She doesn't come to his office, doesn't sit next to him in briefings or with him in the mess.

He doesn't swing by her quarters or bring her good coffee from town or ask her how she is.

She is miserable.

He is miserable.

They are miserable.

Her nightmares of his transformation, of Daniel disappearing into Merlin and vanishing because she left him behind now include Daniel Prior-pale and cloudy-eyed, begging for her help and she wants to, she tries to, but something stops her and he sees only a cold, unrelenting exterior before Adria drags him beyond her reach forever.

His nightmares are filled with Adria whispering in his ear, touching him in seemingly innocent ways with deceptively gentle hands. But everything reeks of fire and death, and Vala stands just out of reach, begging him to come back, and he's trying but he can't he can't he can't and there is a torch in his hand and Adria is guiding forcing it towards a pool of oil and he's running out of time to stop her from making him do this because Vala isn't standing she is bound, bound in place by Adria, and if the torch touches the oil then Vala will burn.

He always wakes up just at the crucial moment, never knowing whether he was strong enough to save her.

Daniel sees the lack of bounce in Vala's step, the too-bright nature that lends falseness to her smiles.

Vala sees the way Daniel never fully relaxes, the set of his shoulders and the crease between his eyes that won't smooth out.

Neither knows what glue could possibly piece their shattered selves back together.

They are miserable and exhausted, but they are professionals, and there is work to do. They carry on.

Vala knows it's bad when blowing up three Lucian Alliance transports in a row utterly fails to cheer her up. When her teammates scatter during their well-earned break between missions, she decides she is going to make a proper effort to have some fun. (She is in no way disappointed that Daniel did not even pretend to offer to let her join him at the museum where he's doing some research. She is in no way discovering that, miserable as she is being around him with things so broken, she is even more miserable when he is not around at all. That would be ridiculous.)

So she talks Mitchell into taking her along to his high school reunion. It's such a change, such an escape, that there are moments where she almost forgets, where it really does feel like fun. But then she's stopping herself from turning to try and catch Daniel's eye, because Daniel of course is not here and even if he was they don't do that anymore, and the fun slips right back out of her grasp.

Then Ventrell shows up, and once that's all sorted, she has to watch Mitchell have a lovely romantic connection with someone he's apparently always been hung up on, and there's a strange hollow feeling in her chest that she doesn't want to examine, so she shoves it down and teases Mitchell about Amy, because if she just comes out and says that she's happy for him then she might have to admit to herself that some of the hollowness is jealousy. Not of Mitchell-he's attractive enough to flirt with and even bed if she could talk him into it, but her interest ends there-but of the connection.

Some things are too dangerous to even acknowledge wanting.

She halfheartedly attempts to distract herself with plans to go on a quest to find decent pie in Colorado Springs. Except it's no good, because at least half the fun would be dragging Daniel along with her, him pretending to be more annoyed than he is and probably trying to tell her the cultural history and significance of pie, as well as how to say "pie" in a dozen languages, with a tangent on pie-like variants of pie in cultures that do not, in fact, have pie.

They would probably end up throwing napkins at each other. If she was feeling particularly sure of the falsity of his irritation, she might even shove some pie in his face.

In short, she misses him. She wasn't wrong to call him out, but she misses him.

And she's terrified that, even if he understands his mistake and plans to try not to make it again, she hasn't left him a way back, hasn't told him where the glue is for whenever he decides he's ready to use it.

Daniel is grateful to be able to go off and bury himself in work. It's a skill he's always had, and he avoids thinking about the people in his life who would be inclined to suggest that it isn't so much a skill as a bad habit.

It's good to be somewhere she has never been, to not look up and see the empty chair where she usually sits.

It's good right up until the bounty hunter tries to kill him, and the rest of the team is threatened, and he finds out that Vala went with Mitchell to Mitchell's high school reunion.

He's done. He can't take this anymore. At the very least he needs to say . . . needs to acknowledge . . . things can't continue like this. They're both too lost and miserable and hurt, and he doesn't even know anymore how much of it is that they've hurt each other and how much of it is the things done to them in the last few months being the straw that broke the camel's back.

He just . . . he needs her to sit next to him in briefings and invade his personal space and say things of at best questionable appropriateness and he needs to see the spring in her step that makes him want more coffee just watching her.

He needs to prove to her that he isn't an asshole so she can go back to being herself. Since apparently there's a connection there.

Better not examine that too closely.

He buys her a bar of fancy dark chocolate, attaches a sticky note that says simply, "Can we talk?" slides it under the door to her quarters, and waits for her to get back from fucking Kansas with fucking Mitchell.

Not thinking about that either.

There's a chocolate bar on the floor in her quarters, and the sticky note on it is in Daniel's handwriting.

Of course. Daniel Jackson always finds his own path to where he needs to go.

She sets down her bags, picks up the chocolate bar, and lays it almost reverently on her bedside table. Then she goes to Daniel's office, hoping he'll be there.

He is. She knocks tentatively on the doorframe, and when he looks up, the small smile he gives her is just as tentative.

"Hey. You, uh, you mind closing the door?" he asks, standing up to walk around and lean against his desk, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

She does as he asks.

"Listen," Daniel says, then falters. He removes his glasses, closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose. "God, Vala, everything is so fucked up."

She takes a few steps towards him. Stops. Waits. He's right of course, and it's difficult to stop, to not run to him, but that would definitely be a mistake right now.

Wouldn't it?

He steps away from his desk. Towards her. Stops. Replaces his glasses. Takes a deep breath. "I don't . . . no, that's not what I want to say. You were right that it was wrong of me to think I could or should protect you from Adria in that way, for that reason. You were right. I should've listened to you. I'm sorry."

She doesn't think, just moves, and he moves too, and then they are in each other's arms, holding each other tight tight tight and Vala can feel the broken pieces fitting back into place.

"I'm sorry, too," she murmurs. "I'm sorry I hurt you, I never wanted to hurt you, I just—"

He steps back a pace, partially breaking the hug, and puts a hand on her face, gently cutting her off. "You don't have to—I understand. I do. But thank you . . . thanks anyway."

She nods, staring up into his eyes, feeling her heart rate speed up.

This is a precipice.

They are on a precipice and she isn't sure how they got here but she is looking into his eyes and his thumb is stroking her cheek and his other hand is still at her waist and she reaches up, slowly slowly slowly, puts her hand gently on his neck, and pulls him toward her.

Her touch is gentle and asking and God help him he wants this and then they are kissing and then—

And then.

He is not sure where he is-is he in his office with Vala or is he on an Ori ship with her he thinks he can hear someone calling his name but it sounds so far away he tries to maintain the kiss if it's her then it isn't safe to stop until she does if it's Vala he doesn't want to stop but whoever it is is pulling back it sounds like Vala, like Vala calling his name . . .

For the briefest of moments the kiss is perfect, sweet and tender and longing, but then something changes and it's all wrong.

Vala opens her eyes and sees lines of tension in Daniel's face and she immediately pulls back, murmuring his name with increasing urgency as he clings to her and she cannot pin down how she knows, what exactly tips her off, but she knows he is not OK and they need to stop.

"Daniel. Daniel. Daniel. Daniel please snap out of it. Daniel."

He opens his eyes.

Vala is staring at him, eyes wide with concern, her hands on his shoulders.

He drops his hands from her face and hangs his head. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

"No, Daniel, no, it's all right," she tells him. He shakes his head, and she reaches out and lifts his chin until he's looking at her. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she tells him fiercely. "Not about this. This is not your fault. We can go as slow or as fast as you need to, but you never, ever have to apologize for needing to stop or slow down or take a break. Not to me."

Of course. Because she understands, she knows what this is like. "How did you do it?" he asks brokenly. "How did you get from—from . . . well, I don't know, was it ever . . . "

"Yes, yes it was. It was. But I reclaimed myself, because that was what was right for me, what worked for me. Every act of sensuality and sexuality that I performed because it was what I wanted was an act of rebellion, was me staking my claim to my own body. But I suspect part of the reason that worked for me was because I was a very sexual person before Qetesh, so really it was just a way of restoring my default settings, as it were."

"Yeah, that makes sense."

Daniel looks thoughtful. Vala taps his temple lightly. "What's brewing up there?" she asks. "And . . . I mean, is this OK? Me touching your face like this?"

"Yeah. As long as I can see you, can know who it is, everything is fine. It's just . . . "

"You don't have to explain," she reassures him, stroking his cheek.

Adria did this. And as much as she reminds herself that Adria is not her daughter, that what Adria does is not her fault, some of the hatred and revulsion Vala feels is directed towards herself, because that monster came from her, and it's still true what she told Daniel several weeks ago, the mass murder is worse, but . . . it's Daniel. Adria has hurt Daniel in the most intimate ways possible, and Vala feels so powerless in the face of it all.

Daniel threads his fingers through her hair. "Hey," he says, tapping her temple now, "what are you thinking?"

She laces her hands around his neck. "Nothing pleasant, unfortunately." His brow furrows, and he leans forward and kisses her forehead. She closes her eyes, opening them when she feels his forehead come to rest against hers.

"So," she says after a moment of this. "We seem to have sped right past, um, whatever we were before and into new territory."

"Looks that way," he agrees.

"So, parameters? I mean, I assume this is the sort of thing that needs parameters, especially since we're both rather fragile in our own ways at the moment."

"You know, I'm starting to worry about how sensible you're being about this; it's just not like you," Daniel teases, and Vala smiles and kicks him lightly in the shin, because he sounds so much like his old self. "But, as for parameters . . . well, like I already said, touching is fine as long as I can see it's you. And don't get me wrong, I want to kiss you, but it looks like there's going to be something of an adjustment period. Sor—" She raises her eyebrows, and he catches himself, smiling.

"And what about . . ." Vala hesitates, trying to figure out how to phrase it. "I mean, it seems fairly obvious to me that we've both been harboring feelings for each other, but, um . . . perhaps the simplest way to ask this is, what are we telling people?"

That's the question, isn't it? She's not wrong about him having feelings for her—he's just been refusing to let himself know it, refusing to consider the possibility of her reciprocating.

Such refusal was supposed to make everything easier.

"I don't . . ." he begins slowly. "I mean, we're gonna take things slow, right? And let's face it, people are kind of used to us acting in ways that are pretty couple-like, so we can probably get away with a lot without raising suspicions, especially if we play the 'we had a fight but now we've reconciled' card. So maybe we just . . . don't tell anyone yet. Just see how things unfold. Does that sound OK to you?"

She cocks her head, considering, then nods. "So, to be clear, as we're, ah, seeing how things unfold, we are being . . . exclusive?"

"Why, did you have big Friday night plans?"

"Daniel."

Of course. She's testing the waters. Seeing how much he's willing to admit. If she finds this plunge, this possibility of breaking each other in so many new ways, half as terrifying as he does, she's probably looking for reassurance.

"Yes, I would like us to be exclusive while we figure this out. I realize that might be—" she stops him with a finger to his lips, then slowly takes it away. "What was that for?"

"Helping you to not say something thoughtless and probably hurtful," she tells him. "You're still unlearning your bad habit of making assumptions about me."

He takes her face in his hands and, slowly, keeping his eyes open this time, kisses her. It's awkward, kissing with his eyes open, but the way she just melts into him, the softness of her lips against his, is all very much worth it.

It's been what feels like several lifetimes since Vala has kissed and been kissed like this: tender and sweet and affectionate, both of them fully meaning it and not simply trying to survive, and with no intention, at least for the moment, of moving any further into sexual territory.

It's bliss.

The kiss ends, and they sigh, contentment and longing all tangled together. Vala opens her eyes and sees Daniel's eyes alight with a smile before she can see the rest of his face.

"So," she murmurs.

"So," he echoes.

"Want to catch me up on what you've been working on? I think I'm rather dreadfully out of the loop."

"Sounds good to me."

They sit, Vala pulling a chair right up next to Daniel's so that their arms and shoulders keep brushing. He shoots her concerned glances as he begins to explain that he's been looking over Athena's research into the Clava Thessara Infinitas, and she considers telling him that the memory she dwells on the most from that whole ordeal is the team coming for her, not giving up on her, and him. Him saving her from her own instincts, pulling her into his arms and putting her back together. She thinks perhaps this is something she should tell him.

Not yet, though. Not yet. They have leaped, and it's wonderful, but she doesn't know yet whether the landing will shatter them anew.

She tells him to stop fussing and get on with the explanation, and he narrows his eyes at her and bumps her shoulder with his.

He finishes his explanation, gives her some documents to cross-reference, and they work in near-silence for the next few hours.

It's like finally coming home after too long away.

At least, she's pretty sure that's what it's like—it's been such a long time since she had a home to return to.

It's like being whole again, jagged edges smoothed and filled and fit back together.

She sighs and leans her head against his shoulder, smiles when he hums contentedly against her ear.

Mitchell pokes his head in Daniel's office when he arrives on base the next morning to find Daniel and Vala sitting very close together and bickering about the risk of crumbs from the scone Vala is eating damaging the documents spread all over the workbench.

They don't see him, too wrapped up in . . . whatever. He smiles, shakes his head, and leaves them to it.

He doesn't think he'll ever understand exactly what goes on with those two, but he knows by now that what he's just seen is a very, very good sign, that the misery of the last few weeks is finally over.

Within a few days, Daniel and Vala have finished checking Athena's research and cross-referenced it with the SGC cartouche, which leads to a gate address. What the MALP finds is promising, and they get the go-ahead from Landry for SG-1, minus Sam, to investigate.

Of course, things get complicated when it turns out the gate on the other side was in a museum exhibit and the DHD was a reconstruction rather than the genuine article.

"We're stuck," Daniel says.

"No we're not," Vala corrects him. They all look at her, waiting for an explanation. Honestly, the boys would be so helpless without her or Sam around, it's almost cute. "Well, when we fail to make the scheduled check-in, General Landry will dial in, at which point we'll ask him to send a naquadah generator and a laptop with a dialing program and that's that!"

Daniel attempts to recover. "We knew that! I-I-I thought that when I said that we're stuck, that you would know that I meant 'until then.'"

She's not letting him off that easily. "Well, then you should say what you mean."

Daniel opens his mouth to reply, but she raises her eyebrows and he apparently thinks better of whatever he was going to say. She smiles at him, and he looks both contrite and resigned.

She'll ask him about that later.

They still won't let her go to the party currently happening in another part of the museum, and after all the fuss Mitchell and Teal'c cause by running after the screaming woman while waving their guns around, when she would've had the sense to, well, not do that, she definitely plans to hold this whole fiasco over all their heads for a while. As she works on accessing the museum's network to see just how FUBAR (she does love that particular idiom-there's something to be said for hanging out with the SG-3 Marines) things have gone, she thinks that the first order of business when Sam gets back will be to, within earshot of the boys, loudly regale her about what happened on this planet.

She hears one of the hostages say that someone on the other end of the radio wants to talk to whoever's in charge. She turns around just in time to see him hand his radio to Daniel, and she clears her throat loudly and raises her eyebrows before he can speak into it, because that is clearly a terrible idea. Mitchell tries to hide his smirk and holds out his hand for the radio. Daniel narrows his eyes at Vala, mutters something she can't hear, and hands the radio over, at which point Mitchell attempts to explain that they aren't these rebels for whom they've been mistaken.

Then Daniel actually wants them to free the hostages, and it's honestly adorable how naive he can still be. Fortunately for her overall peace of mind about her teammates' ability to survive if she isn't there to watch their every move, Teal'c and Mitchell are also aware of why they can't let their accidental captives go.

She's feeling rather less amused by the whole situation when Daniel gets zapped by one of the medics they let in to tend to the man Mitchell shot. But Daniel is fine-getting zapped into unconsciousness doesn't even register as traumatic for any of them, not since before they all knew each other. Which, she reflects, is lucky for her and her burgeoning relationship with Daniel, considering their first encounter.

It turns out that adorable, naive academics are an abundant commodity on this mission, because Cicero speaks up while they're trying to figure out what to demand from the negotiator, and before long she and Daniel are off with him to see whether the DHD's power source was one of the recovered fragments while Mitchell makes demands and generally attempts to stall; the sooner they can get out of here, the better.

The power source is of course not among the fragments, because that's just the kind of day it is.

Vala decides that things might finally be looking up when, on their way to check one other place that might have a usable power source, she spots a naquadah bomb in a display case. She is perhaps more delighted than a former thief such as herself ought to be that getting the bomb out of the case so they can use the power source and get the hell out will require her burgling skills. One look at Daniel's face when she begins to narrate the steps for "removal of treasure from a sealed glass enclosure," tells her that, if she wants uninterrupted bragging rights about being the reason they all got out of this more or less unscathed, she should stay focused and professional.

"Tell you what," she says, "I will endeavor to not elucidate my genius while I work if you, instead of looking at me all judgy-like, turn around and keep watch."

"Keep watch, why would-"

"It's a big building, darling, and people can be sneaky."

He eyes her pointedly. "Yes. Yes they can."

Being able to give the security system her full attention ends up being crucial: she almost doesn't see the motion sensor that would have brought a metal cage crashing down around the case had she not disabled it. Making Daniel watch their backs was also a good idea, because a security guard, whose favorite movie would definitely be Die Hard if he were from Earth, attempts to sneak up on them. Fortunately he's terrible at it, and Daniel easily zats and disarms him.

Half an hour later, Cicero and Jayem the irritating and overzealous security guard watch wide-eyed as they successfully establish a connection by manually dialing the gate and using the naquadah in the bomb as a power source. Vala sends through the iris code while Daniel, after promising Cicero that they'll send another MALP through to do first contact properly, radios Mitchell and Teal'c to get to the gate. As soon as they hear their teammates running down the hall, Daniel and Vala go through the gate with the MALP, Mitchell and Teal'c not far behind them.

"You see, boys, this is why you never come between me and a party," she tells them smugly once the wormhole disengages, tossing her ponytails over her shoulders and leading the way out of the gate room.

"I know I'll probably regret saying this after you've rubbed it in our faces for the millionth time, but you did good today. That . . . probably would've been a lot worse without your particular brand of expertise to move things along and get us out," Daniel tells Vala. They are in her quarters, him in a chair and her on his lap.

"Oh, there's no 'probably' about it; you boys can clearly not ever be left to your own devices. But still . . . thank you for acknowledging my contributions." After a moment she asks him, "What was that look on your face after I told you that you should say what you mean?"

He grimaces. "Let's just say I'm glad you stopped me from opening my big mouth."

"That bad, huh?"

"Apparently I'm still getting over a bad case of 'assuming I know what Vala is thinking.'"

"Hmm. How did you contract such a terrible condition in the first place?"

"Well, I can't be sure, but it may have something to do with spending the early parts of our acquaintance trying to figure out how much of what you said was true and, when you lied, what kind of lies they were."

"Oh. Yes. That." She is staring at her lap, restlessly twining her hands together.

He reaches out and gently turns her head so she's looking at him. "Look, I . . . " he sighs.

"No, no, it's . . . I mean, the mistrust is certainly something I earned. I suppose I was just hoping that that was all in the past now. And, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I know I kind of, uh, steamrolled your life and was just generally unbearable at first. But-"

"Vala," he interrupts, then pauses. His next words, he senses, must be chosen with utmost care. "I appreciate the apology for things from, you know, early on. But you're right. That was a while ago now, and you don't deserve . . . you don't deserve the way I still treat you sometimes. You risked your life to destroy the first supergate, then again to warn us about the coming invasion. You proved yourself over and over so we'd let you be one of us when you could have left to make your own way. You don't lie about things that a member of SG-1 shouldn't lie about." He takes her hands in his. "So I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry that I use the way you used to be as an excuse to be horrible to you when you drive me up the wall. After spending six years on SG-1 with Jack, I should know better."

She cocks her head.

"What?"

"I'm just trying to decide whether to be flattered or insulted by that comparison."

He smiles and kisses her cheek. "Probably a bit of both, just to be safe."

She hums and leans against his shoulder, and he puts his arms around her waist. "Thank you for saying that. I know I don't always make things easy for you, but it goes both ways, don't you think?"

He rests his cheek on the top of her head. "Yeah. Yeah, it does."

Things are quiet for a few days. Sam returns from Washington. Teal'c leaves to attend a Jaffa summit.

Then Teal'c misses his check-in, and what they find when they go to investigate is hellish. Teal'c and Bra'tac are alive but badly injured, and Dr. Lam doesn't know whether they'll pull through.

Vala is terrified. It feels as though she just got Daniel back, because those weeks when they weren't right with each other don't count, and now Teal'c might . . . she can't even bring herself to think it.

The four of them, the uninjured of SG-1, gather in Daniel's office while Teal'c is in surgery. It is a mostly silent gathering. Mitchell paces, Sam fidgets, and Daniel and Vala hold hands under the table.

Finally they get the call: Teal'c is out of surgery. Out of this round of surgery, because he'll need more soon.

Mitchell smacks his hand against the workbench. "I got first shift," he says, and heads to the infirmary.

"I'm gonna try to get some sleep," Sam says softly, and leaves as well.

"That's probably a good idea," Daniel says, looking at Vala.

"Probably. But . . . "

He brushes her cheek with his thumb. "What?"

"I don't want to be alone right now," she says brokenly. "I don't know how to do this, especially not so soon after—" she stops herself, looking at Daniel with round, wet eyes.

"OK," he says simply.

"Really?"

"We sleep near each other all the time on missions."

"This is different."

"I know," he admits after a moment's hesitation.

"And you're OK with it?"

"Just sleeping, right? A little horizontal cuddling while unconscious? A little reassurance that we're both still here?"

Sometimes Daniel says or does things that cut her to the core and she doesn't think he even knows he's done it. Other times, like right now, he says exactly the right thing, and she thinks maybe she—no, now is really not the time for that.

"Yes. Yes, that's it exactly."

"Lead the way, then."

They don't sleep much or well for the two weeks that Teal'c is unconscious, but lying wrapped around each other in Vala's bed is definitely more restful than being alone.

They spend the days going through reports, trying to piece together what happened, how, and why. They rotate with Sam and Mitchell in keeping vigil at Teal'c's bedside. If Sam or Mitchell notice that Daniel and Vala always do their shifts together, or that Daniel isn't leaving the base at night, they don't say anything.

When they are alone in his office, Daniel touches Vala as much as he can, both because he knows it calms and comforts her and because the more he does it the easier it is to ward off bad memories and panicky reactions when they kiss.

Not that they're kissing much at the moment, which is probably for the best—they both understand that adding kissing to the current bed sharing, on top of their constant worry about Teal'c, would be a bad idea at this juncture.

The few times that it does happen, Daniel is grateful beyond words for how attuned to him Vala seems to be. She always does the same thing with her hands, one on his neck with her fingers in his hair and the other on his cheek, and she checked with him before she started doing it, to make sure it isn't something Adria did. It's getting easier to be sure of where he is and who he's kissing, and to remain sure for longer periods.

Finally, Teal'c wakes up, and then it's a matter of explaining what happened and trying to convince Teal'c to, well, be reasonable. But Daniel has been friends with the Jaffa for too long to have any real hope that Teal'c will do anything other than what Teal'c judges to be the right course of action, doctor's orders and prudence be damned.

Landry kicks them all off base once Teal'c is resettled and sleeping after seeing Bra'tac. They meet up for dinner and attempt to be cheerful: Teal'c is alive and he's going to make a full recovery. But they all know this isn't the end of it, that Teal'c is going to go after whoever did this, probably sooner than he should in terms of a recovery period. And Bra'tac is still on life support.

They attempt to be cheerful, but they do not succeed.

Once they've said their goodnights and Sam and Cam have left for their respective homes, Daniel turns to Vala, who rode with him to the restaurant. He's not sure whether this is another precipice or just a way of increasing their velocity in the long tumble from the first one. What he does know is that he doesn't feel nearly as much hesitation as he thinks maybe he should.

"My place is closer than the base," he says. "If you want," he adds, giving her an out.

He thinks he will smash himself on rocks that are much closer than they appear if she takes the out.

"I'd like that," she says, and he takes her in his arms and kisses her right there in the parking lot.

Vala hears the fear and hesitancy underneath the casualness of Daniel's question, and knows how important her answer is.

She's glad she doesn't have to think about it, glad he is the one to offer a continuation of their current sleeping arrangement, a continuation that is now an escalation since they no longer have the uncertainty of Teal'c's fate as an excuse.

The kiss is a welcome surprise, as is the moment Daniel deepens it, making delicious use of his tongue for the first time, one of his hands at the small of her back pulling her tight against him, his other hand tangling in her hair. She responds in kind, even as she tries to remain alert for the tell-tale tension that means they need to stop.

But it never comes, and little moans escape her because he feels so good, tastes so good, is everywhere everywhere everywhere in the best possible way.

"Sorry," he gasps when they finally come up for air.

Unpleasant tension coils in her stomach. "Whatever for?"

His eyes search hers. "I just . . . I didn't plan . . . "

She smiles, relieved. "Spontaneity can be a very good thing, darling. I certainly believe that was the case here, and I hope you feel the same?"

He returns her smile. "Yes. Definitely. I just hope . . . I mean, I don't want to lead you on . . . "

"Don't worry, I will expect nothing but sleeping and cuddles in bed with you until you specifically tell me otherwise," she says, tapping his nose.

"Thanks," he says.

"Just common courtesy, darling. I know I can come on strong, and I'd be lying if I didn't say that if that was a preview of things to come, I hope we proceed sooner rather than later, but at the end of the day I like my sexual partners just as enthusiastic about the whole thing as I am."

"Noted," he says, and it's hard to tell in the dim light of the parking lot, but Vala thinks there might be a twinkle in his eye.

Mitchell comes into Daniel's office the next day, closes the door, and folds his arms, looking calculatingly at Daniel and Vala.

"Can we help you with something?" Daniel asks after the silence stretches on too long.

Mitchell blinks, gathers himself, then says, "Vala didn't come back to base after dinner last night."

"Correct," Daniel says.

"Are you two sleeping together?" Mitchell asks.

"Not in the way that you mean," Vala answers smoothly. "At least not yet."

Daniel coughs. The nerve.

Mitchell sighs. "Are the two of you together in a romantic type of way?"

Daniel and Vala look at each other, shrug, then look back at Mitchell. "Yes," they tell him in unison. Daniel would rather not admit how much saying so, in this way, makes him feel like some giddy schoolboy.

"OK," Mitchell says, businesslike. "Don't know why that felt like pulling teeth, but OK. You're both non-military consultants, so it's allowed, but there's still some paperwork you gotta fill out so everything's copacetic. And . . . as your team leader, I wouldn't mind a heads up if anything starts hitting the fan."

"Thanks so much for your support," Daniel says drily.

"Aww, c'mon, Jackson, you know that isn't what I meant."

"Isn't it?" Daniel asks, holding Mitchell's gaze.

"No. Though I can see why it sounds that way. What I probably should've led with once you two confirmed you've got something goin' on was 'It is about damn time,' followed by 'congratulations' and 'I'm rootin' for ya.' Better?"

"Much," Vala says, flashing him a grin.

"Great. So you'll stop by HR and get that paperwork taken care of?"

"Yes," Daniel says, exasperated.

"OK. See you at the briefing later," Mitchell says, and leaves.

"Paperwork. How romantic," Vala comments.

"Want to go out tonight? On a real date, with both of us acknowledging it as such?" And the evening not culminating in a kidnapping and him out of his mind with worry and fear and longings he couldn't acknowledge to himself the last time, and that would only make the whole ordeal that much worse if it or something like it were to happen again.

"Why darling, I was beginning to think you'd never ask," she says, slinging her legs into his lap and kissing him on the cheek.

"Also we should probably tell Sam and Teal'c and Jack before it hits the gossip whatever."

"Probably," she agrees, settling her arms around his neck. "Though personally I'm not seeing any particular urgency in any of those actions, are you?"

He smiles, putting his arms around her waist. "No."

This, of course, is the exact moment that Sam walks in. "Oh my God, finally," she says, and does a 180.

"Sam, didn't you come in here for a reason?" Daniel calls after her, blushing furiously.

"It can wait," she calls back, not stopping.

"I like our friends," Vala says, leaning her head on Daniel's shoulder.

"You only say that because we haven't called Jack yet," he tells her, though privately he both agrees and also wonders if he was the literal last person to figure out that he had to at least try with Vala, that some edges would always be jagged, some cracks always unfilled, if he didn't give this a chance.

"You only say that because you're forgetting that General O'Neill and I get along splendidly. You on the other hand . . . have you even talked to him since . . . you know?"

Right. Since he was a Prior. Since Jack made his skepticism clear right up until the last moment. Since Daniel was too hurt to let Jack try and mend fences before he had to go back to Washington.

"Yeah. I called him once I'd calmed down some. We worked things out."

"I'm glad. The world is a little off its axis when you two are genuinely angry with one another."