Title: Daniel's Office Part 4

Author: Debi C

Feedback: dcole6@satx.rr.com

Author Website: Gen: http://www.crashtomcat.bravepages.com/debic/debicindex.html

Rating: G. one jalapeno, my light saber is turquoise

Pairing: Daniel's thoughts in his office.

Category: Slashy Gen, Friendship, POV, Angst.

Date: June 19, 2003

Status: Complete

Season/Spoilers: Season 6. Full Circle, Fallen, Homecoming

Series: Guilty as charged!

Archive: The Cartouche, Incoming Wormhole, TheBoy. Anyone else please ask.

Synopsis: Jack wanders into 'that' part of the SGC complex. Fits after Homecoming.

Notes: Alpha'd by Devra, not beta'd. In response to a request on the Tok'ra Flats list.....this was a drabble that got loose and became a plot bunny.

Warnings:  It's fixed!. Hankey warning. This fic has the possibility of placing Jack and Daniel within the realm of Real Life. Please do no read if you do not wish to see the guys engaged in any of the following: Sleeping, Shopping, Cooking, Washing Dishes, Eating out, Filling the gas tank, Driving, Being Tender and loving...and any other type of activity that constitutes life outside the SGC. Oh not beta'd and no toes in sight. See Devra, it works fine.

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of The SCI FI Channel, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I do not own the characters and indeed am only playing with them for a little while. Jack and Daniel belong to each other. I am not making any money from this and I'm still paying for everything I own so there's very little point in suing me. You can't get blood out of a turnip. No copyright infringement whatsoever is intended. The story is for entertainment purposes only. At least I hope it's entertaining. The original characters, situations and story are mine. Please check with me first if you want to archive or link to this story.

Daniel's Office Part 4

By Debi C

I watch as the wormhole closes after Jonas Quinn and the representatives from Kelowna. He is gone, but before he left, we had spoken briefly about our comradeship, our adventure and his leaving to return to his planet. But now, I stand here alone in the Gateroom. No, not alone, there is someone in the shadows.

It's the Colonel. I call him Jack. Apparently, I'm the only one who does. I wonder why.

He smiles at me, a quirky grin. "Dinner's at seven." He says. "Don't be late." Then, he's gone, and I'm alone.

I go back to my office…my office…it's larger than most, because of the books and artifacts I suppose. But, there's something wrong. It's too bright, and I know the light isn't good for the relics. It causes their ancient pigments to fade. I'll have to talk to…someone; I need to find out whom...and have the bulbs replaced as soon as possible.

There's a television in the corner of the room. I will have it removed. I don't want it. It's only something else to distract me from thinking, from comprehending things that I need to understand.

I do like the aquarium though. Its effect is calming and the little lives in it should continue. They swim and eat and live in innocence, unaware of the greater powers at work in the universe.

The desk is cluttered, piled high with books, journals and papers. There is no order here, no rhyme to the reason, no method to the madness. Jonas is an intelligent man but I don't understand his thought processes. It's as if he learns things without understanding what he knows. I don't comprehend how he reaches a conclusion. There is no originality, only rote memory. I could not live like that. I want to understand the how and the why of the process, not just the end result of it.

There is a tap on the door. I look up. It's Jack again. He peeks in from behind the door, then wanders in, glances around, and smiles at me in his gamin way. "Hi. How are you doin'?"

"Fine, thank you. Do you need something?" I answer politely.

"Nope, just checking on you." He studies me, tilting his head to the side.

I look at him appraisingly. There's something in his eyes, some craving, as if expecting something of me. It bothers me that he's so seemingly dependent on my presence. Our eyes meet. After a moment, he drops his gaze. I want it back. "Jack?"

"Yes." He raises his eyes again and meets my look, locking us together.

"Jack," I ask him curiously. "who are we to each other?"

He looks at me, wonderingly. "I told you," he replies patient with my confusion. "we're best friends. We've known each other for years." He shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets. I have a sudden vision of those hands. In my mind's eye I can see them, long strong slender fingers, the little one on his left hand slightly crooked, and on the knuckles of the right hand are scars. I want his hands to touch me for some reason. I can feel his grip on my arms, but there is no fear. On the contrary, they impart a feeling of safety that is warm and comfortable. I have a feeling of rightness about this. It is as it should be.

Concerned, possibly due to my silence, he moves closer. The dark brown eyes search mine, an eyebrow arches in curiosity. "Danny, is something wrong?"

I shake my head. "No, Jack. I'm fine." The man stops, mere inches from me. I can smell him, a pleasant odor of aftershave, soap and his natural scent.

As if of it's own volition, my right hand reaches out until my fingertips rest lightly on his chest. Through his black t shirt, I can feel the rise and fall of his breath, the silent thrum of the blood rushing through his body, and the rhythmic beat of his heart. I concentrate on these sensations that I perceive.

I see Jack look down at my touch for a moment. Then, slowly, he raises his hand to mine, palm outward. He gently slides his fingers through mine, intertwining them, mingling our sensory perceptions. He continues until our fingers interlock completely, our palms are clasped together and we hold each other's hand in a firm grip.

Then, very cautiously, he brings his other hand up to my shoulder. It's as if he fears that I will bolt from the contact. He slides it gently to the back of my neck, ruffling the short sensitive hairs on the nape, stroking, and tickling the ends of the nerves. Delicately, as if petting a wild bird, he begins to massage my tense muscles and tendons. My body reacts automatically by producing tingling goose bumps. It is a pleasurable sensation and I unconsciously relax into his touch.

After a short moment, he applies more pressure and I lean into him, helpless before his power. Finally, he slides his arm down across my shoulders. and pulls me into a warm hug. My other arm slips softly around his waist. His lips are close to my ear and his breath caresses my skin. "Welcome back, Daniel. I've missed you."

I close my eyes and breath deeply, absorbing his feel, his scent, his voice and his words. If my mind still questions, my body has no doubts.

I am home.