And we're moving... :)
She really wasn't sure what to do next. She didn't want to wait up in her room for him, it would be a bit much to explain to any of the other junior officers who might be hanging around on Friday night. She decided to wait in the lobby of the building. She sat in the sparse chair near the front door of the barracks and looked out the window, waiting for signs of his car.
Now the nervousness was setting in. What if he didn't come? What if he was late? She knew he was frequently late. What if it bombed? What if they didn't have any fun at all? What if they just felt awkward with each other all night? The anxious thoughts were running through her head now. To distract herself, she fiddled with the items in her handbag. She came across the receipt with Colonel Taylor's number on it, and remembered with dread that she still needed to take care of that little problem, too.
She looked up and out the window again; and was immediately relieved. The familiar sight of Dr. Jackson's late model Volvo sedan was trundling down the road. He's early, she realized, amazed. Maybe he's as excited as I am, she thought hopefully.
In the car, Daniel tapped his fingers nervously against the steering wheel as he searched for a place to park. He was more nervous about this date than he could remember having been for some time. He hoped it went well; he liked her, he knew that. He was pretty sure she liked him too, but he was afraid that his geeky archaeologist side would scare her off at some point. He peered into the darkness and pulled into a spot right across from the front door of her barracks. Well, so far fortune is with me, he thought. He opened the door and got out of the car.
As he crossed the street and headed for the walkway up to her door, it opened. She stepped out onto the small, square porch and turned to pull the door shut behind her. He was a bit startled at this; the few dates he had ever had always seemed to involve going into the home and waiting for some amount of time. It didn't surprise him that she was ready on time, though.
All of these thoughts were forgotten in a second as she turned towards him, smiling as she came down the steps. Involuntarily, he felt himself draw a breath. She looked lovely. Whatever else happened tonight, he was certain he would have the best looking date in the place. As she came closer, though, he noticed a slight limp in her step. He frowned, wondering why the limp.
She noticed the frown on his face and stopped, midway down the sidewalk. "What's the matter?" she asked. "Do I look alright?"
He marveled again at her innocence in the matter of her appearance, and smiled. "Oh, yes, you look…". He was at a complete loss for words as to how to describe her. He looked at her, it would have been reasonable to say he was staring at her, he was grateful his tongue wasn't hanging out of his mouth, which he remembered to close. She looked down self-consciously; on automatic reflex a hand went up to her hair. "Lovely," he finished quietly, smiling appreciatively.
She smiled at his compliment. Maybe I do have the figure to carry this dress, she thought to herself. She proceeded down the walk, the limp becoming evident again.
"Are you okay?" he asked, now sounding worried.
She realized that she must be limping from the accident she had had earlier. Well, so much for the glamorous look she thought. "It's a long story, but let's just say that the score is Cadillac 1, bike 0."
The meaning of her words sunk in. "Oh my God, are you sure you're okay? We don't have to go if you're injured," he said with deep concern. He was a biker himself, so he understood all too well what happened when man (or woman, in this case) and machine met on unfriendly terms.
His concern made her feel warm inside. "Really, I'm fine, Dr. Jackson," she said. "I'm looking forward to this, and I'm not going to let one little bike accident take it away," she said emphatically.
"Yeah, well, I seem to remember one other time when you tried to tell me you were fine, and you weren't." His tone was still one of deep concern, and gave her that warm feeling again. Ordinarily she'd have been mad as hell at him for saying something like that, but she was learning to appreciate the concern for its true intent – he cared for her, it didn't mean he thought any less of her.
"Really, Dr. Jackson. I want to go." She was somewhat insistent, bordering ever so slightly on pouty. The look sent wonderful tingles up his spine. That scared him; he was beginning to think he was in over his head with her.
"Will you do me a favor, then?" he asked lightly. "Will you please call me Daniel? I really don't want people thinking that I've absconded with my children's babysitter," he said wryly, grinning at her.
"Alright," she replied, almost saucily, with a gleam in her eye.
Oh yeah, Jackson, you are way out of your league here, he thought.
"But then you'll have to call me Jennifer, I don't want people thinking that I'm some kind of dominatrix, demanding military titles from my date." The words sounded almost naughty coming from her, and he felt a tingle in the pit of his stomach. Way, way out of my league, he thought.
He walked over to the passenger side, unlocking the door for her. She instinctively began to reach for the handle, but he opened it for her and stood back, letting her enter the car. She stepped gingerly into the car, remembering her accident; luckily, it looked soft and gracious to the archaeologist. He took note of the patent leather high heels and silk stockings with the seams going up the back of her shapely legs. Oh, so far out of my league here, he thought.
When she was settled, he walked over to the driver's side and got in. She had a chance to really look at him then. He was wearing a stylish chocolate brown Armani suit with a delicately patterned blue tie that matched his eyes perfectly. She wouldn't have guessed him for an Armani man, but the effect was definitely not lost on her. He might be a geeky old archaeologist, as he had called himself, but he certainly knew how to dress.
Arriving at the museum, they pulled into the parking garage and found a space. Shutting off the car, he noticed her reaching for the door handle. "No, wait," he said. "I don't get to be a gentleman too often, let me do this." He smiled at her, the same way he had smiled at her in the coffee shop, and in the lab.
You're always a gentleman, she thought to herself, but she waited until he had gone around to her side of the car and opened her door. Instinctively, she took the hand he offered to her as she got out of the car. His hand felt good, warm and smooth.
He turned and shut the door behind her with his free hand, not wanting to let go of her small, delicately manicured one. It felt right in his own.
From the parking garage, they walked across the street to the building that housed the museum. It was a beautiful older building; one of the oldest ones in town, built in the Roman coliseum style, with large white pillars in the front, surrounding the small, two-door entrance through which the guests streamed. It stuck out among the more modern buildings on the street, with its fancy buttresses and baz relief atop the pillars.
They walked in to the marble laden hallway, and were greeted by the volunteers from the local public radio station who checked their names off on the list of the invited. In a moment of bravado, Daniel had confirmed two spots, figuring that he would chalk up the cost to lost opportunity if she had said no or if he hadn't gotten up the nerve to ask.
"Would you like something to drink?" Daniel asked her. There were several temporary but elegant looking bars scattered around the museum, dispensing freely, along with a handful of quartets playing chamber music; Vivaldi, Mozart and the like.
"A glass of red wine would be nice," she smiled at him. "Bordeaux, if they have it," she added. This impressed him on some level; most of the women he knew would only indulge in white wine, as if it were dainty somehow. This woman was not afraid to savor a good, rich wine.
She watched him go to retrieve the drinks, getting an imported beer for himself. She liked that, it seemed natural with him, not forced like it seemed with the guys from the academy. They're supposed to drink American beer, they're United States military, she thought amusedly to herself. Daniel was not.
They proceeded up the stairs to the exhibit, admiring the non-exhibit paintings adorning the marble stairs. The exhibit was on the second floor, and took up the entire area. In one quadrant of the floor were exhibits displaying the tools and methods of modern archaeology; in the adjoining quadrant were all the exhibits outlining the history of archaeology, along with the biographies of the more accomplished members of the profession and their respective achievements.
The other half of the floor was filled with displays of items recovered in some of the more well-known archaeological projects. Much of it was from Egyptian digs, but there was also some from Africa, detailing the earliest finds of humanoid remains, and some from South America on the subject of early plant life from the Amazon.
Neither had much interest in the history or the modern tools; everything that they knew and saw in their day-to-day life really made these look almost primitive and incorrect. Instead, they preferred to tarry among the relics, comparing them in hushed tones to items that they had seen on other planets. They made a fetching sight, laughing and whispering, excitedly discussing some things, admiring others. As the drinks took effect, those who knew them might have noticed just a bit more affection; a touch here, a slight caress there.
Hours passed quickly; the event was over at 10:00. As they left the museum, walking to the corner of the block nearest the entrance for the parking garage, they crossed a small hidden street directly next to the museum. It had been dark and quiet when they had arrived, but now, they noticed the second building on the block was warmly lit, and the velvety tones of a man with a beautiful baritone voice came drifting towards them.
The best is yet to come, and won't that be fine,
The best is yet to come, the day that you're mine,
The smooth sounds of a bass guitar filled in before the next lyric. They stopped and looked at each other. The words made them both smile. "Well," Daniel said, putting his hands in his pockets, "maybe Frank's got a point. Would you like to go in for a night cap?" he asked, tilting his head towards the sound of the music.
"I'd like that," Jennifer said, smiling warmly, a sparkle in her eye that he was pretty sure hadn't been there before the wine. Or at least before my beer, he added to himself dryly. He turned, offering her his arm. She took it, smiling, and they walked over and into the café.
The building was a wonderful juxtaposition of wood, brick and glass – there were large front windows framed in dark oak, while the inside walls were unevenly brick, with a polished hard wood floor and trendy, low European style lighting. The singer and his accompanist were in the corner. There were no spotlights; they looked as if they were in a friend's house.
There were a fair number of people, but Jennifer and Daniel were able to locate a two seat table in the corner near the rectangular glass windows in front. He went to the bar to get them a second round of drinks. He looked over at her from the bar, and was reminded of the first time he had realized how beautiful she really was, that day in the coffee shop. She still liked to sit so that she could see her surroundings, but tonight it was with that dreamy, relaxed look he had glimpsed ever so briefly that fateful day. He relished this moment; it was the most at peace he had felt in a long time, and she looked as if she felt the same.
Returning to the table, the velvety tones of the singer and the smooth notes of his accompanist expressing their rendition of yet another jazz and blues classic, Daniel noticed that Jennifer had her eyes closed, head resting in her hands with her elbows on the small round table between them and she was tapping her fingers gently against the side of her face, in time with her toes.
"Missed calling?" he asked, with a grin, pointing at her fingers.
She smiled. "Oh, no, I just really enjoy this type of music. I have quite a collection of albums that belonged to my mother and father. My mother loved the blues, my Dad was more of a jazz and big band guy; he played trumpet in the Army marching band during his years in the service." She stopped, a small shadow of wistfulness crossing her face.
Daniel saw the shadow. He knew that both of her parents had passed away before she entered the academy, but he didn't know much beyond that. Maybe that was part of what attracted him to her; they had similar backgrounds, he having lost his own parents in that tragic accident. Feeling a bit braver thanks to his beer, he candidly asked her, "What happened?"
She thought for a moment, and looked at him, studying his face. That look was back in his blue eyes, the one that told her he could be trusted.
"My mother died in a car accident when I was nine – it was on wet roads, another car skidded out of control and hit her head on. My Dad never really got over it. He threw himself – and me – into his military service after that," she stated matter of factly. "He was leading maneuvers off base the summer before I went into the academy and he was killed in a helicopter crash."
She kept her gaze steady on him, waiting for his reaction. She was used to people reacting with shocked sympathy; usually they ended up falling all over themselves trying somehow to make it up to her. She knew she should appreciate their good intentions, but most of the time it made her mad. She refused to feel like a victim or engage in any kind of self-pity over it; she had long since come to terms with what life had handed her.
Daniel listened quietly, feeling her pain almost as if it were his own. It is like my own, he thought.
He leaned forward and set his glass down, crossing his arms on the table. "My folks were putting together an exhibit at the New York Museum of Art when I was about 8. It was a lot like the one they have here," he said slowly. "They were supervising the moving crew who was putting the pyramid slab that was the centerpiece of their exhibit into place. The cables broke and they were crushed." He looked down. Though many years had passed, it was still a painful event to recall. At least I only had to recall it, and not live it over and over again, he thought, with a brief flash of SG-1's imprisonment on P7J989 suddenly invading his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut against the image.
Jennifer listened silently as he finished. She looked down at the table; noticing that the fingers of his right hand were close to hers, she instinctively moved her hand and gently squeezed them, not looking up, preferring instead to focus on his strong hands. He looked at her then. Her face was unreadable, but the gentle caress of his fingers spoke volumes to him – not sympathy, as they had both experienced before, but the understanding that only comes from having lived through a similar circumstance. She said nothing, just continued to gently hold his hand with her own.
The lights were lowered slightly as the singer and his accompanist began another set; both were grateful for the sudden dimness. As the duo sped things up with a slightly sexy rendition of Never Gonna Give You Up, a few other pieces being added to the accompanist for the occasion, he felt her fingers withdraw from his own, as they instinctively began tapping time again. He smiled at her.
We're no strangers to love
You know the rules and so do I
A full commitment's what I'm thinking of
You wouldn't get this from any other guy
I just wanna tell you how i'm feeling
Gotta make you understand
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
We've know each other for so long
Your heart's been aching
But you're too shy to say it
Inside we both know what's been going on
We know the game and we're gonna play it
And if you ask me how i'm feeling
Don't tell me you're too blind to see
I just wanna tell you how i'm feeling
Gotta make you understand
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
As the velvety voiced crooner trailed off the last few words of the song, Daniel asked, "so you never thought about following in your old man's footsteps, huh?" with a curious, playful note in his voice, smiling at her.
She smiled back. "No, my Dad was quite good at it, and I really just enjoyed listening to him play," she said, again with that wistful tone in her voice. She looked at him. "It looks as if you have followed in your parents footsteps, though – maybe even taken it one step farther."
"Yeah, that's a reasonable assessment," he grinned, glad for the return of a lighter topic of conversation, though he had enjoyed the feel of her fingers in his.
The conversation having changed gears, they resumed their discussion and comparison of the exhibit they had just seen with the things that they had seen offworld, she asking questions and he excitedly describing and explaining things to her. Under his tutelage, she had formed her own opinions on several matters as well, and they bantered playfully over it, him reminding her with a wicked grin that he was the expert and had been so for a lot longer than she had. She glowered at him, but the glare was easily dissolved by his silly, teasing smile.
He took notice of the scrapes on her shoulder and frowned with concern. "Did you get the plate of that Cadillac that you hit today? I'd say he owes you big time."
She grimaced at the memory of the accident, remembering that she still needed to take care of that matter. Really, she wondered, what is the penalty for seeing your CO's daughter moon the boyfriend she had just dumped?
"I guess I'll just have to teach you how to ride properly, Crash," he teased her, smiling. He was feeling almost saucy about trying to make her angry now.
She gave him a glare, but her eyes were laced with laughter, revealing her true feelings behind the look. "Well, that won't be for a while, now," she said. "My bike was a casualty of the accident."
Feeling bolder, he said, "Oh well, I'll just have to settle for teaching you the fine art of appreciating cinema." Smooth, Jackson, he thought to himself, somewhat proudly. Get a second date while the first one is going well.
Leaning over and setting her glass of wine down on the table, she looked at him, with that deep intentioned look she had. "Are you asking me to the movies, Dr. – I mean Daniel?"
"Unless you have other plans tomorrow. That Bill Murray film, 'Lost in Translation' is playing at the small theater in town. It's supposed to be pretty good." He noticed a good size bruise on her shoulder in addition to the scrapes. He frowned, and thought for a moment. "Unless you just want to rest from your accident?"
She smiled, the genuine warm one he liked so much. "I'd like that – the movie, that is," it was her turn to frown now, at the mention of the accident. "I do need to take care of this thing with my bike though. I told the girl who was driving the car I would call tomorrow," she said.
"Well, maybe I could take you over there. That might be the kind of thing best handled in person."
Her instinct to protest, to say she could take care of herself, was overridden by what she perceived to be a note of eagerness in his voice. Maybe I can let him do this for me, she thought. He does have a car and I could return the dress.
"Okay, thanks," she said, smiling almost shyly at her acceptance of his offer.
They discussed the music they had been listening to, and the music that they each liked, discovering another mutual passion, blues and jazz music, talking animatedly about that and seemingly a thousand other things. They didn't notice the time passing until they heard the singer say good night. They both looked up at the clock. "Oh, wow, it's really late," Daniel said. "I guess we should go," he said with a note of regret. He got up from his seat and held his arm out for her. She smiled, accepting it and they left the small club.
Stepping out into the brisk October night, Jennifer shivered. "It is a bit chilly tonight, isn't it?" Daniel noted. He looked at her; the dress didn't offer much protection against the elements. "Here, please, let me give you my jacket." Daniel took off the jacket before she could protest and reached around her to drape it on her bare shoulders. If it's at all possible, he thought, she looks even sexier now, with the biggish jacket draped on her small frame and all too incredible outfit.
They drove back to the base with the radio playing classical music. It was late and they were both a bit too tired for anything more than idle conversation along the way. He parked in front of the barracks, opened the door for her and held out his hand to help her get out of the car. She took it, not letting go once she was out of the car.
As they proceeded hand in hand up the walk to the barracks together, he noticed her limp again. "I wish you'd tell me what happened to you today," he said, almost pouting. He had hoped she trusted him enough to confide whatever this big event had been; he felt mildly hurt that she hadn't seemed willing to disclose it to him.
She looked at him, thinking for a moment. There was that look in his eyes again, the one that told her it was okay to divulge her secrets. She took a deep breath. "I was riding down the big hill behind the barracks. Sometimes I stop at the access road, sometimes I don't," she said casually. "Today I didn't." She stopped, hoping that was enough.
"And?" he prompted her. She sighed.
"And there was a big brown Cadillac Seville parked right in the crosswalk. I didn't see it until I looked up and it was too late to stop." She stopped again, hoping that this was enough.
"AND?" he prompted her again, with a devilish grin on his face, somehow sensing that she didn't want to tell this whole story.
She sighed again, exasperatedly and motioned with her hands. She took a deep breath. "And, it turns out it was parked there by this girl who was there to see her boyfriend and she found him with another girl so she was leaving and she saw me hit the car and it turns out that it's her Dad's car and she's all upset that he's going to kill her for it so I tell her no problem I'll tell him it's my fault and then I tell her I have a date tonight and she feels even worse so she offers me this dress since she's not going to be wearing it and then her boyfriend sticks his head out the window and yells at her and she moons him and tells him to drop dead and it turns out she's a military brat but a really nice one and to top it all off, she's Colonel Taylor's daughter."
Listening to the words as they seemed to rush out, watching all of the hand gestures she was making for emphasis, Daniel started giggling. It sounded like just the sort of thing that would happen to him. That explained the limp, and he knew he was certainly grateful to the girl, too, for giving Jennifer the dress. As the last words came tumbling, his giggle turned into a hearty laugh.
"Wait, let me get this straight," he said, between fitful giggles. "You crashed your bike into the side of your CO's car, but you don't know it's his, and then make friends with his daughter who's driving it, she's just dumped her boyfriend and moons him to seal the deal, and you offer to tell her Dad about hitting the car, that it's all your fault to save her butt, when you suddenly realize her Dadis your CO?" He was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. He straightened up, trying to hold back the laughter at the glare she gave him. Then he added playfully "well, it's certainly a change from the age old 'oh my God I kissed my CO' problem."
The wine had caught up with her. She smiled saucily at him. He got that vague sense that he was in over his head again. "Well, I thought I'd save that part for you," she said, with that slightly sexy edge she was displaying more freely now. It scared him in all the ways he imagined it would; he'd never been so grateful to be afraid.
I'll never get a better opportunity, he thought. Now or never, Jackson, the voice told him. "Well, then, I guess I'd better oblige," he said in a low, sultry tone.
Jennifer felt a sudden tingle; she had extended herself here just beyond her safety zone, but it felt good, right with him somehow. He stepped closer to her on the porch now, as she looked up at him. He gently took her face in both of his hands and tilted her chin upwards, leaning down to kiss her lips gently, almost lovingly.
Daniel had been waiting all night for this moment, since she had first stepped out on the porch earlier that evening. His lips caressed hers, gently at first, then more seriously, with the force of all of their unspoken feelings. His hands went down to encircle her waist, hers went around his back as she stood on tiptoe to meet the gentle demands of his mouth, slowly, then with more feeling. Neither of them was sure where or when to stop, happy simply to savor the moment. They parted finally, both a little breathless.
She looked at him; I could get lost in those eyes, she thought to herself.
He looked at her. She really is a beautiful girl, he thought. Oh yeah, Jackson, you are definitely in over your head.
Regaining his senses, he said casually, "So, pick you up tomorrow at 10:00 am? We'll get a real coffee and head over to Colonel Taylor's and get that out of the way first thing?"
"Okay," she said, with that same sort of innocence that charmed him so much.
"Okay," he said. He was still holding her in his arms.
"Daniel, you'll have to let go at some point," she teased, not really wanting to break the embrace, either.
He looked at her, a more serious look in his eyes than she had seen. Maybe it was the two beers he'd had. "Do I have to?" he said.
The sultry tone of his voice made her feel warm all over. "At least for now," she said, patting his arm gently.
"Oh, okay," he said. He released her. She gave him his jacket back; he was grateful for one more look at her in that outfit again, even with the bruises and scrapes. "Good night, Jennifer," he said.
"Good night, Daniel, she said, as she stepped through the barracks door, giving him one more smile as she closed the door gently. She watched out the window as he turned and walked back to his car. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough, she thought.