Finally done with Orpheus and ready to move on. The time line in each season of Stargate is always hard to determine – especially since every time they are outside the weather is perfect. So in Fragile Balance, they track down Jack 2.0 and they're all wearing jackets. I'm guessing that would make it late fall in Colorado Springs (or any given day of the year in Vancouver, but I digress…) Since the very next thing that happens to Daniel that Jillian will have to deal with is Lifeboat, I decided to give them a break of a few months and write a couple of light romantic moments through the winter of 2003. This is one of them, right around Christmas. Inspired by Michael's performance in the movie Under the Mistletoe and with another nod of gratitude to him for creating Daniel Jackson.
There actually is a Quail Lake in Colorado Springs, whether it ever freezes enough for skating I don't know. Apparently it does in the Daniel/Jillian 'Verse.
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Snow crunched and Jillian looked up to find Daniel walking towards her, carrying a box with a large green bow tied on top. Light from the bonfire flared across the planes of his face, shadowing the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jaw, hooding his eyes and turning ash blond hair to gilt. Jillian's heart somersaulted in slow motion.
She had been waiting for him on a bench, watching the couples and families and kids skating on the ice-solid Quail Lake – with no small sense of trepidation.
She stood up when he reached her and they touched lips with hesitant affection. It was cold!
"You want to tell me why you wanted to meet here?" she asked. Her eyes traveled the length of his heavily covered body until she saw the skates on his feet, which he was walking in as casually as most people walked in sandals, and explained why he had suddenly seemed so much taller than her.
"How often do we get the chance to skate on an actual pond? They freeze and get covered by snow all in the same hour," Daniel answered.
He handed her the box.
"What's this?"
"Early Christmas. Just open it."
Which she did, to find a pair of light blue ice skates in her size.
"Daniel," she said, slowly, "I told I don't know how to skate."
"Not at all?" He sounded skeptical.
Jillian shrugged. Once, as a teenager, she had been at a frozen pond with a group of friends from school and a boy from the class ahead of hers had assisted her in a sedate round of skating. But later he had wanted something more from her that she hadn't been willing to give and she had never skated again.
He waved her back towards the bench and made her sit with the sheer force of his presence, towering over her with the help of an extra three inches of blade. He dropped not-quite to one knee, unwilling to sink all the way down on the cold ground, and grasped her left boot in his hand. Not even tempted to pull away, Jillian stared at his bent head and watched the firelight in his hair. He held her foot on his thigh, his fingers wrapped around her ankle.
Jillian swallowed a rush of sensual awareness.
"I think I can put them on myself," she said.
"No, it's an art," Daniel assured her, "they've got to be laced just right."
"Oh really?" Jillian laughed a little and tried to ignore the way he was rubbing her calf muscle, "Come on, Jackson, my foot is getting cold."
The boot went on as if it had been custom made for her. Daniel changed to a crouch and took the blade between his legs to steady it. Jillian lifted an eyebrow and he grinned at her.
"Okay," he said, "First, you don't want them too tight over your arch. That can cause pressure and cut off your circulation." Deft fingers slipped laces through eyelets and around hooks as if he did this every day, with gloves on no less. "So this should feel like your sneakers." He kept going, from her toe to her ankle. "How's that?"
He looked up and Jillian was too breathlessly caught in his eyes to answer.
"Jill?"
"It's fine," she managed.
"These last four are the ones you want really tight, but tell me when it's too much."
When he was done, he supported the back of her leg in the palm of his hand for a moment. Jillian thought she could feel the heat of it through his glove, her ski pants and the pair of Air Force issue thermals she had on under them.
He met her gaze again, smiling.
"How's that feel?"
"Like an instrument of torture," she answered, "You really expect me to be able to stand up on these? Much less propel myself across the ice?"
Daniel sat back on his haunches. "Well, if you think you can't…."
He reached out as if he would untie the skate and she pulled her foot away.
"I didn't say that," she said.
Daniel's smile turned triumphant.
"Damn it, Jackson," she muttered. He knew she wouldn't back down from a challenge.
He held out his hand and she gave him her right foot. He expertly laced her into it and then stowed her boots in the box and tucked them into a shadow under the bench. Smoothly, he stood up.
"Come on," he urged.
"Oh my god," she groaned.
Grasping both of his arms she awkwardly hauled herself up, leaned on his strength and managed to walk out onto the ice.
"See? If you can walk you can skate," he said. "One foot, then the other."
Her feet suddenly went in two different directions and she grabbed frantically for his jacket. His arm went around her waist, catching her. Jillian clung to him with her feet disobeying her every command and punched him hard in the chest when he started to laugh.
"Ow!" he said, but it didn't stop him from chuckling.
"Oh my god," she repeated, "You know we could be home in front of a fire with a nice chilled bottle of white wine; or hot chocolate maybe, with the little marshmallows that you like?"
"Think how good that will be after being out in the cold for a while," he said.
"You're the one who hates being cold! EEK!" The hopelessly girlie scream left her as her left leg skidded sideways and she was forced to clutch another handful of his jacket sleeve.
A family skated past them and someone laughed. Jillian glared at Daniel, who was holding onto his mirth with an iron will lest she punch him again.
"So if we move around we won't be cold," he said, with all the logic of a scientist.
"I swear, Jackson, if I break an ankle, my team will never let me hear the end of it and I will make your life a living hell," she grumbled.
"You're not going to break anything," he said, moving into position so that they were side by side, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. The contact made her pulse race.
"What if I said I'd wear the new camisole set I picked up at Victoria's Secret when I was shopping with Sam last week? Then could we go home?"
Daniel paused and seemed to consider it.
"What color is it?" he asked, tilting his head to look at her in the firelight.
In a tempting whisper Jillian said, "What color do you want it to be?"
Daniel looked at her and his eyes danced for a moment before he threw his head back and laughed. He moved easily on his skates to slide around to her side, gathering her close against him. The muscles of his left arm flexed at her waist and he took her right hand in his.
"Come on," he said, nuzzling against her ear, his breath warm, "Just for a little bit, just to work out some of the stiffness in the new skates. Tell me if they start to hurt."
Jillian tried to match him, stride for stride, knowing he was deliberately going slowly. Her leg was close to his and she could feel the strength in his thigh muscles. He skated steadily, keeping her close while she found a rhythm and a connection to the ice.
Quail Lake was huge, with no end in sight but Jillian knew they couldn't keep going straight forever.
"Daniel," she said, cautiously, as the light from the bonfire was left behind them.
"Let's turn around, to the right, stay with me."
She scrambled to keep up. The skates slid, her legs flailed but he kept hold of her and didn't let her fall and she tried to ignore his amused laugh.
They skated over the velvet grey ice. It made scratchy little noises under their blades and left little trails. Jillian realized it was starting to snow, dusting the air with tiny diamonds. Daniel was right, by morning the lake would be too covered with snow to skate on.
A group of young people had started a sing-a-long by the bonfire. Voices, laughter and guitar music drifted on the cold breeze. Daniel and Jillian were surrounded by others and yet they were encased in their own tiny universe, a wintery fairyland where everything was happening around them but not to them.
It was a kind of enchantment, Jillian thought, gliding through the frost-bound evening like a sailboat on the sea, her body synced to Daniel's and experiencing a different kind of rhythm and pleasure than the one they usually shared. Her back fit into the curve of his arm. Her palm rested in his, her fingers tight. She was getting warmer now, blood flowing from the exertion and tingling with awareness of the man by her side.
"You're a natural," he whispered into her ear.
"I'm under a spell," she answered, "You've got me bewitched or I would have fallen long ago."
"I'd never let you fall," he promised.
His arm slipped from her waist and, without breaking stride, his hand slid down her arm to grasp hers, palm to palm through their gloves. Jillian's eyes flew open for a moment and she wobbled a bit and then stayed with him.
"It's just like dancing," Daniel said, "Just balance and harmony."
"And you," she added.
She skimmed along next to him for a while, holding hands while the space between them grew by centimeters and then inches; and suddenly she was laughing too, caught in a kind of magic euphoria. Abruptly, Daniel accelerated and spun around in front of her. Unable to stop, Jillian crashed into him, inhaling sharp cold air. She half expected to fall but ran only into his solid frame, tall and strong. His arms wrapped around her and passion for him flooded her senses. Daniel leaned forward and whispered her name. His mouth founds hers, lips chilled but she found warmth inside when she surrendered willingly. Pure, carefree happiness burst inside her as she kissed him madly and knew the scent and power and brilliance of his body. He held her, bent slightly back over his arm and kissed her in an explosion of desire both warm and tender.
When they finally parted, breath misting between them, Jillian whispered,
"It's red."
"What?" he asked, forehead furrowing.
"The new camisole set," she explained, rubbing noses with him, "It's Christmas red; my early present."
The moon broke through the snow-laden clouds for a moment and cast just enough light for her to see the flare of longing that crossed his face.
"Let's go home," he said, bedroom eyes locked with hers.
Jillian put a hand on his chest to steady her pulse and breathing and her feet on the crisp ice beneath them. When she had her balance, she turned with newfound grace and skill. Pushing off as if she had been doing it all her life she said,
"Race you."
Daniel's laughter chased after her until he caught up, with very little effort on his part. He caught her around the waist again and she mimicked the gesture, sliding her arm behind his back and tucking her hand into the pocket of his jacket.
"Does it have lace?" he asked, sounding hopeful.
"You'll see," she answered.
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