the unrest…an explosion? “I remember being there..something terrible happened…many people died.”
Leda looks stricken by his words, and then looks away, settling on a distraction. “There's food if you feel strong enough to eat.”
It’s not enough to distract Daniel, who is remembering more about how he’d come to be in the city here. “It's our fault, isn't it?” he asks her, and a familiar yawning chasm of guilt opens up at the periphery of his mind. “None of this would have happened if we hadn't come here.”
“You're alive,” she says it so serenely, not noticing or perhaps ignoring his rising distress, “and considering what you've been through, that alone is a miracle.”
He doesn’t understand how she can be so calm about what he’s remembering. It’s still so confusing, but it was terrible. Unless…she starts to rise and he fumbles around until he can grab her hand in his. “How long have I been here?”
She hesitates, but he can see when she decides not to lie to him. “The attack took place about a week ago,” she admits.
He’s so tired, but he needs to know more. He struggles to sit up, but barely manages more than a wiggle. “Has my team been in contact? Anyone from Earth?”
“No, I’m sorry,” she puts her hands on his shoulders and it’s enough to hold him in place, as weak as he is, “we have had no contact with anyone. Daniel, stop, you’re not strong enough.”
More than anything, he hates that she’s right as he stops struggling and relaxes down into the sheets. He’s been MIA more than a week - Jack’s going to kill him. He can’t keep his eyes open anymore, and the memory sweeps in as soon as he gives in to the weariness and closes them.
“That’s terrible. And yet, not our problem.” Jack had stood briefly after making the pronouncement, nodded, flippantly made his excuses to Sam and Teal’c, and walked out of the room. After a moment of being shocked to inattention, Daniel flashed an extremely frustrated look at his teammates. Sam had winced and shrugged, and Teal’c had made no response at all. Daniel laid the remote for the display on the conference table and hurried after Jack.
He caught up to him as he reaches the main corridor. “Jack!” he insisted on his partner’s attention, “you have to let me go back.”
Jack kept walking but slowed his pace to accommodate Daniel, glancing back at him over his shoulder. “If what you say is true, things are going to get a little out of hand over there,” he pointed out.
“Yes, because of us,” Daniel had protested. “If we hadn’t chosen to pay them a little visit-”
“They’d be far better off, I know!” Jack interrupted, “Daniel, we’re always stickin’ our collective noses where they don’t belong. It’s what we do.”
“I could help them understand what they’re facing,” he pled, trying to make Jack see his side. “Make them see it’s not the end of the world. If we leave now, who knows what could happen?” His partner had slowed, and finally stopped and swung around to face Daniel. He looked exasperated, but Daniel has seen the cracks in his mask, and he’d pushed. “We have to help them. You know that.”
He hadnt said anything else as he watched Jack chew on it for a minute, softening, and finally blow out a hard breath. “Regular contact, no exceptions.” Daniel nodded, hiding his glee at his success and trying to look as much as possible like someone who was good at following orders to a T. “The second things start gettin’ a little squirrelly-” Jack made a ‘get out of there’ motion with one hand.
Not wanting to give Jack a chance to change his mind, Daniel had quickly offered, “Thank you,” and turned to walk away.
“Daniel,” Jack’s voice had been warning, and Daniel swung back around immediately to face him. Jack had pointed a finger at him, and Daniel had seen how on the edge he was. They locked eyes, a million warnings and promises passing between them, and Jack settled on just repeating, “Squirrelly,” with a wag of his finger.
“Squirrelly,” Daniel had agreed, promised, even, before he’d nodded in understanding, tried to resist the urge to roll his eyes, and walked away.
In the end, it takes somewhere near six weeks all told from the time of the attack until the day he makes contact with his team. Most of that is spent with no contact with Earth at all; just time to recover (slower than he’d like), worry (about everything), and deeply regret not leaving the first time he’d heard the Caledonians threaten the Rand Protectorate. He had definitely broken his promise, clear despite being unspoken, to Jack to bail when things got ‘squirrelly’.
It was pure luck that had had him in the shed, sitting at the radio, when the gate was open for Soren and his people to pass through back to Tegalus. He’d been trying to keep up with sending communications, but he couldn’t do it twenty-four-seven and so his best bet had been to try to keep to the schedule he’d been reporting in on before the accident, and hope they did the same. It had been nice to hear Sam over the radio, but it had been hearing Jack’s voice a few minutes later that nearly brought him to tears.
Once he does make contact, everything moves very quickly. Jack sends Sam and Teal’c to lead the extraction team, and they make quick work of the hubristic rebels, with no casualties on their own side. It should feel like a success when Sam steps up next to him and asks if he’s ready to go home, but with Soren lying dead at his feet and both of the nations of Tegalus in shreds, Daniel doesn’t feel very successful.
Despite that, he is very ready to go home. Even as he made the promise to Kane that they would be back to help them rebuild, Daniel was hoping never to have to return here himself. They have entire teams now dedicated to projects like this, diplomatic projects, and while he is often involved heavily with them, this is one particular project Daniel will be glad to wash his hands of. The team assigned to it will surely be thrilled to do their work without him poking his nose into it at every turn.
He’s made no move towards the DHD, so Sam steps forward to punch in Earth’s coordinates while Teal’c stands patiently silent beside Daniel. Daniel doesn’t even notice when the familiar whoosh settles back into the bright wormhole opening, his mind a million miles away on everything that has happened. Maybe he should stay here and help. Maybe he can put off explaining this fiasco to Jack for…ever.
Teal’c’s hand settles on his shoulder, a grounding force, and he realizes that Sam’s looking at him oddly, having clearly said something. Or many somethings. “Earth to Daniel?” she says gently. “Time to go.”
“Sorry,” he blurts, “I was going to follow you through.”
“We’re going to stay and help Kane secure the bunker at least, and get a read on the city,” Sam says, with the air of having to repeat herself. He can’t remember if she’d already told him that, but he grimaces in apology. “The General wanted you home right away,” Sam gives him another long, searching look and doesn’t seem to like what she sees, adding, “Teal’c will go along and give him a status update.”
Daniel follows her gaze to the Jaffa behind him, who inclines his head with no indication that this obvious change in plans bothers him in the slightest. Daniel can’t bring himself to care either. All he has room for in his head is overwhelming grief about all of the lives lost here and a corner of nagging worry about how Jack is going to react to his long absence. Teal’c applies a gentle pressure through the hand on his shoulder and Daniel walks forward obligingly.
“See you guys soon,” Sam calls, voice still worried, and Daniel forces himself to summon up a smile and a wave that are some sort of normal before he steps into the event horizon.
There are only a few faces in the Gate room. The normal small contingent of SFs who are on hand to greet all incoming traffic, and one of the doctors with his staff. For the briefest moment, Daniel’s step falters, his heart falling into his shoes at the thought that maybe Jack was madder than he thought, or worse, didn’t care…but as he sweeps the room frantically again, searching, he thinks to look up. There’s his partner, standing where Hammond had so often stood, eyes intent on Daniel on the ramp. Limp with relief he waves before the medical team engulfs him, and smiles for the first time in what feels like months when Jack lifts a hand and quirks him a tiny smile in response. Teal’c peels away from him after a last solemn pat to his shoulder and abandons him to the clutches of medical without an ounce of remorse showing on his face.
“How are you feeling, Doctor Jackson?” the doctor asked, stepping directly in front of him while one of the nurses reaches for his wrist, stethoscope in hand, and another tries to wrap a blood pressure cuff around his other arm.
“I’m fine!” he jerks away, looking towards the observation window again, but Jack has disappeared. There’s a sudden gaping ache in his chest that can only be attributed to his lover’s absence, and he wants (needs) something more than a casual nod after two months of no contact.
“Dr. Jackson, the preliminary report from the doctor on Tegalus was very alarming,” the doctor says sternly, hands on his hips. He glares at the nurses, who’ve backed off as Daniel extricates himself from their hands and instruments with increasing force until they comply. “You need to be examined.”
“Doctor, anything that hasn’t killed me in the last six weeks is unlikely to do so any time soon,” he scoffs, stepping further from the men and women who’ve surrounded him.
“I must insist that you come to the infirmary immediately,” the doctor turns to the largest of his staff with a meaningful gesture. “Airman, please escort Doctor Jackson to the Infirmary.”
The airman looks at Daniel, who stares back, putting a plea in his expression. He might be as bad a patient as Jack, in terms of following directions and getting back to work, but he’s always been very careful to be extremely kind to the medical staff and they are genuinely fond of him. It pays off here - Daniel steps back and then darts for the open door and the airman pretends to be too slow to catch him, allowing him to clear the blast door and start up the stairs before the bellow of the displeased doctor reaches him.
As he reaches the top of the stairs, Teal’c is just leaving the General’s office. One of his eyebrows goes up at seeing Daniel, but Daniel would swear he smiles a little when the sound of the medical staff in chaos reaches them, and he steps out of the way so that Daniel can slip into Jack’s domain and pull the door closed behind him, sliding the lock home for good measure. Jack looks up from the paperwork on his desk and his gaze is indecipherable as they stare at each other, each set of eyes roaming to confirm the other man is how they had left them last they spoke.
The heavy introspection is interrupted by someone banging quite rudely and repeatedly on the door. “Doctor Jackson, this is quite-”
Jack’s out of his seat and across the room silently and faster than Daniel’s seen him move in a while. His expression as he yanks the door open and interrupts the doctor’s angry tirade is stony. “Major, is there a medical emergency?”
The man was not expecting the General and clearly didn’t stop to think whose door he was pounding on. He’s gone pale, and his voice, when he speaks again, is far from assertive. “No, but-”
“If there is not an emergency, that is quite enough.”
“General, Doctor Jackson-” he flat out whines this time, and Jack goes a little more still in a way that Daniel doesn’t think bodes well for the man’s long career at the SGC.
“Is making an important report to the commander of this base,” Jack says flatly, not letting the man finish even a single sentence. “He will be down for his standard post-mission physical when I am finished with him.”
There’s a pause, but in the end, the man has no argument to make and no response except a sulky, “Yes, Sir.” Jack snaps the door shut in the unfortunate fellow’s face and turns. Daniel is slumped just inside the door, now inches from Jack, so he has to tilt his chin up just a smidge to be face-to-face. He only gets a glimpse, though, before he’s yanked against Jack’s chest, locked in by arms that are just a little too tight.
Feeling a wave of peace sweep across his whole body for the first time since he woke up in Leda’s house, Daniel goes boneless in the embrace. This is what he ran up here for, after all. He tucks his face into the side of Jack’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent of faint aftershave and Jack’s soap, and hugs back.
“Did you have to start a fight with the new doctor?” Jack asks after a minute, which is enough to make Daniel push back towards the wall to get space to glance at his partner in disbelief.
“Uh pot, kettle, Jack?”
“I’ll have you know, I hadn’t had a single run-in with the Major since he arrived, until today,” the General is smug, and a snappy retort about how much trouble can you really get into on base, Jack, it would be fairer to consider your history with medical is on Daniel’s tongue but withers when the tease dies in Jack’s expression and he goes inscrutable again. They seem to remember why Daniel probably should go see the new doctor in the same moment and Jack eases back from him, shoving his hands into his pockets. “What happened to ‘squirrelly’, Daniel?”
Daniel scrutinizes the look for a second, resignation settling in a dark cloud over his previous relief. Elation over having Daniel safely back on base and seemingly no worse for the wear set aside, Jack is fuming. His jaw has gone tight, his body language stiff, the fire in his eyes banked but not extinguished. His stomach clenches with too-familiar apprehension, but he takes a deep breath and tries to force himself not to let the anxiety get the better of him. They’ve come a long way and he trusts that Jack won’t respond to his feelings of worry-frustration-anger by taking it out on their relationship anymore, but sometimes his body still responds to the conflict with a bone-deep instinct that predates even meeting Jack, and he has to work to put aside the panic.
Jack’s watching him closely and shakes his head before Daniel can formulate an answer, he says. “No, don’t answer that right now. We can talk about it later.” He reaches out and runs his hand through Daniel’s too-long hair, letting it settle for a heartbeat on the side of Daniel’s face before it drops away. “Go to the infirmary before the major has apoplexy, I don’t want to do the paperwork. I’ll see you at home.”
The doctor grudgingly clears Daniel to go home, but not to work, insisting that Daniel go home for the rest of the day and the weekend. Daniel wins the concession of coming back to at least light duty on Monday, though nothing will sway the man to reinstate his off-world permissions before all of his innumerable tests and scans come back clear. It’s not worth trying to get Jack to go over the man’s head until they clear the air between themselves, so Daniel reluctantly heads home.
He swings by his own apartment first, mostly just for show. Someone - Sam probably, though it might have been Jack - had come by and taken out the trash, emptied the fridge, and put away the dishes in the dishwasher but there are a few chores nobody thought or cared to do. He shoves a very stale load of dirty laundry into the washing machine with every intention of running it twice, sorts the mail his neighbor brings in when he’s gone more than a couple of days, and does a little dusting, but eventually, he runs out of things to do and it’s still early.
It shouldn’t matter whether he kills time at his place or Jack’s, but the apartment feels lonely and he wants to be anywhere else. Not for the first time, he feels a surge of hot resentment that he can’t just move in with Jack and be done with it. This apartment is no longer his home - but he has to maintain a residence somewhere, and be seen in it enough not to arouse anyone’s suspicions. He’d considered trying to find a place closer to Jack’s, within walking distance maybe, but the neighborhood doesn’t have vacancies open often. Plus, the one perk of his building is that except for a few friendships he’s cultivated intentionally to make sure he blends in, his neighbors aren’t nosy, and they aren’t military, so nobody gets suspicious when he does disappear for long periods - they swallow the ‘on a mission’ lie easily. People in a neighborhood like Jack’s might not be so accommodating.
Giving up on any pretense of wanting to stay, he puts the last load of laundry in the dryer and heads to Jack’s.
It’s just as empty, but from the moment he lets himself in, it’s not as lonely. Puttering around this house is comforting. Jack’s not messy by any means, he’s neater than Daniel in most ways, but he’s not anal about things either, so Daniel finds a couple of things to do: he washes the breakfast dishes, takes out the recycling, and waters some house plants. When he runs out of chores for the second time in a single afternoon, he settles on the couch and sets about losing himself in the research periodicals that had been waiting in his mail. It works - he’s not aware of having company until his partner drops a Chinese takeout bag on the coffee table and sits down next to him.
Daniel blinks over his glasses, lowering his journal. “You’re home early.”
Jack raises an eyebrow and glances at the window before declaring, “Daniel, it’s eight o’clock.” Daniel follows his gaze, surprised to see that it’s fully dark outside. So it is. “I brought dinner,” Jack leans forward and starts to unpack the cartons, dishing out Daniel’s favorites without having to ask. “I figured you probably hadn’t eaten. Didn’t the doctor tell you no work tonight?” he hands Daniel a plate but won’t let go of it until Daniel relinquishes the heavy academic journal; Daniel briefly considers engaging in this game of tug-o-war, but the loud growl of his empty stomach makes him reconsider, and he lets go.
As soon as the food is in his grasp, he refutes Jack’s accusation with, “That isn’t work.”
His lover glances down at the title - The Journal of Anthropological Archeology - and mutters, “Debatable,” in a sardonic tone. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t press the issue, just tosses the journal onto the stack on the table beside Daniel and digs into his own dinner. They make easy small talk while they eat, Jack regaling him with funny base anecdotes, but the food is gone all too soon, and they are left studying each other. Daniel takes his time before speaking, trying to feel out the quality of the silence.
Jack doesn’t look as mad as earlier, but his jaw is set and his brow furrowed. “For what it’s worth,” Daniel says quietly, “I was on my way to the Gate when the attack happened. I had every intention of getting out of there.”
“The attack was a surprise?” Jack asks, in a tone that leaves plenty of room for Daniel to agree, to claim that as the truth. He can’t do it - he doesn’t lie to Jack. If he did, the guilt would eat away at him even more aggressively. It’s already a hot, heavy stone in his gut. His regret must show in his face, or his silence is telling, because Jack’s lips turn down, turning his neutral calm into a definite frown. “I should have just said no,” he says with a shake of his head.
That, right there, is maybe worse than when Jack yells at him. Daniel can hear the resignation in his partner’s voice and knows where that road leads - it leads to Jack second-guessing his decisions, and asking other people for their takes on what Daniel says, and not trusting him. The last time they did that, it nearly destroyed both of them. The guilt rolls through his stomach so strongly he’s physically nauseous, and he leans towards Jack. “No,” he pleads, “don’t go there. Maybe I should have made the call to come home sooner, and yes I saw the signs, but Jack I really thought that I could help, that I was keeping things stable by staying. I did try to leave once I realized I had miscalculated, it was just…too late.”
He doesn’t just come out and say, I didn’t do it on purpose, but when he glances up into his partner’s pensive face he suspects Jack’s reading between the lines. “If there are other lives on the line,” he takes his time before he observes, “you’re never going to make the conservative decision in that kind of situation. I’m an idiot for not realizing it sooner.”
“That’s not true!” Daniel sputters, straightening. He’s stung by the accusation, so denies it automatically, but he’s not altogether unsure it’s not true - but also not sure he’s in the wrong. His life isn’t worth more than anyone else’s, so why should he protect himself before he tries to protect others? Jack would disagree, he knows that; they’ve had this conversation before.
They’ve had the argument before, yes, and Daniel usually ends up deferring to Jack. Jack cares more about Daniel’s life than Daniel does, but he’s accepted that part of loving Jack is accepting the responsibility of caring for himself so he comes home to him. He didn’t do a great job of it on Tegalus, and he knew it when it was happening; he just chose to ignore it. That’s the source of the still-seething self-reproach.
“It’s not a judgment, Daniel, it’s fact.” Jack’s voice is low but not unkind. “Or maybe it’s a criticism of myself - I knew you couldn’t do it, so I shouldn’t have asked it of you. That’s on me. As your General, I won’t send you by yourself again unless it’s unavoidable.”
“I didn’t make the promise to a General,” Daniel says.
“No,” Jack agrees, and he doesn’t have to say you made it to me.
“I’m sorry,” it’s sincere, but to Daniel, it does not feel enough. He could have - should have - tried harder to keep his promise, or he shouldn’t have made it. That, and every previous promise not to risk his life.
The, I know, goes unsaid except for in Jack’s eyes as he strokes a hand down the side of Daniel’s face. “Is that going to be enough?” Sighing, Daniel leans into the touch and wishes for a moment that it was enough, and they could just move on to something more pleasant. But they’ve danced this dance before, and if he doesn’t use Jack to take care of the guilt, it will only fester, and he’ll be more miserable, for longer.
No, it won’t be enough. His partner reads the answer in Daniel’s lack of positive response. Jack nods, almost as if to himself, and doesn’t make either of them wait any longer. The hand that was cradling Daniel’s jaw slides down to grasp his arm and pulls steadily until Daniel tips forward over Jack’s lap. Not that he’s resisting - getting spanked is awful in the moment, but it’s strangely better than any alternative he’s come up with. He’s given up trying to figure out why that is, for him. But even as a willing participant, it’s still awkward to do this as a grown man and he flounders for a moment before Jack spreads his legs apart a little more to create a better support, and wraps his arm around Daniel’s middle.
The hot flush of mortification when his partner unceremoniously slides his pants and underwear to his knees makes him want to sink through the floor. He’s done the same thing every time, but it’s been a while since the last time he landed himself here. Daniel will never forget the during - it hurts! - and he craves the after (guilt gone, peaceful, getting comfort), but somehow he always forgets the before. He wiggles, trying to find a less precarious feeling position, but Jack just tugs him in closer and anchors him where he wants him. Taking a few deep breaths he manages to relax in his lover’s hold, which a part of him hopes is just an indication of how touch-starved and lonely he was on Tegalus and not some weird evidence that he’s getting entirely too used to being turned over his partner’s knee. The other hand resting on his butt is the least uncomfortable part of the experience until it leaves and comes back down.
Against all of his own requirements for himself, he yelps at the first swat. Jack doesn’t pause, and before he can catch his breath, his entire butt is already stinging fiercely. Soon, he’s too busy trying not to struggle against Jack’s hold on him or plead that he’s changed his mind to worry about much else.
Jack doesn’t say anything for a while - they both know why they’re here. Daniel attempts to be quiet and unresisting, but it’s a losing battle. Jack is thorough and unrelenting, and the heat in his butt progresses from stinging to burning, each swat a sharp pain that settles into aching heat as the next swat raises fire where it falls. He loses the battle for stillness when Jack pulls him a little further forward and lifts one knee, which tips Daniel’s upper body down and offers his partner better access to land purposeful smacks to the lower portions of his cheeks and the tops of his thighs.
Involuntarily, Daniel’s legs start to scissor and kick against this newest assault, and Jack takes advantage to land a few swats to the tender spots on the inner parts of Daniel’s thighs. The surprise of that, the extra sting, startles tears into his eyes and it doesn’t take long before his breath catches, signaling that the tears won’t be held back for long. Somehow, Jack hears it over the noise of the spanking and increases his efforts, continuing to land hard swats across Daniel’s bottom and thighs with no discernable pattern.
In direct contrast to the sternness with which he is delivering the spanking, the thumb of Jack’s other hand is brushing tenderly back and forth on the bare skin of Daniel’s back where his shirt has ridden up. “Jack,” Daniel chokes it out around the impending tears in his throat, but even he isn’t sure what he’s begging for. Jack pauses, considering, resting his hand just below the skin he’s tanned. His hand feels hot, a brand where it rests, but it doesn’t even begin to compare to the throbbing inferno it’s created above.
“Next time,” Jack inquires, “are you going to ask for help before you get in over your head?”
Daniel opens his mouth, fully intending to say ‘I will’. What comes out, in a tremulous voice, is, “I want to. I’ll try.” It’s honest, if not the response Jack was looking for. The guilt overwhelms him then, and the last of the fear and stress and loneliness, and he dissolves into tears.
“You better.” Jack emphasizes each word with a last searing smack to each sit-spot and then his hands are moving, drawing Daniel up off from across his lap to into it, kneeling and straddling his legs to keep all weight off of his abused bottom, and upper body pressed into Jack’s chest as he reclines somewhat, drawing Daniel down with him. Somewhere along the way Daniel has kicked off his pants and underwear, but he can’t bring himself to care. “I can’t lose you, Daniel,” Jack croons close to his ear. “The Stargate program might survive it, but I wouldn’t. You have to take more care with yourself.”
“Sorry,” he’d momentarily stopped the tears but now they run over again, silently washing down his face as he buries it in the crook of his partner’s neck, wrapping his arms around Jack to get as close as he possibly can.
“Shhh, Danny,” there’s warm fingers in his hair, pushing his head back far enough for Jack to press a rough, warm kiss on the side of his face. “It’s over, you’re safe, restitution made. Let go.”
It’s hard to resist an order like that when he’s feeling this raw, so Daniel does. As the tension drains the rest of the way out of him, tranquility replaces it, and he melts into Jack. “Love you,” the words are slurred, he’s drifting in a sea of calm and can’t quite bring himself to care, but Jack has no trouble interpreting.
“I love you too, Spacemonkey,” he keeps one hand stroking up and down Daniel’s back and gropes for the throw on the back of the couch with the other, soothing away Daniel’s half-hearted squirm of protest as it brushes his sensitive skin before settling into place. “Just rest a while, we’ve got all weekend.”
Daniel falls asleep there with Jack beneath him and his affectionate touch drifting all over Daniel’s body. And that’s all he remembers, until he wakes up much later to commence a different kind of reunion entirely.
