It was an unlikely alliance, and it always had been so. Daniel didn't want to get into the habit of using clichés, but the term 'polar opposites' came to mind. In every possible aspect, they differed enormously. Well, perhaps not every possible aspect, but certainly the vast majority. The bizarre and unpredictable path of knowing Jack O'Neill was one of the most mystifying and surprising aspects of Daniel's life. Their history of interaction was sporadic, ranging from utter loathing, to indifference, to lightheartedness, all the way to a deep seriousness that involved respect, support and admiration. Above all else, it was unique. This confusing melee that was their friendship had not become any clearer with time.
He and Jack had explored the vicious realms of their relationship. It was thorny territory, and they had a surprising capacity to do harm to each other. Daniel knew what it was to be an enemy of Jack O'Neill, for he had been there. He knew what it was to have a lighthearted friendship, getting along oddly well and having genuine fun together. It had been, for quite some time, a mockery of their earlier, more serious battles. Symbolic now, and evolved into a strange fondness, an odd connection, an understanding.
This surface friendship took its dips and dives into genuine conflict, dark and spiteful, but also into genuine connection, respectful and powerfully caring. It was the latter that was perhaps the most interesting, that held the potential for such a true bond. Unfortunately, they did not spend much time learning about this potential for forging such a connection. It was the usual habit to back off whenever such a possibility came too close. There were many times when Daniel would try to convince himself that it simply was not possible to become a closer friend to Jack; they were too different and there was too much about Jack that was disagreeable. After all, he was the gun-happy, ignorant, narrow-minded Colonel, wasn't he? Entirely unwilling to see other's points of view, arrogant, stubborn and impulsive. The literal poster-boy for a military mind. Long spaces of indifference or subtle biting cynicism would pass in their friendship, which were in some ways even worse than when he was screaming bloody murder at Jack. But as infuriating as Jack could be, as hopeless as it looked at times . . . he always managed to make a comeback at the right moment. During those days Daniel wondered why on Earth he ever associated with this man, it wouldn't be long before he'd catch glimpse of something and remember why. Jack would suddenly say or do something incredibly . . . compassionate, or clever, or show a level of perceptiveness or imagination that Daniel found so easy to forget he possessed. Because, after all, Jack worked hard at disguising those things, playing the fool, and the show was still convincing even after all these years.
Yes, knowing Jack O'Neill had been a strange experience, from the very onset. And as Daniel watched the orange dust kick up in the wake of their footfalls, he marveled over how much stranger it was about to become.
It's not that things were that different lately. In the months before their mission to this world, they had settled into a fairly peaceful understanding. In fact it was very . . . comfortable, more so than it ever had been before. Daniel attributed it, in part, to the traumatic missions they had been on lately. They had shaken everyone up pretty badly and he knew that tended to bring people closer. The feeling did linger this time, though. Usually once Jack realized that Daniel really was alive and wasn't going to disappear in the next five minutes, he'd back off. This time, though, something new seemed to click in his brain. Maybe that last knock on the head jarred something loose, Daniel wasn't sure. But Jack seemed to have . . . mellowed, no longer felt it necessary to act aloof or annoyed or goofy or act anything around Daniel. Just . . . more natural. More honest. It was nice. Daniel was enjoying it.
And then came P3X-4Y1. When the team was convicted, stripped of all possessions and rudely dumped into the labor-force, it didn't take them long to realize it was going to be one of those missions. The whoops-hope-you-don't-have-anything-planned-for-the-next-six-months kind of missions. Daniel would be lying if he said it had been easy. Jack responded like he'd been through worse, and chances were pretty good he had. He tried . . . so damn hard to protect his team from the same kind of experience. Which, of course, got Jack into trouble twice as much. That was his usual response to situations like these. Jack wanted to take all the beatings. It was as charmingly noble as it was infuriatingly stupid, all in the same stroke.
Daniel was able to achieve something new this time around, though-- to convince Jack to share his burdens. It took time, but time happened to be something SG-1 had plenty of on this world. Daniel could still hear the whispered conversations in the dying light of the cooking furnaces, the stench of smoke and sweaty slaves all around, the creak of the hammock-like beds as Daniel leaned forward to get a better look at his friend's grave expression, the tingly-nervous feeling of the Overseers stalking in the background. Jack spoke in a low voice, eyes cast downward, in clipped, vague sentences, with the occasional commentary from Daniel's gentle tone. Daniel learned in bits and pieces of Jack's past, and gradually Jack let him shoulder more and more of the burdens. Gently Daniel pushed him, further and further, quietly urging his friend to trust him. To give more of himself for Daniel to keep and protect.
The shift of balance was slow, and hardly discernible from day-to-day. It occurred in increments, like the continental drift. Daniel hadn't realized how far it had gone until the first Free Day. They were actually able to relax and drop their guard. Daniel doubted they had ever done this off world before, ever. It was more out of necessity than wisdom, he theorized. They were simply too exhausted, mentally and physically, to care anymore.
Something about that first Free Day changed things, though. It really changed things, and Daniel spent weeks afterwards trying to figure out what exactly it was. He felt different somehow, especially when he caught Jack's eye while they worked. It remained a puzzle. The two of them savored every morsel of anticipation of their next visit to the mythical meeting-ground. It kept them smugly happy while the slaves around them toiled. He figured it was out of a need for emotional survival . . .
Oh, but it must have been more than just that, just a mutual need to stay sane in insane conditions. It felt like more than that. At least he thought it did. Emotions were tricky things, fickle and not always subject to reason. Could they be trusted?
It was after the second Free Day that Daniel knew. Not whether his emotions could be trusted, mind you, but exactly what they were. It took him by surprise, to say the least. The more he ran it through his mind, though, the more he became convinced it was the only real conclusion he could reach. Oh, he tried to pass it off as the strange influence of strange conditions on a strange world. But he had the unfortunate habit of thinking too much. And P3X-4Y1 gave him plenty of time to think. To make connections, to trace back into his history, to search for signs of this in his past with Jack. To wonder whether what he was feeling was caused by this place, or revealed by it. That was the essential question.
He never planned on telling Jack all this. But then he had to go and . . . reciprocate. That changed everything.
Honestly, he expected them to be back on Earth by now. Yet here they still were, on this giant dustbowl of a planet, and apparently, it was their day off again. If fate had meant to intervene in this, wouldn't it have done so by now? Not that Daniel really believed in prewritten destiny, but higher powers weren't entirely out of the question.
Daniel was suddenly brought out of his thoughts when he caught sight of the familiar grove of trees. He swallowed. It seemed they had traveled their carefully chosen maze so quickly this time around. He glanced furtively at Jack, who had been as quietly thoughtful as himself during the trek.
"Home away from home," Jack murmured wryly.
It really wasn't until they had gotten down there, and all the way into the trees, and reached the river's edge, that it seemed to hit them that they were really back. The archeologist's gaze swept over the trees, the bushes, the stones, the river, the familiar nooks and crannies, the alien world already a storehouse for a bundle of memories. He turned to Jack, about to make a lame joke attempt just so he could see him groan and roll his eyes, but then he stopped short.
Jack looked terrified. No, that was an overstatement. But he was definitely scared. Eyes wide, face sort of spooked, rigid stance, glancing about sporadically.
"Jack," Daniel said. The man looked to him and his expression was almost pained.
"Jack, you look like you're about to get a Goa'uld implanted. It's just me."
Jack smiled weakly, but didn't look any calmer.
"I'm sorry, Danny, I'm just . . . uh . . . it's been a long month."
They stood, looking at each other, Daniel concerned, Jack nearly quivering. He was still wrapped in the sienna-dyed cloth, layers upon layers of dirt and gauze, the alien mineral worked deep into his skin. He looked like a stranger to him, a born native to the suffocating clouds of orange fog. But his eyes were still their familiar mahogany, and Daniel knew somewhere in there was the Jack he knew. The Jack he was still getting to know.
Daniel's face drew into a squint as he scrutinized Jack, straining to bring his flawed vision into perfect focus.
"What?" Jack asked, sounding a bit unnerved by his staring.
Jack's hands hung at his sides, trembling slightly-- he really was scared. Daniel took one of Jack's hands in his own, turning it over palm up, and examined the orange paw, roughed and padded like a tiger's. He undid the knot and carefully unwrapped the hand. Jack watched as the younger man slowly pulled the layers back, dust raining down at their feet, revealing his calloused hand, then his limber arm. He let the section of cloth fall to the ground.
"You're in there," he murmured gently, as if fascinated. Jack smiled crookedly and replied,
"I hope so anyway."
Daniel leaned forward, and Jack ducked his head obediently as Daniel undid the knot on his sloppy turban. He closed his eyes as the cloth unwound, dust whirling down. He felt the dirt pour off his head, and Daniel gently raise his chin to unwrap his face. Delicately, as if he were incredibly fragile and valuable, he unbound the cloth, pulled it free, letting it drop to the ground. Smoothed down his scruffy hair, which had spiked everywhere. Jack's eyes drifted open, Daniel's gauzed hands and tapered fingers still cupping his face, like he didn't want to drop him. Intense blue gaze searching him. Jack asked slowly,
"What is it?"
He looked so focused, so fascinated, with every detail of Jack's face; gears in his mind spinning, as if trying to grasp something incredibly important and significant.
Then, a smile-- small, gradual, and victorious-- spread across Daniel's face, like he had just figured it out.
"What?" Jack repeated, unable to help smiling along with him. Daniel's thumbs traced the stubble and the smile-lines on Jack's face, like he was reading Braille. Then he released him gently and took his other hand, and murmured,
"Just taking a closer look."
Daniel nodded slightly,
"We should get washed off."
He moved to undo the knot, and Jack's hand gripped his, gently stopping him. Daniel looked at him.
"Daniel . . . about the whole friendship-thing . . ."
Jack took a breath, obviously searching for the right words.
"I don't want anything we do to change that."
Daniel smiled a little, squeezing the padded hand in his.
"Me neither. Somehow, considering what we've been through, I doubt we could ever manage that."
Jack's eyebrows raised, he thought about it, puffed his cheeks, and exhaled,
"Yeah I guess so."
Daniel nodded in encouragement, and agreed,
"The foundation's solid."
Jack showed the slightest signs of a smile, then slackened his grip and let Daniel finish untying. He attentively disrobed the rest of Jack with practiced ease, familiar with the complex wraps. He kept his gaze on Jack's face the whole time, and as the last swatch of cloth dropped to Jack's feet, turned to work on his own. Jack just stood there a moment, looking a little dazed. A few moments later, there was a resounding splash.
The water was enlightening, like stepping into a temple. Daniel sighed as he dropped in, the rush of water purging him from one month's worth of labor. He started to work at scrubbing away the dirt, watching clouds of orange billow into the water and sweep away.
Jack stood about four yards away, also casually washing off. Anyone who might have happened by would have concluded they were just more laborers relaxing in the River. And that was true. More or less.
Slowly, deliberately, Daniel moved through the river as he bathed, always keeping Jack in the corner of his eye. Jack did likewise, and they gradually circled each other, gravitating towards and pushing back from one another, like two rivals sizing each other up.
The reflections played off Jack's face from the river, and he moved so fluidly, so carefully. Daniel matched his steps as he came back round on his third circle, never missing a pace, as they continued their slow stalk.
They carried on like this, bathing slowly, watching surreptitiously. Already, Jack looked so different. No longer just a calloused, dry, hollow creature of the orange mines. The blue reflected up at him, illuminated him, brought out the softer, more natural tone of his skin and his eyes . . . enriched him and returned the spark that was lost through so many days of harshness. It swept that harshness away in the current and stripped him back down to the core. The creature taking slow laps around the river with him, in an ever-tightening circle, was the same one Daniel recognized during their rarer moments. The glimpses he caught, normally so reserved and camouflaged, were brought back to the surface now, as plain and clear as the blue sky above them.
In a slowly decaying orbit winding towards a common center, they drifted through the water, watching, bathing, thinking. They started to make brief eye contact; catch, release, catch, release. Jack had that look in his eye whenever he was trying to wind Daniel up, during the endless arguments they'd shared. Daniel had always played along quite well, accepted the dare, and was usually able to outstep the Colonel, beat him at his own game. Jack was pretty good at raising the stakes, however, and coming out ahead. Daniel hadn't known the purpose of their contests-- originally it was out of genuine competition, but had long ago lost that meaning. It wasn't even really a game anymore, for there was no longer a concept of winning. Now it was just their way of interacting, of communication. The purpose had become the common center, the one which they now pulled toward.
Another lap, and the distance had closed from four yards to two. They had given up on furtive glances by now and were openly watching one another. The water level, which came up over their waists, still registered as bitingly cold, but neither seemed to mind. Jack stared brazenly, that slight curve that was nearly a smile. Daniel mirrored the expression, half serious and half in mockery.
What ran through his mind was a ribbon, a ribbon of memories that stretched from one end all the way through into this moment. Every shared look, every shared conversation; every shared prison cell, every shared gesture of comfort, every shared terror or pain. Every shared passion or goal, every twist of the knife or embrace of relief. Every time they came a breath closer than usual to friendship, but were too confused or afraid to move further, to step past a threshold that they had always assumed was supposed to remain intact.
It was an unlikely alliance, and yet there it was.
The distance closed, their spiral having reached its center, a mere few feet of separation. There Jack stood, and his eyes had changed, no longer challenging and taunting. His expression settled back into entirely neutral, and Daniel recognized the look; the darkened, dilated pupils, the intensity of focus, the predatory gleam. Daniel noted out loud,
"You look . . . alert . . ."
Alert wasn't precisely the word. He certainly didn't look scared anymore. Of that, he was certain.
Jack stepped forward, directly into Daniel's personal space, two feet, one.
Daniel's eyes slipped shut, and his head rocked back. Just, for the moment, concentrating on the feeling of standing inside Jack's personal space. Simply standing there, closer than two people ever would for a casual conversation. Maybe he was crazy, but he could have sworn to physically feel the pressure of Jack's presence on his skin, even though a gap still held them apart. Perhaps it was just the knowing that did it. His skin was alight, a buzzy, tingling sensation like his head felt when oxygen deprived. A loopy conviction crossed his mind, that his skin must be suffocating. He stopped registering the sensation of the water and air entirely. It was all just Jack. It was him and Jack, existing in a vacuum, a frozen snapshot of time created by his mind. Eyes still closed, Daniel reached out slowly, wanting to solidify the moment, to etch it into his memory, to capture what stood so close before him now.
He gasped and jerked in surprise when Jack moved suddenly, the river splashing as he sloshed away. Daniel snapped his eyes open and searched Jack's face in confusion. The man gave a gruff command,
"C'mon."
He turned abruptly and started quickly making his way to shore. Daniel looked after him, dazed.
"What?"
Jack had already made it to shore and called impatiently over his shoulder,
"C'mon."
He disappeared into the trees and Daniel quickly got over his paralysis when he realized he'd lose him very shortly if he didn't move. Running madly through the water, he hollered,
"C'mon where?!"
Reaching the shore in record time, his eyes flitted over the trees in panic, unsure which direction he vanished in.
"Dan-yol," Jack called, as if Daniel was being the unreasonable one. His face settled into a scowl and he jogged after him, calling in the same tone,
"Ja-ack!"
~~~~~~~~~~
