Way #59 -- Unintentional Stirrings
Daniel's peaceful afternoon nap was interrupted by a rattling sound that filled the entire room and vibrated his teeth, reminding the young man of one of his old childhood houses, the one that had been situated right next to a railroad track. When the train came rolling by every night at 3:00 sharp you could see the pictures jumping on the walls and the bed sliding across the room.
But what he heard now couldn't possibly have been a train, for it was much too close even for that.
He used his arms to lift himself upright a few inches and blinked with confusion at the leather throw-pillow that bore the imprint of his face. The pillow rested on top of a pair of legs with jeans and white socks. As he tried to comprehend this his thoughts were cut short by another long, rattling clatter that raised the hairs on the back of his neck and practically made his eyes water.
Grunting, Daniel clumsily tried to get up, but met with resistance, and he slipped and fell off the couch. Well, he half-fell. The first half of Dr. Jackson found his face meeting the carpeted floor. The other half was still caught on the couch, his legs weighed down by something. Feeling understandably silly, he lifted himself up by his hands and 'walked' forward a bit, then tried to look at the couch.
Ah, it all made sense now. Jack was smack-down on a throw pillow just as Daniel had been, and the pillow was still on Daniel's legs. The young man sighed and wondered how on Earth the two of them ended up 69'ing it on the couch. Then his face flushed as his mind contemplated that risqué thought, quickly amending his choice of wording. He tugged a little to escape but Jack was heavier than he expected. The oblivious man let loose another long, gargling snore that should have woken up the entire neighborhood.
"Rrrgh, leggo," he grumbled, crawling across the floor on his chest and trying to pull his legs out. Jack was a frickin' deadweight. But Daniel had little traction so that didn't make it any easier. He reached out to grab the leg of the nearby coffee table but it was barely beyond reach.
Growling, he laid on his chest and stretched every tendon, reaching with all his might, his fingertips brushing the surface of the leg, until finally he got enough grip to wrap his fingers around it. Jack continued to snore away blissfully. Daniel used the table to try and pull himself out, groaning in pain at the stress it put on his joints. The table started sliding towards him instead of helping him further. Daniel grit his teeth and considered he just might have to wake Jack up in order to get free, but felt he was at the point beyond no return. There was no way he was gonna let Jack see him like this now. He'd never hear the end of it. So Daniel kept wriggling his body and trying to work his legs free, until he finally gained some slack. Once he accomplished that small bit of slack it was much easier sliding from that point, and finally he yanked free and went splat stomach-down on the floor with an "oof."
The man gave an indignant sniff, glancing back to notice his jeans had been pulled halfway down his body in the process. He got up carefully and pulled the pants back up, giving the dozing Jack an evil eye. Jack in no way responded, his face still squashed into the pillow, as if nothing had happened.
"God, Jack, you're even worse when you're not trying to wake me," Daniel muttered. Jack answered with an ear-grinding snore. Daniel hovered over the sleeping man and momentarily considered a rude awakening as an act of vengeance. Jack was so completely innocent laying there. His face was relaxed and void of any of the usual stress-lines, and he almost had a slight smirk to his lips. He looked so much younger and open and free at the moment . . . so very free.
Daniel gave a weary sigh as that free, innocent Jack gave another splitting snore. Daniel couldn't do it. As obnoxious as Jack was, the way he constantly argued with him, the bickering and the teasing, the pranks and the abuse . . . Daniel knew it was in jest. It was just the way Jack communicated with people, with anyone, really-- though especially Daniel. It was hardly Jack's fault that his manner of communication happened to entail especially antagonistic behavior and . . . well, okay, maybe it was Jack's fault, somewhat. But Daniel understood. And God help him, he forgave. Truth be told, Daniel didn't find Jack all that difficult to deal with. He used to, sure. But he had grown so accustomed to it by now that . . . he found it more entertaining than anything else. He probably enjoyed the stupid fighting as much as Jack did.
So he really didn't have a burning desire to wreak revenge upon Jack. At least, not at that particular moment. Instead, he shuffled off into Jack's kitchen. It was pretty late in the afternoon and Daniel had a plan in mind. After Jack had so kindly made him breakfast and treated them to lunch at the deli, Daniel was going to be sure to return the favor with dinner. Daniel moved about Jack's kitchen easily, already familiar with its organization. After all, he did help Jack with his groceries earlier today. The man had been quite resistant about that. Insisting he wanted help eating better and then bickering every step of the way when Daniel tried to offer that help. He certainly could be a walking contradiction at times. No matter, though, because Daniel was cooking solo, and he happened to be pretty good at it. Well, good at this one dish. That was the extent of his cooking skills, really. They'd be more than enough for tonight though. He pulled out several items from the fridge and rooted around to find Jack's sauce pan.
It was around 4:30 in the afternoon, quiet and peaceful in the tiny suburb where Jack's house was nestled, as nobody had quite gotten home from work yet. Most of the shades were drawn in the house to dim the area for their long afternoon nap. The two men had worked themselves to exhaustion today with their endless list of chores, so collapse was inevitable. Especially since with the Friday-night partying, they hadn't exactly gotten tons of sleep the night before. Half-way through cooking Daniel wandered back into the living room to check on Jack. Boy, when that guy slept, he really slept. Daniel smiled faintly as he watched. The newly scrubbed and set-up fish tank caught his eye. He wandered over and sprinkled in some fish food. The little guys were very excited about that. Then Daniel went back to the kitchen.
The sky started to get dark around seven, and it was around this time Jack's snoring began to fade. Then the Colonel sat up suddenly, blinking awake, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and sucking in a deep breath. He looked around his living room a little bit, obviously trying to recall when he had fallen asleep, having not expected that. The front door creaked open and Jack glanced over, seeing Daniel coming back in. As the man passed him by he noticed,
"Oh, good, you're awake. I thought you might sleep right into Sunday. Dinner's almost ready."
Jack watched with a blank look as his busy friend vanished into the other room. He glanced around the dim room once more as if might hold some clue as to what was happening. But it did not offer much. The room was neat and clean for once-- white carpets vacuumed, wooden coffee table polished, magazines and catalogs stacked neatly, the fish tank's air pump burbling away, the brightly colored fish darting about. Jack paused a moment to smile faintly at the fish, remembering how he and Daniel had named them, (Shiny Fish One, Shiny Fish Two, Shiny Fish Three . . .) and then snapping out of his daze. He got up and padded over to the kitchen.
The room glowed brightly and the table was carefully set for two. A large bowl of mixed salad sat in the center of the table next to a plate of warm garlic bread and a plate of sliced fruit fanned out all nifty-like, plus a pitcher of lemonade. Jack raised a cautious brow and peered up at the man still moving about his kitchen.
"I seem to have awakened in an alternative dimension," Jack observed seriously. Daniel smiled a little but didn't turn around from what he was doing.
"How's that?"
"I'm not sure. But it must have happened somehow. The last time I checked, I . . . hold on. Turn around."
"What? Why?"
Wooden spoon in hand, Daniel turned partially and gave Jack a funny look. Jack's eyes grew wide as they swept the man up and down, and then did so again. He pointed to Daniel's waist.
"You're . . . you're . . ."
Daniel looked down.
"Oh. Uh. Found it in the painting supplies you had. The oil was spattering a little."
"Wait, don't move! For the love of all that's holy, you've got to let me burn this moment into my memory before you move," Jack rambled, holding his hands up in picture-frame style. Daniel sighed patiently and rolled his eyes.
"Jack, quit it. It's just this one thing I'm decent at cooking I learned from my grandparents. I'm terrible at anything else. Horrible."
"This is wonderful," Jack trilled happily,
"My little Danny-boy in an apron. Oh, yeah, wait, hold that pose. With the pouting lip."
"Huh?" Daniel glared at Jack and protested,
"I don't pout for god's sake."
"You do a little."
Daniel glanced down at himself and did feel a little silly in the apron. He tipped the spoon sideways and leaned against the counter a little, exaggerating his pout. Jack sniggered, encouraging him, so he posed a little more, holding his right elbow in his palm, and tipping his head down so he could peer upwards at Jack, brows raised suggestively.
"Oh God. My slutty little kitchen-boy. If you had your pants off you'd belong in a calendar."
Daniel tilted the spoon over towards his face, curving his lips around the scoop and biting gently. He murmured huskily,
"You want your pants back now, Jack?"
Jack exploded in laughter at the unexpected question and Daniel laughed along with him, sly smirk on his face.
"Jesus, Daniel, you're a natural. I told you I'd woken up somewhere other than my own universe! We aren't a married couple in my timeline."
"Funny. Sit down, the pasta's ready. Any more jokes about the apron and you don't get fed," Daniel warned, turning to finish spooning out the pasta. Jack didn't dare push his luck, because his stomach told him it was well past time to eat, so he took his seat. The dish of pasta came down on the table and he eagerly served himself.
"Thank you, ma'--"
"Ah-AH!" Daniel grabbed the dish, as if to pull it away, glaring at Jack. The Colonel quickly amended,
"Errrrrr, man. Heh heh. Dude. Groooovy."
"Being able to cook pasta isn't any different than being able to cook eggs and bacon," Daniel said in an admonishing tone.
"Right. Yes. Of course." Jack answered, smiling, clearly not agreeing. Daniel switched tactics. He asked in a grave tone,
"Maybe I should let Sam and Teal'c know that you'd love to host breakfast the next time we're all over?"
Jack's eyes widened at the terrible notion and he quickly changed his mind.
"I won't tell if you won't."
"That's a good boy," Daniel agreed, letting go of the dish.
The two finished serving themselves and started eating.
"So, have a good nap?" Daniel asked. Jack occupied himself with whorling his fork in the pasta, a bit embarrassed about falling asleep.
"I must've worked myself harder than I thought. I don't normally zone out like that."
"You were sleeping pretty heavy," Daniel agreed.
"I guess that sorta makes me an ungrateful host."
"Eh, don't worry about it. Gave me a chance to take my turn."
Jack didn't look any happier so Daniel continued,
"It's not like you were the only one, I was asleep a while too."
"You were? . . ."
"Yeah. Remember? We emptied the rain gutters. Planted those things and did the weed-whacker. Went through all of your boxes and took that trip to the dump. And then shampooed the carpets and all that junk, and after we tried dusting for the cobwebs on your ceilings, we sat down on the couch for a break and said we'd only rest a minute . . ."
"Oh yeah. Okay. I only vaguely remember that last part."
They paused and then Jack chuckled.
"We did work pretty hard, the place is spotless. Maybe we went a little overboard trying to fit it all in one day."
"Nah, I think it worked out pretty good."
"I think I got enough done for this place to last the rest of the year. If we made this an annual event we'd have it made."
Daniel grinned. "The entire season of spring cleaning packed into a single weekend. Yeah, that sounds like your style."
"Heck yes. Daniel, you know how much I totally appreciate you coming over like this and letting me employ you as my slave labor."
"I know."
"I'll make up for it tomorrow. I still got enough work left in me for another day. I'll be shit on Monday, but that won't matter to me," Jack grinned.
"Sounds good to me. I'm actually feeling pretty good after that nap."
"Yeah, me too." Jack chewed on a piece of garlic bread.
"And, um, thanks for making dinner. You really didn't have to do all this . . ."
Daniel shrugged.
"I wanted to. After you made breakfast and treated us to lunch, why not."
"True, but my logic was keeping my slave laborers well fed."
The archaeologist smiled at him.
"All right, so maybe you have mixed motives, but the sentiment's still there."
"This really is good by the way. I don't even know what it is I'm eating but I think I'm in love."
"Ah, just some garlic-basil pasta stuff, simple cream sauce . . . you flatter me, though."
"No, no, I mean it! The sausages go really good with it."
Daniel chuckled. "Thanks."
"See, Danny, between the two of us we almost have a whole day down. My breakfast, your dinner, and take-out lunch," Jack grinned.
"Ah. The perfect weekend."
"Yep."
"And a whole list of chores and errands?"
"Well, we can skip that part next time," Jack advised.
Daniel wrinkled his nose.
"Not that I want you to take this the wrong way, Jack, but what exactly would we do all day then? We don't exactly have a lot of common interests."
Jack explained wisely,
"What all men share as common interests. Eating, sleeping, procrastinating . . ."
"Oooh. I see." Daniel sipped his lemonade. After some thought he decreed,
"That might actually be a little slice of Heaven, considering what we do during the weekdays."
After dinner, the boys had a lot of hyper energy to burn, especially after that carb-boost and their extended afternoon snooze. They sat on Jack's couch with the pint of ice-cream they had bought, kicked off their shoes, and fought over the remote control. It was double-chocolate chip fudge swirl, and they were eating it directly from the container, with the last of the beer from Jack's fridge. A disgusting combination, but they did it anyway. They watched all kinds of random shows and the hours passed by without notice. They were far too hyper to feel tired, and the nap had messed up their sleeping cycle, anyway. The beer bottles emptied fast and eventually the ice-cream quart was mostly empty as well, the last of it sitting on the table as a soggy mess. When watching stupid movies or freaky documentaries grew dull, they turned off the TV and messed around with Jack's music collection for a while. This was highly entertaining for the late-night partiers. At some point Daniel was using the speaker remote in imitation of a microphone, singing at the top of his lungs into it. They fought over the remote, of course, and what music to put on, and some shocking members of Jack's music collection that cannot be revealed. They didn't stop until the neighbor called with the polite suggestion that they shut the heck up.
Things started winding down after that point, though they still didn't feel like sleeping. Jack was lying on the floor, chest-down on one of the giant leather throw-pillows normally on his couch, pondering his newly cleaned carpet. He was sort of zoned-out in wonder land at the moment. He didn't notice when Daniel wandered off and returned several minutes later. In fact, he didn't snap out of his daze until the 'click' of the gas-match and the spark of flame caught his eye. Leaning up a little, he murbled,
"Hey. What're you doing."
"Here. You'll thank me for this. I want to show you what Teal'c taught me."
Jack blinked, taking in the fact that Daniel had situated candles at several points throughout the room. Then he sat up and protested,
"Oh no you don't. I'm not into any of that Zen crap, Daniel, you know that. It's just not my thing."
Daniel lit another white candle and replied,
"Relax, Jack. I'm not asking you to Kel'Nor'Reem. It's just a simple meditation technique."
Jack shook his head as Daniel came back over.
"Exactly. I know what that stuff is. I had some goofy psychologist try and make me do it one time. I was in no mood to go to my happy place."
Daniel sat down on the floor next to him and set two candles down in front of them.
"What would your happy place be anyway?" Daniel asked. Jack rolled his eyes.
"It would involve a canopy bed the size of a small beach. There's a mirror ceiling, too."
"Hmm. Maybe a little too happy for meditation." He clicked the gas-match and lit the two candles.
"You're tellin' me."
Daniel set the lighter aside.
"Okay, so you're sitting in a big, open field . . ."
"Daaaaniel . . ."
"Just kidding. Look, I promise, no happy places."
"What about chanting. And standing on my head. I can't do that."
"No chanting or weird poses either."
"I think I'll just watch."
"Be a good sport, Jack."
"But I make such a good bad sport."
"The first thing you need to do is get comfortable."
"Um, will this require taking my clothes off?"
"What? No!"
"Just asking."
"Jack, sit your ass down on the pillow."
Jack sighed, as if Daniel were asking something extraordinarily unreasonable, but complied, scooching all the way onto his pillow.
"Ass is cushioned, sir."
"Good. Now look at the fire."
Jack grumbled, but looked down at one of the white candles on the floor, burning in its glass candle-holder.
"Pretty," he deadpanned.
"Concentrate on the flame. Try and notice the pattern when it flickers."
Jack sighed and stared at the candle flame. The tiny bright orange streak wavered back and forth slowly, in a very gentle flicker. Daniel gazed at his own candle.
"Start to take some deep breaths. Slowly. Hold it in a moment and then slowly release. Try not to lose focus on the flame."
"I'm okay with the breathing I'm doing right now," Jack observed.
"Jack, come on. Just a few deep breaths. It's not going to kill you."
"All right, jeez. Whatever."
Jack inflated his chest deep and exhaled, feeling it was utterly pointless. He continued to stare at his candle.
"That's right. Nothing huge. Just slower, deeper breaths. The tiny point of light should still be your focus. Try and ignore everything else. Let it all fall away. The fire's movement is the only thing that matters."
Jack gazed sedately and continued to breathe deep. He blinked and tried to ward off the drowsiness. Daniel spoke in a quiet voice,
"There will probably be other thoughts in your mind that keep popping up. That's inevitable. Just gently push them aside when they arise. Your goal is the fire. It encompasses everything. It is the only thing."
Jack exhaled and peered at the small dancing light. And then it happened. For a moment, he let it be the only object of his focus. And that moment expanded. The light flickered, and he was present with it, completely, in that moment in time and space. Daniel kept giving directions, he thought, but he wasn't paying attention to them. They didn't register consciously, anyway. Breathe . . . flame . . . breathe . . . flame. The colors of the surrounding room started blurring together and melting away into a twisty blackness. Jack blinked but that only revived the background for a fraction of a moment, and then it was submerged in blackness again, the fire in the center of his vision dominating all. He took a deep breath and kept on staring. It was around then he started to feel a little woozy and dizzy. He squinted and tried to ignore it. Breathe . . . flame . . . breathe . . . flame . . .
A hand on his upper-arm squeezed gently, then a little more firmly, and he blinked and glanced away from the candle.
"Okay. Jack. Hey, Jack. Are you all right?"
Jack peered vacantly across the room a moment, as the colors and shapes returned as the way they should. Then he looked to his friend's face.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Are you okay? You weren't answering and looked a little, uh, floaty."
"Yeah I'm fine. I'm-- I'm good. You were saying something?"
Daniel smiled a little.
"Yeah, I was. I thought you were going dizzy so I stopped. It can be sort of a risky thing when you're not used to it. Teal'c says I almost passed out the first time."
Jack snorted.
"I do not faint. Unless I've been shot in the head with a zat. Then I have good reason to."
Daniel looked at him suspiciously. Jack noticed Daniel was still holding his arm and realized that it had taken physical contact before he snapped out of it. He winced.
"Okay. Maybe I was a little. Um. Whatcha call it."
Daniel smirked and let go of his arm.
"Yep. You were whatchacallit. That was the point."
Jack glanced skeptically down at the candles still burning.
"It's not like much happened. It's just zoning out. I get the same effect when I'm drunk, or when I'm falling asleep, or when I'm lost in thought . . ."
"Exactly," Daniel nodded. Jack looked up at him.
"That's all it is. All you're doing is deliberately altering your state of consciousness. There're a lot of ways to do it."
Jack grunted,
"Why don't we just get another six-pack then and continue our 'meditation.'".
Daniel smiled indulgently.
"If that's how you like it, all right."
Jack laughed.
"Nah. I think we've had enough for one night."
"Okay. You ready to try again then?"
Jack groaned. "Again? I thought we were finished."
"What's wrong Jack, do you have something better to do right now?"
The Colonel chuckled,
"That's evil, Daniel. No fair playing that card, you know it gets me every time."
Warming up to his teacher role, Daniel repeated his commands.
"Get your butt comfortable on the pillow and gaze at the candle . . ."
"A happy butt means a happy mind."
"Exactly."
"Okay." Jack shuffled around and grinned, then squashed down his smile and cleared his throat, making a distinct effort to wear the most neutral face he could muster. He sat very still and straight, then sort of bowed his head, speaking in a lower, grave tone,
"My ass is adequately prepared, MasterJackson. Please commence."
Daniel stared awhile, jaw agape, unable to quite find any words. Finally he sputtered,
"Uhm-- Teal'c? Was that channeling Teal'c?"
Jack gave a solemn nod.
"Oh God. Okay, you probably shouldn't do that again, scared the shit out of me."
"Sorry."
Daniel laughed and shook his head.
"Right. Um, okay. Uh. Where were--ah! Yes. Look at the candle. Gaze into the flame."
Jack obediently looked down at his candle, which was now flickering more as it burned its way down the wick. He listened as Daniel's voice lowered into a deep, soothing tone as he guided the meditation.
The night sort of melded into a mysterious blur of time after that. After they had their fun with the medication technique, the exercise tapered off into conversation-- conversation that flowed freely under cover of darkness, light and shadow bouncing off the walls of Jack's living room deep into the night. It began with Daniel chattering about the experiences he'd have with meditation but soon moved on from there to anything and everything. They talked about what happened that week at the SGC, and the latest gossip circulating through the grapevine. They talked about sports, politics, the weather, Abydos, Cassie, Jack's cabin, and the usual everyday mundane stuff. But mostly, they discussed the strange and random, like exactly how many monkeys with typewriters and exactly how much time it would actually take to produce the complete works of Shakespeare, the kinds of things dogs dreamed about, and what foods could be paired successfully with chocolate while what foods could not. That essential sort of uselessness that makes you ponder the universes' biggest questions.
They were laying on the leather pillows on the floor, leaning close over the two small candles, half-asleep but not tired enough to actually sleep-- and it felt like the most they'd ever talked in a single block of time ever. Which was unexpected but certainly not uninvited. They'd simply never imagined that the two of them would have much to discuss, really. Usually when they spent too much time together it wouldn't take long for them to annoy each other to death.
It was when the candles had burned down low-- the leaping flames brushing the bottom of the candle-holder, close to depleting their source of wax-- that they began actually feeling tired and fading out of consciousness. They were stubborn though and too lazy to get up and actually go to bed. So they still talked in their half-asleep stupor. The talk had strayed into rather personal territory.
"It's been so long since I've felt that, Jack. I used to have it on Abydos. For a while, I really did. But it's always been fleeting for me. When my parents died . . ."
He trailed off a moment in thought. Jack was lying on his back, gazing at the ceiling as he listened intently.
"I was shuffled around a lot between relatives. Not all of it was bad. I loved them, and they took good care of me. But it made it hard to have any sense of . . . permanence in my life. It gives you this drifty feeling, like anything can change at anytime. Not necessarily for the worst, but definitely change, and definitely quick."
Jack murmured in acknowledgment.
"Every time a place really started feeling like home, well, I'd go somewhere else. And for the most part, I was well welcomed and everything. But it felt like I never got to . . . keep anything. Anything I made my own, eventually was taken away or I had to leave. Not so much things, I mean, people and places. Am I making sense?"
"Mm. Yeah."
"So what I'm saying is that this has felt like the pattern my whole life. Think about it. I worked to make my career in anthropology, to make my mark on academia. And I obviously lost all of that once I announced my oddball theories. Then there was Abydos . . ."
"It wasn't your fault, Daniel," Jack interjected, voice sympathetic.
"--I know it wasn't. It wasn't anyone's. Well. I guess that's not true. It was . . . his fault."
"And he got what he deserved."
"Right . . . well, anyway. She was taken from me, too. And God, for the longest time, I was obsessed with getting her back."
"Who could blame you?" Jack murmured.
"Well, yes. I guess it's pretty understandable. But . . ."
Daniel sighed and fell quiet. After a while Jack spoke in Daniel's absence.
"It's hard to stay that obsessed for so long."
Daniel exhaled as if in relief-- as if he'd been holding his breath.
"Exactly. And the more it digs at you, just the more stubborn and driven you become."
He paused.
"It's draining," he said.
"It is," Jack agreed, feeling what Daniel was describing.
"It feels like it's consuming you. Slowly, everything else that's a part of you, until there's only. Only the bitterness," Jack murmured slowly. They watched the light play off the white walls for a while.
"I hope you're still not doing that now," Daniel said quietly. Jack sighed slowly. He was quiet for a long span and then talked.
"Well I do it less than before. Much less. I--uh. It's funny, really. I mean, you know, in a perverted sort of way." Jack paused to grimace.
"I used to have this strange sort of hope. That if Sarah and I could ever patch things up . . . when we did. Well, that somehow that would resolve things. That there was at least a possibility. For amends."
Jack smiled humorlessly at himself.
"She told me she couldn't stand the way I look at her anymore. This deep, crushed, forlorn expression. Like a kicked puppy, she called it. She told me I only looked to her for atonement now. She said that wasn't a good enough reason for two people to be together."
Daniel gazed at the black silhouette of his friend speaking toward the ceiling.
"And you know, she was right about that. I guess once I accepted that, I stopped obsessing so much."
"Mm."
They drifted a while and Daniel observed,
"We get a lot of brooding done between the two of us, huh?"
Jack chuckled lightly.
"Yeah. You add Teal'c and we'd have the Three Musketeers alright."
Daniel smiled a little at that. They both gazed at the ceiling, lost in these thoughts. A candle went out somewhere in the room. Minutes passed and then more minutes, and Daniel could feel his mind sinking towards the inevitable. But as his thoughts twisted in that spiral towards sleep, his eyes lit up in sleep-deprived epiphany.
"Jack," he said, not even certain of he was still awake. There was a delayed response but Jack did make a murble sound.
"The human psyche always finds a way to survive. That's the natural order of things, it . . . it wants to be balanced. You know? It . . . seeks it."
Jack mumbled, in a tone to suggest he wasn't too impressed with this vague revelation. Daniel leaned on his elbows to face Jack and say,
"No, no, look. You need some sort of control. Order to the chaotic cosmos. You can't help but seek it, take whatever you can find . . . you got to take refuge."
Jack wasn't sure if the crazed man was making any sense, but he tried to pay attention to him anyway.
"That's what a home is, anyway. A haven."
Daniel paused, and the look on his face suggested things were falling into place, though Jack had no idea what at the time. Jack decided to tell him as much and purred,
"Honey, you're rambling. Either tell me what you mean or go to sleep."
Daniel laughed at the ridiculous term of endearment, then looked down upon Jack with such a marvelous expression. Jack couldn't describe it, it was just, the man's whole tired face lit up so happily.
"You, Jack. It's been long since my last fleeting taste of it, until now. Lately . . . I don't know, something's been different. At the SGC, you know? I know we've all been close, real close, almost since the start. But I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about . . . that sort of stability."
Jack blinked up at Daniel's face, his mind flashing back to sitting on the barstools in his dark kitchen, watching the coffee pot with Daniel. Suddenly he felt he understood what Daniel was getting at.
"You ever . . . uh, you ever thought about having kids before, Daniel?"
Daniel didn't know where this came from, but he paused to consider it.
"In the abstract, I suppose, but not seriously. I never--"
Jack cut him off,
"I used to think. I used to feel that was the only way to . . . to, well, complete the picture, you know. A family. Loving wife and children. And that without it, I would never really be. Complete, somehow, always missing out on something."
Daniel sunk back down into his pillow, listening.
"Yeah. I blew my chance on getting that one right, obviously."
Daniel visibly winced at Jack's choice of words. Jack noticed and realized it.
"Ah, well. You know what I mean. But Daniel, the thing is that it never occurred to me that, uh . . ."
He trailed off, finding difficulty placing words to it.
"That what?"
"That thing you're talking about, damnit."
"Oh. A haven."
"Right. Well it never occurred to me I could ever get it anywhere else other than there. Ever."
Daniel pondered his words. Jack leaned in a little and asked,
"When you come home at night and throw your keys on the counter, what do you start thinking about? Once you unwind from work."
Daniel shrugged.
"Dunno. I read something, or turn on the radio . . ."
"--distractions, mostly. We've got our distractions, our necessities, our work, our play. Then we've got our life. Where we live is what it comes down to. For most people they're either married or married to their job."
Daniel nodded at this.
"Some are drifters or slackoffs and live for their play. A lot of career people live only for their work. Whatever. But we all live for something . . ." Jack glanced up at Daniel.
"That's what you're talking about, isn't it?"
"Yes. Yeah, I'm pretty sure we're saying the same thing."
"Right. Though work usually isn't ever entirely enough for people, gotta live for individual people too. Some sort of, you know, significant other in your life, either a kid or wife or friend or whatever . . ."
Jack trailed off again, as if further understanding escaped him. So Daniel took the reins and spoke.
"You find that sort of meaning for your life wherever you can."
"Yeah," Jack agreed. They looked at each other in the dying light of the candles. It was Daniel who pushed a little further, asked tentatively.
"Like today...?"
There was that pause, that sweet unbearable pause in which he watched Jack's mind process the words, the series of possible implications and interpretations behind them. Then, resolvedly, he said,
"Yeah."
Daniel wasn't quite sure what it was they had just agreed to. But whatever it was, he felt certain it was a good thing. So he didn't see any reason to worry.
It wasn't long before they both fell asleep.