TITLE: Puzzle Pieces
AUTHOR: Lady Ra
E-
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Jim/Blair, Jack/Daniel
EPISODE SPOILERS: Yes, a little bit here and there, all season five or earlier for Stargate is fair game, and up to and including The Rig for Sentinel, but seeing as I muck around with everything, it doesn't really matter. But, for you purists: Sentinel: The Rig. Stargate: Forever in a Day and the Crystal Skull. Oh, and the timing doesn't work between the two series, but we're pretending, remember?
DISCLAIMER: It all belongs to whoever the heck owns Sentinel and Stargate. And that's not me. Although, between you and me, I think they'd be much better adjusted if they did belong to me, so there.
SUMMARY: In two other realities, Jim, Blair, Jack and Daniel have to live with the sorrowful consequences of life. Then circumstances put them all face-to-face again.
NOTES: Another big old AU story, alternate reality story, parallel universe story, you name it, it's happening here. Just to make everyone feel better, NONE OF THIS TAKES PLACE IN OUR REALITY. That's important to keep in mind as there are major character deaths all over the place but, yes, it all ends happily. Oh, and for those of you Sentinel folks who don't know: Ammonet is the Goa'uld who took Sha're as host (which, if you're not familiar with the show, probably doesn't help at all. <g>).
DISTRIBUTION: Prospect 852, Area 52 (I'll submit, thanks) and my home site: www.visionsofprettyboys.com. If you want it someplace else, let me know. I can be bought.
FEEDBACK: Absolutely. In fact I insist on it. No, I'm begging you for it. As a matter of fact, I'm gonna bribe you for it. If you don't send me feedback, I'm going to go write Smallville and MFU fics from now on.
THANKS: Thanks to my vunderbar betas. My stories are always so much better for their hard work. For this story that includes: Trish, Hawthorn, Morr, Medieval Babe, Andrea, Prentice, Joolz and Lasha. How lucky am I? Betaing long stories is a chore. So many, many thanks. And any mistakes you find, they're mine. Once I got it back, I added about twenty more pages, and twiddled with everything.
Please read above notes section. It's important. Thanks! <g>
Puzzle Pieces:
Daniel looked at the contents of the box in front of him, feeling confused. Just to make sure, he checked the cover and saw that it had, indeed, been addressed to the Museum of Cairo, part of what they'd found at the Osiris dig. But he'd never seen an Egyptian artifact that looked like this.
Gingerly, he pulled it out of the carton. It was made of a gold-colored metal, one end of it a large spiral, the other end something that was clearly made to fit over a hand with a jewel of some sort centered over the palm.
Glancing around, noting that no one was near, Daniel slid it onto his arm, fitting his fingers into the gold glove, the spiral snug around his lower arm. A shiver crept down Daniel's spine, and he felt a moment's coldness like a cloud crossing the sun.
Repulsed for no reason he could understand, he yanked the thing off and dropped it on the desk. Knowing he was being foolish, Daniel couldn't help but wish he were in a completely different room, maybe even a different building from the gold object. He'd never prided himself on being particularly psychic, but that thing felt evil.
Cautiously, he peered back into the box and saw two canopic jars. Both looked as if they were still sealed and Daniel's eyes lit up at the thought of discovering what treasures lay within. He'd have to see if the x-ray machine was available so he could take a sneak peak.
Picking up his phone to call the lab, he paused, arrested by the sight of a man in dress blues standing at his office door. The guy was gorgeous, grey-silver hair, brown eyes you could drown in, body tall and strong. Daniel guessed Air Force but wasn't sure what rank. "May I help you?"
"You Dr. Jackson?"
Daniel nodded. "Daniel is
fine." He liked the man's
voice. "And you are?" He had a momentary fantasy that the man
answered: 'All yours, honey. Your
place or mine?' Even better would be
if the guy just strode in, swept the desk clean-- wait, Daniel would have to
make sure the canopic jars made it to the ground safely. Okay, so first Daniel would put the canopic
jars on the floor and then the man could just stride in, sweep everything off
Daniel's desk--wait, first he'd have to come around to Daniel's side of the
desk.
Okay, he'd stride into the office, stalk right up to Daniel, sweep the desk clear, and then, shit, he'd need to shut the door. Okay, back up.
"Dr. Jackson, Daniel, are you okay?"
Daniel's eyes opened wide and he realized the man was standing right in front of him, on his side of the desk, his hand on Daniel's shoulder, shaking him a little. "What? Oh, sorry, what were you saying?" He looked up to see that his office door was shut.
Blinking, he gazed again at the man in front of him, feeling as if he'd been caught up in a spell. He could feel the press of the man's fingers on his shoulder, could feel the warm exhalation of his breath. Daniel glanced down at his desk to see that it had not been swept clear. He found that very disappointing.
"Colonel Jack O'Neill, two l's, United States Air Force."
Daniel kept staring. They were almost the same height; the colonel was maybe an inch or two taller. "Colonel, " Daniel repeated. He didn't think he'd ever met a colonel before. As he wasn't a fan of the military, Daniel was surprised that everything about this guy was turning him on, pushing buttons he didn't even know he had.
Just to be on the safe side, Daniel lifted the box containing the two canopic jars and set it on the floor. Now, just in case, he was ready. When he stood back up, the colonel was frowning at him.
"What did you do that for?"
Daniel didn't really have an answer. Well, he did, but somehow he didn't think that telling the guy he'd gotten the desk safe so the colonel could sweep everything off of it, and then fuck him into next week, was the best course of action. Daniel licked his bottom lip and then chewed on it a little, gazing at the colonel, blinking. He couldn't help but notice that the colonel's eyes seemed to be watching his lips.
The colonel smiled, and his eyes twinkled.
Daniel knew he was smitten if he was actually thinking that someone's eyes were twinkling.
"Are you," O'Neill asked, his smile growing broader, "flirting with me?"
"Um," Daniel answered, making all his linguistic teachers proud. "Maybe." He winced a smile at the colonel, hoping this wasn't going to get him punched. It was possible, now that he was thinking about it, that getting frisky around a colonel in the United States Air Force was perhaps not the brightest thing he'd ever done.
"Sweet," the colonel said, as he twinkled some more. Then, to Daniel's astonishment and delight, he threaded a hand through Daniel's hair, yanked him close and kissed him.
It might not be the equivalent of a desk sweeping, but Daniel could happily adapt. As he did with most things in his life, he threw his heart and soul into the experience, putting his archeology expertise to good use as he explored O'Neill's mouth. His hands were doing a little investigating of their own as they made their way down the colonel's back until they were grabbing his very firm ass.
The colonel pushed him back against the desk, and Daniel could see desk sweeping in his immediate future when there was suddenly a knock on the door. "Colonel O'Neill?"
One last desperate bottom lip suck and the colonel backed away. "Fuck." He straightened his uniform a little and yelled, "What is it?"
"It's General Hammond, Sir, he needs you back at the base immediately."
Daniel let his head drop to the colonel's shoulder, seeing his unexpected but highly welcomed reality-is-better-than-fantasy dreams of fucking go up in smoke. "Who is that?" he rasped out. He was going to the top of his People-I-Hate-Most list.
"My aide." O'Neill smiled an apology. "I'm sorry. Duty calls." He let out a dry laugh. "You don't know how many times I've used that line to get out of something, but it sucks the big one right now."
"You really have to go?"
O'Neill nodded. "The General isn't an alarmist. If he needs me back, he needs me back." He took a step backward, and his eyes raked Daniel over from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. "They sure don't make archeologists like you where I'm from." Letting out a sigh, he took yet another step back, adjusting himself. "Damn, I'm gonna have a bad case of blue balls."
Daniel could empathize. "Will you be back?"
O'Neill sent him another apologetic smile. "Don't have much reason to get to Egypt, but if I ever do, I'll look you up." He leaned in and gave Daniel a quick kiss. "That's a promise."
Daniel blew out a disappointed breath and just spoke his mind. "Well, if you do, would you mind just sweeping off my desk and fucking me on it?"
O'Neill glanced at the box on the floor. "Is that why you put that on the floor?"
Daniel shrugged. "A man can hope, right?"
O'Neill let out a little growl. "Whatever the general wants better be important, because if it's not, I'm quitting, and I'll be back on the next plane."
Daniel had a sick feeling that he'd never see Colonel Jack O'Neill again. "Why were you here in the first place?"
"I'm here to pick up some items from a dig in Cairo." He pulled out a folded piece of paper, shook it out and read from it. "Two canopic jars, sealed, one gold decorative item for arm and hand."
"You can't take those jars," he protested, picking up the box and putting it on the desk, one hand firmly placed on top. "I haven't even had a chance to look at them yet."
The colonel looked momentarily alarmed. "For which we can only be thankful. And yes, I can take them. Sorry, but Uncle Sam is claiming them on an urgent need-to-know basis."
"What the hell does the military need canopic jars for?" Daniel argued. He'd been looking forward to that research, especially now that his romantic entanglement fantasy had come to a screeching halt.
"Can't tell you that, sorry." There was another spate of impatient knocking at the door. Jack stole one more quick kiss. "Jesus." He grinned. "Ever consider working for the military?"
Daniel shook his head. "No. Not really. I'm not really the military type." Then again, if the military had men like Jack O'Neill, maybe Daniel should think about it. "I wish you didn't have to go."
"That makes two of us." When the knocking started up again, Jack moved across the office and yanked open the door. "I'm coming, I'm coming. Hold your damn horses." He moved back to the box Daniel had set on the desk, flipping it open, taking a quick look inside. "Where's the gold thingy?"
Daniel grimaced and picked up the gold metal bracelet-glove contraption. "Here." He held it in front of him like it was dripping with poison.
O'Neill's eyebrows rose and he took the device from Daniel, resting it in the
box on top of the jars. "Have you
translated what's on those jars, yet?"
"No, I was about to get started on it. If you leave them," he suggested hopefully, "I'll get it done as fast as I can."
With a shake of his head, O'Neill lifted the carton. "Can't do that. We need them back on the base, and we need them translated immediately. I'll have to let our guys take a crack at it."
Daniel let out an aggrieved sound. He wasn't prone to boasting but he knew what he was good at, and there weren't many linguists around better then him. He should be the one translating those jars.
O'Neill was staring at him, a gleam in his eye. "Of course, if you wanted to go with me, I could let you work on them. I'd recruit you this instant. But, we'd have to go. Right now."
Daniel was sorely tempted. Both the jars and Colonel O'Neill were like the sirens of old, calling the sailors to their death. But he had commitments. He couldn't just walk away, much as he wanted to. He sadly shook his head.
"I figured as much, but I had to give it a try, right?"
Daniel wanted to change his mind, but he just stood there and said, "Well, have a safe trip." He gestured at the box. "They're padded pretty well, but you don't want to jostle them too much."
"Right, no jostling." He stared at Daniel for a few moments. "Well, Dr. Jackson, it was a pleasure doing business with you." He gestured at his aide and the two of them headed for the door.
"If you have trouble getting the jars translated, call me," Daniel threw in desperately, suddenly terrified of letting O'Neill walk out of his life.
O'Neill nodded and with one last look, he was gone.
Daniel slumped down into his chair feeling depressed. It was like Santa Claus had shown up in person, handed Daniel a stocking full of the most wonderful presents imaginable, and then, with a Machiavellian laugh, had stolen it back, given Daniel the finger, and flown up the chimney, presents in hand, leaving Daniel with a plate of half-eaten cookies.
He was suddenly sure that life completely sucked.
He was suddenly equally sure that he'd made a mistake. He should have gone. Wondering if he still had time, he raced for his office door, running to the front exit. He slammed open the door just in time to see O'Neill getting into a black sedan. "Colonel," Daniel yelled.
The colonel shut the door, clearly having not heard.
Daniel raced down the steps as fast as he dared, waving his hands, hoping to get O'Neill's attention. He was almost to the street when the colonel pulled out into traffic.
It happened in slow motion, something you only see on some low-budget disaster film. The colonel's aide was holding the box with the jars, while O'Neill drove. A car came flying out of the next street, smacking into the colonel's car directly on the side where O'Neill sat, hitting it so hard the car rocked and spun almost all the way around.
The box went flying and one of the jars came out of its webbed padding and broke. Daniel winced at the damage even as he was still making his way to the sedan, wanting to see if O'Neill was all right. The aide seemed to be okay since he was moving.
Daniel stopped. Actually, the aide was doing a lot more than simply moving. He was yelling and waving his arms around. And so was O'Neill. Then the aide had his gun out and he was shooting at something in the car.
Daniel saw the something. Just for a
second. A slithering blur that was
climbing up the back of the driver's seat.
It balanced for the briefest of moments on the headrest and then
vanished down the neck of O'Neill's uniform jacket. Or at least that's what it looked like to
Daniel.
Sure he was seeing things, Daniel squinted his eyes. Just at that very second, as if the colonel knew he was standing there, O'Neill turned his head and stared right at Daniel. Daniel started to move forward, wanting to help, but suddenly O'Neill's eyes glowed. That stopped Daniel in his tracks. The colonel's eyes were glowing.
Then, a look of sheer determination appeared on his face and he waved Daniel back with such ferocity that Daniel obeyed, getting back on the sidewalk. O'Neill said something to his aide, pointed at Daniel, and his aide tightened his lips and nodded, pulling something out of a bag in the back.
He jumped out of the car and ran for Daniel, forcing him back. Daniel watched O'Neill's eyes glow again while, out of his peripheral vision, he saw the aide press a button on a small black remote of some sort. The car exploded with a deafening boom.
Only the fact that the aide had pushed him back kept Daniel from getting seriously hurt. As it was a small piece of metal hit him on the face, and the heat from the blast forced him even farther away. His mind was in shock. The car had exploded. With Colonel O'Neill in it. O'Neill was dead. His future, the brass ring he'd suddenly, in a very uncharacteristic move, decided to grab with both hands, was now nothing but ashes.
Daniel couldn't hold back a sob, for whatever it was he'd now never have. He turned to the aide to demand an excuse for what had happened, after all, he'd been the one to push the damn button. But when he looked, the aide was nowhere to be found.
He sank down on the steps, stunned, angry, confused, bereft. He'd known the colonel for ten minutes, and yet he felt as if he'd just lost the best friend he'd ever had.
*****
Alternate Reality 1: Jim's story
Jim stood against the railing of the submarine counting off the seconds, praying Blair would be able to diffuse the bomb on the oil rig. Five-four-three-two-one. A huge fire-ball lit the sky. Jim bowed his head in grief and disbelief.
Like an automaton, he gathered up his prisoners and handed them off to the Coast Guard when they came in answer to his call. Then, on the off chance that Blair had done as he'd been told and jumped off the rig, Jim asked the captain to do a run by the remains.
Jim knew it was a long shot. Even if Blair had jumped, he wouldn't have had time to swim far enough away not to get sucked under by the explosion. Either he'd been blown up, or he'd drowned. Either way, he was dead.
The explosion had been massive, and there was nothing left to see. The ocean, in spots, seemed to be burning, but it was just splotches of oil on the surface of the water. No bodies, no debris for anyone to hang on to in order to keep afloat. Nothing.
He'd get the Coast Guard to come out in the morning to look again, just in case. Even though Jim knew, deep down inside, that his friend was dead, he couldn't give up this easily. Or maybe it was that he wasn't willing to face a future without Blair in it.
*****
Two days later, the Coast Guard called off the search, and Jim couldn't deny it any longer. Major Crimes was in a state of shock; even Simon was a mess. Jim was stunned by how many people came to Blair's funeral. Being so clueless about how many lives Blair had touched made Jim ashamed.
Naomi had shown up for the service, sobbed in Jim's arms, and then departed for parts unknown. Jim figured he'd never hear from her again.
He couldn't bring himself to get rid of Blair's things. In fact, more often than not, Jim found himself sleeping on Blair's futon, one of Blair's shirts by his nose so he could breathe in the scent of his dead friend.
Jim actually tore some fabric off of one of Blair's flannel shirts and kept it with him so he could sniff it every now and then. It helped center him when his senses went a little wild.
He found himself working insane hours to avoid going home. For a man who had once prized his solitary nature, wrapping it around himself like a protective cloak, he was bewildered by how easily Blair had breached the walls around him.
Now his loft felt unbearably empty.
Work sucked without Blair as his partner.
Wonderburger didn't taste as good without Blair to yell at him about eating food that was bad for him.
Nothing was fun anymore.
The toiletries Blair had bought for him started to run out, and Jim wasn't sure where he bought them as they weren't available at their usual market. So, Jim bought other brands.
His skin started to break out in rashes.
The first time he tried to use regular cleaning products he had to let the loft air out for two days before he could go home again. Even then it hurt to breathe for a week.
At least a dozen times a day, he'd turn to ask Blair something only to remember that he was dead. That he wouldn't be offering any more off-the-wall opinions that were usually right, or zing somebody with a joke, or tell Jim how awesome he was.
Jim's clothes began to bother him, and sleeping nude didn't help because the sheets felt scratchy.
Everything started to taste bad.
His home stopped feeing safe.
Jim started feeling like a freak again.
He tried to read through Blair's notes, but he'd written in some cryptic shorthand that was impossible to decipher. Plus, his eyes were playing tricks on him sometimes, his vision zooming in and out. It made him dizzy and sick to his stomach.
*****
"What the fuck happened to you out there, Jim?" Simon demanded. Jim was currently sitting in Simon's office, getting his ass reamed.
Jim shrugged.
"Don't try that dumb act on me. Tell me the truth. You zoned, right?" Simon cursed and shoved his cigar in his mouth, chewing angrily on the end.
Jim nodded, miserable at the situation. He thought he was done with zoning. He hadn't zoned for months. Blair had--. Jim shut that thought down. "Yeah, I zoned."
"Fuck."
Jim couldn't agree more. What Simon didn't know was that it wasn't the first time. He'd zoned twice over the weekend. Once over the sound of rain falling on his skylight, the second over the hairs in Blair's brush that still lay by the sink.
"Jim." Simon pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. "How bad is it?"
Jim sighed and looked away.
"Can you do this without Sandburg?" Simon's voice still caught on Blair's name. His absence had left a hole they were having a hard time ignoring or filling.
Jim wasn't sure of anything anymore. He'd honestly thought that he had learned to manage his senses, that he was on top of things. It was hard for him to admit that maybe he'd never been in control. That it had been Blair that had controlled him. That it had been Blair's presence that had made the difference. That Jim needed his Guide or he wasn't going to be all right. And his Guide was gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.
"I--I don't know, sir." Jim shook his head. "I don't know anything anymore." He scrubbed his face with his hands. "I may need some time off." Jim wasn't sure what he'd do with it. He wasn't any better at home. In fact, the loft was worse. Between Blair being gone, and his scent slowly disappearing, and the new chemicals tainting it, it didn't feel like home anymore.
The truth was that Jim didn't know where to go or what to do. He had no idea how to get relief. How did you get away from seeing, smelling, hearing, tasting or touching anything? Maybe Peru and the Chopec could help, but the thought of making those arrangements, of dealing with all those airports and noise and smells and lights made his stomach clench.
What he really needed was to sleep. Just a full night's sleep would make a difference. But the likelihood of that happening while he slept on sheets that hurt his skin, wearing silk pajamas that felt like sandpaper, inundated by neighborhood noises that sounded like nails on a chalkboard, was slim to none. Knowing that he'd be waking up to a breakfast he couldn't eat because all he could taste were chemicals didn't help. He desperately needed a break. Just for an hour or two. Like a sensory depravation tank.
Except it wouldn't work for him because he'd be able to smell and taste the water, its chemicals, the refuse of the people who'd been in there before him. And he'd be able to hear the sounds of the lab, the noise of the circulating system.
"Jim. Jim. Ellison!"
Jim looked up to find Simon bellowing at him. He scrubbed his face again. "What? Sorry."
"That's it. I'm putting you on desk duty until you get your shit together."
Jim shook his head. "I just need a few days off. I'll go out to the woods or something, someplace I can relax. It's been a bad month." Understatement of the year. Worst month of Jim's life. And in a life that pretty much sucked anyway--that was saying something.
Simon scowled at him, but then he nodded and moved behind his desk, yanking open a file cabinet drawer, flipping through files, until he found the appropriate paperwork. He slapped it down in front of Jim. "Put your John Hancock on that."
Jim signed a shaky signature and leaned back. "Thanks, Simon. I appreciate it."
"Yeah, well, just try to relax. I'll check on you in a few days to see how you're doing. If you need something in the meantime, call me. It's been rough on all of us."
Jim knew that was true. Not that it was a contest or anything, but he was guessing that it was a bit rougher on him. He'd been Blair's roommate, he'd been Blair's partner, he'd been Blair's Sentinel. Feeling a sudden need to be alone, he surged up out of the chair. "See you, Simon. Thanks again."
Simon chewed on his cigar and frowned at him.
Jim took that for permission to leave.
Later that night, he stared at the uneaten cartons of Chinese food sitting on the counter. For a second, as he'd run up the stairs, he'd forgotten, and he'd looked forward to the expression on Blair's face when he walked in with his favorite.
Jim had barely made it to the toilet on time before he puked up what little there was in his stomach. Then, for the first time since Blair's death, he'd lain on the bathroom floor and wept.
Now, back on the couch, all he felt was lonely and scared. He had no idea how he was supposed to do this without Blair. He wasn't entirely sure that he could.
Jim threw the Chinese food away; there was no way he could eat it now. He bagged the garbage and took it downstairs. Even overnight, the garbage stank up the loft so much he was gagging when he woke up.
When he returned, he sat back on the couch, and tried to do one of the meditation exercises Blair had taught him. Then someone honked their horn out on the street and Jim's head was filled with the cacophony of the city, the traffic, the trains, the sirens, all the people talking and laughing and crying and screaming, and the seagulls screeching, and the waves crashing, and Jim stared at nothing, lost in the noise.
He had no idea what snapped him out of it, but suddenly it was daylight and Jim was still sitting on the couch. It took him a second to figure out what had happened, and then a glance at the clock to realize that he'd been zoned for almost fifteen hours. He looked down at himself in disgust. Long enough for him to soil himself.
Jim stood, his legs so stiff he almost fell on his ass. His eyes hurt they were so dry, even blinking was painful. Holding on to the couch arm for balance, he stripped off his clothes, balling them up, grateful beyond words his sense of smell wasn't acting up. He walked stiffly to the kitchen and shoved the clothes in the garbage. They'd go down to the trash, along with the sofa, after he was clean.
Jim put some drops in his eyes and then took a long shower. Even the heat of the water didn't stop his trembling. Fifteen hours. He'd never zoned for that long. But then again, Blair wouldn't have let him. Jim rested his head against the tile in the shower and felt like a rat in a maze.
When the water temperature started to grow tepid, it also started to feel like needle pricks. Jim shut off the water and got out of the shower. The cold tile under his feet was like hot coals, and the towel he grabbed to dry himself felt like it was tearing his skin off. He dropped it to the ground, just standing there, hoping the sensations would pass, but even the mild stirrings of air hit his skin like a whip.
Jim sank to his knees, burying his face in his hands. "Oh, Jesus, Blair, help me." He crawled out of the bathroom, dragging himself to Blair's room. He managed to get on top of the futon, ignoring the pain every touch inflicted. Jim grabbed Blair's pillow, burrowing his face in it, desperately searching for his Guide's scent. He found it, just the barest trace of it. He followed it down until he was lost.
*****
Simon huffed up the stairs, hating the fact that he was getting older. Gone were the days when he could race up two flights and not feel a thing. Of course, the last five weeks hadn't helped. As much as Sandburg had aggravated the shit out of him, he'd tended to make a person feel younger. Aggravated, but younger. Simon had been surprised at how much he missed him.
He banged on the door. "Jim? It's Simon." The worry that had been brewing ever since Jim had left his office yesterday was starting to move into the red zone. Simon hadn't liked the look on his friend's face, but he also hadn't had any idea of how to help. That had been Sandburg's department. And they'd all gotten pretty dependent on him just stepping up to the plate regardless of how weird and angry and unpleasant Jim was getting. Just send Sandburg in; he'll handle it.
Simon let out a short mirthless laugh. And the kid always had. Every single time; even when Jim was saying stuff that was cutting him to the quick, Sandburg hung in there and rode it out. Simon banged on the door again. "Open the damn door, Ellison. I'm not going away."
Simon should have stopped in last night, just to see how Jim was doing, but work had gotten crazy and it had been close to ten by the time he'd left. He'd started calling Jim after lunch and, after ten attempts, Simon decided to get his ass over here.
"If you don't answer the door, I'm using my key to get in," Simon bellowed. Simon yanked out his set of keys, suddenly convinced something was wrong. He found the right key and got the door open.
His face scrunched up at the smell of urine and his brow furrowed in confusion. "Jim?" He entered the apartment, shutting the door behind him.
His nose followed the urine stink to the couch and he wrinkled his face again. "What the fuck?" He ran up the stairs. "Jim?" Jim's bed was empty. Checking out the bathroom he found a wet towel on the floor. Then he saw the water stains on the wood floor leading out of the bathroom. Following them took him to the small room Sandburg used to use.
Afraid of what he'd find, Simon gingerly peeked through the half-open French doors. Jim was lying naked on the bed, shivering, his eyes open but sightless, his hands clutching a pillow that Simon could only assume belonged to Blair. "Jesus."
Simon ran to Jim's side and touched his arm. "Jim." When he got no response, he shook him. "Jim. It's Simon." There was still no response. Simon took the afghan off the bottom of the bed and wrapped it around Jim. Wishing with all his heart that this was nothing but a bad dream and Sandburg would be tripping up the stairs at any moment to drag Jim out of wherever the fuck he was stuck, Simon tried one more time. "Ellison," he yelled.
He pinched Jim hard on his arm, hard enough to leave a bruise. Nothing. Simon went upstairs to find a pair of sweatpants, which he then managed, through a feat of sheer willpower, to get on Jim, wanting to safeguard a little of his dignity. Even that didn't get a response.
Finally, having no other recourse, Simon called 911.
*****
Two days later, Simon just happened to be in the room when Jim woke up. "Blair?" Jim asked, his hand searching.
Simon moved to his bedside. "No, it's Simon."
Jim looked around blearily, his eyes red, his face gaunt and shadowed. "What happened?"
"You zoned, big time. I found you at your apartment."
"Where's Blair?"
Simon felt a sting of tears and had to swallow against a lump in his throat the size of New York. He had absolutely no fucking idea what to say.
Then Jim remembered, and his eyes filled with tears. "Oh, shit, he's gone. I forgot." He covered his face with his hands. "Oh, fuck. God, I wish I was dead."
"Don't say that," Simon cautioned, automatically.
Frantic eyes suddenly met his. "Simon, you gotta get me out of here. If I zone in here, they'll keep me alive forever like some fucking vegetable. Let me just go out into the woods somewhere so at least if I zone, I can die in peace. Please, Simon." Jim grabbed Simon's hand. "Please."
His heart hammering in response to Jim's request, Simon managed to say, "Maybe they can help you. Maybe they can give you drugs to help with your senses."
Jim shook his head. "You don't understand. Drugs don't work on me. They'll just make me nuts and then they'll think I'm crazy." He tried to sit up, yanking the IV out of his arm. "Help me up."
Simon didn't know what to do. Maybe a hospital wasn't the best place for Jim, but he sure as hell wasn't dropping him off in the woods to die like some wounded animal. "Jim. This is a bad idea."
It took Jim a couple of tries to stand, and even then he was shaky. "Where are my clothes?"
Simon just shook his head.
"Fine, I'll do it myself." He walked unsteadily to the small closet and opened it, reaching for a plastic bag. Opening it, he pulled out the pair of sweats. He leaned against the wall as he slowly pulled them over his feet and up his body. "Shit." He glanced at Simon. "How long have I been here?"
"Two days, and you were out for close to a day, I think, before I found you."
"Just take me back to my apartment, Simon. I'll take it from there."
"Jim, I think you should give them a couple of days to try to help."
"If Blair were here, you know he'd be doing everything he could to get my ass out of here. He knew hospitals were bad places for me."
Simon could hardly argue with that. He had vivid memories of Sandburg getting in doctor's faces, threatening them with lawsuits if they touched Jim with anything.
"Okay, let's go."
Jim nodded.
The sun chose that moment to peek out from the clouds and fill the room with radiant light. Jim had a second to choose, a second where he could close his eyes and walk out of the hospital. But for a brief moment, when he saw the light, there was this fervent hope that maybe Blair was on the other side of it. He chased after it and was lost.
Simon barely got to him in time to keep him from collapsing to the floor. "I need some help in here," he hollered.
*****
Two months later, Simon made his weekly visit to Jim at the long-term care facility where he was being kept. Wherever Jim had gone to this last time, he hadn't come back. Simon kept hoping, though, and he kept visiting. He knew Jim wouldn't want to live this way, but it wasn't his choice.
With Sandburg dead, heath care decisions were up to Jim's father, and William
Ellison wasn't ready to take any steps to put his son out of his misery. Not that there was much he could do
legally. Jim wasn't brain dead, he was
breathing on his own, and he wasn't dependent on any artificial means other
than naso-gastric feedings for survival.
So, his father had put his son away in this institution in Oregon, out
of state, out of mind.
The double loss of first Sandburg and now Jim had rocked Major Crimes. The place was like a morgue. Simon was thinking seriously about early retirement. It was only Daryl that gave him a real purpose for living.
Simon couldn't help but feel that he'd let his friend down. He squeezed Jim's hand, hoping that maybe this would be the time he'd open his eyes. But, they stayed shut. After one last squeeze, Simon made his way out of his hospital and back to his car.
*****
Alternate Reality 2: Jack's story
Jack poked his head in the doorway to Daniel's office. "Let's go. I'm hungry."
Daniel sort of grunted at him.
"I mean it." Jack slapped his hand against the doorjamb, trying to get his teammate's attention. "Up and at 'em."
Daniel looked up at the noise and stared at Jack over the rims of his glasses. "Oh, Jack. Hey." His eyes started to slide back down to his computer screen. "Just give me five more minutes."
Jack shook his head and walked into the office. "No. I've already done that five times and I'm sick of it. You've been at this for hours, and it's time to eat and sleep like a normal person."
Daniel leaned back in his chair and, after taking off his glasses, rubbed his eyes. Then he yawned and stretched, his arms going overhead, his back arching to reveal a small span of tummy above the waist of his BDUs.
Jack took full advantage of the sight, feasting his eyes on Daniel's body,
fantasizing about having the right to go over there and kiss that inch of
skin. When the yawn was wrapping up,
Jack made sure to wipe all traces of his lascivious thoughts off his face. He didn't have the right to even think those
thoughts, let alone act on them.
He had hopes though. Tonight was the night. Tonight he was going to tell Daniel that he wanted more from their relationship. And, hopefully, if he'd been reading Daniel right, he'd get it. They'd have to be careful because of regulations, and Daniel might want to go slow if he'd never been with a man before, but those were mere technicalities.
After all, during his career, Jack had broken just about every regulation there was, and taking it slow was fine with him as long as he got to hold Daniel and kiss him. Jack had been thinking about kissing his friend for a long time.
People like Daniel didn't come along every day. He was brilliant, dedicated, funny, compassionate, non-judgmental, and gorgeous to boot. What Jack didn't understand was why someone hadn't already snatched Daniel up. Granted, Sha're had, but she'd been gone for over two years now, and the chances of them getting her back were pretty slim.
Daniel powered down his laptop and slipped it into his briefcase. Then he got up, stretched again, smiled at Jack, and grabbed his jacket. "Where we going?"
"I thought I could just grill a couple of steaks at home. Sound okay?"
"Sounds perfect."
Jack let out a silent sigh of relief, even as he squelched a rising sense of panic. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he should just be satisfied with what he had with Daniel. But, even as he had those thoughts, he knew he had to carry through. What he had with Daniel wasn't enough. Jack needed more, and it was worth the risk.
*****
A couple hours later, after eating dinner and watching a game where the team they were both rooting for lost abysmally, Jack got them two more beers. When he sat down, he sat a little closer to Daniel.
Daniel didn't seem to notice, and he took the beer with a small smile of thanks. "I probably shouldn't drink this; it's time for me to head home."
"You could spend the night," Jack offered. Daniel often did, although Jack was hoping he wouldn't be using the guest room tonight.
Daniel took a small sip and then put the bottle down, shaking his head. "I need to get in early to finish that translation."
Jack realized he was running out of time. "Uh, wait, I, uh--" He was almost crippled by the butterflies zooming like crazed racquetballs in his stomach.
Daniel put his hand on Jack's arm. "What is it?" He stared at Jack, affection and concern in his eyes, silently offering anything Jack needed.
At least that's what it seemed like to Jack, and he hoped to God he was right. "Uh." Deciding actions would speak much louder than words, he put his beer down and inched closer to Daniel. But then, just when he was about to grab Daniel, he chickened out. "I, uh, have something I need to tell you."
The grip on his arm grew more assuring. "Anything, Jack. You can tell me anything."
"Yeah, but I don't want to lose what we have." He gestured vaguely at the living room, his hand indicating them being together, the evening they'd just spent.
Daniel's eyebrows went up and then back down. "I'm your friend, Jack. Nothing's going to change that. I promise. Just, whatever it is, spit it out."
Jack blew out a breath, stole a quick glance at Daniel, his beautiful blue eyes, all that worried warmth focused on him, and he took his chance. He leaned in and kissed Daniel. Just a short one and no tongue action, but long and firm enough that there'd be no missing the message.
Two seconds later, Daniel was standing and staring down at him, his mouth opened, the back of his hand wiping at his lips. "What was that?"
Jack grimaced. "That was a kiss." And, apparently, not an appreciated one.
Daniel was staring at him like Jack had spoken in some newly discovered language that Daniel didn't understand.
"Jesus, Daniel, sit down, I'm not gonna jump you."
Daniel hesitated, but then he did sit down, on the very far end of the couch. "Are you attracted to me? Is that what you wanted to tell me?"
Fuck. Now Jack was tempted to stand so he could pace and blow off some of the nervous energy that was building to critical proportions, but he could hardly do that after yelling at Daniel to sit down. "Yeah, I am. And I sort of thought you felt the same way, but I'm guessing I was wrong, huh?"
Daniel stared at him as if he was growing antenna. "Jack, I'm married." He made a hand motion to the fireplace where a picture stood of Jack, Sara, and Charlie. "So were you."
Jack shrugged. "I'm divorced. And Sha're--" He left that one unfinished.
"Is still alive. We'll get her back," Daniel insisted loudly.
"Fine." Jack couldn't believe how badly he'd read this situation. In fact, he didn't believe it. "You really don't feel that way about me? I mean, even just a little? Never thought about it?"
Daniel shook his head emphatically. "No." He punctuated the 'no' by leaning backwards, which was all he could do to get farther away without moving to a different chair.
Jack snorted and waved a hand at the distance between them. "What is this all about? What are you afraid of? Is it the bisexual thing? Somehow I never saw you as the type to get uptight over that sort of thing."
"No, of course not," Daniel said indignantly. "As long as it's consensual and legal, it's none of my business."
"So, what is this? Are you afraid I'm gonna attack you or something?"
"You kissed me, Jack. I would label that as an attack of sorts."
"Oh, please. I kissed you for all of two seconds, and now you're going all damsel in distress on me. What happened to 'you can tell me anything, Jack, you're my friend'?"
"Tell being the operative word. I don't remember giving you permission to kiss me."
"I was demonstrating," Jack protested. "I thought it would get the idea across more effectively."
"Well," Daniel huffed, "I guess you were right." He wiped at his lips again.
Jack stood up, letting out a disgusted noise. "Would you quit that? It's not like I've got cooties or anything." He grabbed his beer and took a long swig.
Daniel put a hand out in a universal peace gesture. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I’m just a little freaked here."
"No kidding." Jack was starting to get a little pissed. "Overreaction, much?"
"Jack, you kissed me."
"You keep saying that like I killed a litter of kittens or something," Jack yelled. "I was just showing you how I felt. That I care about you, that I want to have a different sort of relationship. Forgive me if I've traumatized you for life."
Daniel's eyebrows were practically doing a minuet.
Jack scowled. "Look, just forget it. Obviously, I misread the whole situation. So, let's pretend this night never happened, and we can go back to being friends tomorrow, all right?" Please let it be all right, Jack pleaded silently. Please don't leave me with nothing here.
"Is that what you want?" Daniel asked, his brow furrowing.
"No, it's not what I want, but clearly you're not interested in me that way, right?"
"It's not that I don't like you, Jack, I do, you're, well, I consider you my best friend, but this is so unexpected. I'm married and I'm straight, and I thought you were, too, and no, I'm not interested in you that way." His face scrunched up like the thought gave him gas.
"Jesus." Jack took another long swig. Maybe he'd get stinking drunk tonight. "Yeah, I definitely think we need to forget this ever happened."
Daniel stood up. "Okay. We can do that. Tonight never happened."
Jack took a step toward him.
Daniel backed up.
"For pete's sakes, Daniel, I've had these feelings about you for a long time and I've never touched you, have I?"
Daniel touched his lips. "Well, you did kiss--"
Jack cut him off with a vicious swipe of his hand. "Don't say it. I meant up to now, you never even knew, did you?"
Daniel shook his head.
"Right, and you'll never know again. This night never, ever happened."
Daniel scrunched his face up again and he pushed his glasses farther up his nose. "Right." He made a vague gesture at the door. "Well, I better go. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah." Jack stayed where he was. Daniel knew where the door was, and Jack didn't think he could handle watching Daniel back away from him again. "Tomorrow."
Daniel grabbed his jacket and slipped it on. He flashed a nervous grin at Jack and moved to the door. "Night." Then he was gone.
Jack went immediately to the bar and grabbed a bottle of scotch and poured himself a large glass. "Fuck."
*****
The next week was as awkward as Jack had hoped it wouldn't be. Daniel was acting so weird even General Hammond was giving him odd looks. Daniel was dropping things, starting and stopping sentences, and wincing more than usual.
Carter asked him three times during a briefing whether he was okay or not. Daniel kept shooting nervous glances at Jack and nodding.
Jack closed his eyes so he didn't have to watch anymore. All he could hope was that Daniel would get over it. If he was half the man Jack knew him to be, he would. Daniel forgave everybody everything.
But by the time the week ended, Jack had only seen Daniel during the times duty threw them together.
*****
Friday night, Jack stood outside Daniel's office door. "Ready to go get something to eat?" he asked casually, hoping Daniel couldn't hear his heart pounding in his chest.
Daniel looked up at him, and Jack didn't miss the guilt there, despite the fact that Daniel was trying to hide it. "Ah, yeah, actually, I'm, uh, I told Teal'c that I would join him, um, for his Kel-no-reem." Daniel looked exhausted after getting through that sentence.
Jack stepped into the office and shut the door. Fortunately, he didn't have to worry about security cameras in Daniel's office. For some inexplicable reason, given what Daniel seemed to be able to concentrate through, he couldn't handle the security cameras. They creeped him out. Hammond had them removed.
"Do you just need time, Daniel, or is this how it starts?"
"What do you mean?"
"Is this the start of you ending our friendship?" Jack was proud of how calmly he asked that question, when what he wanted to do was flip over Daniel's desk in an angry act of violence.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Daniel said carefully.
"Oh, come on. You know exactly what I’m talking about. When we're both free, we go out for dinner on Friday nights. We've been doing that for two years." He shrugged. "So, what? You just forgot?"
Daniel sighed. "Listen, Jack, I, maybe I do need some time."
"I don't believe that, because if you needed time, the Daniel I thought was my friend would have asked for it before now. But instead you've been acting like I'm a leper all week, leaving every time I show up, and when we have to be together, you couldn't be more uncomfortable."
Daniel touched his lips.
"Don't fucking say it. Get over it already. Jesus." Jack had to force his hands to unclench.
"I just don't understand why you did it. I'm married."
"She's been gone for two years."
Daniel stood, his own fists clenched. "We'll get her back. You told me we'd get her back."
"Is that what this is about? That somehow me kissing you means that the search for Sha're is over?"
"Well, isn't that what you're thinking? You must think she's gone for good since you obviously think it's time for me to move on."
"Maybe I do think you should be moving on, and I bet Sha're would be the first to agree with me, but I'm insulted that you'd think I'd stop trying to help you find her and save her. I guess that tells me what you think of me." It was time for Jack to go hit a punching bag to keep himself from hitting Daniel.
Daniel put out a placating hand. "Jack, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. This has all just, well, it's really thrown me. Maybe I should have asked before, but I'm asking now. I need some time."
Jack nodded stiffly and left Daniel's office, heading straight for the gym.
*****
He tried again the next Friday after leaving Daniel alone all week. This time he went in and shut the door behind him. "Hey, ready for dinner?"
When Daniel hesitated, something inside of Jack started to shrivel up and die. "Jack--"
Jack shook his head. "Forget it, Daniel." He turned to leave but then swung back. "You know, I really trusted you. I really trusted that I meant something to you, even as just a friend. And I really trusted you when you said that no matter what I said, nothing would change. But I guess we were both wrong."
Daniel stared at him, his eyes stricken. "I just don't know what to do. You said that you thought I felt the same, and then when I reacted the way I did, that you'd misread the situation. Jack, you don't misread situations. You're trained to pick everything up and analyze it and come to the correct conclusion."
"And your point is?"
That got him an annoyed look. "The point, Jack, is that I don't feel that way about you. I'm straight and have never been attracted to men. But, obviously, something I do, or say, or the way I act toward you, gave you the impression that I'd be willing to enter into that sort of relationship with you. And suddenly, I'm not comfortable in my own skin. What am I doing, what am I saying? Am I somehow leading you on even now? It seems like the height of cruelty to be with you when I don't have any idea what I was doing to encourage you."
That made a twisted sort of sense. "It doesn't matter. I know now that you don't. So, my trained mind will learn to put a different interpretation on whatever it is you do that made me think that. I can do that, Daniel. I've been in hundreds of situations in my career when something I thought to be true suddenly wasn't and I had to re-evaluate my conclusions. This is just like that."
Daniel shook his head. "How can you do that? How do you just shut your heart off? Every day I ache for Sha're. Every day it hurts. I don't want to do that to you."
"We're different people. I learned how to shut things off a long time ago."
Taking his glasses off, Daniel scrubbed at his face. "I suck at relationships, Jack. I always have. I've never had a good one. Every time I ended up in bed with someone, I wasn't even sure how I got there, Sha're included. And, with the exception of Sha're, they all left pretty fast."
"Is this going someplace?" Jack wasn't feeling particularly inclined to listen when he was pretty sure it wasn't going anyplace he wanted it to.
"I've never even been good at having friends. And maybe this is why. I suck at it. I say what I don't mean to, and probably don't say what needs to be said."
"I thought we were doing just fine. You were a great friend, Daniel."
Daniel shrugged. "Not so great. You're right, it was just a kiss, but look at me. I'm a wreck. I'm humiliated at how lousy my coping skills are for this. What kind of friend does that make me?"
"The kind of friend I still want," Jack stated firmly, needing so badly to fix things. "I never would have said anything if I'd thought I'd lose you as a friend. You were the most important thing in my life and I don't want to lose that." It killed Jack that he was begging. He hadn't begged for anything since Charlie died.
Daniel shook his head, speechless, his hands raised in a hopeless gesture.
Jack looked away for a few seconds, composing himself, the scope of his loss tearing him apart. "Fine." He cleared his throat against the lump that was sitting there. It felt like a fucking planet. "So where does that leave us?" He might as well go for the surgical strike; Jack hated long goodbyes.
"After we get back from our next mission," Daniel said, "I'm going to ask General Hammond to put me on one of the archeological teams."
Jack nodded. Oh, yeah. Surgical strike. Knowing that anything that came out of his mouth was going to be ugly, Jack just left.
*****
Three days later they were freeing Kasuf's people from Ammonet. Jack had seen Daniel call Sha're's name and head up the hill to try to see her while Jack was down below trying to keep the prisoners heading in the right direction.
As Jaffa started pouring down the hill, Daniel ducked inside the tent. Even though they could have used his help, Jack sent Teal'c up to check on Daniel. He tried not to think about the fact that this would be their last mission. That from now on, his interactions with Daniel would probably entail a tight smile as they passed each other in the hallways.
Jack ducked down next to Carter and began firing at the Jaffa, giving Teal'c some cover. As soon as they got things under control, he looked up at the tent. When he heard a staff blast, Jack started running up the hill, Carter behind him.
When he folded back the opening to the tent door, everything came to a crashing halt. Ammonet was dead, a blast hole through her chest. Teal'c was on the floor, Daniel Jackson in his arms. He looked up at Jack, apology and misery on his face. "I was too late, O'Neill. She had already killed him."
Carter let out a sob. "Oh, God." She moved across the tent to fall to her knees next to Teal'c, and she brushed the hair off Daniel's brow. Her fingers avoided the blistering redness left from the ribbon device. "Oh, Daniel." She fought for control, but tears streamed down her face.
Jack stared at the dead body of his friend, and he shut down. Shut it all down. He left Teal'c and Carter to their grieving and left the tent to help get Kasuf's people back to Abydos.
*****
Alternate Reality 2: Blair's story
Blair cast a wistful look in the tall Sentinel's direction and sat down across from Jack, slamming his tray down. "I don't understand why Jim Ellison won't let me Guide him." It was noisy enough in the lunchroom that he wasn't concerned about Ellison overhearing him.
"Because he's an idiot," Jack said, his mouth full of pie.
Blair smiled at Jack. "Thanks." He sighed and started eating his lunch.
"You want me to talk to him?" Jack asked.
Blair shook his head. "No. It's not like I've been subtle. I asked him. He said no. I asked him again, he said no again. End of story." Blair had never asked another Sentinel to pair with him. He wasn't sure why, but up until Jim, he'd been perfectly happy just heading the program.
Jack frowned across the room at the Sentinel in question. "What's wrong with him? There isn't an unattached Sentinel in this place that wouldn't give their eyeteeth to have you Guide them." He waved a hand at Blair. "I mean, you're the ultimate Guide, the Guide's Guide."
Blair rolled his eyes. "Give the shovel a rest, Jack."
Jack glared at Ellison again, and Blair noticed that everyone around their table gave them a wide berth when they saw the look on Jack's face. Not that he blamed them. Ever since Daniel's death, Jack hadn't been the easiest person to get along with. It didn't take much to set him off, and if you were the person getting ripped a new one, it could be a bit overwhelming. Jack had a lot of clout and legend preceding him.
For whatever reason, Blair rarely seemed to be in Jack's bad graces. He wasn't sure why, unless it was because he was the only civilian who wasn't intimidated to death by Jack. Or maybe it was because, as a Ph.D. civilian, he had a rank equal to Jack's and reported directly to General Hammond, so Jack couldn't treat him as a subordinate.
Only Hammond, Sam, Teal'c and he would dare to approach Jack on a bad day. And when he was in a really bad mood, even Sam walked the other way.
"You did a pretty good job on PX yada yada yesterday."
Blair beamed at Jack. "Thanks. That means a lot to me." For some reason, when Blair's Ph.D. dissertation was published, a mostly theoretical treatise on the subject of Sentinels, the armed forces had taken an immediate interest in him.
Apparently they had a few people with enhanced senses on their payroll, and while they couldn't be beat for covert surveillance and assisting with the procurement of evidence, they were fairly high maintenance employees. Blair had been hired on the spot, after a clearance check--and the overlooking of his mother's radical past--and was put in charge of the Sentinel project.
They housed the program at Stargate Command. Blair could only imagine they did it because somewhere in the upper echelons, maybe where the air was too rare to get sufficient oxygen, someone thought weird belonged with weird. So, people with enhanced senses and visits to alien planets seemed a good match.
Blair didn't mind. Actually, he loved it. He was glad he'd ended up here and not at Area 51. He'd have been warmer there, but he'd never have gotten off planet. And that was the rush to end all rushes.
When Blair first arrived here, he and Daniel had renewed an old friendship, and because of Daniel's friendship with Jack, Blair and Jack had also become friends. Blair had never spoken about it with Jack, but he'd seen how Jack had looked at Daniel over the last year and had hoped that the two of them might get together. But then, things between them had gone terribly wrong in the weeks before Daniel's death, and since then, Jack had changed.
Wanting to lighten the mood, Blair complained, "Why do they call those planets by letters and numbers anyway? I never can remember them."
"You're preaching to the choir here, buddy. I've always hated it. I mean what's wrong with Planet of the Big Purple Blobs, or Planet of the Big Honkin' Volcano?"
"Exactly," Blair enthused.
"I mean that planet yesterday could be called: Planet of
Big-Breasted Women."
Jack nodded emphatically. "See, now that I'd remember."
Blair grinned at Jack and resumed eating his lunch. He noticed Jack was still frowning at Ellison.
"Didn't he come here with a Guide?" Jack asked.
Blair nodded. "Yeah. A Chopec Indian named Incacha."
"He died, right?"
Blair nodded again. "About a month after they got here."
"Were they, you know, together?"
"I thought so, but now I don't know. He seems to like to hook up with the ladies." Maybe that was the problem. Maybe Jim was homophobic. It was pretty common for Guides and Sentinels to end up in a sexual relationship. They were together so much, and drawn to each other so strongly, it was inevitable. The military turned their nervous eye in the other direction.
"Face it, Blair," Jack interjected. "You're just hot for his body."
Blair laughed, and as he had a mouthful of food, he started choking. After a few seconds and a not-so-helpful slap on the back by Jack, he laughed again. "Well, who wouldn't be? I mean, look at him."
Jack raised his hand. "Me, for one."
Blair saw Jim leave with one of the tall blonde nurses from the infirmary and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "I just don't get it. I keep feeling this tug to be near him. I just know he's supposed to be my Sentinel."
"Well, like I said, the guy's an idiot."
Blair shrugged and went back to his lunch, watching Jack as he finished up his pie. They'd stopped trying to put an archeologist with SG-1 after several spectacular failures. The team, which now just consisted of Jack, Sam and Teal'c, was much more focused on military objectives. They were still first contact, but if anything interesting was discovered other than, as Jack would say, big honkin' space guns, other teams went in to finish up the work.
Otherwise, SG-1 was used for military maneuvers and rescues.
One time, before Daniel had died, and after obtaining Hammond's permission, Daniel had invited Blair to join them on a routine follow-up mission to a planet of new allies. Things had gone to hell in a hand basket when a rebel force had attacked SG-1. Daniel had been injured, and Blair had found himself in the position of trying to wheedle their freedom.
To Jack's surprise, but not Daniel's, he'd ended up being successful. Since then, after Daniel died, if Jack needed someone to chat with the natives, he took Blair.
If Blair had let his imagination flow free to invent the most amazing and interesting job he could think of, never could he have come up with one that was better than this one. With the exception of Jim Ellison, his life was pretty damn near perfect.
Well, there was one other exception.
Blair let out a sigh. "I
miss Daniel." He bit his lips when
he realized what he said and hoped Jack didn't do his usual freeze routine when
Daniel's name was mentioned.
But Jack just lifted sad eyes to him. "I do, too."
At the look on Jack's face, Blair had to blink away the sting of tears.
*****
Two weeks later, Blair was late for his next sojourn off planet. He entered the gate room. "Sorry," he threw out, trying to get his pack settled on his shoulders.
"What's he doing here?" an annoyed voice asked.
Blair looked up to find Jim Ellison frowning at him. His eyes widened and he looked at Jack for an explanation. Blair had told Jack he didn't want him interfering and he'd meant it.
Jack scowled. "Listen, Ellison. You're the strongest Sentinel we have, and this mission calls for some high-level surveillance. But you know the rules as well as I do. No Sentinel goes out into the field without a Guide."
"But why him?" Ellison protested.
Blair tried not to let the words hurt, but they did. He focused on adjusting his straps.
"Because he's the best Guide there is."
Jack's praise, which coming from him was high praise indeed, helped relieve the sting a little.
"I'd rather have someone else. Like Rosalind or Julie."
Blair tried to keep the wince off his face.
"Ellison, I'm not giving you a choice here. If you've got that big a problem with it, tell me now, and I'll get another Sentinel."
"If you need me," Ellison complained, "then why don't you get another Guide?"
Blair was amazed that Ellison couldn't see Jack was about to blow. How, as a Sentinel, he was missing all the signals was beyond him. This was stupid. They should just get another Guide. Blair moved closer to Jack. "Jack--" he began.
Jack put up a very definite hand, telling him to shut the fuck up.
Blair shut up.
"Perhaps you didn't hear me," Jack responded in a deadly calm voice. "Blair is the Guide for this mission. Discussion closed. The only thing open for negotiation is whether you go or I replace you with someone else."
Ellison opened his mouth to bitch again, but Jack stopped him. "Don't even try."
Ellison closed his mouth with a snap and a glare of frustration. He shot an angry look at Blair and then shared it with the whole group. "Fine. Let's go."
"You step out of line, and I'll scrub the mission," Jack threatened.
"I said fine," Ellison snapped back.
Blair had a very bad feeling about this whole thing. He tried again. "Jack, maybe you should get another Guide," he suggested softly, even though he knew Jim could hear him.
Jack put his cap on with a vicious tug. "I need you more than I need him," he said, making no effort to soften his voice. "The natives want you. I can get another set of ears and eyes if I need to."
Blair considered Jack for a moment and decided he was telling the truth. This wasn't some misguided attempt at matchmaking. "Okay." He gave Ellison a look, hoping like hell the Sentinel would listen to him. Ellison studiously avoided meeting his eyes.
Fortunately, Sam was looking at him, giving Blair an encouraging smile, and Teal'c was glaring at Ellison. Bolstered by SG-1's support, even if Ellison was being an asshole, Blair stood ready to go through the wormhole.
*****
Blair really liked this planet, although instead of PX3229, he would call it the Planet of Really Nervous People. The natives were a cautious bunch, cautious to the point of paranoia. They reminded him of rabbits or mice. Hyper-vigilant, eyes darting around, even their noses twitched.
But for all of that, the planet seemed really peaceful, and the natives they'd met hadn't successfully explained why they were so nervous. Maybe this was the way they had evolved. Maybe once upon a time they'd been prey for really large swooping birds or something.
At least this time they were paranoid for a specific reason. Apparently, there was a group of nomads in the area, and there was concern that they might be planning some sort of coup. They'd contacted Stargate Command, asking for assistance.
And that was why they were visiting the Really Nervous People. Blair was there to help calm everyone down, because the natives found him relaxing. SG-1 was there, along with a Sentinel, to do some eavesdropping.
Armed only with a zat, as Blair refused to carry anything more lethal, he stuck close to Jim as they made their way through the woods.
He caught Jack's hand signal and he hunkered down behind Ellison. He watched the Sentinel as he opened his senses to listen for any suspicious noises. Blair didn't like what he saw. It was clear Ellison didn't have much control. His intense look of concentration was coupled with winces and a forehead creased with pain lines.
Ellison shook his head no, indicating he hadn't heard anything, but then started scratching at his arm at a patch of skin that was already red. When he winced again at something Blair couldn't hear, Blair whispered, "You need to dial things down, man."
Ellison shot him a dirty look. "Leave it alone, Sandburg."
"No, I won't leave it alone." He grabbed Ellison's arm and pushed up his sleeve to reveal more patchy red skin. "This is stupid. It's fine that you don't want to work with me, but why haven't you let any of the other Guides help you with this?"
Ellison jerked his arm back. "I said leave it alone."