A Moving Sea Ch 26
"Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it be a moving sea between the shores of your souls." Kahlil Gibran.
Jack stood there a moment, just inside the infirmary doorway, poised as if for fight or flight and undecided about which to choose.
Carson had just finished Daniel's exam, had been discussing pain management and diet and the need for caution and only very careful, very gradual movement of the joints that had been dislocated in the blast. Limited walking. Absolutely no lifting. His right arm had been cast from halfway down his hand up beyond his elbow – those dislocations having been accompanied by hairline cracks in the bone. His right shoulder – still the most painful joint, as if a flaming, searing ball of acid had been shoved into the socket and left to fester – might require surgery to stabilize things. Carson's fingers brushed gently over the black cast, his tight frown gradually relaxing.
"General O'Neill. Good to see you. Again. Am I going to have to start charging you rent on my comfy-"
Jack interrupted - all sharp focus and obvious intentions. "If you don't mind, Doc, I'd like to speak with Daniel."
"Of course. We were just about finished here." Carson smiled down at Daniel. "Hang in there. I know this place is as boring as one of Rodney's lectures, but," the doctor shrugged, "it'll take time for all the tissue to heal properly."
As the Scotsman walked away Daniel had the childish urge to pull the blanket up over his head and feign sudden, loud snoring. He managed a sickly smile and leaned slowly back against his pillows, careful to keep the winces and grimaces to a minimum as his body protested the slight movement.
Before Carson even made it to the door, Jack reached out as if to stop him. "Could you – I don't know," he made a half-formed gesture towards the hallway, "hang up a 'Do Not Disturb' sign or something?"
"You know," Carson dropped his voice to a rough whisper, "Colonel Sheppard seems to have the ability to keep doors from opening just by quietly asking the City for a favor." His eyes twinkled. "You ought to give it a try."
And then they were alone.
Daniel closed his eyes, feeling the tightness in his skin begin again, the creases in his forehead dig deeper, and the clenched fist twist his guts, filling his throat with bitter acid. For the man who had always been accused of forgiving too easily, of putting away his personal griefs and hurts and contorting himself so that he could see every side of an argument, he was oddly resistant to this man – this friend. It was as if the diplomat role he'd been thrust into over and over again was ripped away and left in tatters by Jack O'Neill's very presence - by the shared history and private hurts that had been painfully revealed, left open to bleed and gape in plain sight between them. Not intentionally. No. Neither had wanted that – neither had welcomed the transparency, the vulnerability that their experiences with the Stargate program exposed. They hadn't wanted to let anyone else see, to let anyone else inside their jagged wounds and unhealed souls – to be weak, defenseless, to have the inner doors that had closed off secrets peeled back, their thick outer shells of strength and resilience sliced down to the bone.
"It's about time we talked, don't you think?"
Jack had moved closer – was standing right beside Daniel's bed. If he opened his eyes he knew exactly what he'd see: the awkward fumbling, the deep-set gaze drifting across his face, unwilling to settle, thick knuckled hands searching for a rhythm against the bedside table. Memories of another kind of overwhelming pain leaped up to tackle Daniel's consciousness. Dead tissue sloughing off his skin, reducing him to a bloody mass defined by white bandages. "I may have – might have – come to admire you – a little." Not the kind of words Daniel could hold onto as he fell into darkness. He was sure he couldn't handle another tongue-tied, embarrassed speech like that.
"Daniel."
He sighed, flashing a smile across his face as he kept his eyes carefully closed. "Do we? Isn't talking over-rated, Jack?"
"I used to think so."
Daniel's bed was jostled and he was surprised into opening his eyes. And what he saw in Jack's gaze – a gaze that fearlessly met his own - was truth and pain and sorrow so deep that it snatched away his breath.
"And then I met this young guy – this friend – who could use words to open doors, to stop bullets, to make friends. His words shaped worlds and toppled giants. Killed gods." Jack's smile was tainted with grief. "I remember this one time," he hitched one hip onto the edge of Daniel's bed, "this guy faced down a brush-cut, hard as nails, military goon. Got in his face. Told him it was too bad he was so eager to die because everyone else around him really wanted to live."
Daniel swallowed, frowning hard to keep sudden tears at bay. "I remember that young guy. He was so sure, so convinced that he knew what was right." Utterly, unapologetically brazen, sure his moral compass was always pointing true north.
Jack nodded, one hand reaching out to lie, poised, next to Daniel's. Not touching, just resting close beside his. Strong. Steady. "Yeah, well," he shrugged, "he was young."
"Arrogant," Daniel added. Foolish. So convinced he could do anything – fix anything. Before Sha're was lost. Before he'd armed an Unas uprising. Before he'd seen his government promote experimentation on a human/Goa'uld hybrid. Before the Ori. So very wrong.
"Maybe. I'd call it gutsy. Bold. And, as I recall, he needed all the confidence he could get to deal with the alpha-types all around him who thought they knew better."
It was Daniel's turn to shrug, his shoulder shouting at him to keep still. "Sometimes they did."
Jack's mouth twisted. "Do you mind if we drop the 'that guy' and 'they' stuff? You're dealing with a grey head full of crickets, Daniel, you should remember this."
A snort erupted from tight lips, surprising him. Daniel shook his head, left arm reaching around to cradle his right as the ache turned back to burning. "Somehow I don't think even the American military would promote an idiot to such a lofty rank nor put Homeworld Security into his hands. Tell me you haven't convinced everyone in Washington you're as dumb as you claim to be."
"Dumb enough to think taking off without talking to you about it first was a good idea."
The momentary humor died away. Daniel had no trouble remembering the disbelief, the twisted knife in the back that nearly felled him when he'd returned to the SGC and found an unknown general standing boldly in Jack's office and telling him his best friend was gone. Remembered how he'd driven past Jack's house – a place inhabited by the ghosts of a friendship more broken than he'd let himself admit, how his calls had gone unanswered, messages unreturned.
Sam had at least sent him an email – a long note detailing her reasons for transferring to Area 51. He hadn't been blindsided by her decision. Well, not as much. Shaken by her father's death, she'd needed family, and Cassie was almost as much Sam's daughter as she'd been Janet's. They'd kept in touch.
And Teal'c had returned from Dakara to speak with Daniel face to face. How could Daniel expect Teal'c to continue at the SGC, to turn his back on his Jaffa brothers who so needed his wise counsel? It had been … bad timing … that Teal'c had returned to find Daniel hurt and angry and devastated by Jack's sudden absence. Daniel had felt the big man's even bigger heart nearly breaking for him, willing to stay, to put all of his life's goals on hold to help hold Daniel together. He shook his head. At least he hadn't been selfish enough to ask him to.
He looked down, watching his fingers pluck at the blanket that covered him to the waist. Flimsy thing, it didn't provide much in the way of warmth; it wasn't plush against his skin, didn't ground him by its weight. In the perfectly adjusted air of the Ancient city, there wasn't much need for protection against errant breezes or faulty ventilation. No, it was purely psychological – a thin but visible buffer, a shield between the wounded patient and the impersonal, casual view of those passing by. The touch of professional hands – hands that showed compassion, but no true connection. Right now Daniel wished it was made of lead that he could wrap around his heart.
"Hey, talk to me." Jack's voice penetrated Daniel's thin veneer of control and dragged him back from his last ditch attempt at distance.
Anger spiked. "What do you want me to say, Jack? You didn't want to talk to me then, made that pretty damn clear. Why now? Why, suddenly, do you want to try to go back in time and dredge this up again?" He instinctually lifted his arm to gesture, to wave away the past that was rapidly zeroing in on them, but the movement set off another bout of pain and he clenched his teeth, his left hand steadying him against the mattress, fisting the rumpled sheets.
"Because, Daniel."
Jack's hand covered his fist, not holding, not subduing, just gently reminding Daniel to relax; that Jack was not trying to hurt him. Daniel pulled in a deep, slow breath and let it go, breathing out the pain. After a moment he met Jack's eyes again.
"'Because?' That's all you've got?"
Jack's smile was grim. "No. It's just a beginning. And, frankly, any explanation I could give for pulling the plug on our friendship sounds pretty damned petty even inside my own head."
Dammit. Daniel's body was betraying him. Emotions ran just beneath his skin, racing along his nerves. Anger. Hurt. Sorrow. Bitter resistance. They heated his cheeks, drew tears towards the surface, turned the words he'd always imagined spewing out at Jack, given this chance, to dust and ashes. He stared, unwilling to open his mouth – to let Jack see straight into his soul.
And Jack stared back. Open. Trusting. Patient.
Finally, the words came. "What's petty is that you didn't think I'd figure it out."
"What?" Jack frowned, something like fear glittering in his brown eyes.
Daniel pressed his head back against the pillows. "That's what hurt, Jack," he whispered, "that's what stopped my calls, my emails, that's what broke my …" He chewed up the unuttered word and swallowed it. "Yes, I figured it out. How angry, how resentful you were that you'd been banned from active duty. How your entire self-image - crusty soldier, veteran man of action, protecting older brother - had been blotted out by the doctors' reports and that every time you'd have to watch us go through the 'gate that knife would be twisted deeper and deeper."
"You knew-"
He felt the two words as if they were body-blows, aimed to take him out, to send him, sucking air, right to the mat. Daniel supposed it was a good thing that he was already lying flat on his back. "There – right there. That's what … killed me, Jack." He forced the words out; through the disappointment, through the devastating knowledge that Jack had never understood, never really trusted him. "That you didn't think I'd understand. That you didn't think I'd have done anything – anything – to help."
Why was Jack smiling?
"Ah, Danny." The older man wiped one hand over his face. "We're quite the pair aren't we?" Watery eyes looked down at him. "See, that's exactly that I knew you would do."
"You –" What?
Jack's hand pressed against his, reminding Daniel of their connection. "You forget - I know you, Danny. I was there to watch nearly every brilliant revelation, every time your brain – or your empathy – let you see what others couldn't. Every time you put yourself into the line of fire to save someone else." Jack's sudden frown was chilling. "I was there on Shyla's planet. On Klorel's ship. On Abydos. Daniel," his voice was rough with unshed tears, "I was there on Kelowna. I know you."
Daniel's throat wasn't filled with dust. No, it was too thick, too cloying for that. "Then why?"
"Because," Jack repeated. "Because I knew exactly what you'd do. After you'd tried to argue the doctors and bureaucrats out of it, after you'd contacted the Tok'ra for their healing device, after you'd figured out what I already knew – dragging me backwards through that minefield of 'hopes' and 'maybes' right along with you – after that, you'd have sent in for your own transfer, wouldn't you?"
"Of course I would, Jack. We were friends, dammit, you were my best friend, how could I-"
A familiar wry smile lit up Jack's face. "More than friends, Danny."
The heat that had bloomed on Daniel's cheeks, the embarrassment, the rage, collapsed down into a warm well of affection that lodged just beneath his breast-bone. Yes. More than friends, his soul insisted, so hungry for that bond, that tie, once so tight and strong that it had all but held Daniel together. For Daniel, Jack was so much more.
"Yeah," Jack nodded, as if he heard Daniel's unspoken words, the child-like voice that sounded from the center of his being, pleading for understanding, for connection.
Daniel closed his eyes, ignoring the trail of moisture that tracked across his cheeks down towards his pillow. One crooked thumb brushed them away. A callused hand ruffled his hair. Not in mockery, this time. Not coupled with distance-keeping sarcasm or flippant, biting tones. For a moment, Daniel wanted to twist away, to keep himself still and unmoved, protected, to hold back that little boy within him who held out his arms to this man – so trusting, so … hollow. Empty.
Jack's hip nudged closer, the bed dipping under his weight. The hand still pressed against his squeezed, once. "I'm sorry, Daniel."
Daniel's stoic resistance, his much vaunted independence and self-reliance dissolved. Beneath Jack's hold, eyes still closed, he turned his hand over and held on through the storm.
Gradually, calm settled against Daniel's skin like a thick blanket, soothing him towards rest for weary, tangling emotions, towards peace for warring thoughts and regrets. His few tears had dried. The press of memory had lifted, resolving anger and bitterness into well-traveled ruts of misunderstanding.
When he opened his eyes, he found Jack. Friend. Family. Brother. Right beside him.
"You didn't want me to resign. To offer to follow you to Washington."
"Not because I didn't want you around," Jack was quick to answer. "But, at the time … well, I've never liked the phrase 'for your own good,' but it kinda applies here."
Daniel smiled. "Especially since your feelings weren't completely altruistic, were they?"
"Ah, no. Pretty selfish, actually."
"You didn't want me to tank my career and you didn't want to have to look at me and see, what, the healthy, young, Jack O'Neill of the past? Better looking, of course."
"You wish." Jack paused, obviously reluctant to voice some bitter dregs of truth that were clinging – with a death grip – to the edges of his memory. "More like I was afraid of what I'd eventually see, Daniel. That, eventually, you'd figure out that hanging around with an old fart whose biggest hope for excitement was a couple of good hockey games and season tickets to the Ass-kissing Olympics was nothing compared to heading through the wormhole to meet new cultures. There's not much meaning of life stuff in DC, trust me."
Daniel tried to slide his hand away from Jack's, masking the defensive shift with a twist of his hips, as if seeking a more comfortable position. Jack wasn't buying it – his eyes narrowed and he held on. Tight.
"Okay, what did I say now?" the decorated general whined.
"'Trust me.' That's exactly what you've never done, Jack, is trust me. Trust me to know you, to know myself, really. I'm not talking about trusting me to protect myself out in the field," Daniel added, seeing the immediate skepticism written all over Jack's face, "I relied on you and Teal'c for that. You sit here and remind me that you 'know me,' and I just, I just can't believe that. You don't know me, Jack, if you think I'd ever blame you for a decision like that, a decision I made."
"So that's not what you're doing – what you did – taking off for Atlantis like this?"
Daniel frowned. "What? No. No," Daniel insisted, anger making a feeble attempt to rise again. "I might have blamed you for your decisions, Jack, for making sure that I knew that I had no place in them. But all I was trying to do was take back my life, to make decisions for my future." He shook his head. "Can you really blame me for trying to protect myself, for once? Isn't that what you've always wanted?"
Jack was pale, intense, the muscle that jumped and bunched in his jaw telling Daniel that he was trying hard to stay still, to stay in this moment and finish this conversation. "Not punishing me? Giving me a 'taste of my own medicine?'"
Self-honesty grabbed back Daniel's immediate denial. "I guess, somewhere down deep, I hoped it would affect you." He held Jack's gaze, pouring out acknowledgment and apology with every ounce of truth in his being. He had wanted to hurt Jack, wanted him to feel what it was like even as he didn't let himself believe that his distance would mean a thing to his former best friend.
Daniel saw the moment when Jack forgave him. Watched the dawning of light behind those deep-set eyes again. And he matched it with a determined, all-encompassing absolution of his own. Was it too easy? No, nothing about the past few years – or this conversation - had been easy. But it was – purely and entirely – them. Jack and Daniel. Oil and water. He chuckled. Shake it up enough and you had a pretty good salad dressing.
Shaking his head, confused, Jack laughed, too.
Only one thing left now. Daniel squared aching shoulders. "But you know I've wanted to do this for years, Jack. To come here, to the city of the Ancients. To lose myself in pure research."
"I know."
"I'm staying." Staying might even be easier now, now that he had stopped running. Now that he could stop being afraid to look over his shoulder. Now that it was Jack he'd see standing there if he did.
"I know that, too."
Silence built up around them, soundless memories weaving through the empty spaces that had been like barriers between them. All those layers of mistrust, of hurt and anger, were dissipating, dissolving in the face of this sudden, unexpected frankness. Words – maybe they hadn't deserted Daniel after all. Maybe he could still use them to reach out, to build bridges instead of burning them. Maybe.
"And, on that note," Jack smiled. "I have some … news."