Painful Valentine

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" rowspan="2" width=120 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="01078642egerdp.jpg"> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=428 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="00f64643.jpg"> <div> <B>Painful Valentine</B></div> <div>  <A NAME="painful_valentine"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></div> <div> Oh come on - you guys should know me by now.  Trust me on this one...</div> <bR> <div> Daniel sat with his chin in his hands, elbows propped up on his desk, staring at the item before him.</div> <bR> <div> Jack sat opposite him, mirroring his position.</div> <bR> <div> "It would appear to be a rose."</div> <bR> <div> "Very astute of you," Jack said.</div> <bR> <div> "Long stemmed."</div> <bR> <div> "Yep."</div> <bR> <div> "Red."</div> <bR> <div> "Appears that way."</div> <bR> <div> "From you, apparently."</div> <bR> <div> "That would be true, yes."</div> <bR> <div> "And it's Valentine's Day."</div> <bR> <div> "Your grasp of the obvious is overwhelming," Jack said flatly.</div> <bR> <div> Daniel scowled.  "My obvious question would be . . . why?"</div> <bR> <div> "Why do people usually give other people long stemmed red roses on Valentine's Day, Daniel?  I'm sure they covered that in anthropology one oh one."</div> <bR> <div> "Considering that it's from you . . . to *me* and not say, oh . . . *Sam*."</div> <bR> <div> "Why would I give one to Sam?"</div> <bR> <div> "Oh, I don't know.  She's . . . a woman, maybe?"</div> <bR> <div> "I've often wondered that very thing."</div> <bR> <div> "Jack," Daniel said in exasperation.</div> <bR> <div> "Daniel, what do you want me to say?"</div> <bR> <div> "I want to know what this means, why you did this."  Daniel's voice had gone from exasperation to restrained aggravation.</div> <bR> <div> "If I have to explain it, then it was obviously a mistake."</div> <bR> <div> "You're straight.  So am I.  The last time I looked, guys don't give other guys romantic symbols just because they like hanging out and drinking beer together."</div> <bR> <div> "Definitely a mistake," Jack said as he stood up.  "Sorry to have bothered you."  Putting his hands in his pockets, he walked out the door.</div> <bR> <div> "Jack, come back.  We need to talk."  Daniel watched in angry silence as Jack's fatigue clad back disappeared from view.  "Dammit, Jack," he hissed.</div> <bR> <div> ++++</div> <bR> <div> "So is this the way it's going to be from now on?" Jack demanded as he slammed into the locker room.</div> <bR> <div> Daniel threw his dirty shirt into the bottom of his locker and turned to look at the livid man before him.  "What 'way'?"</div> <bR> <div> "Gonna double guess every order I give out in the field?  Don't trust me now?"</div> <bR> <div> "That is such a bunch of shit," Daniel said as he continued to undress.</div> <bR> <div> "Is it?  For the last four missions you've done nothing but fight me on every fuckin' decision!"  Jack threw his pack onto the bench and stalked toward Daniel.  "You keep going like this, someone's gonna die out there and it's probably going to be you."</div> <bR> <div> "And are you the one who's going to kill me, Jack?"</div> <bR> <div> "There's a staff blast, or a laser, or a bullet out there with your name on it and since you won't listen to me, you're going to end up walking straight into it and there won't be a damned thing I can do to stop it."</div> <bR> <div> "That'd take care of your problem, wouldn't it?"</div> <bR> <div> Jack took a step back as if he'd been slapped.  "I'm trying to save your ass, Daniel, not drop it in a grave."</div> <bR> <div> "Funny, it sounded more like an 'if I can't have you, nobody . . ."</div> <bR> <div> Jack didn't think he'd ever hit anyone so hard in his life.  Daniel bounced off the face of the lockers and slid down onto the floor, blood trickling from the side of his mouth.</div> <bR> <div> "You sonofabitch," Jack growled.  "I've never done anything to put this command or a member of my team in a compromised position because of my personal feelings.  You said you weren't interested and I took that answer.  I haven't pushed, I haven't insisted and I sure as hell haven't brought it up again.  You, on the other hand, have continually disobeyed orders in the field, you've second guessed my command decisions, not to mention your overall shitty attitude.  You better pull your head out of your ass, Doctor Jackson, before someone else does it for you."</div> <bR> <div> ++++</div> <bR> <div> "Colonel O'Neill, this is unacceptable."  General Hammond threw the sheet of paper back onto his desk.  "I will not accept your resignation."</div> <bR> <div> "Sir, I have lost not only the trust of my team, but I have compromised myself as an officer in the United States Air Force.  As a personal favor to me, I'm asking you to please honor my request."</div> <bR> <div> "Not until you tell me what this is all about."  Hammond said, his steely blue eyes boring into Jack's brown ones.</div> <bR> <div> "I am not required to give you that information, sir, nor are you allowed to require it of me."  Jack's features turned stony.</div> <bR> <div> Hammond's jaw muscle twitched furiously as the meaning behind Jack's words sank in.  "Would this be the reason Doctor Jackson is currently in the infirmary with a concussion and dislocated jaw?"</div> <bR> <div> "Yes it is, sir."</div> <bR> <div> Hammond sat very still until he'd gathered his control once more.  "Get the hell off my base."</div> <bR> <div> Jack stood, saluted, turned smartly and walked briskly from the General's office.</div> <bR> <div> ++++</div> <bR> <div> "I can't believe you're just running away."</div> <bR> <div> Jack paused as he lifted a full ice chest into the back of his truck.  "What the hell are you doing here?"</div> <bR> <div> "I came to tell you . . . I resigned from the program.  Well, extended leave of absence is more precise."</div> <bR> <div> "That makes two of us," Jack said.  "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got somewhere I need to be."</div> <bR> <div> "Where?"</div> <bR> <div> "Anywhere you're not," Jack said as he pushed his way past Daniel.</div> <bR> <div> "This is absurd!" Daniel shouted.</div> <bR> <div> "You should have thought about that before," Jack said, yanking open the door to his truck.</div> <bR> <div> "What, this is my fault?  You have a sexual identity crisis and you blame *me*?"</div> <bR> <div> "No, Daniel, I don't blame you.  There's no one here to blame but myself."  Jack climbed into the cab of his truck and slammed the door.</div> <bR> <div> "Jack.  Jack!  I don't want things to end like this."  Daniel slapped his palm against the window, but Jack didn't even move his head to look toward him.  "You owe me, dammit!"</div> <bR> <div> Jack started the truck and pulled out of the driveway, leaving Daniel staring after him.</div> <bR> <div> ++++</div> <bR> <div> "Jack O'Neill?  Yeah, he's still up there.  You a friend of his?"</div> <bR> <div> Sam Carter threw two twenty dollar bills on the counter.  "We served together."</div> <bR> <div> "You better make sure he knows you're comin' up.  He doesn't take kindly to unexpected visitors."</div> <bR> <div> "I don't think it will be a problem."</div> <bR> <div> The old man behind the cash register shrugged.  "Your funeral."</div> <bR> <div> Sam shoved her change into her pocket and moved back outside into the hot August afternoon.  As she climbed back into the seat of her rental car, she checked her position on the GPS, then set back off down the dirt road toward the cabin that Jack O'Neill now called home."</div> <bR> <div> ++++</div> <bR> <div> "Tall blond you say?" Jack said as he spoke into the phone.</div> <bR> <div> "Real looker, too," came the old man's voice over the phone.  "Seemed nice enough."</div> <bR> <div> "We were stationed together," Jack said.  "Thanks for the call."</div> <bR> <div> He hung up and turned to stare out the window.  Inside, he'd always known this day would come, he'd just wondered how long it would take.</div> <bR> <div> Almost an hour later, the knock on the door did little more than make him raise his eyes from the book he was reading.  Getting stiffly to his feet, Jack opened the screen door to see Sam standing nervously on the porch, hands behind her back.</div> <bR> <div> "Carter," he said.  "Wanna make it quick?  I'm kinda busy."</div> <bR> <div> "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir.  Can I come in?"</div> <bR> <div> "Nope," Jack said and leaned against the door frame.  "Say your piece then be on your way."</div> <bR> <div> Sam shook her head with an air of disgust.  "I came to tell you . . . sir, Daniel's dead."</div> <bR> <div> Jack took a fraction of a second longer to respond than Sam thought he would, and by that she knew the news had not only shocked him, but wounded him.  Deeply.</div> <bR> <div> "We couldn't get a hold of you.  Even if we had, you wouldn't have been able to get back in time."</div> <bR> <div> "What happened?" Jack asked, his voice gruff with emotion.</div> <bR> <div> "We were on a mission, a place called Kelowna.  Daniel went off by himself . . . there was an explosion.  He received a lethal dose of radiation.  There was nothing we could do, sir.  He was dead within days."  Tears had begun to cloud Sam's eyes.  "He, uh . . . he didn't really die.  I mean, he did, but it was . . . something less than death I think.  He changed - transmuted into something else.  We're all pretty sure he ascended."</div> <bR> <div> "Ascended?" Jack asked.</div> <bR> <div> "Do you remember Kheb, sir?"</div> <bR> <div> Jack's mind flicked back to one of their last missions together, Daniel asking him to trust him, the death of the Jaffa . . . and the monk who died and turned into some sort of glowing energy.</div> <bR> <div> "And you think Daniel . . . did that?"</div> <bR> <div> "Yes, sir.  I was there.  I saw it happen."</div> <bR> <div> "Then I guess he's in a better place now," Jack said.  "That all?"</div> <bR> <div> "He asked for you," Sam said, not trying to keep the tears in check any longer.  "He said to tell you . . . he said to tell you he was sorry."</div> <bR> <div> Jack clenched his jaw shut tightly, turned, and went back inside.</div> <bR> <div> Sam faced a drive back into town that seemed twice as long as the one she'd made getting there.</div> <bR> <div> ++++</div> <bR> <div> Summer eased into autumn, the days growing shorter and cooler as the calendar moved inexorably toward October.  Jack stood out on the deck of his cabin, surveying the brilliant colors lining the small lake as the trees changed their finery from deep green to bright golds, yellows and reds.  He'd been numb since Sam's visit, only going through the motions of each day, hardly noticing the passage between them.  His body had thinned down to the point where he looked drawn, gaunt.  Haunted eyes stared back at him every morning.  He closed his eyes as a cool breeze wafted over him, bringing the last scents of grass and growth.</div> <bR> <div> "You look like hell."</div> <bR> <div> Jack spun around to see Daniel standing there, arms folded across his chest in a familiar pose, eyes clear and blue without the reflective covering of glasses.</div> <bR> <div> "What the fuck?"  Jack took a step toward the door to his cabin.  "Who the hell are you?"</div> <bR> <div> "It's me, Jack.  Daniel."</div> <bR> <div> "Daniel's dead."</div> <bR> <div> "Well, after a fashion," Daniel said with a small smile.  "Sam came and told you what happened."</div> <bR> <div> "Yeah, yeah, she was by," Jack said, wondering if he'd remembered to reload his 9mm after taking it out shooting the other day.</div> <bR> <div> "I need you to listen to me," Daniel said, dropping his arms to his side.  "This is really, really important."</div> <bR> <div> "You want a beer?" Jack asked.</div> <bR> <div> "No, I . . . no.  Jack, listen to me."</div> <bR> <div> "Yeah, okay.  I'm listening."  Jack pinched his forearm hard and winced.</div> <bR> <div> "It's not a dream, Jack.  I'm real.  I'm really here."</div> <bR> <div> "Why?"</div> <bR> <div> "In a little while, you're going to get a phone call.  From Stargate Command.  I need you to go back.  Go back to the Mountain, and do what they ask."</div> <bR> <div> "What are they going to ask me?"</div> <bR> <div> "Just . . . trust me on this.  They need something only you have.  You're the only chance I have of setting everything to right."</div> <bR> <div> "Why should I believe any of this?  I don't even think you're real."</div> <bR> <div> "Because you know, Jack.  Deep down in that place where only Jack O'Neill knows things.  You have to trust me."</div> <bR> <div> "What's going on, Daniel?"</div> <bR> <div> Daniel took two steps forward.  "One of the SG teams is about to discover a ship, a time device.  You have the genetic material of the race called The Ancients, the ones who ascended me, in your blood to operate their machinery.  You're the only one who can.  I need you on that time ship, Jack.  Everything depends on that."</div> <bR> <div> "Everything?  What's that mean?"</div> <bR> <div> "I'm gonna fix this whole . . . mess.  But I need your help.  Please.  Will you trust me one more time?"</div> <bR> <div> "I . . . I don't know."</div> <bR> <div> "You know where it all went wrong.  Just think of that when the time comes."</div> <bR> <div> A clap of thunder sounded off in the distance, drawing Jack's attention away for just a moment and when he looked back, there was no trace of Daniel to be found.</div> <bR> <div> ++++</div> <bR> <div> Jack exited the elevator on Level 28 of Stargate Command, coming face to face with his former CO, General George Hammond.</div> <bR> <div> "I never thought I'd see you here again, Jack."</div> <bR> <div> "Never thought I'd be back, sir," Jack said.</div> <bR> <div> "It would seem," Hammond said as he turned and walked back toward his office, "we've found not only an outpost of a race called the Ancients in the Antarctic, but we've found one of their ships off world.  If Colonel Carter's right, it would seem to be some sort of time machine.  Problem with both is that it takes someone with the proper genetic makeup to activate any of the machinery.  We did a thorough study of all personnel both past and present associated in any way with the Stargate program and found only one match."</div> <bR> <div> "Me," Jack surmised easily.</div> <bR> <div> "You."  Hammond walked into his office and moved to his desk.  "Close the door."</div> <bR> <div> Jack carefully closed the door then turned to face the General.</div> <bR> <div> "I want you to know that I objected strenuously to bringing you back into this program."</div> <bR> <div> "Yes sir, I understand."</div> <bR> <div> "No, Colonel, I don't really think you do," Hammond laughed humorlessly.  "You no sooner drop your little bombshell in my lap, but Doctor Jackson shows up at my door with his own resignation.  Well there was no way in hell I was losing both of you and by God, do you know, that's exactly what happened?"</div> <bR> <div> "I got the news, sir."</div> <bR> <div> "Yes, I know.  I sent Colonel Carter up there to talk to you myself.  Dammit, I am not happy about any of this, Jack."</div> <bR> <div> "For what it's worth sir, I'm sorry."</div> <bR> <div> "I don't give a red rat's ass how sorry you are.  I just want this experiment over and done with.  Report to Colonel Carter after you're cleared by the medical team."</div> <bR> <div> "Yessir," Jack said.  He pushed himself to his feet and walked out into the corridor.  As he moved through the inner hallways of the base, a breeze blew past him and through his hair, bringing the smell of the end of summer, grass, and rain on the horizon.</div> <bR> <div> ++++</div> <bR> <div> "We brought the ship back through the gate with us piece by piece.  As we were reassembling it, we began to understand that this was more than just some sort of shuttle craft."  Sam Carter brought up the rotating representation of the Ancient's pod ship.  "These circuits are specifically designed for temporal manipulation, not unlike the machine we found . . . "</div> <bR> <div> "Carter," Jack interrupted.  "I've been out of the loop for a while.  Can you just cut to the chase?  And use *small* words."</div> <bR> <div> Carter scowled at Jack then continued on.  "Bottom line, we need someone possessing the genetic markers of the Ancient race to be able to activate the machinery."  She tossed the remote control down on the table.  "We need you to sit in the chair, sir."</div> <bR> <div> "Sit in the chair?"</div> <bR> <div> "Yes, sir.  You should be pretty good at just sitting these days."  Carter's complete frustration with the older man was palpable.</div> <bR> <div> "That will be all, Colonel," Hammond said tightly.  "You'll be shipping out to Area 51 at oh five hundred tomorrow morning.  I expect everyone, including you Colonel O'Neill, to be fully familiar with the details of this mission by that time.  Dismissed."</div> <bR> <div> ++++</div> <div> Jack stepped into the cockpit of the shuttle and looked around.  "Doesn't seem so *advanced*."</div> <bR> <div> "This is an exquisite piece of carefully crafted machinery, sir," Carter said as she hooked up the last of the computer terminals.  "We just want to get a feel for how this thing interfaces with someone who has the Ancient metabolism."</div> <bR> <div> "So I just . . ."</div> <bR> <div> "Sit."</div> <bR> <div> "Sit," Jack repeated quietly.  "Right."  Sliding into the cockpit of the ship, Jack slowly surveyed the control panels.  "Now what?"</div> <bR> <div> "Well, we might want to try . . . touching it," Sam suggested.</div> <bR> <div> Jack reached out a finger and put it on the solid, smooth surface.  "I got nuthin'."</div> <bR> <div> "I think it's going to take a little more than that, sir," Sam prodded.</div> <bR> <div> Jack slapped both hands on the plate before him and jumped as all the systems powered up at once.  "Whoa."</div> <bR> <div> "That's great, sir," Sam grinned, making sure the information was transmitting to the scientists set up along the runway.</div> <bR> <div> Jack closed his eyes, concentrated, and felt the ship shudder around him.</div> <bR> <div> "Uhhhh, sir?  What are you doing?"</div> <bR> <div> "Just seeing what's what, Carter."</div> <bR> <div> "We aren't prepared in any way to do more than turn this thing on and shut it back down, Colonel," Carter warned.</div> <bR> <div> A breeze blew through the cockpit, with the smell of summer . . . and roses.  "Trust me, Carter."  With everything inside him, Jack concentrated on one moment, years ago, when everything fell apart.</div> <bR> <div> ++++</div> <bR> <div> Daniel sat with his chin in his hands, elbows propped up on his desk, staring at the item before him.</div> <bR> <div> Jack sat opposite him, mirroring his position.</div> <bR> <div> "It would appear to be a rose."</div> <bR> <div> "Very astute of you," Jack said.</div> <bR> <div> "Long stemmed."</div> <bR> <div> "Yep."</div> <bR> <div> "Red."</div> <bR> <div> "Appears that way."</div> <bR> <div> "From you, apparently."</div> <bR> <div> "That would be true, yes."</div> <bR> <div> "And it's Valentine's Day."</div> <bR> <div> "Your grasp of the obvious is overwhelming," Jack said flatly.</div> <bR> <div> Daniel scowled.  "My obvious question would be . . . why?"</div> <bR> <div> "Why do people usually give other people long stemmed red roses on Valentine's Day, Daniel?  I'm sure they covered that in anthropology one oh one."</div> <bR> <div> Jack looked up into Daniel's eyes and cocked his head as he thought he saw a white flash of light, but it was so fast he convinced himself it hadn't really happened.</div> <bR> <div> "Is dinner included with this?" Daniel asked, nodding toward the rose.</div> <bR> <div> "Possibly," Jack said with a smirk.</div> <bR> <div> Daniel met his eyes and gave his own smile.  "You ever had that feeling of deja vu?"</div> <bR> <div> "A time or two."</div> <bR> <div> "Don't start with the rhyming thing," Daniel chuckled.  "I want Italian."</div> <bR> <div> "You're gonna make me work for this, aren't you?"</div> <bR> <div> "Probably not as hard as you should," Daniel said, putting away his notes.  "I'm also not making any promises . . . but I'm willing to explore the possibilities."</div> <bR> <div> "Good," Jack nodded.  "It'd suck if this turned out to be a painful Valentine's."</div> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> ~finis~</div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="mailto:claforce@plotexpo.com" TARGET="_top" TITLE="mailto:claforce@plotexpo.com"><U>Give the author's ego a marshmallow . . . please feed the bear.</U></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id3_sg1_slash.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Stargate SG1 Slash Fiction"><U>Back to Fic List</U></A>     <A HREF="id2_directory.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Directory Listing"><U>Back to Directory</U></A></div> </td> <td valign="top" rowspan="2" width=120 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="01178643.jpg"> <bR> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" height=52 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="00f64643.jpg"> <div> <TABLE BORDER="0" CELLPADDING="0" CELLSPACING="0" WIDTH="161" BORDERCOLORLIGHT="#C0C0C0" BORDERCOLORDARK="#808080" FRAME="BOX" RULES="ALL" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" > <tR> <tD VALIGN=CENTER HEIGHT= 45 ><NOBR><div> <IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="39" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" WIDTH="29"></div> </NOBR></tD> <tD VALIGN=TOP><NOBR><div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Plotexpo.com"><U><IMG SRC="0181d270.jpg" border=0 width="29" height="39" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A></div> </NOBR></tD> <tD VALIGN=CENTER WIDTH="15"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="45" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="15" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></tD> <tD VALIGN=CENTER><NOBR><div> <A HREF="id173.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Change of View"><U><IMG SRC="017271d0.jpg" border=0 width="39" height="29" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A></div> </NOBR></tD> <tD VALIGN=CENTER><NOBR><div> <A HREF="id182.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Leather"><U><IMG SRC="016271d0.jpg" border=0 width="39" height="29" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A></div> </NOBR></tD> </tR> </TABLE></div> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>