Prompt (031) Sunrise for the livejournal community slash100
Jack, Daniel, mentions
of Charlie
I look out the bedroom window, waiting just to see the light
Adam Pascal, "Tomorrow and the Sun"
Bad missions always gave him nightmares. Amalgamations of his fears and his experiences that had him screaming into the smothering darkness.
Apophis as one of his Iraqi captors.
Daniel instead of John in East Germany, being shot down by semi-automatics.
In the night in his bedroom, all the shadows from his past came together to torment him. Shooting Klorel on his ship turned to shooting Charlie in the back yard. Or he'd be watching Charlie's coffin being lowered into the ground, then look up and see Daniel's name on the headstone. But no matter the setting, the dreams always centered around him, Charlie, or Daniel.
He'd long ago figured out why most of his dreams, good and bad both, revolved around Daniel. He still didn't understand how he'd let himself do it, fall in love with him—Daniel! His best friend, his comrade. His i male /i best friend and comrade. Not to mention under his command. But, despite himself, it had happened.
He didn't remember what the nightmare was about this time, only the bright red of blood and the clear blue of two staring, blank eyes. Like every night, he threw on pants and a sweatshirt and staggered outside, the cool air letting him breathe. The silent house behind him made him shiver, reminding him too much of things lost. He climbed up the rickety ladder to his deck and sit down. He knew he'd stay here till dawn touched the sky yellow-grey. Only with the light could he again enter his empty house and not feel suffocated.
He stared up at the sky, without the aid of his telescope this time, and wondered where Abydos was. Could he see Tollana, the Nox homeworld, or Cimmeria from Earth? He listened to the music of the crickets and the rumble of cars. His heart slowing and the terror and guilt of the nightmare receding, he sought out Orion with his eyes. There, the belt, the sword—Orion, the great hunter, immortalized in the stars.
Later he felt small tremors through the deck. His eyes locked onto the tips of the ladder, his muscles tensing.
Then a familiar head popped into view, and he relaxed with a roll of his eyes. "Daniel," he said in exasperation. "You could have said something, you know."
Daniel hauled himself onto the deck, smiling sheepishly. "When you didn't answer the door I figured you were up here," he said. The archeologist sat down next to Jack, just far enough that they weren't touching. "I, um…I just didn't want to be alone tonight."
Jack stared at him in incomprehension for a moment before he realized what was wrong: today was the one-year anniversary of Sha're's death. He hadn't remembered because of that screw-up of a mission.
"Do you mind?" Daniel asked tentatively.
Jack answered immediately, "No."
Daniel graced him with a grateful smile and then looked up at the star-studded sky. After a moment, Jack hesitantly wrapped an arm around Daniel. Daniel leaned into him, and Jack tightened his hold when he felt tears soaking into the shoulder of his sweater.
They stayed that way until dawn stained the sky yellow-grey.