CAMERA OBSCURA

 

"You're running late, boss," the leggy blonde hissed as she re-set the lights.

 

"Yeah, yeah, okay, Carter. I get the picture."

 

"Don't get the picture, just take it!" she muttered picking up Jack's spare cameras and packing them away in the carry boxes made for the purpose.

 

Tutting, Jack flipped the exposed film from his camera and throwing it to Carter, loaded a new one into his Pentax.

 

Photographer Jack O'Neill was one of the top men in the industry and always in high demand. He was so busy that he felt as though his life was going in ever decreasing circles and one day soon, he was going to meet himself coming back.

 

"Okay, ladies, one last concerted effort and we can all get outta here. Blondie? You drape yourself on the chaise and redhead, stand behind and lean forward. Janelle?" He knew the name of this one; he'd worked with her before. "Janelle, sit down at the front, one leg outstretched and the other knee up. That's it; lots of pouting please. Wait up! Blondie? Lose the top."

 

Frantically clicking the camera, Jack was not consciously aware of the whirring sound that indicated the film was winding forward. There were times, however, when he could hear nothing but that sound, usually when he was trying to sleep after an eighteen-hour day and his mind just wouldn't shut down.

 

Ten minutes later, Jack was sitting in his car and being driven by his general factotum, Big T. He'd left his assistant, Sam Carter behind to pack away the lights and other equipment, load it into her van and race to meet him at his next location.

 

"What's next, T?" Jack asked as he grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler on the rear seat.

 

"Portraits."

 

"Boobs and butts again," Jack sighed. The last few months had been a blur of women's anatomical assets and where once he might have had the occasional hard on, now it just felt like a chore with no excitement at all.

 

"No, O'Neill, your assignment is at Columbia University's Anthropological Department."

 

"Jeeze, old men and dusty books." Rolling his eyes, Jack reached for his cell phone.

 

"Carter? Didja have to book a shoot with a load of crusty old men in mortar boards and gowns?"

 

"Hey, be fair, Boss. You were the one who said you were bored with boobs and butts. Thought you might appreciate a change of scene."

 

"Yeah, well, we'll see. How late am I?"

 

"Thirty minutes."

 

"Crap! Contact them and do you usual profuse apologies routine, will ya and say we'll be...?" Glancing at his old friend in the driver's seat, Jack waited for an ETA.

 

"Ten, O'Neill."

 

"Ten minutes, Carter and don't be late!"

 

Jack snapped closed his cell phone and grinned. He just knew Carter would be filling the airwaves with a string of choice expletives. He also knew he ran her ragged but she was damned good at her job. Jack made a mental note to pay her a bonus. If he didn't he might be forced to look for a new assistant.

 

When Jack's Jeep swept up to the main entrance to the University he was already opening the door. As he sprinted up the wide shallow steps two at a time, Carter was just parking the Plymouth Voyager.

 

-o-

 

Daniel Jackson sat in the University library at an old worn table covered with books and journals and staring down at the pages of Budge. He wanted to throw his least favourite tome out of the window. A squeal of car brakes drew his attention and he moved to the window to see what was going on just in time to spot a truck drawing up at the front steps. It must be something important since the campus area was restricted to cars. Seeing two men leap from the vehicle, Daniel wondered where the fire was. They were certainly in a hurry and then a small white van joined the truck and a tall blonde woman got out, yanking open the rear door. A very large, very tall black man met her and between them they started to offload some equipment.

 

Just then Daniel's professor came bustling through the silence of the reference room.

 

"Doctor Jackson, the photographer has arrived. Hurry up and get to the conference room. Are you wearing that?" Professor Steiger asked, the disapproval in his voice unmistakable.

As the older man hurried off, Daniel looked down at himself. He couldn't see what was wrong with his grey woollen jacket and his brown trousers. He always thought his blue and white chequered shirt looked good. Sighing, he glanced at the books on the table, the shaft of sunlight spotlighting the hated copy of Budge. He would leave everything where it was and come back later. He was aware that behind his back students and staff alike called it 'the Jackson table'. He indeed spent more time in this library than in his tiny hovel of an apartment on Columbus Circle.

 

-o-

 

"Good afternoon, gentlemen and lady," Jack smiled being his most charming self. The array of academics smiled back taking stock of the tall lean good-looking man with long hair and bleached highlights. "I'd just like to take a few moments to brief you about the way I work and then you can tell me what it is you want me to do."

 

At that moment the conference room doors opened slowly and Jack watched as a much younger man than those present, entered the room.

 

"Come on in, Doctor Jackson, you're late," Steiger said irritably.

 

"Join the club," Jack offered jovially by way of introduction. "Hi, I'm Jack O'Neill." His greeting was met by an embarrassed smile as the younger man pushed his glasses back up his nose and took a seat at the back of the room.

 

Within a few minutes Jack had managed to organise his dozen or so subjects for a group photograph. Sam and Big T had set up various bits of equipment including lights and reflector screens. After placing and replacing his clients for a variety of shots, Jack sat down and waited for them to decide in which order they should all have their portraits taken.

 

Two hours further on and Jack was ready for his final sitter. It was Daniel Jackson. As he seated himself on the upright wooden chair Professor Steiger hovered.

"How long will it take before we see the photographs, Mr. O'Neill?"

 

"About a week. You'll get proofs and you can choose the prints you want."

 

"Very good. Doctor Jackson? Seeing as you're the last, will you arrange with Mr. O'Neill to collect the err...proofs?"

 

Smiling and lifting his hand in salutation, Steiger left the room. Sighing, Daniel could feel an air of gloom settle over him. His academic colleagues didn't really value his work or take his theories seriously and the fact that he was much younger than his colleagues didn't help matters any. He was treated like a gopher and he hated it.

 

"Tough day, huh?" Jack commented as he shoved a light meter into Daniel's face. Starting, Daniel jerked his head away from the gadget and frowned.

 

"Little jumpy aren't we?" Jack smiled as he looked down to adjust the camera's shutter speed. "Okay, I'm all set, are you?"

 

"Oh, uh, sure. Should I just sit like this?" Daniel offered as he straightened up and pulled a Poe face.

 

"You can if ya wanna scare somebody," grinned Jack as he stared through the viewfinder. "Try and relax will ya? It's just a photograph."

 

"Sorry, I'll try. I just hope I don't crack your lens."

 

"What?" Jack asked as he raised his head above his camera and tripod.

 

"I know you photograph glamour models, actors, you know, the rich and famous, the beautiful people. I'm none of those things so no matter how good a photographer you are, I'm just an ordinary man, Mr. O'Neill."

 

Jack slowly raised himself up to his full six foot two inch height and planted his hands on his hips. Pausing for a moment as he slipped his hands up under his loose shirt, plunging them into his pockets, he trained his deep brown eyes on the blue ones of the man opposite.

 

"First," he said, "there are no ordinary people in the world and second, call me Jack."

 

The archaeologist nodded and tried to relax.

 

"Look, turn the chair around and sit astride it, y'know, back to front. That's it. Now fold your arms and lean them on the back of the chair. Better lose the glasses; they'll just reflect too much light. Good. Move your head down a little, hold it there and look up at me, no scrub that, just look straight into the lens."

 

Bending to the viewfinder again, Jack got ready to take some photographs but Daniel still had such a tense posture. A mischievous grin crept across Jack's mouth.

 

"Now think about a pair of moist lips around your dick."

 

First Daniel parted his lips in surprise and then he smiled, followed by a grin, eventually laughing wickedly. Jack took exposure after exposure in rapid succession. Whether the man believed it or not, Jack's camera loved Doctor Daniel Jackson.

 

-o-

 

A few days further on, Jack flipped a switch and the light box in his lab flickered into life. Taking the magnifying eyepiece, he placed it on a sheet of negatives and brought his eye to it.

 

Smiling with approval, he knew he was right to have Blondie shed her top. The composition was well balanced and the women looked at their ravishing best, albeit with the aid of copious amounts of silicone. Using a white chinagraph pencil, he crossed through those prints that weren't up to his standards and glancing over his shoulder, called for Big T.

 

"Take these over to Jerk-offs Illustrated will ya?"

 

"You mean Sports Illustrated O'Neill."

 

"I know what I mean, T but yeah, Sports."

 

Having made a fresh pot of coffee, Jack drew up his high backed bar stool and settled to study the next batch of prints. The group photographs of the Anthropology Faculty were pretty good and the portraits of individual members were slightly better than the uninspiring subjects would suggest. Sighing, Jack moved on to the last set of negs, those of Daniel Jackson.

 

Placing the eyepiece by the side of the light box, Jack drew up his stool a little closer. He studied the pictures one by one and was able to track the way the younger man had relaxed through the shoot. Partway through the third row of photos, Jack paused to gaze at a laughing man with a wicked smile and sparkling eyes. His chin was lowered and he was looking up through long lashes. Jack's stomach somersaulted as he stared at the image. What Jack saw was the potential of an attractive man dressed in a very bad combination of clothes and long hair that partially hid his face. Having said that, there was something about this Daniel Jackson, he just couldn't quite put his finger on it. This was the shot Jack would choose; for what or for whom he wasn't sure, he just liked it. A lot.

 

Switching off the light box and gathering up the sheets of proofs he dropped them into a buff envelope and sealed it. Experience told him that at this stage of the process the sheets of pictures were just too small for his clients to discern without a magnifier. Luckily, Sam knew her way around computer software and she would reproduce the images as larger prints. These would go to the client who would select the ones wanted from those they didn't. It was a painstaking process of selection. From a film of thirty-six exposures, Jack might be satisfied with three or four. He had very exacting standards.

 

-o-

 

Daniel Jackson stepped off the bus along Lafayette Street and walked the half block to Broome Street. Turning right, he walked on, crossing Broadway to the corner of Broome and Mercer. Looking up at the cast iron building in front of him, he could see why living in SoHo was so popular and so expensive. The large and imposing, turn of the century building had huge windows and beautiful detailing. Daniel had already guessed that Jack O'Neill was very successful and probably very rich. Sighing, he plunged his hands into his old threadbare jacket and traversed the crossing to stand outside the entrance. Taking a deep breathe he walked into the building as the smoky glass doors shushed closed behind him, and making his way over to the doorman standing behind a desk, Daniel asked for Jack's loft apartment.

 

Hearing the door buzzer, Jack called for someone to get it as he continued to read his emails. The buzzer went again and Jack called louder. After a few moments the buzzer sounded for a third time and Jack opened his mouth to yell at Sam or Big T to answer it, then he shut it. Letting out a loud sigh, Jack pushed his chair back and made his way to the elevator gate, pressing the button and yelling into the intercom: "Who is it?"

 

"Hi, it's Daniel Jackson? You took my picture last week? Um, I've come to pick up the photos of the Anthropology Department."

 

"Come on up, second floor." Jack let go of the buzzer and pulled up the heavy gate on the loft side of the elevator shaft just in time to see his visitor riding up.

 

"I'm sorry you had to wait so long. Good help is hard to find these days," Jack grumbled jokingly, stepping aside and making way for his guest.

 

O'Neill noticed that his attempt to joke seemed to fall on deaf ears so he beckoned Daniel over the threshold and waved to precede him inside. As the archaeologist brushed passed him, Jack's breath hitched as the scent of Daniel's aftershave wafted under his nose. A wicked thought shot through his brain as he wondered if Daniel tasted as good as he smelled.

 

When they were in Jack's office, he looked around just to confirm the absence of his staff. Yep, the kids were definitely gone. Glancing at his Breitling Chronograph, Jack suddenly realised why; it was nearly 7.30pm.

 

"Here," Jack said smiling as he handed Daniel a large bulky envelope. "We could have mailed them y'know."

 

"I was in town anyway so it's no big deal. Thanks, Mr. O'Neill."

 

"Hey, it's Jack."

 

"Thanks, Jack."

 

Instead of parting, the two men locked gazes and for an instant both thought there was something suggested rather than absolute in the look of the other and then it passed.

 

-o-

 

"Boss?"

 

"What is it, Carter, I'm busy."

 

"Yeah, sorry. I've got the Dean of the Anthropology Department on the line. He wants to talk to you."

 

"Can't you take it? I really need to shift this paperwork."

 

"Sorry, he wants you, Jack."

 

"Okay, put him through then," muttered Jack sighing loudly. He really wanted to clear his desk by the end of the afternoon. He had a date.

 

"Dean, hi, how can I help you?"

 

"   "

 

"Aha. Thanks, I appreciate it."

 

"   "

 

"I'll have to check my schedule, sir. Yeah, I can do that, sure. I'll look forward to seeing him. Thanks, bye. Damn!"

 

"Boss?"

 

"We've got another job. The Dean wants us to produce some photos for his new student recruitment campaign. That guy, Daniel Jackson, he's on his way over. Fuck!"

 

"He's not that bad."

 

"Sam, I had a date, remember? Now I'll have to cancel."

 

"You could have turned the job down."

 

"Yeah and pigs and the aviation industry come to mind." Jack gave her a lopsided grin as he reached for the phone again.

 

"Hi, it's Jack."

 

"   "

 

"Jack O'Neill. I'm really sorry; can we take a rain check tonight? Yeah, I've gotta work."

 

"   "

 

"I was looking forward to it as well. I'm sorry."

 

"   "

 

"I'll call you, okay?"

 

"   "

 

"Bye."

 

Putting down the receiver in its cradle, Jack hung his head for a moment and pulling in a deep breath, made his way to his loft apartment through a door in his office.

 

Jack strolled to his studio to make ready for Daniel's arrival. The studio was no more than a huge space with varnished antique floorboards and white painted rough stonewalls. There were three floor-to-ceiling windows on one side and a window in each of the end walls. The space was flooded with natural light though there were blinds if Jack chose to use them. Kicking off his boots and rolling up the hems of his trousers, the photographer padded barefoot to a shelf and took down a camera and a lens. Next he opened up a tripod and slotting the camera into position, went back to the shelf and took a smaller camera, placing the strap around his neck, letting it hang free against his chest.

 

He could have done without the job right now, especially on the one evening in months he actually had a date, but he didn't like to turn down work either. The fact that it was Daniel Jackson who would be calling was a bonus. He felt a little guilty for blowing off his date though.

 

There were times when Jack had to make a conscious effort to change his mindset depending on who he was dating. Women tended to expect different things than men did, and there were occasions when he had to work quite hard to remind himself. He thought, as he got older, it would get easier but it never did. Besides all that, the photographs of Daniel Jackson had re-ignited his libido for the first time in a very, very long while and when the young man had collected the pictures last time, Jack was convinced there was something about the man he wanted to explore, it was just that he didn't know if Daniel would be interested in him.

 

As Jack heard the bell telling him the elevator had arrived, he trotted back through his living quarters to his office. He watched as Jackson pulled back the folding metal slatted door and stepped out. Jack was hoping that another meeting with the academic might light a fuse under both of them and trying to cover his nervousness, Jack nodded his greeting and offered his hand. Shaking it with a firm grip, Daniel smiled, his lips slightly parted as he glanced around Jack's office, seeing the big black man sitting at a desk and eyeing him. The blonde haired woman he'd seen at the University appeared from what looked like a storeroom.

 

"Hi, it's nice to see you again," she smiled, opening a box of film.

 

"And you," Daniel responded.

 

"I'll take you through to my studio in a moment. Would you like a cup of coffee before we start?"

 

Nodding enthusiastically, Daniel waited while Jack poured the hot dark liquid into a pristine white plain coffee cup. As soon as he took the cup in his hand he knew it was fine, wafer-thin bone china and he hoped he wouldn't break it, suddenly feeling anxious about holding something so fragile and so expensive.

 

Glancing at the young man, Jack smiled at him. "You'll want to change, right?"

 

Before Daniel could say that he hadn't brought anything to change into, Jack opened a door from his office and beckoned the academic to follow him. From the brightness of the office and all the electronic paraphernalia that went with it, Daniel stepped into a darkened hall, the sound of the street below muffled in the carpeted passage.

 

The lighting was subtle with a line of small recessed spots the length of the hall ceiling.

 

"You might as well take a look around while you're here, it'll save you getting lost later," Jack said over his shoulder. "Closet," the older man informed his visitor and pointing with a long elegant forefinger, "Bathroom," he announced and opened the door.

 

Daniel's jaw nearly hit the floor. The bathroom was in two sections, the nearest accommodating the toilet to his left and a washbasin with a large mirror above to his right. The mirror frame was set with small light bulbs like those a stage actor might have in his dressing room. Beyond was a pair of wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling dark glass or Plexi-glass sliding doors. One was open and Daniel could see a shower cubicle except it was much too big to be classed as a cubicle; it was more like a small wet room with grey rubber contoured floor tiles and three walls clad in huge black marble sheets. The marble glinted in the diffused light, showing white and pink flecks of colour. Daniel blew out a slow appreciative breath; he was really impressed.

 

Opening the door opposite the bathroom, Daniel saw what could only be described as a den. It contained a large sofa, a plasma TV, a wet bar with a small fridge and a magazine rack with astronomy journals and some fishing publications.

 

As they progressed along the hallway, Daniel was shown an ultra modern stainless steel kitchen next to the bathroom. It was galley style and compact, even a child could stand in the space between the cabinets and reach out to touch either side at the same time. He couldn't tell if Jack ever cooked, the place was too shiny and clean to see any evidence. Next to the kitchen was a small dining room with a glass-top table and leather chairs with stainless steel bases and wood accents. There was a modern chandelier in the centre of the ceiling.

 

Next they passed on to Jack's bedroom. Daniel gave an audible intake of breath when he saw it. The room was enormous with the same wooden floor as all the other rooms and a bay window on the opposite wall from the door. In the centre of the room was a king sized bed, big enough to out-size a small African nation. Adorning the bed was a quilted ivory coloured cover and it was finished with a brass head and footboard. Daniel felt a slight breeze and, when he studied the windows further, he saw they were decorated with ceiling to floor white cream muslin and the excess length of fabric was piled on the boards like small snow drifts. There were some poster sized framed and glazed photographs on the walls and Daniel assumed Jack had taken them. There was nothing else in the room but a small nightstand: no closets or wardrobes. It was breathtaking.

 

At the end of the hallway Jack opened another door and walked into his studio. This was by far the largest room in the apartment with windows on three sides. At one end there was a small collection of furniture, an armchair, chaise, upright wooden chair and a coffee table, beside which stood a large packing case box. There were a couple of shelves with camera equipment, lights, reflector sheets and a full-length mirror.

 

"You can use my bedroom to change if you want."

 

"Um, I don't have anything to change into. I didn't know I was supposed to bring anything."

 

Jack looked Daniel up and down and folded his arms across his chest. "So, you're gonna wear that?"

 

"What's wrong with it?" Daniel demanded, irritated.

 

"Brown trousers and a blue shirt? Pul-ease! What about the hair?"

 

"What?"

 

"Can't see your face for hair, Daniel. Don'tcha think you ought to get it cut?"

 

"Just for a couple of snapshots? I don't think so."

 

"Hey! I don't take snapshots, I take damned good photographs," retorted Jack, equally indignant.

 

"Well, I'm not one of your fashion models, so what's the problem?"

 

"The problem is your Dean, George Hammond. He's expecting some pictures to head up the University's student recruitment. I don't think he's gonna be very impressed. You should go shopping and get something decent."

 

By now Daniel was feeling very angry. "Do you know how much, or should I say how little, a lecturer gets paid? I can't afford fancy clothes and an apartment like this! It'll have to be a case of take it or leave it."

 

"If you put it like that, I'll leave it," Jack snapped.

 

"Well, good. You do that!"

 

They glared at each other, neither moving. It was a face off.

 

Relenting, Jack softened his tone. "Look, why don't I get Sam to take you somewhere and get you fixed up? We'll put it on the Dean's bill."

"You can't do that, he'd fire me."

 

"No, he won't. He thinks by sending you along that he can save on the cost of a model, well he won't because we'll just add a new wardrobe to his expenses, okay? He won't need to know it's for you. Please?" Jack raised his eyebrows to emphasise both his suggestion and his request that Daniel go along with it.

"Isn't that being dishonest?"

 

"No! A good model can charge three hundred dollars an hour and I'd be planning on at least a three hour session."

 

"Well...if you think it will be all right."

 

"Sure, c'mon, let's talk to Carter, she'll get you organised. Come back next week and we'll do the shoot then."

 

Laying his arm across Daniel's shoulders, Jack shepherded him out into the office.

 

"Carter? Doctor Jackson needs a makeover."

 

Sam shot a look at her employer and then smiled at Daniel. "Okay, Boss, whatever you say."

 

"Take it out of petty cash, the University will reimburse us when they get their bill," Jack grinned.

 

-o-

 

A few days later found Jack pacing his office.

 

"What time d'ya make it, T?"

 

"Five minutes later than you asked previously, O'Neill," the big man said, his deep voice reverberating through his large chest.

 

Grimacing, Jack plunged his hands into his jeans pockets and stared at his walking boots. He knew why he was so nervous, he'd had a few days more to think about Daniel Jackson and with it, time to let his imagination take flight and play with his mind. Jack had all ready decided to 'court' Daniel and see where it led. Smiling, he inwardly laughed at the notion of 'courting'. He was always one for the chase; he enjoyed a challenge as long as Jackson was up for it. Jack still didn't know which way the academic swung but maybe an intimate dinner after the shoot might just give him the answer he was hoping for.

 

As the elevator bell rang, Jack was on his feet and not waiting for its passenger to slide across the metal gate, pulled on it, keen to get it open as soon as possible. Now it was the photographer's turn for his jaw to hit the floor. Standing back, he stared as the six-foot frame of Doctor Daniel Jackson walked into his office.

 

"You...you look...different," Jack stammered and indeed the archaeologist did look very different.

 

Jack continued to stare at Daniel's new short hairstyle, his dark blue cotton shirt with the mandarin collar, black trousers and black shiny shoes. He carried a black jacket slung rakishly over his shoulder.

 

"Do I? Look different I mean? Glad you approve," he smiled, pleased at Jack's stunned expression.

 

Gathering his composure, Jack thought he detected a coquettish air about the younger man but maybe that was just his imagination. Offering Daniel coffee, they went through to the studio.

 

"Didja bring something to..."

 

"Change into? Yeah, I've got a couple of shirts and a pair of jeans. Will that be okay?"

 

"Sure. Let me set up and we'll go for some trial shots."

 

Daniel waited as Jack decided how he wanted to approach their session.

 

"Okay, I got it!" announced the photographer, his body galvanised into action. "Stand there," he ordered, stretching out his arm and flapping his hand in the direction of the wall with the three windows. "Fold your arms across your chest, feet apart. I wanna see a strong stance. That's it, lock your knees."

 

"What should I do with the jacket?" Daniel asked, looking around for somewhere to hang it up.

 

"Just hold it, let it hang to one side. Yeah, that's good," Jack smiled enthusiastically as he bent on one knee, angling up his hand-held camera to look through the viewfinder. Next he lay down flat on the floor on his front and took more pictures. After forty minutes, Jack stopped and they took a break.

 

"Um...I don't want to question your methods but how are these photos going to fit into the Dean's student recruitment campaign? I'm not even on campus."

 

"That's the easy bit," Jack said, drinking from a bottle of water. "Sam is out taking digital images of the buildings, people etc. Then she can upload it onto the computer and manipulate the images with yours and there ya go."

 

Nodding thoughtfully, Daniel was impressed and concerned. "So that saying about the camera never lies? It's not really true anymore is it?"

 

"I guess not," Jack replied quietly. The men shared a few moments of contemplative silence as they rested.

 

After another two hours and several changes of outfits, Daniel felt exhausted. He was in awe of Jack's consistent level of concentration and energy. He gave a constant commentary on how Daniel should stand, sit, lay, at what angle to hold his head, where to look and even how to hold his hands and where to place his feet, commanding his model like a general, teasing from the younger man different moods and attitudes.

 

As Daniel flopped down in the large armchair Jack cleared away his equipment.

 

"Thanks, Jack, I've enjoyed being a model," Daniel grinned, "but it's very hard work."

 

Jack looked over his shoulder as he put the tripod away on the shelf.

 

"Yeah, you deserve a good dinner, whaddya say?"

 

"Well...um." Daniel hesitated as he tried to calculate how much money he had on him, probably enough for burger and fries but judging by Jack's affluence, not enough for a visit to an expensive restaurant.

 

"My treat," Jack offered, sensing Daniel's reticence.

 

"Okay, you're on," laughed Daniel, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth and, grinning, he relaxed. On his salary visits to suave eating-places were indeed a treat and right now he felt like he'd earned it. Jack was a demanding taskmaster and Daniel's body ached all over

 

Twenty minutes later the men were strolling down Broadway towards Little Italy and Jack realised he was starving. Much to Daniel's surprise Jack turned off the main drag and headed for a small Italian bistro. This wasn't quite what Daniel was expecting but it didn't matter, he was in the company of an attractive older man who was full of confidence and sassiness. The academic was beginning to recognise that he liked the photographer. A lot.

 

Once they were seated, Jack watched Daniel as he studied the menu.

 

"Want some beer or some wine?"

 

"Oh, wine please, I don't like beer."

 

"Okay," Jack frowned, he really liked beer and this was the first thing that had to go on the 'things we don't have in common' list.

 

Jack pretended to study the menu, which he actually knew by heart, using it as a disguise to watch his dinner companion. He noticed that Daniel looked at the Italian side of the heavy leather-bound folder and wondered about that.

 

Jack was a regular in this small restaurant so when the elderly waiter came over to take the order they chatted for a while about the kids, the weather and all and sundry. What surprised Daniel was the fact that the conversation was entirely in Italian. After a few moments Jack apologised for excluding his companion and tried to switch back to English when Daniel smiled and joined the exchange, and to the total delight of the server, speaking in Sicilian dialect explaining that he'd spent a few summers teaching in Italy and Italian was one of the twenty-three languages that he spoke. Jack filed that little bit of information for future use. And he really, really hoped that that was not just a figure of speech.

 

So after long and animated discussion their orders were taken and Giorgio, that was the name of the white-haired waiter, brought the wine list. Daniel was surprised when Jack ordered Chianti for both of them.

 

"Jack, I thought you'd want a beer?"

 

"Birra? Ha, Jiacomo knows better than to drink birra when he comes here!"

 

Giorgio snorted indignantly at Daniel before Jack could answer. Daniel just shook his head and filed that little bit of information for future use. God, look at me, already thinking about the future when I don't even know the man! He thought ruefully.

 

Jack's lasagne and Daniel's angel hair pasta with homemade pesto sauce were culinary marvels and for some time the hungry men simply concentrated on their meal, savouring the flavours and textures. Finally when their first hunger was somewhat slackened they went back to their conversation.

 

"So," began Daniel as he slowly sucked in a length of spaghetti, "how did you get into photography?"

 

"My grandmother gave me a camera as a going away gift when I left Minnesota and joined the Air Force."

 

"You were in the Air Force?" asked Daniel, surprised.

 

"Sure, I was a pilot."

 

Raising his eyebrows, Daniel looked impressed and Jack was pleased.

 

"I used the camera on my travels and got quite good with it. I was also a keen hockey player and I liked to ski. Over time I picked up a few injuries that eventually wrecked my knees so I had a medical discharge. That was hard, y'know, to give it all up but the Air Force offered me the chance to train for something else and I chose photography. I got a job as a civilian with the service for a few years so instead of pointing an aircraft or a gun I pointed a camera. Ten years ago I decided to base myself in New York, worked hard to get established and here I am."

 

"Just like that?"

 

"Not quite, I've had my ups and downs as well," added Jack quietly, hoping that Daniel wouldn't ask for details. Instead the academic nodded as he pushed the basket of garlic bread towards him and taking a piece, the older man bit into the warm crispy texture as he upturned his palm in invitation.

 

"And you? How did you end up at the University?"

 

"My parents were archaeologists and I followed in their footsteps. More wine?" Picking up the bottle he offered it to his companion. Jack rested his fingertips on the base of the long stemmed glass and slid it across the table top for a refill. He looked at Daniel intently, waiting for the younger man to tell him more about his past.

 

"And?" Jack prompted.

 

"And what?" Daniel asked mid-chew.

 

"Is that it?"

 

"Is that what?"

 

"Y'know, Daniel, I get the impression you don't want to talk about your family."

 

"There's not much to tell."

 

"Your parents; your childhood? I'm guessing you actually had one?"

 

"Look, my parents died what I was young, my grandfather didn't want me and I was bounced from one foster family to another. I kept my head down, studied, went on a few archaeological digs and wound up at Columbia, okay?" He almost spat the words out and Jack detected a mix of anger and sadness behind his eyes.

 

There was a moment of awkward silence as both men dropped their heads, staring down at the debris on their plates that had been dinner. Thankful that the waiter intervened at just the right moment to clear the table, Jack looked up and asked Daniel if he wanted another bottle of wine.

 

"Yes, thanks, that would be good," he said, recovering and giving Jack a broad grin. The wine slid down smoothly as they talked, swapping stories about their teenage years, outrageous friends and favourite movies, all of it fairly neutral as they both avoided the more sensitive and distressing memories.

 

"You got a girlfriend, Daniel?" Jack asked as nonchalantly as he could, hoping fervently that he didn't and more than that, that he would say he preferred men.

 

"No," Daniel replied, laughing softly and shaking his head.

 

"What's so funny? I would have thought not having a girl was a bit of a disaster," Jack stated with a lopsided grin. He was relieved that Daniel didn't currently have a woman in tow but he was no nearer to finding out what the younger man's preferences were.

 

Daniel had come to a crossroads. Should he tell Jack the truth about his sexuality or let the subject drop? The academic did what he always did. He answered a question with a question.

 

"What about you, Jack? Anyone special?"

 

Now Jack was faced with a difficult question and a more difficult answer. He could say no but he wanted to say that he thought Daniel was special and that he was hopeful.

 

"I did but she left and we got divorced," Jack replied succinctly. He didn't want to go into the death of his son through an accident with his, Jack's, handgun. "You ever been married?"

 

"Once but she died."

 

"Oh god, I'm sorry."

 

"It's okay, we'd been apart for a while before it happened."

 

"Jeeze," breathed Jack. That was something else to put on the list under the column 'Things we have in common'. They had both lost someone close to them.

 

"So, Jack. You haven't answered my question. Anyone special now?"

 

"No, not really, I don't get out much. Anyway, the business keeps me busy," Jack said, trying to cover up the loneliness in his voice.

 

"Get a life, Jack. Find a date!" Daniel laughed, trying to cover his own loneliness. Glancing at his watch, Daniel was amazed to find how quickly the time had passed.

 

"Jack, I should go, it's nearly 1am."

 

Looking around, Jack realised that they were the last customers left in the little bistro and as he paid the bill, he apologised for keeping the staff waiting.

 

As they strolled along the street towards the next intersection, Daniel veered to the left.

 

"Where ya goin'?"

 

"The subway is that direction," Daniel said, nodding his head.

 

"You're not gonna go on the subway at this time of night? Why don'tcha stay at my place?"

 

"I couldn't impose Jack, but thanks."

 

"Hey! You wouldn't be imposing. C'mon it's late and you've had a bit to drink. You'd be safer with me," Jack laughed, wishing that wasn't the case at all. Given half the chance, Jack could be as predatory as the next man.

 

Smiling, Daniel didn't want to be safer with Jack, he wanted the excitement of the chase and he wanted to chase Jack, preferably around his huge bed. Stumbling, Daniel realised that he must be a little drunk and Jack's offer suddenly felt much more appealing with or without anything else that might happen...or not.

 

As they walked, Daniel thought about Jack's huge bed and wondered just quite how the sleeping arrangements would work. Jack only had the one bed so where would Daniel sleep? As if by telepathy, Jack must have been thinking the same thing and wanting to get past any awkwardness he turned to Daniel in the middle of a deserted street.

 

"You take the bed, I'll take the sofa in the den."

 

"I can't take your bed, Jack, I'll take the sofa."

 

"No, you're my guest so you take the bed."

 

"Sofa."

 

"Bed."

 

"Sofa."

 

"For cryin' out loud!"

 

They leaned against each other and laughed as they got to Jack's building. They were drunk. Once out of the elevator they headed for Jack's kitchen.

 

"Coffee or nightcap?"

 

"If I have coffee it might keep me awake and if I have more alcohol I'll probably pass out," Daniel offered still laughing.

 

"Water then," Jack said emphatically pulling open the fridge door and blinking in the bright light. Reaching for two bottles of water and passing one to Daniel, he headed for his den, Daniel following. As they flopped on the sofa, each taking one end, Jack took the remote and the plasma screen flickered with an old black and white Humphrey Bogart movie. Slowly, Daniel's eyelids fluttered as he fell into an alcohol-induced sleep.

 

He woke at dawn to see the streetlights and a grey sky mingling in his vision. He gradually became aware of something next to him, heavy and solid, and turning, realised that he lay beside Jack's sleeping body. Panic gripped the academic for a moment. He was no longer on the sofa. Had something happened between them and he didn't remember it? Surely not, there must be another, simpler explanation.

 

Daniel lay still for a while, debating what to do. It was good to feel someone else so close to him, even if he was asleep and unaware but somehow he felt guilty for taking enjoyment from this situation without Jack knowing about it and maybe he should get up and move to the sofa. Jack snuffled, twitched and shifted, his arm resting across Daniel's abdomen and the younger man thought his body was going to explode. Jack's contact sent a bolt of electricity through him and Daniel had to get up. He couldn't lie beside the man, letting himself be touched by Jack and not react. Gently, Daniel slid out of bed and felt the cold air embrace his semi-naked body. He was only wearing his boxers.

 

-o-

 

Jack coughed and woke himself up. Reaching up for his watch, hanging over the top of the brass bedstead, he squinted at the time. It was 8.30am. Collapsing back against the pillows he noticed that his bed was empty. Damn!

 

Pulling on his robe, he padded along the hallway to the studio and looked at the chaise. No Daniel. Dejectedly, he wondered if the younger man had left without telling him. As he made his way to the kitchen he noticed the door of the den was ajar and peering in, saw Daniel asleep on the sofa. Sighing with relief and then smiling, Jack went to make coffee. A few minutes later Daniel was leaning against the doorframe.

 

"Morning," he said, his voice still thick with sleep.

 

"Hey," Jack replied in greeting. "Coffee?"

 

"Oh yeah."

 

As they settled side by side at the breakfast bar, Daniel sipped his coffee and frowned.

 

"Jack, what happened last night?"

 

"We went for Italian, probably drank too much wine and had a good evening."

 

"I don't mean that."

 

"How d'ya mean?"

 

"What did happen exactly?"

 

"The earth moved, the angels wept. The Polaroid's are somewhere in my other coat pocket."

 

Daniel sighed loudly.

 

"Nothing happened. Nothing happened," said Jack, his voice serious.

 

"I woke up in your bed, naked."

 

"You weren't completely naked. I'll bet you looked nice though," Jack said not looking at him.

 

"Did you get me that way?"

 

"I took off your shoes, I took off your pants and shirt and I put you on the bed. I kept my eyes closed the whole time."

 

"And that was it?"

 

"I might have peaked, I don't remember."

 

"Honestly?"

 

"Honest. It's no big deal y'know; you haven't got anything I haven't seen before."

 

"Really? So you've seen men's bodies before then?"

 

"Well, duh! I was in the Air Force. Remember? Group showers are an everyday event."

 

"Course, yeah and you are a photographer."

 

"Yeah, right. Look, I don't have all day to discuss your love life. It's Saturday. How about we do something?"

 

"Ah..."

 

"We could go to a ball game, take in a movie?"

 

"I was planning to see the portrait exhibition at the Agora Gallery on West Broadway. The National Portrait Gallery in London has lent some of its paintings of historical figures and I'd really like to go. If I don't make it this weekend, I'll miss it completely. It's due to close on Thursday."

 

Without hesitation Jack nodded. "Okay, the Agora it is then." He emphatically agreed to Daniel's request, thinking it wouldn't really matter if Daniel wanted to go and see Gary the Pig Whisperer from Birmingham, England, as long as he could spend time with the archaeologist.

 

Later that morning, Daniel and Jack entered the hallowed halls of the Agora Gallery and Jack couldn't fail to see just how excited Daniel was. Like a kid in a candy store, he thought idly.

 

As they moved from room to room, Daniel kept up a running commentary for Jack's benefit, explaining who was who in each of the portraits and why they were famous. Many of the subjects were of Kings and Queens of England and Scotland, Victorian inventors, or heroes of the English Civil War. The penultimate room housed a variety of paintings, grouped together because their subjects had either died in mysterious, murderous, or unfortunate circumstances or had been the instigators of mysterious, murderous, or unfortunate deaths of others.

 

As they stared at one picture, Jack had a wide grin on his face.

 

"I know who this is," he said to Daniel. "It's King Henry the eighth."

 

"That's right and unfortunately, best known for his string of marriages."

 

"Yeah, Catherine of Aragon, Ann Boleyn, Jane Seymour, Anne of Cleaves, Catherine Howard and Catherine Parr."

 

Daniel's mouth dropped open as he stared at his companion in disbelief. How would Jack know that kind of detail about a five hundred year old English monarch?

 

"I know stuff." Indignantly, Jack responded to the archaeologist's unasked question. "It's easy enough to remember; divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived!"

Snorting, Daniel moved on to the next painting. "Do you know who this is?"

 

"Sure," answered Jack confidently. "It's Richard the third. He's the guy who murdered the princes in the tower. They were two young lads who were his nephews and who had a greater claim to the throne than ole' Rick had, so he got rid of them. He also said 'Now is the winter of our other tent.'"

 

"No, it's 'Now is the winter of our discontent!'"

 

"I know!"

 

"And Richard the third didn't say that, Shakespeare did when he wrote the play."

 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

 

Moving on again, they took in the image of a tall, thin, pale young man with unhappy eyes.

 

"Name the reign, Jack."

 

"Dunno this guy, who is it?"

 

"It's Edward the second. He had a sad history. He came to the English throne in 1307 and was the son of Edward the first. Edward the first was known as Edward Longshanks because he was very tall. He was also very macho and was concerned that his son didn't seem to be interested in jousting and fighting. He preferred gardening and the king thought those kinds of interests were not a good foundation for the next king, so he arranged for Edward to have a squire by the name of Piers Gaveston from Gascony in France to be his squire. The king reckoned that this successful intelligent man would be a good influence on the prince. Apparently Gaveston was such an attractive, able and charismatic man that the young Edward fell for him hook, line and sinker."

 

Jack raised an eyebrow and glancing behind him, beckoned Daniel to sit with him on a wooden bench opposite the portrait. As Jack studied the tall sad bearded man in the picture, Daniel continued his commentary.

 

"Shocked by Edward's affair with Gaveston, the king decided to split them up and sent his son away. It was reported they didn't get on too well, so rather than banish the Frenchman, it was Edward that got the heave ho. Edward returned to court three months later unable to live without Gaveston and showered him with gifts and money. He also begged his father to give him a title and the lands that went with it, but the king was annoyed that as the young Edward hadn't even been to war to gain lands of his own, he didn't have any right to give away what he hadn't earned. The king sent Gaveston out of the country completely but three months later Edward the first died and young Edward became king and recalled his lover.

Edward made Gaveston Duke of Cornwall and he was entitled to all the revenue derived from the title. The young king also arranged for Gaveston to marry his niece."

"That sounds a bit weird," Jack commented not taking his eyes of the portrait.

 

"Not really, arranged marriages were the thing and there was always a political and financial reason for that."

 

"So young Ed keeps the money and titles in the family by the French guy marrying his niece?"

 

"Yes. The nobility were jealous of the titles and wealth that Edward gave to Gaveston and when the king named him as regent the nobles in the land were just a little bit put out."

 

"Regent?"

 

"Yeah, if anything happened to Edward, Gaveston would rule in his place."

 

Jack nodded and turned away from Daniel to look at the picture again.

 

"By this time Edward was married to Isabella and when they got back from their honeymoon, he left his wife standing and flung himself into the arms of his lover."

 

"Hmmm, good move, I bet everyone was so not impressed by that."

 

"You're right, they weren't, especially when the next morning Gaveston was seen out and about wearing the jewellery that Isabella had given to Edward as part of her dowry."

 

"Ouch!"

 

"Ouch indeed. The nobles were so angry about the situation that they threatened to boycott Edward's coronation so he promised that Gaveston wouldn't be going, but the Frenchman wasn't very diplomatic and turned up anyway, dressed to the nines and managing to outshine the king. The problem was that he was also in charge of the ceremony and it ran over by three hours, as well as the reception afterwards. The food was late being served and by all accounts was pretty poor so that was yet another mark against the guy and to make matters worse, Isabella was complaining to her father, the king of France, that Edward was a stranger in her bed."

 

"Ooops."

 

"Edward came under pressure to get rid of Gaveston and without a friend or ally, he gave in and sent his lover away to Ireland and if he came back, the nobles said he would be excommunicated from the Catholic religion."

 

"Tough call."

 

"Right, but Gaveston wasn't stupid. He lobbied the Pope and got the whole idea of excommunication thrown out. Gaveston returned from Ireland and Edward gave him the title of Duke of Cornwall yet again. Three years later the nobles had had enough and using their influence, got the English bishops to excommunicate him. The nobles were preparing to go to war with Edward over Gaveston and frightened for their lives, the guys fled to Scotland in the hope of finding support."

 

"And they didn't did they," Jack stated. He could see what was coming.

 

"No. Edward took Isabella with him and she was already very pregnant. As the armies advanced, Edward and Gaveston took off, leaving Isabella behind to face the oncoming troops."

 

"That's a bit mean, unless young Ed there thought she would be safe because she was expecting."

 

"Well, Isabella was having an affair with Edward's greatest rival by this time, so I guess the whole thing is open to interpretation."

 

"Sounds like a soap," Jack grinned.

 

"Edward left Gaveston to try and recruit support for his cause and the Frenchman was captured by the Earl of Pembroke. Pembroke promised to deliver Gaveston back to Edward as long as the king agreed to strip his lover of his titles. The problem was that Pembroke hadn't been home for quite a long while and he left Gaveston to go see his wife and that night, a renegade group of disgruntled barons looted Pembroke's castle and found Gaveston wearing the crown jewels."

 

"Crap!"

 

"Yep. Pembroke was embarrassed by the whole thing and offered Gaveston to any of the other nobles who would undertake to deliver him to Edward but no one wanted the job."

"Typical, can't get reliable help when ya need it."

 

"Everyone scratched themselves while trying to decide what ought to happen next. Finally, someone took the initiative and parted Gaveston's head from his neck."

"Ouch, again. That must have been tough on ole' Ed?"

 

"It was. The king was beside himself but after a while he and Isabella made up. Except that Isabella's lover was determined to get the throne for himself and so he and the queen had Edward arrested. He was locked away in a dungeon and treated miserably."

 

"Then what happened?" Jack asked eagerly.

 

Biting his lower lip, Daniel looked at his companion for a moment."

 

"He was murdered."

 

"How?"

 

"The people that were holding him used a white hot poker."

 

"And they poked him full of holes?"

 

"Not quite. The fact that Edward was gay was common knowledge and they decided to punish him for that by...by using the poker and…"

 

"They didn't?"

 

"I'm afraid they did."

 

"Fuck!" exclaimed Jack, getting up and walking to the picture again, staring hard at it, he frowned. "All that for nothing more than loving a man instead of a woman."

 

"Like I said, it's a tragic story but at least that kind of thing doesn't happen now."

 

"No. It doesn't. Men who love men are just bullied and taunted. Their lives are ripped apart, their families fight because of it, they put up with beatings and humiliation and if they can't take it they hide and put their lives on hold for years and years and sometimes forever!"

 

Daniel was taken aback at the ferocity of Jack's outburst. The older man was clearly upset.

 

"Jack?" Daniel asked gently as he stood beside him. "Are you okay?"

 

"I'm just peachy," Jack snapped and taking a deep breath stared at Daniel with narrowed eyes, his mouth thin and tense. "I gotta get outta here, I need a drink."

 

With that Jack turned and headed for the exit. Daniel remained where he was watching the retreating figure and then the thought exploded in his mind. Those things Jack said, he was talking about his own experience. Oh my god, he's gay!

 

Trotting to catch him, Daniel overtook him just outside the Gallery and stopped in front of him.

 

"Jack? We need to talk."

 

"You can talk if you wanna, I just need a drink."

 

"Jack? Are you sure you're okay?"

 

"No, I'm not. C'mon."

 

Daniel tried to keep up with the long striding photographer as he weaved through the Saturday afternoon downtown crowds of shoppers. Within a few minutes they were both in a crowded bar and sitting in silence.

 

"Do you want to talk about it, Jack?"

 

"What's there to talk about?" the older man asked as he swigged a mouthful of beer from the bottle.

 

"Judging by what you said back there, and the way you said it, I'm guessing you were talking from experience."

 

"Well I haven't had a poker rammed up my ass if that's what you mean," he retorted still angry.

 

"Well, no obviously," Daniel replied carefully, "but you did mention bullying, beatings, a family at war with itself."

 

"Yeah, well," Jack muttered, back tracking slightly.

 

Taking a breath, Daniel ploughed on. "I know what it's like, Jack, I've been there too."

 

The photographer looked up quickly, trying to process the implications of what the other man had just said.

 

"Do you mean you're...?"

 

"Yes, Jack, I'm gay," confirmed Daniel, his voice strong. "I don't broadcast it but I don't hide it either."

 

"When I asked you if you had a girlfriend you said no," Jack said accusingly.

 

"That's right but you didn't ask if I had a boyfriend either. I wasn't hiding anything; you just didn't ask the right question."

 

"How was I to know that?"

 

"You didn't offer any information about yourself, Jack."

 

"Well, no. I didn't know you well enough and I didn't know if I could trust you."

 

"That was only last night so what made you change your mind now?"

 

"Because you've just admitted who you are. It makes things easier now. I can tell you I'm gay as well. Actually I'm bi but there hasn't been anyone of either sex for a long time now. I just keep myself to myself, it makes things simpler that way."

 

"Do you trust me?"

 

"I...I guess so, yeah, I do," Jack said thoughtfully, realising that he did indeed trust the younger man, there was something about him and whatever it was it was growing more acute in Jack's mind. He breathed out and began to relax.

 

"So did you have a bad time over it?"

 

"I did. My dad could never accept it. My mom tried and my brother was okay with it. When I joined the Air Force I knew I would have to bury it deep down or I'd never survive, but one day when I was in the locker room reading my mail, some jerk grabbed the letter and when they saw it was from a man and what was written was pretty graphic, they beat the crap outta me and there was nothing I could do. I couldn't go to my commanding officer so I just had to stick it out." Jack went quiet for a while and shuddered as he remembered those awful early days in the military. "When I was offered a medical discharge I was in two minds, I really wanted to stay, I loved flying but in some ways it was a relief to get out. I thought then I could finally be myself but I couldn't, I was married and had a kid. We broke up eventually; I guess it was never really destined to work out. What about you?"

 

"I was orphaned at an early age. My grandfather didn't want a kid with him, he was off on archaeological digs around the world, I would have been a burden to him and so I was stuck in one foster family after another. I met and fell in love with another foster kid; we shared the same family. When they found out I left before they could do anything about it. I never saw Tom again and I felt like I'd been cheated. I worked my way through college, had a couple of affairs and I had the same trouble as you did. A couple of football jocks found out and made my life hell. I graduated and got out. By that time I was scared to put down roots, I was always afraid I'd be hounded out. I'm not a soft man, Jack, I've done my fair share of fighting back but you can only do so much of that, you know? In the end I learned to walk that fine line between not saying too much but not losing who I am and you're right, trust is everything."

 

The men sat in silence again, working through each other's revelations. Finally, glancing at his watch, Jack pushed his chair back and stood up.

 

"Time to eat, whadda think?"

 

"I really ought to be getting back; I've got some work to do."

 

"It's still quite early, let's eat then you can go." Jack really didn't want Daniel to leave. A huge weight had been lifted by their talk and he felt like a large number of barriers had just disappeared. He was relaxed and very comfortable with the younger man and he really didn't want to be left alone after spending virtually twenty-four hours in his company.

"Well okay, just a quick bite then and after that, I really must be on my way."

 

True to his word, Jack made it a quick dinner from a fast food street vendor and they walked and talked some more as they ate and when they got to the subway, it was all Jack could do not to physically hold Daniel back.

 

"So, you're gonna go now?" Jack asked feigning a smile at Daniel.

 

"Yeah, got work to do, you know I really..."

 

"Sure, you've got plenty of..."

 

"But maybe another...?"

 

"Absolutely, we could, y'know..."

 

"That would be..."

 

"Good."

 

"Yeah."

 

"Look, I'm throwing a party next weekend at the beach house, being Labor Day weekend an' all. Wanna come?"

 

"That would be great, Jack, I'd like that."

 

"Gotta a pen? I'll give you the address."

 

Daniel rooted in his bag and gave Jack the pen and paper. Turning Daniel around, Jack placed the piece of paper between his shoulder blades and wrote down the address of his place in The Hamptons and the phone number.

 

"Bring some swimming gear too, you'll enjoy it."

 

"Um, what day?"

 

"Oh, Saturday, bring an overnight bag, it'll be a drag driving back to the city and anyway, if you have too much to drink you won't be going anywhere!"

 

With that, Daniel descended the steps to the subway, leaving Jack to watch him disappear into the bowels of New York City. It was going to be a long week ahead until the next time Jack set eyes on the academic.

 

-o-

 

As the train pulled out of Southampton station, Daniel made his way through the little single storey timber clad ticket office to the road beyond. The place was deserted, not that he could afford to pay for a cab all the way to Jack's place and he estimated he would have to walk for at least an hour, possibly more, to get into the town of Southampton itself, let alone walk the long straight Little Plains Road to be anywhere near Gin Lane and the beach house. Sighing and glancing at his watch, Daniel set off. It was 10:03am. Walking the mile from the station to the Montauk Highway, Daniel began to wonder what on earth he was doing. Would Jack even welcome him? Sure, the man had invited Daniel to his party, but he hadn't called the academic once in seven days and now things felt different, more distant. He considered that he could have called Jack but he was worried that he might be seen as chasing the older man; after all, he hadn't shown any interest in Daniel like that. Maybe he could settle for just being friends and be content with that.

 

As Daniel trudged along the highway he also wondered how he could ever compete with Jack's wealth and status. He had nothing to offer except his books. He also began to wonder if his attraction to Jack was just too stupid for words, and at that point he was ready to turn around and go back to the train station and the city.

 

The morning wore on as he made his way towards the little town with the big money. At the fork in the road, Daniel jogged across the tarmac to join Hampton Road and the walk through the outskirts. Checking his piece of paper with the town map on it, he headed towards the Town Justice Court House to turn left into Little Plains Road. By this time he had been walking for nearly ninety minutes and he was in desperate need of coffee. At last he could see the Court building on the opposite corner of the road and hesitating he considered whether he should keep walking or stop for refreshments.

 

Just at the moment when he paused in thought, a car drew up alongside him and as he bent to look into the open window he came face to face with Big T.

 

"Good morning, Daniel Jackson. Do you require a ride to O'Neill's?"

 

"Well...I...uh," Daniel stammered, realising that he had to make a decision one way or another. He was closer to Jack's place than he was to the city so that should mean something shouldn't it? The fact that Jack's people were here now and offering him a lift must mean something too.

 

"Thanks, that would be great," the archaeologist smiled and slipped into the rear seat, alongside some boxes. "Hi," he said to Sam who was sitting in the front passenger seat.

"Hey, glad to see you again," she nodded and turning around to face the front, the car set off towards Jack's place. "You're kinda early for the party, Daniel," she added, making a sly grin in T's direction.

 

"Indeed, you are six hours early, Daniel Jackson."

 

"Well, yeah I know, but I thought I might be able to help Jack with the preparations, butter bread, make sandwiches, that kind of thing."

 

"Daniel, Jack does not cater, he hires someone to do that!"

 

"Shoot," Daniel muttered under his breath. "Of course he does," the academic sighed with a touch of irony in his voice. He could kick himself, of course Jack wouldn't be slaving over a hot stove, of course he would pay someone else to do that. What an idiot I am!

 

The group of three continued on towards the coast and Daniel began to realise just how far he would still have had to walk without the timely appearance of the photographer's duo. They journeyed the whole length of Little Plains Road and he could see and smell the Atlantic Ocean ahead. Eventually the car turned into Gin Lane and passing through a pair of open white painted wooden gates, it swept up a short drive to a large white isolated two-storey house. Daniel gave a long low whistle of amazement as he stood in the driveway, looking up at Jack's 'beach house'. It wasn't so much a house as a small mansion.

 

The house had a flat roof and sweeping rounded edges to the building itself and offset from the centre of the façade was a square but curved edged turret affair that was made completely of opaque glass bricks and obviously housed the staircase. There was a basement level, housing a garage big enough to take at least two cars. The main entrance to the house was via a set of wide shallow steps shaped as layered semi-circles and flanked by low stepped walls on which were mounted two large white glass lights on either side of the first step. There were pine trees and shrubs crowded in front of the house and white and grey chippings covering the drive. It was a truly beautiful house set in nearly three acres of gardens and as Daniel marvelled at the setting he also spotted Jack's jeep and a small commercial van with Food and Co. written along the side. Sam was right; the caterers were already there.

 

"Impressed?" Sam laughed as she opened the trunk.

 

"I'll say," Daniel replied, grabbing his overnight bag and closing the car door.

 

"Why don't you go on in? T and I have some unloading to do."

 

"Let me help," the archaeologist offered, staring at various bits of equipment.

 

"It's okay, we can manage."

 

"What is all this stuff?"

 

"It's the sound system for tonight," Sam grunted as she pulled at one of the very large amplifiers.

 

 

"Do a bit of dee-jaying in your spare time?"

 

"No," the blonde giggled, "Chad looks after the music."

 

"Chad?"

 

"He lives in Southampton and hangs around Jack from time to time."

 

"He does?" A sudden shock of unexpected jealousy lanced through his body and his stomach clenched.

 

"He's only a kid, Daniel. I think its just hero worship," she confided, patting him on the arm. "Nothing to get jealous about!"

 

"I'm not jealous," retorted Daniel, slightly offended. "Do I sound jealous?"

 

"No! Absolutely not," she smiled and the academic knew that he did. Damn.

 

When all the equipment was off loaded, Daniel helped T and Sam carry everything into the house.

 

"You go find Jack; we're okay here and thanks, Daniel."

 

Leaving them, Daniel wandered from the large entrance hall along to the kitchen. It was light and easy on the eye; with pale honey coloured quarry tiles on the floor and beech hardwood cabinets. There was an L-shaped island unit in the middle with a highly polished green marble counter and eight tall seats around three sides. He thought he might find Jack overseeing the food operation. Instead he found two women making samosas.

 

"Hi, I'm looking for Mr. O'Neill. Have you seen him?"

 

"Mr. O'Neill? You mean that tall, handsome man with the blond streaks?"

 

Smiling at the women's description, Daniel nodded.

 

"Ahh, you mean Mister Jack," one of the women said with the suggestion of an Italian accent. "I'm sorry; I haven't seen him for quite a while. Why don't you go and take a look outside?"

 

Finding his way to the living room, Daniel could only stand and stare. The walls and ceiling were all white with a mezzanine floor to one side above him. Daniel noticed that all the doorways were very wide but there were no doors, just large spaces linked together visually by openings in the walls. There were three white sofas arranged around a beech wood coffee table. The flooring throughout the house was made of wood and not a rug in sight. There was a series of five views mounted on one wall, mainly of the beach and the ocean and again, as in Jack's loft, Daniel assumed that he was the photographer. There was a huge fireplace on one wall and as Daniel studied it he realised that the dining room on the other side also shared the same fireplace. He's got a see-through fire, nice!

 

The final wall was made up of one big window built as a pair of sliding doors and as Daniel walked through he found himself on a large wooden platform above the ground that ran the whole width of the house on the ocean side and overlooked the beach. Slowly he traversed along its length, soaking up the warm sunshine as he watched the birds wheeling overhead. He thought that the sounds here were much more conducive than those of the city traffic. The sunlight reflected off the white sandy beech and the sea at its most benign as it glittered and shimmered in the noonday sun. Taking in a deep breath, Daniel revelled in his idyllic surroundings and thought cynically that it was an ideal place to be - at a price, and that price made it a very exclusive location indeed. There was no way he could compete with the trappings of Jack's world.

 

When he reached the far end of the platform he saw a telescope mounted on the handrail and idly he stared through the eyepiece. Daniel understood why the telescope had such a firm connection to the platform, it was very powerful and a hand held sight or binoculars of the same magnitude would result in a very blurred image. Wondering why the instrument was pointing to the sky he moved it slowly to train it on the beach. At this close proximity he could make out individual pebbles and the detail in the fronds of seaweed scattered along the high tide mark. Glancing away from the telescope for a moment he looked further up the beach and spotted a lone figure walking along the low tide region of the sand. It looked like Jack. Going back to the telescope Daniel lined it up on his subject. It was Jack all right, his head was down but his eyes weren't focused on his bare feet but a few inches in front. He was wearing a frown and his observer thought he looked very pensive. Jack had his hands in his pockets and his shoulders were slightly hunched. Daniel stepped away from the telescope and watched him at a distance.

 

-o-

 

Jack groaned as he walked along the beach. The tide was out and his toes sank a little way into the soft wet sand, leaving small depressions that quickly filled with water. He was thinking back to three days earlier and the second attempt to keep his date. It had been a disaster and he groaned again. It wasn't the fault of his date, they'd got on okay but Jack's head was full of comparisons and all he could see for the whole evening was Daniel's mesmerising blue eyes, his open face, full lips and broad shoulders.

 

Jack really hadn't peeked when he'd undressed the younger man and hauled him into his bed to sleep off his over indulgence of red wine though he wished he had. When Daniel smiled his whole face lit up and there was something playful about the way he angled his head to look up through his lashes. Jack and Daniel had connected with the admissions of their sexuality and, apart from all that, the man had been on Jack's mind constantly in the last few days. It had put up a barrier that Jack's date had no chance of penetrating.

Rather than prolonging the agony, Jack had tried to get through the evening as quickly as possible by feigning the onset of a migraine and making his apologies, he'd paid the restaurant bill and ordered up a taxi. As he waved goodbye to his date, Jack decided there and then that this dating game was just too difficult. He would choose to retreat into his shell and return to being an observer on the sideline. Jack would suppress any feelings he might have for Daniel; he already recognised that he had them in spades. What could he possibly have that would interest the archaeologist? He was older, his knees gave him problems from time to time and he had absolutely no inclination to hear about Egyptian mummies. His idea of courting Daniel, slowly and systematically, was crazy. Damn.

 

Just as Jack had reached his conclusion he thought he heard a sound drifting on the breeze. He heard it again and turning saw Daniel Jackson, followed by Sam, jogging up the beach and calling his name.

 

"Jack," the younger man gasped, "I've been calling you, didn't you hear me?"

 

"Sorry, I was thinking."

 

"About what?"

 

"This and that. Hey, you're early!"

 

"Yeah, I know," grinned Daniel. "I thought you might need some help for the party but realised that you don't."

 

"Nah, I just let the caters do all that."

 

"I noticed," the academic laughed.

 

"So," Jack said with a lopsided grin.

 

"So," Daniel repeated, feeling rising warmth in his belly as he took in Jack's appearance. The man was wearing a cream coloured muslin shirt completely open as the breeze took it, revealing a light dusting of chest hair and dark pink nipples. His cream baggy cotton trousers were rolled up at the hem and he was barefooted. The breeze tugged at his tousled hair. Daniel felt his heart melting little by little as his gaze locked onto Jack's. Unflinching, Jack stared back and for a long moment, they said nothing. Sam interrupted them.

 

"Fancy a swim, Daniel?" she asked, pulling out a towel from the beach bag she'd carried over her shoulder from the house.

 

"Um...Jack? You up for it?" then he flinched at the innuendo.

 

"Sorry, Boss," she interjected, "T wants you back at the house, something about fairy lights?"

 

"Oh yeah, I forgot. I gotta go, sorry kids. There's one more job to do before the party. I'll see ya later." With that he gave them both a devastating smile and turned to walk briskly back along the beach.

 

"I don't have any swimwear, it's up at the house and anyway I am not going skinny dipping with you, Sam!"

 

"It's okay, Daniel, I've brought some of Jack's stuff. He always keeps spare everything for unexpected guests."

 

"I'm not unexpected am I?"

 

"No, of course not, it's just that I didn't want to go through your bag when you weren't there. Hurry up and get changed, the water looks great."

 

Smiling, Daniel picked up the towel and wrapping it around his waist, started to strip, eyeing the pair of very loud Bermuda shorts that Sam had supplied.

 

-o-

 

As Jack and T finished hanging the last string of little coloured lights around the handrail of the platform, the photographer narrowed his eyes against the glare of early afternoon and searched the waves for Sam and Daniel, just making out two figures in the surf.

 

Moving to the telescope, Jack peered through the eyepiece, wanting to make sure his guests were both safe and not in any difficulty. The Atlantic Ocean at this point could be both a playmate and a treacherous host. Sam was already towelling herself dry on the beach by the time Jack adjusted the sight. Making a minute shift with the telescope, Jack could see Daniel just emerging from the water and his jaw dropped to Australia. The archaeologist had kept his t-shirt on and as he lifted his body from the sea the water cascaded down his torso, the garment plastered against him like a second skin. The photographer felt his blood pressure rise and his palms grow sticky as he scanned the contours of Daniel's firm muscular body.

 

"Fuck!"

 

"What is it, O'Neill? Is Samantha safe?"

 

"Huh? Oh yeah, sorry T, they're both fine." Daniel is fine, more than fine, Daniel is...fuck!

 

Every nerve in Jack's body was on fire as his eyes took in the academic and then he felt a little tinge of guilt. He was a voyeur, enjoying his own private fantasy view and he knew it was wrong. When he took photographs his subjects were aware of his actions, they were party to the relationship, but in this case Daniel wasn't and Jack's moral code kicked in, he shouldn't be looking at the other man in this way, it was wrong...so wrong.

 

-o-

 

"What do you think is going on with those two?" asked Sam quietly as she watched Jack and Daniel talking on the walkway below. She and T were lazing on the platform, drinking tea and enjoying the late afternoon quiet.

 

"They are on the verge of a deep and meaningful relationship, Samantha," the big man stated emphatically.

 

Giggling, Sam pushed his arm and as he caught her hand, he pulled her in for a deep kiss. T knew what it was to have a deep and meaningful relationship and hoped that his friend Jack would find the same kind of happiness as he had with Sam.

 

"Hey, big guy, put the help down," Jack laughed as he and Daniel made the last few strides from the walkway to the platform.

 

"Ooh, any tea left?" Daniel asked as he lifted the lid of the Spode teapot.

 

"I'll make some more," Jack offered, putting the used cups back on the tray and taking it into the kitchen.

 

"Just good friends then, Daniel?" Sam asked wickedly, following up her question with a grin.

 

"What?" Daniel replied, feeling himself flush.

 

"You and Jack. What's going on?"

 

"You would be well advised to desist from this line of questioning, Samantha," T interrupted.

 

Sitting back in her chair, Sam continued to smile at Daniel until he snorted and left them to find Jack. He wasn't upset really, he found Sam and T easy to get along with and he liked their company but he wasn't going to confirm or deny Sam's very obvious insinuation, he wasn't sure how he felt.

 

He watched as the older man moved around the kitchen, making a fresh pot of tea. He was laughing and joking with the two women caterers and flirting with them. It was then that Daniel remembered Jack saying he was bi, he'd forgotten, only focusing on his preference for men and immediately Daniel felt that cloud of gloom descending again. Jack would be as open to a relationship with a woman as with a man.

 

"Is it all right, Mister Jack, we take a break now?" the younger of the women asked, with a broad smile and her dark eyes sparkling.

 

"Sure, go ahead," grinned Jack as he poured the boiling water into the teapot.

 

Giggling and nudging each other, the women left the kitchen to go and sit in their van for a while.

 

"Hey, I forgot to say," Jack said quickly, dropping the lid of the teapot in place. "I had a date a couple of nights ago."

 

Surprised by this little titbit of information, Daniel raised his eyebrows.

 

"It was thanks to you and our little chat at the restaurant last week. I decided it was time I got back in circulation," the older man continued cheerily, reaching into the cabinet for clean cups.

 

Stunned, Daniel gave a small strained smile, speechless at Jack's revelation. When he'd suggested Jack should think about dating, he'd meant with him, not somebody else. That would serve him right for not making himself plainly understood. That little cloud of gloom was turning into a downpour of cold icy rain.

 

"So...how was it?" Daniel forced himself to make some kind of response and he inwardly flinched at his question. He really didn't want to know how good it had been, how wonderful Jack's date was, what a great time they'd had and how the other man had discovered the love of his life. Damn.

 

"It was okay," Jack offered, replenishing the milk jug.

 

"It was okay," Daniel echoed, trying to glean its meaning. Was that okay brilliant? Okay, okay or okay awful? He had no way of knowing. Damn.

 

"Yeah, it was...okay," Jack said again as he looked askance at the academic. If truth be told it was okay awful but as Daniel didn't seem to be overly interested, Jack didn't see the point of going into detail about how he'd tried to make conversation and his how his date just didn't understand his sense of humour and how, when his date had flirted with the waiter, he'd wanted to leave there and then. He wanted to tell Daniel just how bad it had been but somehow he couldn't. His self-confidence had been undermined and he was still feeling vulnerable. Jack had said he trusted Daniel but right now, he didn't trust himself. Given the right moment he could see himself handing Daniel his heart on a plate, the problem was he didn't know whether Daniel would cherish it or discard it.

 

Picking up the tea tray, Jack held it up. "Ready?"

 

-o-

 

For the next couple of hours the four friends sat on the platform, talking or napping. At around 6pm, Jack stretched and yawned.

 

"Time to get ready, kids. Sam and T, I'll leave you two to do whatever you do. Daniel? You're with me."

 

Daniel followed Jack through the living room into the large, light and airy reception area to the front of the house and gripping the post at the bottom of the stairs, swung himself around with one arm and mounted the steps two at a time. Following him up, Daniel found himself at the door to one of six guest rooms.

 

"Will this be okay?" Jack asked as he went in. Standing on the threshold of the room, Daniel looked at his accommodation.

 

"It's great, thanks, Jack. In fact it's more than great."

 

"My room's up the hall," Jack said, waving his arm vaguely in the direction of the back of the house. Why did he just say that? It sounded like an invitation. "If you need me, y'know want anything..." Internally groaning, the more Jack tried to cover himself, the worse it sounded.

 

Smiling, Daniel nodded, putting his bag down of the dark blue bed cover.

 

"I'll leave you to it then," Jack said, not moving.

 

"Thanks," Daniel replied and his fingers twitched as he caught sight of Jack's bare chest again. Though the photographer had buttoned up when he'd got back to the house from the beach, he'd been lazy and didn't bother with the top two buttons and now Daniel's gaze focused on the tanned flesh.

 

"Right, good," Jack said nervously and retreated from Daniel's room. He'd felt the heat of the other man's gaze and Jack straightened up to steel himself. Tonight would be the night he would get Daniel in a clinch if it were the last thing he ever did.

 

-o-

 

By the time Daniel had showered, dressed, thought about Jack, cleaned his teeth, thought about Jack, combed his hair, changed his shirt again, thought about Jack, cleaned his glasses, shaved, thought about Jack, put on some aftershave, thought about Jack, lay on his bed for a while, thought about Jack, got up again, fastened the top button of his shirt, thought about Jack, put on a tie, thought about Jack, slipped on his socks and knotted his shoe laces and thought about Jack again, it was time to make his entrance.

 

Making his way down the wide, wooden stairs he could hear music. Chad must be here he thought, as he entered the living room to see a tall, slim young man wearing small metal-framed glasses and blond dreadlocks. He was pale and interesting Daniel noted idly and looked around for the others.

 

Sam grinned when she saw him.

 

"You're looking...good," she laughed, "If a trifle over dressed."

 

"What?"

 

"Daniel, you look like you're going to a business meeting!"

 

"What's wrong with being smart?" the archaeologist asked a little put out. He'd wanted to look presentable to Jack's guests. He assumed they would be rich, smart and fashion conscious and he didn't want to let himself or Jack down either.

 

"Never mind, Daniel, you look good," Sam said, patting his arm.

 

Pursing his lips, the academic wasn't sure if that was a compliment or a commiseration. Chad, on the other hand, was making his own fashion statement as all he was wearing was a pair of faded blue jeans and a necklace made of small pink and white shells. Daniel found himself staring as the young man rifled through a pile of CDs. While he was doing that he was playing a track by the Black Eyed Peas, Where is the love. Daniel caught some of the lyrics. "We've only got one world." Staring at the floor and thinking ruefully, and only one life to live in it. Sometimes, the energy and effort of trying to find and keep life long happiness was too much, and maybe the occasional interlude was the best he should hope for, with whoever was willing to offer it.

 

Having opened a bottle of Ukrainian Golden Duke champagne and filling two fluted crystal long stemmed glasses, Jack sidled over to Daniel, offering him the drink. The academic sucked in a breath as the tall lean figure dressed all in black approached him, his shirt sleeves rolled up and sporting a gold and leather bracelet around his wrist.

 

"Na Zdorovie," Jack said and Daniel was sure he detected an unusual quality in the photographer's voice and he found it incredibly attractive...and there was something else. Jack was standing very close to him, just inside his personal space, not enough to make him uncomfortable but enough to make the academic acutely aware of the physicality of the older man. Daniel could smell his cologne and see just how brown his eyes were. He took a step back, surprised by this turn of events and found himself leaning back against the wall. Jack didn't move but drank from his glass, not breaking eye contact with Daniel for an instant. Then he gave the younger man a lopsided grin and holding his gaze till the last possible moment, he turned and moved across the room to speak to Chad. The deejay nodded and when the music he was currently playing stopped, he played something new and bowed to Daniel as it started. The academic turned to look over his shoulder wondering if the young man meant the song was for him or someone else. He saw Jack looking at him and smiling. The music by Liberty X had a slow, slinky beat and Daniel felt his temperature rising as he listened to the lyrics.

 

Sexy, everything about you's so sexy
You don't even know what you're got
You're really hittin' my spot, oh yeah

 

And you're so innocent
Please don't take this wrong cos it's a compliment
I just wanna get what you've got
You gotta learn to let go, oh baby won't you

 

Work it a little bit
Get hot just a little bit
Meet in the middle and go just a little bit more
Gimme just a little bit more

 

Let me, I'll do anything if you just let me
Find a way to make you respond
I know you wanna break down those walls

It's so challenging

Getting close to you's what I'm imagining
I just wanna see you get down
You've gotta let it all out

 

Work it a little bit
Get hot just a little bit
Meet in the middle and go just a little bit more
Gimme just a little bit more

 

Work it a little bit
Get hot just a little bit
Meet in the middle and go just a little bit more
Gimme just a little bit more

 

It's so exciting
The way you're inviting me
Can't get enough
Won't you satisfy my need

 

Work it a little bit
Get hot just a little bit
Meet in the middle and go just a little bit more
Gimme just a little bit more

 

Work it a little bit
Get hot just a little bit
Meet in the middle and go just a little bit more
Gimme just a little bit more

 

Noticing he'd been holding his breath, Daniel let it out slowly, his heart beating like a tom-tom in his chest. Was this Jack's way of flirting? It certainly felt like it. His eyes followed the photographer around the room as he greeted his guests, shaking hands with the men, kissing the women on the cheek. He was supremely confident, relaxed and charming. Daniel wondered cynically if some of these guests were important clients or potential clients of Jack's and then he felt guilty for thinking such a thing. This was Jack's event and he could choose to invite whomever for whatever purpose, in which case, why had Jack invited him? Shaking himself mentally, Daniel admonished his habit of over analysing everything. He should stop it immediately.

 

For the next hour or so, guests continued to arrive and Jack worked the room with consummate ease. Daniel chatted to various people and found at least two who showed some interest in his work. He was feeling a lot better and beginning to enjoy himself. By the second hour, the partygoers had spread throughout the house; some were seated outside on the platform or in the living room and others had made their way to the dining room to tuck into the wonderful spread of food.

 

Daniel noticed Jack watching him from time to time and the academic smiled as he watched someone talking to Jack as his concentration wandered to look at the archaeologist and embarrassed Jack had to apologise when his guest had poked him in the arm to regain his attention.

 

Towards the end of the evening Daniel was leaning against the wall observing the people in the living room when he saw Jack in conversation with a small woman with huge brown eyes. He felt like he'd been punched in the solar plexus. There was a level of intimacy between them that was unmistakable. They were standing close to one another and talking. At one point, Jack embraced her, hugging her for a long time and then taking her face in his hands, he'd kissed her forehead. Jack had been watching Daniel for most of the evening, had flirted with him over the glass of champagne and the archaeologist had begun to think that things were slowly progressing to a night of lustful passion. Instead, his body now felt like lead and he was rooted to the spot, witnessing the interaction between Jack and the woman and he couldn't drag his eyes away, even though his mind and body wanted to run as far away as possible. Eventually tearing himself from the source of his pain, Daniel turned, the need to escape boiling up from the pit of his stomach. He ran smack bang into Chad who was standing almost directly behind him.

 

"Sorry," Daniel apologised breathlessly.

 

"S'okay, no harm done," Chad drawled, smiling. "Didn't think my choice of music was that bad though."

 

"Huh? Oh, no, it's good."

 

"Wanna get a drink?"

 

Glancing over his shoulder, the woman with Jack was whispering in his ear and he was resting his hand on her waist.

 

"Sure, why not? Let's get a drink, just so long as it isn't champagne," Daniel snorted bitterly. He supposed he would never drink it again.

 

Following Chad to the kitchen, Daniel noticed his pale golden skin and lean form. He was wide shouldered and his torso tapered to a slim waist, his jeans fitting snugly over his buttocks. The archaeologist hadn't noticed just how long the young man's hair was, twisted into those dreadlocks.

 

Handing him a Jack Daniels, Chad seated himself at the island unit and looked at Daniel with a serious expression.

 

"Want some company?"

 

Blinking, Daniel wasn't sure just quite what kind of company Chad meant.

 

"Just you and me," the deejay added, reaching out and running his forefinger suggestively down Daniel's sleeve. Daniel's brain was telling him to move away, to reject what Chad was so obviously offering but his traitorous body was sending opposing messages to his groin. What if he did decide to take up Chad's suggestion? Jack was in the other room making it perfectly clear where his interest lay and if Daniel engaged in a little one on one with Chad he could use it to punish himself for ever having thoughts about Jack.

 

Daniel didn't shift from his spot in the kitchen as he watched Chad advance on him. As he moved up against the academic, the young man breathed into his ear and whispered.

 

"What do you want, Daniel?"

 

Closing his eyes, Daniel could only feel the rapid arousal of his body centering in his cock and he let Chad kiss him, hard.

 

"Whoa!" Jack gasped as he wandered into the kitchen to catch a full and uncensored view of Daniel and Chad sucking face.

 

Hearing Jack's voice, Daniel broke contact with his companion immediately, looking down at the floor with frustration and guilt. Right now he couldn't bring himself to look at Jack.

 

"Chad? A word," Jack ordered and beckoned the young man to follow him out into the hallway.

 

Planting his hands on his hips, Jack stood over the deejay and glared at him.

 

"Don't mess with him, Chad, he's mine."

 

"He certainly wasn't acting like it," the younger man retorted.

 

"Yeah, well that's because he doesn't know it yet. Anyway, why don'tcha get back to the music before I do something you will regret," Jack hissed. "Oh and don't forget, I'm paying you to do the music, not my guests."

 

Shrugging, Chad sullenly turned and made his way back to the living room. Jack returned to the kitchen and faced Daniel.

 

"You need to watch yourself with Chad."

 

"I can take care of myself, thanks," muttered the archaeologist.

 

"That's not the point."

 

"Oh?" Daniel demanded indignantly.

 

"His probation officer wants him to behave and you shouldn't lead him astray like that."

 

"I wasn't!"

 

"Okay."

 

"Jack? He came on to me, not the other way around."

 

"Sure, okay."

 

"Please yourself, Jack," Daniel spat as he moved towards the exit.

 

"Not so fast," Jack said, grabbing Daniel's arm roughly.

 

As they stared at each other, the small, brown-eyed woman came bustling into the kitchen.

 

"Hi, I see testosterone is on the menu tonight."

 

Grudgingly, Jack released Daniel's arm and they stepped away from one another.

 

"Janet," Jack smiled, even though he didn't feel like it. He just wanted to either punch Daniel or kiss him. "Daniel, this is Janet Fraiser, an old friend from way back when."

 

"Way back when, when?" Daniel asked, an accusatory tone lacing his words.

 

"Hi, and you are?" Janet smiled intervening, her voice gentle and warm.

 

"That's Daniel Jackson," Jack put in, not even giving the academic the chance to introduce himself.

 

"Yes, that’s me, and I'm gay, work for Columbia University and I'm considered to be a pretty good linguist, anthropologist and archaeologist," Daniel said quickly, determined not to let Jack say anything more about him that he couldn't say for himself.

 

"I'm Janet Fraiser, mother to Cassandra and doctor to this man here," she said very businesslike.

 

"So what does that make you, Jack?" Daniel asked, lifting his head slightly and raising his eyebrows in expectation.

 

"Hey, what is this, an inquisition?" Jack asked in the face of a steady gaze from the other two.

 

Daniel and Janet looked at each other with serious expressions but as Jack tried to look between them, smiles cracked their faces until they laughed out loud.

 

"You are such an ass, Jack," Daniel quipped and looking past him imperiously as he left the kitchen, was unable to suppress another laugh.

 

"Ahh, a match made in heaven," sighed Janet, batting her eyelashes skywards, "and I hope you'll both be very happy."

 

"Wait a minute. Janet? Janet!"

 

Standing alone in his kitchen, Jack had the feeling he'd just been dated, mated and sated by his two friends. Grinning, he poured himself some more champagne.

 

-o-

 

As Jack saw off the remaining guests at 1am, Daniel, Sam and T were slumped on the sofas in the living room. The place looked a mess.

 

"I think that was a success, don't you?" Jack asked coming back from the front door.

 

"Yeah, Boss, it was a good party," smiled Sam, "and now I'm off to bed. T? Coming?"

 

At that Jack and Daniel both snorted and T just raised an eyebrow as he followed Sam to their room.

 

"I'll give you a hand to clear up," Daniel offered, hauling himself out of his seat.

 

"Don't bother, I've got a cleaning service coming in first thing tomorrow," Jack said, getting up as well.

 

"What about the sound system?"

 

"Chad'll call in for that tomorrow as well."

 

"Oh, right. Well, I'm off as well. Thanks for inviting me, I've enjoyed myself."

 

"Good, that's good...so..."

 

"Yeah, so I'd better...y'know, get to bed."

 

"Sure, it's..."

 

"Late and well...I'll,"

 

"You'd better...and…"

 

"Yes, you too, Jack."

 

-o-

As Daniel lay in bed, he ran through the various events of the evening and recalled his feelings over the altercation he and Jack had about Chad. Could Jack have been jealous? It was possible he supposed, after all, he'd been jealous about Janet before he knew who she was. He felt stupid now, thinking about what Jack had said, about him taking the photographs for Cassandra's Year Book and how pleased Janet had been with the results and that whispered conversation? It was Janet telling Jack just how many of the girls in Cassie's class had fallen for him. Sighing, Daniel turned over. He vowed to stop suppressing his growing feelings for Jack and act on them for better or worse.

 

Thirty minutes later, Jack hovered outside Daniel's bedroom door. He wanted to talk and it didn't matter if that's all they did, he just wanted some quiet time with the academic. Tapping lightly on the door, Jack waited impatiently for Daniel to open it but he didn't. Tapping once more, Jack held his ear against the door but all he could hear was silence. Concluding that Daniel was asleep, he walked dejectedly back to his own room.

 

Switching off the bathroom light, Daniel went back to bed. Did he hear something then? He listened hard but there was nothing.

 

-o-

 

The next morning Daniel woke unusually early for him and sliding out of bed he stretched and opened the blinds at the window. The weather was clear and fresh and the sun shone strongly against an azure sky. Not bothering to change from his night things, a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, he padded downstairs to the kitchen and smiled when he caught the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

 

"Hi," Jack said softly as he put down the phone. "Didja sleep okay?"

 

"Yes thanks," Daniel replied, distracted by the coffee pot. Pouring a cup he joined his host at the island bar.

 

"I was thinking about lunch, Daniel," Jack said nonchalantly.

 

"It's a bit early for that isn't?" Daniel yawned.

 

"Whatever. Do ya like fresh crab?"

 

"I guess so," the academic frowned; his body awake just but with his stomach still in the land of nod.

 

"Good, I'll take ya to McGarvey's Oyster Bar. You'll like it."

 

"Okay," Daniel nodded, sipping at the hot dark liquid in his mug.

 

"Great. We'll leave in about an hour if that's okay," Jack smiled, rising and clapping him on the back. "I'm gonna take a shower."

 

Daniel stared at the marble counter top for a moment. It was only 8.30am and Jack was talking about having lunch in just an hour's time. Daniel had the distinct feeling that since leaving the city yesterday he had entered the Twilight Zone and everything he did was too early. It was like living with a battery of clocks that insisted on running fast. Shaking his head and taking his coffee with him, he made his way back to his room to shower and dress.

 

-o-

 

"Um, Jack? Where are we going?"

 

"I toldja, McGarvey's Oyster Bar."

 

Jack smiled as he drove along the Long Island highway in the direction of the city. He reckoned that on a Sunday morning in the middle of a long holiday weekend, he could make his destination in about thirty minutes. He was heading for the Francis S. Gabreski airport in Suffolk County. Having already made arrangements for his Beechcraft Baron 58 to be available, he was planning to whisk Daniel off his feet, literally.

 

Jack drove his jeep into the airport grounds and headed for the long row of hangers to one side of the complex. Parking beside a small twin-engine white and red turbo prop airplane, he turned and grinned at his passenger.

 

Blinking, Daniel looked first at Jack and then at the plane.

 

"We're gonna get lunch in that?"

 

"Sure. You gotta a problem?"

 

"No, no, not at all. I've flown in small planes before, going out to digs but they've never looked as clean as this one."

 

"C'mon, let's get organised. I've gotta do the pre-flight checks and stuff like that. If you go down to hanger four, you'll find a coffee machine. Wanna do the honours?"

 

Nodding, Daniel plunged his hand in his pocket and drew out a handful of change. "Okay, I won't be long." With that the archaeologist strolled down the line of hangers in search of java.

 

As he waited for Daniel, Jack examined the plane from nose to tail, running his fingers over cabling, wires, the wheels and so on. As he completed his visual checks one of the airport staff was filling the fuel tank with 180 gallons of 100-octane aviation fuel; this was not a place to be smoking cigarettes unless you wanted to go into orbit very fast and very permanently. Satisfied that everything was in order, Jack nodded to the technician as he withdrew the fuel nozzle and fastened the cap.

 

Jack rested his foot on the little step sticking out of the side of the plane and then stepped up onto the reinforced part of the wing right next to the fuselage in order to open the door of the cockpit. He hauled himself across the co-pilot's seat, or in this case, his passenger's seat, to settle himself in his spot to the left. Glancing at both sets of controls, he put on his set of headphones to listen to the weather report. Re-tuning the radio to a discreet frequency just for the purpose, he listened to the pre-recorded constantly updated information put out by the Airport Terminal Information Service.

 

Francis S. Gabreski Airport Information Delta: 09.55 Zulu; wind 030 at 8; visibility 6; ceiling 4 thousand overcast; temperature 19; dew point 16; altimeter setting 3015; landings and departures runway 33; advise on initial contact you have information Delta.

 

Glancing at his watch he saw it was now 10.20am. Just at that moment, Daniel reappeared carrying two Styrofoam cups with lids. Reaching up he deposited the coffee on his seat and climbed into the cockpit, passing them to Jack so that he could sit down. Smiling he looked at the array of dials, resting his hands on the stick.

 

"This is awesome," he announced, impressed as hell.

 

"Yeah, well don't mess with anything okay? You're sitting in the co-pilot's seat so unless you want to fly her..."

 

Daniel lifted his hands quickly, as though he's been burned. "Nope, absolutely not, no way, noooooo!"

 

"Good, so gonna trust me to do the flying then?"

 

"Sure, of course," Daniel grinned, still impressed with all the flying technology set out in front of him. His fingers twitched to touch the clocks, dials and other bits and pieces. He was just the same when he was involved in a dig, or looking at artefacts in the university, he just couldn't keep his hands off.

 

"You'd better close the door, Daniel, unless you like flying al fresco. Personally, I find it does nothing for the hairstyle," the photographer smiled, giving his passenger a sideways glance.

 

"Oh, god, sorry." Daniel pulled the door closed, twisting and flipping the lock.

 

"You'd better belt up."

 

"What? Oh, right, yeah."

 

Fumbling, Daniel managed to fasten his seat belt and as it hung loose across his lap, Jack eyed him.

 

"Wanna let me get that?"

 

As Jack leaned over and tightened the lap belt a ripple of arousal shot through the archaeologist, feeling Jack's breath against his face. Jack struggled with the same reaction and as he glanced down to check the belt, his gaze centred on the academic's crotch. He needed his full concentration to get them airborne. Damn!

 

Reaching for a large bulky ring binder, Jack consulted his copy of Jeppesen's.

 

"What's that?" asked Daniel, intrigued that Jack was choosing to read some thick impenetrable tome just as the academic was set for what he thought would be their take off time.

 

"I'm just checking the manual," replied Jack.

 

"On how to fly, I presume," Daniel muttered, grinning.

 

"Very funny and no. I need to check out the information I'm gonna need to get us to Lee safely. We're gonna be flying close to a US Navy base and I have to make sure I don't enter any no-fly zones. Any changes in radio frequencies, navigational beacons that I might miss 'cause I don't check it out first could prove a very costly mistake. I'm a safety first kinda guy, Daniel and I like to make every mission possible," Jack snorted, referring to the Jeppesen sales motto.

 

Having adjusted his own seat belt, Jack started the engines and still stationery, revved them, listening for any oddities that might mean mechanical problems. When he was satisfied, Jack flipped the radio switch.

 

"Gabreski Ground Control, this is Beech seven six niner six niner, south parking, taxi clearance for VFR flight to Lee airport. Have information Delta."

 

As a linguist, Daniel was intrigued yet again; this wasn't a language with which he was familiar and Jack's authoritative voice made him listen all the more closely.

 

Beech seven six nine six nine, Gabreski Ground, taxi to runway three three.

 

Not being able to hear the other half of Jack's conversation, Daniel was taken by surprise as Jack let off the brake and the aircraft lurched forward, making its way towards the runway. The academic's previous experience of being a passenger in a light aircraft always meant he was crammed uncomfortably in the back amongst supplies and equipment. This was the first time he'd ever sat in the front, being party to the pre-flight process.

 

"Gabreski Tower, Beech seven six niner six niner, ready for take off runway three three, request north departure."

 

A strange and ridiculous thought drifted into Daniel's mind and he saw an image of the registration number of Jack's plane. 69. Forget the seven, he's got 69 twice! Smiling, he felt like a naughty kid whispering penis out loud for the first time and knowing the less than subtle meaning of what that meant.

 

Jack was too busy concentrating on the task at hand to see or hear Daniel's smile turn to a snigger.

 

Beech niner six niner, taxi up to but hold short of runway.

 

"Damn," Jack said and taking a breath confirmed the instruction.

 

"Niner six niner holding short."

 

"What? What's the matter?" Daniel asked concerned.

 

"It's nothing really. We've just gotta wait for the runway to clear, there's incoming."

 

From their position they could watch another light aircraft like Jack's touch down on the runway. The photographer would have to wait a few minutes for the plane to clear their departure route.

 

Niner six niner, cleared for take off, north departure approved.

 

"Niner six niner, cleared for take off," replied Jack and Daniel could hear and feel the plane's engines rev and as his taxiing run increased in speed, the academic could feel the little aircraft vibrate and shake as it took off, becoming airborne in just a few seconds.

 

Jack's flight path meant that he had to keep to a maximum altitude of one thousand feet. Any aircraft flying over Gabreski but not landing there would know to fly above that height so that they wouldn't collide. After a while, Jack increased altitude, rising above the cloud to his maximum height of twelve thousand feet.

 

Daniel was breathless as they flew into a blue sky and bright sunshine. Any conversation he'd hoped to have with Jack was more or less impossible. The aircraft was very noisy and Daniel would not be able to wear headphones and talk to Jack through the little microphone attached. Jack needed to monitor his radio frequency constantly and he would never allow silent flying. Turning, he smiled at Daniel and mouthed the word 'okay?' Daniel nodded and gave him the thumbs up sign. Reaching down to the small scooped out tray between them, the academic peeled off the lid to one of the coffee cups and offered it to Jack, who took it with yet another smile. As Daniel sipped his own drink, he looked out of the side window. It was a hellava view down there. He could see land and water and the dirty splodge that was New York City. Touching Jack's arm he pointed at the city and Jack pinched his nose and made a face. Acknowledging his grimace, Daniel could understand what Jack meant. There was a haze over the city that indicated air pollution.

 

A little over an hour later, Daniel noticed Jack's body had stiffened and pulling the microphone down in place near his mouth, the photographer made ready to land at Lee Airport, Annapolis.

 

"Lee Tower, Beech seven six niner six niner requesting permission to approach."

 

Beech seven six niner six niner, Lee Tower. Permission granted to approach runway two eight.

 

"Nine six nine approaching two eight."

 

Jack banked the plane and Daniel could see the runway beneath them. He all ready knew that take off and landing were the two most dangerous manoeuvres and he was aware of the tension in his body as Jack straightened up and decreased speed and altitude.

 

With just a squeak from the tyres, Jack made a smooth landing and as he asked for permission to taxi to the holding area, Daniel made to unfasten his seat belt.

 

"Not yet, Daniel," Jack said loudly above the noise of the engines, resting his hand on Daniel's. "Wait till we've come to a complete halt.”

 

A few minutes later the men were out of the aircraft and safely on terra firma.

 

"Where are we?" Daniel asked, still unsure of where they were.

 

"We're at Lee Airport, five miles out of Annapolis and I do believe it's lunchtime," Jack grinned rubbing his stomach.

 

Clapping Daniel on the back, Jack strode off towards a cab waiting on the tarmac. Opening the nearside rear passenger door, the photographer grinned again.

"Daniel? Your carriage awaits!"

 

-o-

 

As the cab made its way through the city of Annapolis, Daniel felt like a million dollars, he also felt he was selling himself for slightly less than that. If he ever did sell himself he was sure he'd fetch way less than a million dollars. Glancing at Jack, Daniel wondered if this was all part of an elaborate plan of seduction, but if it was, the photographer was giving no hints at all. The crazy thing was, Jack only needed to ask and Daniel would give himself readily and without a plane trip to Maryland!

 

"That's the Naval Academy over there," Jack said, waving his hand in the vague direction of a very large and well-secured military base.

 

"You didn't want to join the Navy then?" Daniel asked, remembering that Jack had joined the Air Force.

 

"Nah, can't fly a ship, Daniel. Just a small detail, but one that counts when you've spent your whole childhood wanting to be a pilot."

 

"There are naval pilots aren't there?"

 

"Okay, okay, I get seasick if you must know."

 

Snorting, Daniel gazed at the huge naval complex as they passed by on the way to the City Docks area and the restaurant at Market Space. While Jack paid off the taxi driver a whopping eighty dollars, Daniel looked at McGarvey's and grinned. He was impressed at the exterior with its pinky brown paint washed walls and black roof parapet. It was a building like one of those seen in a cowboy film, two storey, three casement windows above the street and a kind of 'shop' front with tables outside on the sidewalk. It looked pretty crowded and Daniel wondered if they'd ever find anywhere to eat. He should have known that Jack had phoned ahead and booked a table. As they entered the bar a waitress spotted the tall lean photographer and recognised him immediately.

 

"Mr. O'Neill, good to see you again. Please, your table's this way." Glancing at Daniel, Jack stepped aside and allowed the younger man to go first, following the white-aproned woman to their seats. Their table was one in a long line against the far wall, opposite the bar. There was a huge Tiffany style lampshade hanging over each table and Daniel thought the whole place had a very Irish flavour about it.

 

"Wanna drink while you look at the menu?" Jack asked as the waitress stood poised with her pencil hovering over the order pad.

 

"Sure, what do you recommend?"

 

Smiling, Jack turned to the woman and with a lopsided grin ordered two Aviator lager beers.

 

"You'll like the Aviators, Daniel; it's brewed exclusively for this bar."

 

As the waitress deposited two long cold glasses of amber coloured beer, Daniel was still studying the menu. There was so much to choose from he didn't know where to begin. There was Maryland Oyster Stew, Meatloaf, Softshell Crab, Grilled Swordfish and lots of other mouth-watering dishes. Daniel liked the look of the pan-fried Softshell Crab served on a fresh Greek salad of greens, feta, tomato, cucumbers, green peppers and black olives.

 

"Anything there to take your fancy?" Jack asked, his eyes still on his copy of the menu.

 

"I don't know what to choose," Daniel replied, wondering if anyone could see him drooling. Only having had one slice of toast and jam and two cups of coffee for breakfast, he suddenly realised he was starving.

 

"Would you mind if I ordered for both of us?" Jack asked earnestly.

 

He didn't like to order someone else's food without asking; it seemed so impertinent. Food was like sex, it had to be the right dish for the right occasion and the older man was hoping that Daniel would agree to his request. He knew exactly what he wanted to order, in fact he'd all ready arranged with the restaurant to get it in especially. Not that he was going to tell Daniel that. He didn't want the academic to think he was taking liberties, although if everything went the way he hoped, he'd be doing just that.

 

"Can I order oysters and mussels in wine sauce from the raw bar, Clams Casino and baked pita from the appetisers, crab soup and New England clam chowder, Crab Imperial and crab cakes to share. Oh yeah and aviator wings. Is that okay with you, Daniel?"

 

Daniel couldn't speak; he was all ready trying to calculate the tab at the end of the meal. Jack had expensive taste. Nodding, Daniel smiled weakly. This had to be a set up and at the end he knew Jack would expect him to go Dutch; there was no way he could afford it. To make things worse Jack went ahead and ordered a bottle of 1997 Sonoma County Brut champagne at forty-five dollars a bottle. Blinking, a frown wrinkled Daniel's forehead and Jack noticed.

 

"What's up, Daniel?"

 

"Um, I was just thinking about the final bill and I...ah...don't think I can..."

 

"Hey!" Jack intervened, holding up his hand. "This is my treat. I'm not expecting you to go Dutch y’know. What kind of host would I be if I did that for cryin' out loud?"

 

"I...I would prefer to go Dutch if you don't mind," Daniel blurted and could have kicked himself for saying so.

 

"Maybe next time, okay?"

 

Daniel acknowledged Jack's generosity with a smile as he looked at him through his eyelashes. Jack virtually choked on his beer when he saw the seductive expression on Daniel's face. Was the guy doing that deliberately or not? If he wasn't, Jack knew he was right to order the oysters. He didn't really believe they were an aphrodisiac, but it would give him the opportunity to overtly flirt with the academic and that he was looking forward to. He wasn't intending to embarrass the man or yank his chain. Jack was genuinely interested in Daniel and after all, he was just taking the younger man's advice. 'Get a life Jack, find a date.'

 

When the dish of oysters arrived they were both famished and tucking in, they enjoyed the first part of the meal and, when their initial hunger was satisfied, they slowed down to a more leisurely pace. The oysters were served in their open shells and the morsels of mussels glistened in their natural dishes. As Jack leaned his head back, opened his mouth slowly and tipped the shell until the oyster slid down his throat, he swallowed it whole and mesmerised, Daniel watched as the photographer's throat moved to take the food.

"They're supposed to be aphrodisiacs y’know," drawled Jack, his voice low and his brown eyes almost black.

 

"Are they?" Daniel replied his voice an octave higher than usual. He was caught out by his own response to Jack's actions.

 

"Yeah, oysters are supposed to get the libido zingin’. Why don'tcha have some more champagne as well?"

 

Daniel allowed Jack to top up his glass and as they raised their glasses to each other, he just wanted to grab Jack by his shirt and kiss him over the empty oyster shells, but he didn't, instead, drinking the champagne slowly, holding Jack's gaze the whole time. The photographer just wanted to grab Daniel by whatever clothing he could reach and take him there and then, letting the crockery and glasses crash to the floor, but he didn't, instead watching the archaeologist sip his drink. Jack had all ready had two glasses of champagne as well as the beer and he daren't drink anymore if he were going to fly back to Long Island tonight. It was still relatively early, just 2pm but he knew it would take several hours for the alcohol to dissipate from his blood stream. As the waitress cleared their table, Jack leaned back in his chair.

 

"Want dessert?"

 

"Well, err, I'm pretty well full now, Jack. What did you have in mind?"

 

Waving away the waitress for the time being, Jack was convinced Daniel's question had a double meaning judging by the way he'd delivered it. Jack decided it was time to lay his cards on the table.

 

"I'll tell you what I had in mind. Wanna stay over tonight? In a hotel, I mean you and me, together, by ourselves, just the two of us?"

 

Hesitating for a moment, Daniel desperately wanted to say yes, but he couldn't.

 

"Nice as your invitation sounds, Jack, I can't. I have to prepare a lecture tomorrow, in time for Tuesday. I have an interview with the Dean and the lecture is part of the process. It might mean promotion if I do it well enough."

 

Disappointed, Jack tried not to show it, feeling just a little stupid that he'd told Daniel what he wanted and the younger man had refused him. Reading his mind, the academic reached across the table to touch Jack's fingertips.

 

"I'm sorry, really. Your invitation sounded really...inviting," he breathed and Jack looked up quickly, hope springing in his heart again.

 

"Maybe we can do something next weekend?" Jack asked hopefully.

 

"Sure, that would be good," answered Daniel enthusiastically nodding his head in the affirmative.

 

"Good, as long as it's not an art gallery though," he grinned.

 

Laughing softly, Daniel couldn't help remember just how distressed Jack had become when they’d talked about the treatment they both experienced as gay men, except Jack wasn't gay was he? He was bi-sexual and that meant Daniel had twice the chance of losing him before he could really get to know the other man. Why did he suggest Jack should find himself a date, and look at what happened when he did. He'd acted on it and found someone just as quickly. Damn.

 

"How about a movie?" Daniel asked before that damned cloud of gloom could settle over him again.

 

"Sure, we can check the listings beforehand. Do you wanna walk for a while? I know I could do with a little exercise after that huge meal."

 

After Jack had paid the restaurant bill, the men went out into the afternoon sunshine and strolled along the waterfront, walking in amiable silence for a while. They were comfortable with each other and they both felt good about it. After an hour or so, Jack beckoned Daniel to sit down on a bench.

 

"Life's a funny bastard isn't it?" Jack said idly.

 

"In what way?"

 

"Well, a few weeks ago I was photographing semi-naked women, you were probably stuck in some university library and something as small as a camera meant our paths crossed. Weird huh?"

 

"I guess." Daniel wondered if Jack's speech was leading up to something or whether he was just making conversation.

 

"See, I meet you and my life turns upside down."

 

"It does?"

 

"Yeah, I go and look at a load of dead people in paintings and flip my lid for a while. I throw a party where I have to stop you from getting involved with jailbait, and here we are a few hundred miles from my beach house and that part of it was only twenty-four hours ago. See what I mean?"

 

"Um, not really, Jack."

 

"What I'm saying is that life is never predictable. We think we've got it wired and then it changes on us without any warning."

 

"So, you don't like surprises then?"

 

"I do and I don't. I like nice surprises, hate nasty ones," Jack smiled, glancing at his companion from somewhere on the horizon.

 

"Which one am I?" Daniel asked tentatively.

 

"Oh, that's easy. You're a nice surprise!"

 

Laughing, Daniel nudged Jack in the arm with his elbow and the older man nudged him back. They both giggled at their gentle banter until they remembered where they were, in a public place. Jack's mood sobered immediately as old memories came back to haunt him.

 

"Shouldn't we be getting back? It'll be dark soon."

 

"Yeah we should, thanks for the reminder, Daniel," Jack said, his voice hard.

 

"Look, I'm sorry. I was only thinking of you having to fly back in the dark, that's all," Daniel retorted, annoyed at Jack's tone.

 

"C'mon, let's go," muttered Jack. He didn't want to be reminded that he and Daniel would have to part company in a few hours. He didn't want to be alone again.

 

As the cab drove into Lee Airport, Jack grabbed his jacket and paid the driver. Before long, he and Daniel were airborne again and on their way back to Gabreski. There was little interaction between them; apart from the illumination of the instrument panels, there was no other light in the cockpit so signing to each other was pointless.

 

After Jack had taxied the plane back to its hanger, he switched off the engines and they sat in the quiet and the dark for a few moments.

 

"It's been a great day, Jack, thanks. I've really enjoyed it."

 

"I'm glad, I had a good time as well."

 

There was a pause in their conversation as both men hesitated until Daniel took the lead. Leaning across from his seat, he took Jack's face in his hand and closed the gap between their lips. Hesitating again, Daniel waited to see if Jack would reject him and as their lips touched, he initiated their first kiss, a gentle, careful kiss, exploratory and conversely chaste. With that, Daniel turned the door lock and stepped out of the plane. Neither said anything about the kiss as they went to the jeep and getting in, Jack pulled away from the airport and drove back to the city. Pulling up outside Daniel's apartment they sat again in silence.

 

"I'll see you next Saturday then, shall I?" Daniel asked, grabbing his overnight bag from the rear seat.

 

"Yeah, great. You wanna come by the loft?"

 

"Sure, I'll see you then."

 

"Right, yeah."

 

"I'll be going then."

 

"Okay, mind how you..."

 

"And you."

 

-o-

 

Daniel spent all the holiday Monday trying to prepare his lecture for his interview with Dean Hammond the following day. He wanted to follow through on his theory about the age of the Pyramids and that the accepted thinking for the past one hundred and fifty years was wrong. His theory was controversial, he knew that and added to his argument about the cross pollination of cultures, he could be heading into a storm. On the other hand, he could take the conventional route and deny what he knew to be true by going for a middle path but that wouldn't work either; that would mean being in neither camp at the same time as being in both at once.

 

Dropping his pen on the blank notepad of paper in front of him, he got up from the kitchen table and switched on the TV. He knew he was avoiding the decision he ought to make but he could well be working himself out of a job if he stuck to his guns. As he surfed the channels his attention was drawn to a music video. It was the Red Hot Chilli Peppers and their song Zephyr.

 

Fly away on my zephyr and in this perfect weather, we'll find a place together.

 

Daniel's mind flew immediately to the events of the previous two days and his time with Jack O'Neill. They'd flown away together but they'd come back to real life and here he was, Daniel, in his tiny apartment with little money, his career in the balance and alone again. What would Jack do in his position? The academic speculated that the photographer wouldn't compromise; he'd stick to his principles and fly in the face of anything that got in his way. God, he wished he could be with Jack. He'd shown Daniel a different view of life, where he called the shots and was in control of his life, living it the way he chose and enjoying it. Damn.

 

Daniel suddenly felt inadequate and indecisive. Fuck it! He would stick to his theories, blind the Dean with a passionate and well-constructed argument and finally receive the recognition he had worked for over the past ten years...on the other hand, the bank statement on the table had something else to say and its argument was just as compelling.

 

-o-

 

"Sure, it's not a problem; I can fit you in on Wednesday evening."

 

"   "

 

"I look forward to it. Bye."

 

Jack put down the phone and found Sam and T staring at him.

 

"What?" the photographer snapped, his irritation plain to see.

 

"Didn't you say you were going to stop photographing socialites and their dogs?"

 

"Yeah well, it's business isn't it?"

 

"It's not what you want to do though, is it?"

 

"Give it a rest, Carter."

 

Sam said nothing as she held up her hands. She'd thrown these reminders at Jack for a long while now, and still he wouldn't make that artistic decision. He was a damned good photographer with a creative aspect to his work that very rarely saw the light of day. Instead he spent his waking hours compromising, snapping subjects at their behest and for what? Okay, the business was doing phenomenally well, but with each picture he took, a little more of him evaporated with it. Naked women for cheap newspapers and magazines paid the rent so to speak, but it didn't nurture Jack's desire to take the kind of photographs he really wanted to, and as a result, his mind and soul were being starved.

 

After a moment or two of pushing down his frustration, Jack took a deep breath and rubbed his hands together.

 

"Okay, kids, what's on the menu for today?"

 

As soon as he said that, he thought about the oysters he and Daniel had shared two days before. Daniel wouldn't make the kinds of compromises he did. No, Daniel Jackson would stick with his principles and produce the kind of work he could be proud of, that he could own and tell the world 'It's mine, I did this'.

 

Jack knew where his talent lay and it was in the recording of ordinary people caught up in extraordinary events and circumstances. He'd always thought it was important that history reflected the lives and experiences of people all around the world and not just those photographs of diplomats and politicians arriving and departing from this conference or that summit. Jack had always felt that recording the evidence of the impact of what went on behind those closed political doors was of paramount importance. The time he'd spent as a civilian photographer with the Air Force had taught him that, but those kinds of pictures didn't pay the bills and as a consequence, he'd compensated by working long hours with a gruelling schedule. It was almost like he was punishing himself for selling out.

 

-o-

 

Daniel presented his lecture and the Dean was impressed but the handshake and the clap on the back was a hollow victory. The academic had chosen not to offer up his theories but instead had taken as his theme "X does not always mark the spot", arguing for solid research methods and tried and tested approaches to field archaeology. It wasn't what he wanted to do but at least he'd kept his theories intact.

 

That cloud of gloom was settling on him again by Wednesday evening as he sat in front of the tube with a sad and unappetising TV dinner. He really wanted to talk to Jack, to hear his voice over the phone and maybe enjoy a little light flirtation in anticipation of the weekend to come.

 

He felt hesitant. What if Jack was out on a date? The kiss they'd shared had been fleeting, non-committal although it didn't strike him that Jack would be a two-timer. Reaching for the phone, Daniel dialled the photographer's loft, what the hell, he had nothing to lose, except he did and before he could change his mind and hang up he heard Jack's voice on the answering machine. Damn.

 

-o-

 

Jack had a few moments before his next client arrived and he wanted to speak to Daniel. He wanted to hear his voice, feel its warmth wash over him. Flipping the lid on his cell phone he pressed the button and speed dialled Daniel's number. It was busy. Damn.

 

By Friday evening both men were exhausted. It had been a trying week for both of them in different ways. Jack had worked three fifteen-hour days since Tuesday and Daniel was busy preparing for the new semester. Dean Hammond was pleased with the academic's progress and attitude and had given him a new course to develop and write. Daniel was flattered and he looked forward to the challenge. It meant academic prestige but no increase in his salary.

 

-o-

 

Saturday mornings were always the wash-up day for Jack's business; invoices had to be calculated and sent, film for processing dispatched, confirmation of the following week's calendar and checking the equipment. It was usually an informal and easy few hours; Sam liked to have the radio on, playing music and T liked to provide the donuts. Jack padded around barefoot very casually dressed in just sweats and loose shirt or a t-shirt.

 

When the buzzer rang on the intercom T was closest and answered it.

 

"O'Neill, Daniel Jackson is here."

 

"What? It's only ten thirty," Jack said checking his watch. Running his fingers through his uncombed hair, he then stared at the jam stain down the front of his tee. It was too late to do anything about it now; Daniel was just pulling back the elevator gate.

 

"Hey," Jack greeted him, grinning broadly. "Tell me something, Doctor Jackson," the photographer said, licking his finger and rubbing at the strawberry conserve on his chest, spreading it to make it look even worse, "do you always come early?"

 

Sam failed to suppress a snort and walked away, giggling into the top drawer of her filing cabinet.

 

Daniel knew Jack was using a double entrendre, and the photographer was encroaching on his own territory of language now, this was the academic's forte.

 

"Depends how excited I get, Jack," he said, his tone flat and without humour, although he looked straight at Jack and fluttered his eyelashes. Swallowing hard, Jack turned to pick up some papers and with his back to Daniel, grinned. Turning back, his composure now in place, he invited the academic to take a seat.

 

"Look, we've got some stuff to finish up; it'll take an hour or so. Why don't you get some coffee and wait for me in the den?"

 

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise you'd be working. I can leave and come back later."

 

"No! I mean you don't need to do that."

 

"If you're sure?"

 

Nodding, Jack glanced at his staff; Sam was obviously laughing behind the paperwork she held up to cover the lower half of her face and T had raised an eyebrow. The photographer was sure he detected the ghost of a smile playing on the lips of that normally impassive face. Shooting at look at both of them, Jack turned back at Daniel.

 

"It'll be fine; you go and find something to read. I won't be long."

 

"Jack? Do you mind if I look around the studio? It's a nice space."

 

"Sure, whatever," Jack replied, slightly surprised. For a very large space, there was really nothing in it to keep anyone's attention for very long.

 

As Daniel entered the studio, he sucked in a breath. He really liked this room. It was airy and light with lots of space. There was nothing in it except Jack's props and equipment at one end. The archaeologist made for the huge windows to look out on the street below. Sipping his coffee, he started at the side window to the left. This part of SoHo was full of restaurants, cafes and specialty shops. Daniel's gaze rested on a waiter who was placing a chalkboard out on the sidewalk beside the open door of a bistro. He guessed the board would be listing the day's specials, though he couldn't make out the writing at that distance. His stomach rumbled as if in recognition that whatever was on offer would be appetising.

Glancing further up the street he saw a short dumpy woman taking receipt of a delivery of flowers, lots of flowers in several boxes. It was clear she worked in the florist opposite the bistro. There was a kaleidoscope of activity in the street with shoppers, delivery vehicles and businesses going about their daily routines.

 

Moving to the central window, Daniel's view changed and he could see rooftops and one or two terrace gardens. The green foliage was a welcome splash of colour in the landscape of greys, reds and browns. Looking from the side window on the right, he watched as a stretch limo glided along the road, its dark windows giving no hint as to who might be inside.

Turning, Daniel looked down the length of the room to the far end, at the collection of props and other miscellany that Jack used when he was taking portrait photographs. Sitting on the chaise he smiled at the daylight reflecting off the varnished wooden floor. The walls were completely blank and from his viewpoint the room was entirely empty. It was then that he noticed something out the corner of his eye. Glancing to his left he saw three large leather portfolios leaning against the wall. How come he hadn't noticed them before?

 

Slowly he got up and walked towards them. He shouldn't be so curious, this was Jack's work but if it was private, why leave it here in the studio where any of his clients could take a look if they chose? No, he told himself, if these pictures were something that Jack didn't want anyone to see, he wouldn't have left them here. Of course, the portfolios might be empty and there was only one way to find out. Picking up the first one Daniel unzipped it, opening it out to lie flat on the floor. There were indeed photographs inside representing a varied collection of print sizes, some black and white, others in colour. Picking up the portfolio carefully, Daniel walked back to the chaise and put it down; pulling up the small wooden chair he sat, hunched over the contents to take a closer look.

 

There were pictures of military personnel gathered at various airbases, dressed in combat uniform and carrying large heavy packs. The men were laughing as they gathered together in an informal knot, some making rude gestures, one holding up a photograph of a naked woman, another holding up two fingers behind the head of compatriot to make 'rabbit 'ears'. Other images showed an aircraft carrier plying through a heavy sea, the spray breaking high up over the deck. Another captured a Harrier jump jet in the process of taking off vertically from the same deck, its small directional jets puffing out a stream of fuel exhaust. Daniel stared at it and remembered what he'd said about the camera never lying. Was the aircraft taking off or landing? It was hard to say.

 

The rest of the photographs in this portfolio were all of the general day-to-day activity of the military, with distance shots of a huge convoy of covered transport vehicles and a lot of bored men sitting around at a supply depot. For a moment Daniel wondered if these photographs didn't compromise national security but knowing what little he did of Jack, he figured if there were anything sensitive, the older man would have removed it.

 

Having refastened the portfolio and replacing it against the wall, he took the second one and rested it on the chaise. Taking his seat again he leafed through the images. These were very different in their content. The contrast was breathtaking. These pictures were of ordinary people grappling with the difficulties and challenges thrown at them by everyday life or, in some cases, by being in the middle of some conflict or other. Jack had taken a series of photographs in a village where the people looked terrified most of the time. There was an image of a small child shaking its fist and admonishing, well, Jack he supposed, as it held a squawking chicken tightly under one arm. The image was both upsetting and humorous. Both subjects obviously had something to say about their situations and it looked as though they were both saying the same thing. Daniel found the image upsetting because the child was wearing a filthy blood soaked strip of material around its upper arm.

 

He found an enchanting colour print of an elderly Indian woman wearing a pale pink sari and a pretty delicate gold chain attached to a piercing through her nose and draped to an earring. She was laughing and her mouth was open showing numerous gaps in her teeth. Her eyes followed a red balloon floating upwards above her head. The vibrant colour of the balloon acted like an exclamation mark at the end of happy event. Daniel marvelled at the clarity of the image, the colours, and the composition. Jack was so good at this.

Finding some pictures of an oil well ablaze in the desert, Daniel guessed it was Kuwait in 1990 or thereabouts. The photograph depicted several fire fighters in the middle of dense black smoke. They were in full fluorescent protective heatproof suits, wielding hoses. It looked like one hell of a job to have to do and Jack's image made them look almost ethereal in the smoke, there and not there somehow.

 

The final portfolio was smaller than the previous two and only held a few photographs. The first was of a landscape and Daniel pursed his lips in surprise. This was the first and only 'view' he had seen besides those at the beach house, and it showed a huge mountain range in the top third of the background, the foreground filling the rest of the picture. It was a flat plain of land, stretching to the mountains. There wasn't a tree or bush to be seen, just dust and stones. Then Daniel noticed a single figure in the middle distance of a man wearing a calf length tunic over baggy trousers and a black and white chequered scarf over his head and face, presumably against the wind and dust. He was leading a heavily laden mule and was alone. It was a strangely haunting image and Daniel wondered where the man was going in the middle of nowhere or in fact where he had come from, and what was in the load carried by the animal?

 

The last three photographs had Daniel appalled and gasping. The first was of a group of men dressed like the mule owner had been and they were carrying rocks and stones in their hands. They looked angry, some were shouting, others were waving their arms above their heads. There was a collective look of determination almost to the point of zealousness. The crowd was threatening, ugly and dangerous. Daniel's attention was drawn to a woman close to the camera; she faced away from the crowd and looked directly into the lens. Holding out her hands, she appeared to be making an appeal to Jack. Distress was clearly etched on her old, wrinkled and weather beaten face; there were tears in her eyes. She had her back to the crowd of men with the stones. She was obviously advancing on Jack, her image emblazoned on the lower quarter of the photograph. Daniel could even see the spittle hanging from her trembling lips she was so close to the lens.

 

Dragging his gaze away from this very unsettling and distressing picture, he moved on to the next one and gasped in a sharp breath, covering his mouth with his hand in shock. This image showed a woman, dressed in black and in purdah tied to a post, her arms behind her back. The crowd was pelting her with rocks and stones, a horrifying gleam in the eyes of the men crowding around her. A man in the middle of the crowd had turned to look at Jack, venom in his eyes that was hard to look at. His hand was raised and carrying a white jagged rock. It appeared to be aimed at the camera, or Jack, Daniel couldn't tell. Jack had caught flying rocks in the picture as though frozen or suspended about the heads of the mob. Dust and dirt clouds covered their feet indicating a great deal of movement and agitation.

 

Quickly Daniel moved on to the last photograph of all, a mixture of fear and curiosity welling in his mind. The image reflected a hairline crack in the camera lens. To his horror he saw the woman who was being stoned now slumped, her body hanging limp from the post; it was only the fact that her hands were tied around it that was keeping her from falling to the ground. Her upturned face was fearful, full of dread as her eyes followed the trajectory of a singe stone towards her head. Was this the final blow, the one that would kill her? Her body seeped blood through the now dusty grey patches on her black clothes, the tears and rents in them clearly visible. Daniel was sickened by what he saw; he was both moved and revolted by it.

 

"Oh god!" he said out loud, unable to control his emotional response to the photograph.

 

"What's up?" Jack asked as he strolled into the studio.

 

Daniel made the immediate connection between the picture and the photographer and holding up the image, he spun around and stared at Jack.

 

"Why didn't you stop this?" he demanded angrily.

 

"Huh?"

 

"This! This...this dreadful event, this brutal murder! Why? Why didn't you do anything to stop it?" Daniel was virtually yelling at Jack now and the photographer took a step back in surprise.

 

Suddenly, the penny dropped and Jack understood Daniel's distress.

 

"There was nothing I could do..."

 

"What do you mean, nothing? You could have tried and what did you do instead? You just kept taking photographs, you bastard. She was dying and you just kept snapping your precious pictures!"

 

"Hey, just a minute!"

 

"No, Jack. You kept yourself out of the action completely. You distanced yourself and witnessed the whole thing through your lens. You did nothing to try and save her, you let her die!"

Daniel threw the picture at Jack as he stormed out of the studio, angrier than he had ever been in his life. He was upset by the incident that Jack had photographed and furious when he realised his romantic image of Jack had been shattered. He wasn't a hero, a courageous and brave man; he was a parasite, contributing nothing to the aid of the suffering individuals he had frozen in time on his celluloid. He was nothing and Daniel was increasingly livid, as well as hurt, that he could have had any such feelings for the man.

 

Jack stood in the middle of the studio, staring down at the image of the dying woman, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes pricking with tears of long buried emotions and guilt.

 

As Daniel fled through the loft towards the elevator, T stepped in front of him and blocked his path.

 

"Out of my way, T, I need to get away from here, from him," he spat with genuine hatred in his voice.

 

"Daniel Jackson," T said, his voice quiet and controlled, "did you not conclude that the camera sometimes lies? You cannot be sure of anything that you see in those images and yet you have made up your own mind and lay the blame of guilt mistakenly."

 

Daniel hopped from one foot to the other, only half hearing what T was saying.

 

"Listen to what I have to say before you pass judgment. O'Neill served in Afghanistan. He always carried a camera but as a soldier he knew his duty. When the crowd gathered to stone the woman he didn't realise what was happening at first. When he saw the detail of the crowd's intent through his lens he moved into the centre of the mob, a dangerous place to be at that time. When he saw how badly treated the woman was he tried to intervene, standing between her and the crowd, shielding her with his body. He received several heavy blows to his head and chest and a single small stone hit the camera lens. The crowd surged forward and pulled him from his position, trampling him underfoot as they did so. He managed to take one more photograph before he was left to bleed to death in the dirt. Two others and I retrieved his body and took him for emergency treatment. Janet Fraiser saved his life. O'Neill could not save the life of the woman."

 

Blinking, Daniel couldn't move, couldn't speak.

 

"Daniel? You need to go talk to him," Sam suggested softly.

 

"I can't, I don't know what to say. What can I say? I feel so guilty."

 

"This isn't about you, Daniel, it's about him."

 

Quietly, she and T left the office taking the elevator to the street below. They were concerned for Jack; they knew this was going to take its toll.

 

Slowly, Daniel walked through Jack's apartment to the studio to find the older man still standing where he'd left him, still staring at the photograph on the floor at his feet.

"I'm sorry, Jack, I shouldn't have said what I did. I shouldn't have jumped to the conclusion I did." By now Daniel was holding himself in a self-hug, his arms folded tightly around his chest, his fingers gripping his biceps.

 

Jack looked at him and Daniel was shocked and upset to see tears running down his cheeks.

 

"There was nothing I could do," he said quietly. "I tried but I couldn't save her, I couldn't stop them, I'm so sorry," he continued, apologising to Daniel for not doing what the academic thought he should have done.

 

"It wasn't your fault, Jack. I was wrong to say anything without talking to you about it first. You did what you could."

 

"And it wasn't enough was it? If I hadn't left that damned gun in the house, it wouldn't have happened."

 

Frowning, Daniel didn't understand what on earth Jack was rambling about.

 

"I tried, Charlie, I tried to save you but there was nothing I could do."

 

At this point Jack wept openly and Daniel caught him, holding him in his arms as the tears flowed, his body shuddering as he sobbed. Daniel wasn't sure quite what to do. Should he stay quiet and just hold the older man, trying to comfort him? Should he try and extricate himself and phone Sam and T? Should he try to get Jack sitting, maybe get him some water or something?

 

For the next few moments Jack continued to sob, his body wracked with the pain of his emotions and all Daniel could do was hold him and be there for him.

 

"I feel really tired now," Jack rasped, "and I've got one hellava headache."

 

"Come on, you need to lie down," Daniel whispered and propping him up, led Jack to his bedroom and still holding him, pulled back the covers encouraging Jack to get into bed. Turning on his side, Jack closed his eyes, oblivious of Daniel's attentions. Covering him up gently, Daniel worked the strings on the blinds to cover the windows and in the semi dark he crept out of the room, leaving the door ajar just in case Jack might need him. He returned a few moments later with a glass of water and some painkillers from his own supply. Setting the glass and the tablets down on the nightstand he checked the older man. He was asleep.

 

Slumping down on the den sofa Daniel felt awful for the painful effect he'd had on Jack by that stupid outburst, but he needed to know who Charlie was, and reaching for the phone on the coffee table he called Sam and T to find out. When he'd finished speaking to them he felt worse than he did before. He had no idea about the boy accidentally killing himself with Jack's personal gun; he had no idea that Jack even had a son. Shaking his head, he just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him; if he hadn't made those stupid accusations Jack would be all right and so would he. God, he had been so...stupid.

 

-o-

 

When Daniel woke he sat up on the den sofa and stared at the clock on the wall. It was nearly six o'clock and he could smell food. Realising he hadn't eaten since the night before, being too nervous for breakfast that morning, he drew in a deep breath, sniffing the air and his java radar detected freshly brewed coffee. He managed to separate out some of the other aromas including tomatoes and onions. Slipping on his shoes he went to the kitchen to find Jack preparing a meal.

 

"Hi, how are you feeling?"

 

The photographer jumped at the sound of Daniel's voice and slopped wine over the edge of his glass. Putting it down on the counter and sucking the spilt alcohol off his hand, Jack turned and grinned.

 

"I'm okay. Thanks, Daniel. I needed the sleep."

 

"The week's caught up with both of us I guess. I did the same. Look, I'm sorry about earlier, I was crass and stupid and had no right to say the things I did."

 

"No worries," Jack said turning away from the archaeologist to stir some sauce in the pan. He could feel a lump in his throat and a stone in the pit of his stomach, but he wasn't going to make himself vulnerable again. Working hard to push down his emotions, Jack continued to stir, not facing Daniel for a few moments.

 

Daniel could see by the tension in Jack's shoulders and upper arms that the older man wasn't all right, and sighing quietly he decided he would have to try and make amends, although he wasn't sure how.

 

"Hope you like Spaghetti Bolognaise?" Jack asked as he reached for the dried pasta.

 

"Great, I do," Daniel replied overly enthusiastically, trying to lift the cloud of gloom from Jack as well as himself.

 

"Wanna set the table in the dining room? The cutlery's in that drawer there, you'll find napkins here and condiments up there," Jack indicated using the wooden stirring spoon to point to various locations like a semaphore expert.

 

Daniel's eyes flitted where the spoon went, trying to remember the various cabinets and drawers so swiftly listed by his host. Eventually he found everything he needed and made his way to the room next door to lay out what they'd need to eat.

 

As he leaned against the kitchen doorway watching Jack create, Daniel could now see the evidence that the photographer actually used the kitchen because the shiny stainless steel and marble surfaces were splattered with Bolognaise sauce, left over onion skins, tomato stalks and seeds.

 

Settling to eat, Jack brought through the bottle of wine he'd already opened and sampled, pouring some into Daniel's glass. The academic studied the photographer as he poured the wine, trying to assess his state of mind. Jack seemed to be very good at masking his deepest feelings, but maybe, with a little persuasion and plenty of this very palatable Bull's Blood, Daniel could get him to talk.

 

After they'd finished eating Daniel helped Jack clear up and clean the kitchen. It was 10pm now and, having opened yet another bottle of wine, he was hoping that Jack's tongue was going to loosen a little. They relaxed in the den while the coffee brewed. Jack was a considerate host and moved the coffee machine from the kitchen, now Daniel would only have to take three steps to get a refill.

 

"About what I said earlier..." Daniel began but Jack stopped him mid breath.

 

"I don't wanna talk about it, just forget it."

 

"Well I can't just forget it; it's my fault that you feel so bad now."

 

"I don't feel bad," Jack exclaimed, slapping his hand against his chest. "It's all right, really."

 

"It's not all right, Jack," and taking a breath, Daniel went for it. "I didn't know you had a son, you didn't say anything before."

 

Jack dropped his head for a moment and then looking up at him, Daniel could see the pain in those brown velvet eyes.

 

"No, well it's not something I talk about very much, it's..."

 

"Too painful?"

 

"Yeah, somethin' like that."

 

"Do you blame yourself for what happened?"

 

"Of course I do. I'd always taught him not to touch it, but somehow he found it and it's my fault it was still loaded, I should have checked it, I shouldn't have put it away like that."

Daniel sensed the tension in Jack's voice.

 

"I shouldn't have lost Sha're the way I did either, her death was my fault. I regret a lot of things in my life too, Jack but we have to try and move on otherwise what are we here for if not to live it the best way we can?"

 

Jack nodded thinking about what his companion had said.

 

They talked about their feelings of loss and what they did to mourn. Jack had been wild and destructive after Charlie's death; Daniel had been withdrawn and quiet when he'd lost his wife. They spent the next three hours talking in and around the subject and also touched on the events in Afghanistan. Daniel learned a lot more about Jack's exploits behind the camera and behind the gun.

 

As they talked they could see differences and similarities in their lives; they'd both lost people they'd loved, been lonely and alone and were passionate about their work.

 

"What about your work, Daniel? What is it you do exactly?"

 

"I don't think it would interest you, Jack but if you really want to know I'll tell you."

 

Jack nodded and flipped his hand in invitation.

 

Daniel proceeded to explain to Jack what he did and how he did it, what he thought about it, how he saw the past and shared with the photographer his most cherished theories.

Jack tried to maintain an interested expression on his face, but the bulk of what the academic covered went straight over his head though he didn't mind. He just enjoyed listening to Daniel's voice, hypnotised by the cadence, tone and rhythm of it.

 

"And you, Jack? I know what you do, you take photographs."

 

"I do, I snap socialites and their hairy pets, naked women for the Daily Lear, crusty academics..."

 

"Thanks, Jack," Daniel put in, trying to look hurt but grinning just the same.

 

"Not you. You're not crusty."

 

"Thanks again, Jack!"

 

"Besides all of that I take portraits mostly. I like photographing people, views are nice but people are much more interesting."

 

"Like those pictures in the portfolios you mean?"

 

"Yeah, ordinary people stuck in less than ordinary situations, ordinary people doing everyday ordinary things, y’know, that kind of stuff."

 

"I know what you mean and you are so good at it too. Those pictures were amazing, thought provoking, sensitive. Why don't you still take those kinds of photos anymore?"

 

"They don't pay the bills, Daniel," Jack said quietly, a genuine tone of regret in his voice.

 

"Isn't there a way you could do both?"

 

"It would mean a lot of travelling and being attached to the military like I was opened doors that I can't as an independent."

 

"Couldn't you just stay here? I mean there're plenty of people to photograph in New York City, right?"

 

"No, Daniel, just forget it," Jack snapped suddenly.

 

Frowning, Daniel knew there was something Jack wasn't telling him; he wasn't really convinced by the photographer's reasons. Taking another tack, Daniel wasn't going to be put off.

 

"If you could photograph anyone in the world, who would it be?"

 

Jack's gaze faltered slightly as he looked at Daniel. He knew whom he'd like to photograph and his preferred subject was sitting right next to him, but he couldn't say anything, not now.

 

"Well, I think it would be Michael Leighton, one hundred and eighty pounds of Blackhawks' goaltender."

 

"In full match combat uniform or naked?" Daniel asked grinning but also watching Jack carefully for his reaction.

 

"Now that's an interesting concept," Jack replied.

 

"Just think about it, Jack. What if you could take pictures of famous people, with the props of their trade so to speak and do that in a different way that challenged the usual perception of how we see them?"

 

Jack said nothing, he was thinking. He didn't know whether Daniel's idea had legs or whether it was his wine befuddled brain that made the whole idea so attractive.

 

"Take gay men for instance," Daniel went on. "For a lot of people gay men are seen as stereotypes, mincing; all of those negative things. Society is quite happy to admire the female form and make their own judgments about what makes them beautiful, but what about men? Not just gay men, come to think of it, all men. We're beautiful too aren't we?" Daniel's voice was beginning to slur. He was drunk.

 

"Quite right," agreed Jack emphatically, slapping his thigh loudly. "You've got a valid point there, Doctor Jackson," he continued pointing his finger unsteadily at the younger man. "I should do that! Take pictures of men, yeah, I'm gonna do that right now," he announced getting to his feet.

 

"Now? Right now?" The archaeologist stared at his watch and wondered why the numbers on the dial were blurred. Eventually he gave up and guessed. Jeeze! Look at the time," Daniel blurted, "I should be going."

 

"Why?" Jack asked looking at the third empty bottle of wine.

 

"Because it's late and I need to get home."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because...um...I'm not sure really," Daniel sniggered.

 

"You sniggered!"

 

"I didn't."

 

"Did too."

 

"So?"

 

"Nuthin', juss sayin' is all," Jack slurred as he wondered if he could make it to the kitchen to open a fourth bottle.

 

"Are you thinking of getting another bottle of wine by any chance?"

 

"Yep."

 

"Not for me, I think I've had more than enough all ready."

 

"Well I haven't," Jack drawled as he rose unsteadily to his feet.

 

After a few minutes, Jack hadn't returned and Daniel thought he'd better go and find him. The photographer wasn't in the kitchen or the studio or the bathroom. Puzzled, Daniel swayed along the hallway and peered into Jack's bedroom where he found him crashed out, fully clothed and hugging a full and unopened bottle of Chianti. Sliding the bottle out from under Jack's grasp, Daniel staggered back to the den and leaving the Chianti on the floor, kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the sofa. Within a minute or two, he had also passed out.

 

-o-

 

The next morning both men woke late. Daniel was the first to get up and having gone to the bathroom he checked on Jack whom he swore hadn't moved a muscle since he took the wine from him in the early hours. As he made to leave the other man stirred and Daniel stood over him, his arms loosely crossed over his chest.

 

"Hi, how are you feeling this morning?"

 

"Ahhh, I dunno yet," grunted Jack, his voice thick with sleep. As he moved he groaned loudly. "Why do I ache so much?"

 

"Probably 'cause you haven't moved a muscle for eight hours," Daniel smiled. "I'm going to make coffee then take a shower if that's okay."

 

"Whatever," grunted Jack again, turning over and burying his head in the pillow.

 

Daniel began to wonder how come Jack was so obviously hung over and he wasn't, well not as badly as his host anyway. When he got to the kitchen he could see why. He remembered counting three empty bottles plus the unopened one he'd taken from Jack, but he saw another empty bottle on the counter. Jack must have consumed that one by himself while he was preparing dinner, no wonder Jack was looking and sounding a little rough this morning.

 

Taking his coffee with him to the shower, Daniel stripped off the clothes he'd slept in and left them in a pile on the tiled floor. Flipping the lever, he held out his hand to test the temperature; it was perfect. As the warm invigorating water cascaded over his body, Daniel closed his eyes and felt surprisingly good. He and Jack had talked long into the night and this morning he, for one, felt tons better. They'd shared a lot of personal feelings about the situations that affected their lives and their way of thinking. Daniel felt they'd actually become real friends and he was pleased. Jack hadn't mentioned anything about his mystery date and the academic hoped it might just be a one-night stand. Thinking about the fact that this was the third time he'd stayed over night in either the loft or the beach house, and each time they'd either been too drunk or the situation was inappropriate, but they still hadn't acted on the apparent attraction they had for each other. With all that talking last night and still neither of them had mentioned the kiss at the airport, it was almost as if it hadn't happened. Damn.

 

Having finished his shower, Daniel grabbed a large white fluffy towel from the shelf and dried off. Then he realised he didn't have any clean clothes to change into. He hadn't expected to be staying over with Jack and now the clothes he did have were damp from the steam and stay drops from the shower. Wrapping the towel around his middle, he poked his head out of the bathroom door and called for Jack. Jack didn't answer so Daniel called a little louder, but still there was no reply.

 

"I bet he's gone back to sleep," the archaeologist muttered as he tiptoed along the hallway to Jack's room and sure enough the photographer was asleep. Now Daniel didn't quite know what to do. He could fling his clothes in the washer and sit around for an hour for the cycle to finish and then tumble dry his stuff assuming Jack had a dryer. He could borrow some clothes except he didn't want to disturb the slumbering man on the bed and he didn't like to poke around to look by himself, not that he could see anything in Jack's room that looked like a closet. There was nothing in the room except the bed and the nightstand. As he stood in the room debating what to do, Jack woke.

 

"Whaddya doin' standin' there?" Jack asked, eyeing the semi naked academic out of the corner of his eye.

 

"I don't have any clothes to put on, Jack," Daniel said trying not to be irritated. Jack might be prone on his bed but he was still fully dressed and the archaeologist felt at a distinct disadvantage.

 

"Oh," was all Jack commented, resting his head on his arms but not moving.

 

"You gonna help me out here, Jack?"

 

"The closet is over there," Jack mumbled still not lifting his head but waving his arm in the vague direction of the corner of the room nearest the window.

 

"What closet, where?"

 

"Oh for cryin' out loud, you're gonna make me get up aren't ya," Jack grumbled, shifting his body slowly and carefully.

 

Daniel just sighed, planting his hands on his hips. Jack walked gingerly to the corner of the room, leaned against the wall and lo and behold an invisible panel moved and he pulled it towards him and slid it along the bedroom wall.

 

"In there," the photographer muttered as he headed for the bathroom.

 

Amazed, Daniel looked into the open doorway and saw a walk-in closet. He was stunned by the simplicity of the arrangement and groping at the inside wall, switched on the light as he inspected Jack's wardrobe. There were suits of every colour, shirts, trousers, jeans, t-shirts, coats, boots, shoes, sweats, everything. Daniel tried on a pair of linen trousers to find that they were just a little too tight; Jack had a leaner frame than Daniel. In the end he chose a pair of loose fitting sweats and a dark green t-shirt and even that was a little snug on him.

 

Making his way back to the kitchen he heard the shower running and knew where Jack was. Smiling he wondered if Jack's headache was easing and if his aching muscles were feeling better. For a fleeting moment he almost offered to scrub the older man's back.

 

Ten minutes later Daniel met up with Jack in the kitchen.

 

"Is that it?" Jack asked. "You have my whole wardrobe to choose from and you're wearing that?"

 

"Be fair, Jack. I've a bigger build than you; your clothes aren't likely to fit me. I had to pick something loose."

 

"Okay, point taken," grinned the photographer and then his expression froze. That tee was a very tight fit; it showed off every contour of his torso, and boy did he look good. Up until now Jack had managed to squash any sexual feelings he might have had for the younger man, especially after that kiss at the airport. If anything were ever going to happen between them it needed to be at Daniel's behest. Jack needed to be sure it was what Daniel wanted, and he could only commit himself if the academic committed first. Jack didn't know why, and maybe he was just being a coward, but this had to be Daniel's play, not Jack's. Damn.

 

"Want some breakfast?"

 

"No, thanks, well...maybe. Yeah, but just a slice of toast, I don't want too much," Daniel smiled.

 

"Jam? Honey? Marmalade? Naked?" What the hell, Jack wasn't going to make the first move, but he could still flirt.

 

"Oh, ah, coated in honey I think," Daniel replied suggestively.

 

"Runny or hard?" breathed Jack.

 

"What?" Daniel asked, killing the mood.

 

"Daaniel! Hard honey or runny honey?" Jack laughed, holding up two jars and indicating which was which by holding out each container in turn for Daniel's inspection.

 

"Right, runny then," Daniel smiled, taking his bread from the toaster.

 

They sat at the breakfast bar for a while in silence until Daniel's memory of the previous night's conversation crystallised in his mind.

 

"Remember what we were talking about last night? You know, about you photographing men?"

 

"Think so, yeah."

 

"Well, I've been thinking," continued Daniel as he licked the honey from his fingers, one by one. Jack's mouth fell open as he watched. Does he have any idea what he's doing to me?

 

"Why don't you make a start and photograph me?"

 

"Huh?" Jack was stunned and he wondered if Daniel knew what he was saying. If Jack were going to undertake this project, Daniel would have to be naked. Jack had also been thinking and he'd decided to do the one thing he'd always wanted to do, and to his chagrin, had never had the courage to do, was to take a series of nude studies of men.

 

"Um, Daniel? You do know what you're volunteering for don'tcha?"

 

"About offering to be your model? Sure, as long as you think your lens would stay intact."

 

"Don't give me that. You're a good-looking guy and the camera loves you, you know that. You saw the pictures I took for the University's recruitment campaign?"

 

"Yeah, but the photos you want to take mean me being naked, right?"

 

"Well, yes," Jack confirmed seriously as he studied Daniel's face, expecting him to object but he didn't, instead he smiled broadly.

 

"Okay, when and where?"

 

"Well, I dunno, I need to think," Jack said, getting up and pouring himself more coffee.

 

"You've got five minutes," Daniel laughed, "Otherwise I might change my mind!"

 

-o-

 

Less than five minutes later the photographer and the academic were sitting next to each other at the dining table. Spread out across the glass top was a pad of poster-sized paper and some pens

.

"We don't have much time to do this, Daniel. Sundays are the best days, Sam and T don't come anywhere near the loft on Sundays, and with us both working during the week it'll have to be a Sunday project I'm afraid. Is that okay? I mean I'm asking you to give up one of your two days off a week."

 

"It's not a problem, really and it's not like I've got such a busy social calendar that I can't manage a few hours to help you."

 

As Daniel was speaking Jack was already sketching a figure on the paper.

 

"I need to work out lighting and stuff and this helps to think it through," he said, not taking his eyes from the pad.

 

Daniel watched as Jack's pencil darted over the smooth white paper, making quick movements to shade the dark and light. He sat back for a moment to look at his efforts and then drew in arrows to signify from which direction he needed to light the pose. Feeling guilty at his surprised reaction, Daniel was once again reminded of the ever-growing arsenal of Jack's hidden talents. He never realised that Jack could draw although he didn't know why he should be so surprised, the skill linked with his other creative traits, cooking, photography, speaking Italian and his sense of composition all added up to a talented man.

 

After thirty minutes, Jack had sketched a dozen different poses and decided on the lighting.

 

"I'm gonna use black and white film for this, Daniel. I want the lighting to give texture, effect and contrast."

 

"That sounds good," Daniel nodded and then pursing his lips he realised he might have a fly for Jack's ointment. "Um, Jack?"

 

"Hmmm?" Jack was still studying his drawings.

 

"I know you want me to pose nude, and I'm okay with that I think, but I don't want my face shown."

 

"What?"

 

"I don't want you to photograph my face."

 

"Why? You've got a great face."

 

"I think I'd just prefer to be anonymous. Imagine how it would go down if the University found out? I need to keep these two parts of my life completely separate, Jack, surely you can understand that?"

 

"I think it's a shame though, like I said, you've got a great face and…"

 

"The camera loves it, yeah I know but that's my condition, Jack. I mean it; you can't photograph my face, agreed?"

 

Pausing, Jack thought quickly. He really wanted to photograph all of Daniel, but if he wanted to get any pictures at all he knew he'd have to agree to Daniel's demand.

 

"Okay, I'll have to adjust the poses slightly, but yeah, I can do that." Jack held Daniel's gaze for a long while, trying to make the academic understand that he would abide by the academic's wishes even though he didn't really want to.

 

Daniel nodded his confirmation. "What's next?"

 

"We do it," Jack said with a determined look on his face. Gathering up his drawings he went into his studio and Daniel followed.

 

Standing immobile for a few seconds, obviously deep in thought, Jack dropped his head and sighed heavily.

 

"What's the matter?"

 

"This isn't going to work, for now anyway. We need to use the bedroom. The window and the bed are the most important props. We'll use the shower as well."

 

Frowning, Daniel didn't remember any of the sketches showing water or a bed, come to that.

 

"We might as well start with the shower and then when you get dried, we'll move on from there. I need to run the water for a little while and leave the camera in the room."

 

"Won't it get wet?"

 

"Nah, I'll direct the shower head against the wall and adjust it to run as a single flow without the spray bit. I don't want the lens steaming up so it'll have to be left in there for a few minutes to warm up and get to the same temperature as the water. Oh! I need to sort some clothes for you as well."

 

"I didn't think I'd be wearing any," Daniel stated wondering what was going through the photographer's mind.

 

"You're gonna need to take 'em off, for cryin' out loud!"

 

"Of course I will," muttered Daniel, already figuring out that this modelling thing wasn't as straightforward as he'd thought. He was tired of following Jack around and decided to make fresh coffee and wait in the kitchen until the maestro had himself organised. The real problem Daniel was facing was being naked in front of Jack. It shouldn't be a problem, after all he didn't have anything that Jack hadn't seen before in other men, but nevertheless he was getting nervous. What if his body betrayed him at an awkward moment, and that treachery gave away his growing feelings for Jack? Damn.

 

After what seemed like an age, Daniel stuck his head out of the kitchen doorway and listened for signs of activity. When he caught sight of Jack walking along the hallway with stepladders he laughed out loud.

 

"Suck it up, Bookboy," Jack called over his shoulder.

 

Laughing some more, Daniel wondered if the photographer was expecting him to drape himself across a pair of aluminium stepladders, holding a paint roller maybe. How little Daniel knew about the inner workings of Jack O’Neill's mind...

 

"I think we're all set now," Jack called as he walked past the kitchen without stopping. He was like a man possessed, and once he got an idea of how he wanted something to look he was meticulous with his arrangements, and as his father had always taught him, one hundred percent preparation equalled a good chance of success or something like that.

The men stood in the shower room and as Daniel was staring at all the equipment in there, Jack was giving him instructions.

 

"I want you to strip off and just put on this tee, okay? Then when you're wet, take it off. I'll tell you what to do, when and how in a minute. Daniel? Are you listening to me?"

 

"Yes," the archaeologist replied, "take clothes off, put clothes on, get wet, take clothes off and you'll tell me what to do, yadda yadda. I've got it, Jack," he confirmed, glaring at the photographer and concluding that the man could be quite a drama queen when he was working.

 

"Okay, good. Well get on with it then," Jack hissed. He had an idea of exactly how he wanted the picture to look and he needed Daniel to co-operate before he lost the image in his mind. "Now whaddya doin'?" Jack demanded, exasperated by Daniel's behaviour.

 

"I'm getting changed."

 

"In the hall?"

 

"You've got so much equipment in there with the lights and stuff I was afraid of knocking something over. I thought it would be better if I got out of the way."

 

"Fuck, Daniel, just hurry it up will ya."

 

"Actually, Jack, no."

 

"What?"

 

"Listen to me," Daniel said staring at Jack as he poked his head out of the bathroom to face the academic, hearing the other man's voice harden. "I'm doing this to help you out and the least you can do is treat me with respect. You're not paying me by the hour and I don't have to do this. I understand this is a new venture for you and I want you to be successful in it, but you need my co-operation here. I will not let you browbeat me, intimidate me, or treat me like some brainless pretty boy."

 

"Crap, I'm sorry, Daniel. I'm being unreasonable aren't I?"

 

"Yes, you are."

 

"Can we start again? I promise I'll try and behave."

 

Daniel looked at him, not moving for a moment. "Okay, but believe me when I say I'll hold you to your promise. You give me a hard time over this and I'll leave."

 

Sucking in his lower lip, Jack nodded and went back into the shower room to wait. He'd been royally chastised and he'd deserved every word of it. He wasn't normally this demanding, and he tried to figure out why he was being so difficult and then it struck him. The photographer was as nervous as hell about Daniel being naked in front of his lens because the only thing likely to stop Jack falling hook, line and sinker for the man was that small piece of equipment between them. The camera was the one thing that stopped Jack from getting emotionally involved with his subject, and when he'd taken it away he got so involved that he'd nearly died as a result. He wasn't going to do that again. He was not going to be a physical or emotional casualty, not this time.

 

"Okay, Jack, I'm ready now. Can I come in?"

 

"Sure and when you do, don't trip over any of the cables."

 

"There are cables? In the shower, cables?"

 

"Don't worry, they're properly insulated and connected to a circuit breaker. I'm a safety guy, remember?"

 

Jack was looking at his camera as Daniel walked under the water and when he focused, Jack had to remind himself to breathe. Daniel was breathtaking, wearing just the white tee and nothing else. His body was muscular and taut, his buttocks perfectly rounded and smooth. For probably the first time in his life, Jack was lost for words.

"I'm wet now, what do you want me to do?"

 

Trying to get a grip of his emotional and physical responses, Jack could hear the ambulance siren ringing in his ears. He was so going to be a casualty. Clearing his throat, Jack willed his brain to concentrate.

 

"Put your hands on the tiles, no, not at arm's length, lean your chest against the wall, your head to one side. That's it. Place your hands shoulder high and to either side. No, I don't like that, I know, stretch your arms up and spread your fingers. That's better. No, I've got it! Keep one arm up and bend the other one, elbow out and rest your forehead on your arm. That's much better. Keep your knees together and tense those butt muscles. Perfect! Okay, hold it there just one second." Jack left the camera in place on its tripod and hurriedly pulled off his shirt and jeans and stood underneath the shower in his boxers.

 

"Don't move, Daniel and don't get any funny ideas either. I just need to smooth out some of the wrinkles in the t-shirt. I want the fabric to stick to your back like a second skin so that it shows the shape and contours of your torso."

 

As Daniel felt Jack's hands on him, smoothing the fabric against his back, a shock of electricity arced through his body, demanding every ounce of his willpower not to respond. Jack retreated, grabbing a towel and taking the surplus water out of his hair, he didn't want to drip on the camera; the rest of him didn't matter.

 

Taking a test shot with his hand held Polaroid, Jack waited for the result. God, Daniel looked good.

 

"That's great, Daniel. Hold it! And again, oh yeah, that's good," Jack breathed enthusiastically. "You can relax now, thanks."

 

Realising he'd been holding his breath, Daniel felt dizzy and made a mental note that exhaling was as important to survival as inhaling. He shook out the knots in his muscles and turned around to find that Jack was gone. Rolling his eyes he decided to stay exactly where he was under the water and await further instructions if and when the absent photographer ever returned. At this rate it was going to take hours and hours just to finish one roll of film.

 

Just then Jack reappeared with a gleam in his eyes and a very large pair of scissors in his hand. Daniel's eyebrows shot up to meet his wet hair as he stared at the flashing blades.

"I need to make some adjustments," the older man grinned, clicking the scissors open and closed as he advanced on the academic.

 

"Wha...what are you going to do?"

 

"A little snip here and a little snip there I think," he laughed wickedly. "Don't move or I might just snip the wrong thing." Waggling his eyebrows like a mad Groucho Marx, Jack grasped the hem of the tee and cut off at least four inches, leaving a ragged and uneven finish to what was left of the garment. "That should do it," he commented with satisfaction.

 

"You don't think that was a little drastic, Jack? I could have just tucked it up somehow," Daniel frowned as he surveyed the once perfectly good piece of clothing.

 

"Nah, I need midriff. The camera needs to see those abs."

 

"Right," Daniel muttered. "You're not going to get all weird on me are you? You put me in mind of the unhinged ventriloquist being taken over by the consciousness of his dummy."

 

"Hey! Who are you calling a dummy?"

 

The men looked at each other and laughed. Jack was beginning to really enjoy himself, his nerves were gone and he was on a roll. Daniel felt relaxed too and was ready for whatever Jack asked of him.

 

-o-

"Just pull at it, really stretch the material," Jack ordered and Daniel obeyed. The photographer looked through the viewfinder and saw his model with his back flat against the shower tiles and with a handful of singlet pulled to one side of his chest and with his ankles crossed. His other hand was pressed against the wall at right angles to his body and was the only thing that kept his balance.

 

"Can we take a break soon? I think I'm turning into a prune."

 

"Stop whining, Jackson," snorted Jack. "Okay, just a couple more under the water and we'll take a break."

 

"What's the matter, Jack? Your whip hand getting tired already?"

 

"Oh very funny. Listen up, Daniel; it's nearly time to lose the singlet. I want you to almost take it off, but keep it on."

 

"Well, that made sense," Daniel muttered.

 

"Sorry, I'm not making myself clear. Turn against the wall and twist your hips towards me a little. Now start taking the t-shirt off as if you were stretching as you do it, and move your head sideways towards the spray."

 

With a just a few words Jack had created the image of a beautiful man in the act of peeling off his white t-shirt. It was perfect.

 

For the next shot, Jack was thinking of a completely different image and wanted another full frontal pose from his model. "Daniel, can you take a step away from the wall. Stand with your heels together and your feet sticking out like a clown."

 

Daniel's body folded in a fit of hysterics. "Don't make me laugh, please, I won't be able to keep a straight face!"

 

"It doesn't matter about your face, Daniel, remember? I'm not taking any mug shots, now strike that clown pose, for cryin' out loud!"

 

Daniel couldn't keep eye contact with Jack, every time he looked at him he laughed and his body shook uncontrollably. This was definitely not helping to achieve the clarity of focus Jack was aiming for. Getting himself under control while Jack turned his back, his shoulders still heaving with guffaws, Daniel coughed and indicated he was ready.

 

When Jack turned around his mouth opened but he said nothing, his expression frozen for an instant and then he staggered out of the shower room, screaming with laughter. Daniel had found a collection of coloured sprays that Jack used on his models if he wanted to change their hair colour. Daniel had used a red one and coloured his nose, just like a clown's.

 

"Jack?"

 

-o-

 

Jack and Daniel sat in the kitchen sharing a plate of cheese salad sandwiches. Daniel was now dried and dressed, as was Jack; they were taking a well-earned break from shooting.

 

"What next, Jack?" Daniel asked, intrigued at how Jack's mind worked. There was a sense of unpredictability about the photographer that really excited Daniel.

 

"Next stop is the studio."

 

As Daniel entered the normally bright space he was taken aback to see how dark it was and now he had an explanation for the stepladder that he'd seen Jack carrying earlier.

 

"Impressed?" the photographer asked with a tone of pride in his voice. "I've put up the black out curtains. I want to try and create an obvious contrast between the density of the black background and the lightness of your skin. See up there?"

 

Looking up the archaeologist saw a bank of theatrical spotlights suspended from the ceiling.

 

"These are great, I can move them and turn them on and off by using a remote. They're very cool! Okay, shirt off but leave the jeans."

 

Daniel did as he was asked, waiting for the next set of instructions.

 

"Stand just there, where X marks the spot and face away."

 

Daniel smiled when he heard Jack say that, talk about a small world or great minds thinking alike. He didn't know which and it didn't matter he thought, as he stood on the black tape marks.

 

"I want to down-light you, so that just your head, shoulders, arms and butt are showing. The rest will be dark. Cross your legs and unfasten the jeans. Daniel? You're wearing boxers!"

"I didn't know what you had in mind, Jack, you didn't tell me before I got dressed."

 

"Okay, take 'em off and put the jeans on again. Now, cross your legs and unzip." With that Jack arranged the jeans so that they rested halfway down Daniel's thighs.

As Jack adjusted the lights, Daniel's body was thrown into sharp relief.

 

"Arch you back, that's it! Thanks, Daniel, you're doing great. I've just got a few exposures left so I think you've earned a chance to lie down for a while."

 

Jack was thinking he'd like to lie down as well, preferably next to Daniel. The photographer had worked really hard not to jump Daniel; he wanted him so badly...

 

"Half an hour and we'll be finished. Get naked and lay on the bed on your front, head on the pillow and arms around it. Look towards the window. Now move your knee up slightly."

Jack looked through the viewfinder then back at Daniel. Frowning, he knew something wasn't quite right and he couldn't figure out what it was. The whole thing just didn't look good and Daniel's body looked sort of flat then he figured out what he needed.

 

"Stay there, I just need to get something," and he was gone.

 

Meanwhile, Daniel relaxed into the mattress, he was feeling really tired now and could easily fall asleep until he felt Jack's hand on his back spreading something thick, viscous and cold over his skin. He started and then growled.

 

"What the hell is that, Jack?"

 

"It's baby oil. Guess I should have warned you first, huh?"

 

"You bet," snapped Daniel, "that's really cold."

 

"Sorry, just a moment and it'll warm up, honest," Jack grinned as he massaged the oil into Daniel's back. Though he started this with quick business-like strokes Jack's hand slowed as it travelled across Daniel's firm, smoothly rounded flesh, taking in the contours of his buttocks. Daniel's skin was tingling in response to Jack's touch and he could feel his cock swell and harden under him. The photographer's breath hitched as he worked the oil over Daniel's thighs and the only thing his model could do was swallow, hoping the photographer didn't change his mind and ask him for another full frontal shot. Jack summoned up every ounce of willpower and pulled himself away to wipe his hand and get back to the task in hand.

 

Having taken a couple more shots, Jack checked the counter. "There's one exposure left, Daniel. Your choice now, choose any pose you like and I'll shoot it."

 

Still hard from Jack's oil massage, Daniel grinned into the pillow. "Okay Jack, thanks. I think I'll stand over by the window, looking out wistfully. How's that?"

 

"Sounds like a plan," Jack smiled as he turned away to move some of the lights.

 

Daniel shuffled off the bed and took the two steps to the window, positioning himself to one side of it to give Jack enough room to photograph him in profile. Lifting up his right arm and leaning against the window frame he placed his left hand against the glass.

 

Picking up the camera off the tripod, Jack turned towards Daniel and froze mid step. The younger man's erection was clear to see and the photographer's jaw dropped. Blinking he said nothing and moved within a couple of feet of his model. He wanted everything between Daniel's shoulders and just above his knees in the picture. As he tried to steady his hands enough to line up the lens, Daniel turned his head to look at Jack.

 

"Take all of me, Jack."

 

The photographer wanted to take the picture, the man just wanted to take Daniel.

 

"Do you mean all of you? Face as well?"

 

"As long as you promise no one sees it except you."

 

"Scout's honour, I promise."

 

"Okay."

 

Jack took the photograph and set the camera down carefully and slowly on the floor and straightening up he stood next to Daniel.

 

"That was one hellava pose there," he breathed.

 

"Good, it was meant for you," Daniel answered, his voice barely a whisper.

 

They leaned towards each other, their eyes mapping the face of the other and with a gentle contact, their lips met and worlds collided. Tentatively, Jack pushed his tongue into Daniel's mouth and moved it slowly, almost languidly, to taste and savour the younger man's response to him. Sliding his hands over Jack's face, Daniel held him as he deepened the kiss and in return caressed the older man with his lips and mouth.

 

They parted for a moment and stared at each other, the unspoken desire and need in both of them building like hurricanes of sensation. Daniel ran his hands up inside Jack's open shirt and slid his hands inside the waistband of his trousers, his fingertips kneading his back and buttocks. As he did so, Jack unfastened the button and drew down the zip, letting the garment fall and pool at his bare feet. Stepping out of them he pulled Daniel down onto the bed and within moments their bodies were tangled together as they kissed.

Daniel wanted to explore Jack's body. Jack had spent most of the day looking at his, but had remained clothed except when he was wearing just his boxers in the shower, now it was Daniel's turn and as he ran his hands to map every contour, every dip and curve of Jack's body, his arousal grew still more. Kissing his way across Jack's chest his hand was already blazing a trail down to his abdomen and when his fingers brushed the photographer's navel, he stopped, raising his head to look at him.

 

"Jack? What's this?"

 

"Whaddya think it is?"

 

"You've got a bellybutton ring!"

 

Smiling, Jack looked down at the silver piercing through his navel. He knew that would come in handy one day.

 

Fascinated, Daniel ran his tongue over the small piece of jewellery, marvelling at just how Jack had surprised him yet again. Hearing the soft moans that were Jack's reaction to his attention, Daniel sucked gently on the ring and Jack groaned. The more Daniel suckled, the more Jack groaned and the more Jack groaned the more Daniel suckled.

 

"Fuck, Daniel...that's so good."

 

Bending to his desire, Daniel drew the tip of his tongue slowly across the head of Jack's cock, spreading the pearl of seminal fluid gently over the hardened flesh. The older man groaned low in his throat and at the sound, Daniel encased just the head with his lips holding it firmly in his mouth as he flicked the tip of his tongue over it rapidly. Grasping handfuls of sheet in his hands, Jack wanted to thrust into Daniel's mouth but the academic exerted a gentle downward pressure around the root of the photographer's shaft as a reminder that he wasn't quite ready to have Jack fuck his mouth.

 

Jack reached down to card his fingers through Daniel's hair and as the linguist used his mouth to speak an excruciatingly pleasurable commentary across his cock, Jack pulled Daniel off and back to his lips, trying to speak between kisses and tasting himself in Daniel's mouth, making his stomach clench and his cock twitch.

 

"Danny, it's been a long while."

 

"Me, too."

 

"No, I mean a long while."

 

"Me, too."

 

"You're not listening to what I'm saying," Jack breathed sharply as Daniel sucked on his lower lip.

 

"Hmmmm," crooned Daniel as he nuzzled Jack's neck.

 

"I'm not too hot in the 'holding back' department, and if you keep doing what you're doing I'm gonna..."

 

Daniel stopped the rest of Jack's words with a kiss.

 

"Don't worry about it, Jack, just let it happen," grinned the archaeologist as he drew his tongue in one long slow path to Jack's groin. "Lift your hips a little," he murmured against Jack's thatch of pubic hair.

 

Gradually Daniel took Jack's length into his mouth as he palmed the soft velvety texture of his balls. Propping himself up on his elbows, Jack watched as Daniel swallowed him whole and at the sight he collapsed back on the pillows hardly able to breathe.

 

Daniel pulled back slightly and with Jack's dick still in his moist hot mouth he began to stroke with the firm grip of his fist and while still massaging his balls, Daniel used his long middle finger to rub Jack's perineum, reaching back a little further to press against the tight pucker of his ass.

 

Jack let out a series of breathy groans and his body stiffened. "I'm gonna...fuck...Daaaaaniel!"

 

Jack thrust his hips through Daniel's fist and came, emptying his balls into his lover's mouth. His orgasm seemed endless as the semen pulsed through his cock. With a small whimpering sound Jack's body relaxed against the mattress as he gasped for air.

 

"Fuck, Danny, where didja learn to do that?"

 

"Practice and a good memory, Jack," Daniel smiled as he crawled up his lover's body to kiss him and immediately Jack was aware of the academic's hard and unsated cock pressing against his body.

 

"Che cosa vole sei, Daniel? Mi dica!"

 

Hearing Jack ask him what he wanted in Italian nearly blew his mind and Daniel's breathing increased considerably.

 

"Just hold me and kiss me as you jerk me off," Daniel whispered, settling himself to lie beside the photographer.

 

"I can do that," Jack said as he sucked at his lover's earlobe. Partly laying over him, Jack pushed his leg between Daniel's thighs to spread them and as he wrapped it around Daniel's nearest leg, he reached down and brushed his fingertips across his balls.

 

"Don't tease, Jack. I've wanted this since the first time I saw your brown eyes look at me over the top of your camera."

 

"You have?"

 

"You bet," Daniel gasped as Jack wrapped his fingers around his throbbing shaft and began to pull.

 

"You're so hard, Danny. I can't wait to feel you inside me, fucking me," Jack chanted against his lover's mouth and Daniel moaned loudly. The man was as creative with his words as he was with his camera.

 

"Rapido, Jack, make me come," the academic demanded both in Italian and English, his voice trembling. Drawing up the foreskin, Jack squeezed and pulled at it, then releasing it, rubbed his thumb across the head. Pumping his cock harder and faster, Jack watched Daniel's face as he climaxed and the photographer loved every single aspect of his very expressive response.

 

As they lay together they both knew their relationship had moved on and they were at a significant moment in their lives. Jack held on tight to his archaeologist not wanting to let him go, ever. They napped for a few hours and they awoke tangled together, relaxed and happy but not for long.

 

"I have to go, Jack, it's getting late and I've got work tomorrow."

 

"Aww don't go, please, this is just too nice," Jack said, dropping little kisses across Daniel's chest.

 

"I'm sorry, I must, Jack," said Daniel regretfully as he got up. "Can I borrow these clothes to get home in?"

 

"I'll drive you," Jack said quickly, rolling off the bed.

 

"No, don't do that, I'll get the subway. Stay and relax."

 

"Why don't you just stay?"

 

"Because."

 

"Because what?"

 

"Because I have to get to work!"

 

"I don't want you to go."

 

"I know, I don't want to either."

 

"I mean I really don't want you to go. I…I need you, Daniel and I don't want you outta my sight or outta my bed for a minute. I think I..."

 

"What?"

 

"I think I like this," Jack said covering for what he really wanted to say but somehow couldn't. He wanted to tell Daniel that he was in love with him and whatever it was that stopped him he wasn't sure. Maybe he was frightened of losing him, that saying what he wanted would scare Daniel away, that it would all be too intense for him. Jack would wait for a better time, when he was sure of Daniel's feelings for him and could predict his reactions.

 

Sighing indulgently, Daniel got back into Jack's bed. "Okay, if you put it like that, I'll stay, but I have to be up really early. I've got to get back to my apartment, change, get some papers and make a ten-thirty lecture."

 

"Whatever, as long I can wake up with you in my arms."

 

-o-

 

After Daniel had gone Jack's loft suddenly felt very empty indeed, and he wandered around his apartment aimlessly for a while until he remembered his camera on the bedroom floor and the film still inside it.

 

Once he'd retrieved the film he popped it into a plastic canister and pressed down the lid. This film was very special and he intended on processing it himself in his small lab. As he walked through the office the phone rang and thinking it was Daniel, Jack dropped the canister on the shelf next to Sam's desk and answered the call.

 

"Daniel?" he asked breathlessly.

 

"   "

 

"Oh, hi, sorry I was expecting a call from...someone."

 

"   "

 

"Another date? Well, actually I'm seeing someone and…"

 

"   "

 

"Yeah, well I wasn't seeing them when we had our date and no, I'm not a two timing bastard!"

 

The photographer jammed down the receiver and let out an irritated sigh. That was the end of his disastrous date, and he couldn't be more pleased. Just then the elevator gate opened and Sam and Big T arrived, the blonde carrying a small box of freshly baked muffins.

 

"Hey, Boss. Where's the coffee?"

 

"Oh crap, sorry, I forgot. I'll do it now."

 

Jack left the office to go to his kitchen. His head had been somewhere else this morning, mainly remembering Daniel and his very talented mouth; he'd let his normal routine fly out the window.

 

Sam smiled at T and raised her eyebrows. "He seems pretty chipper this morning. Think he might have had an academic weekend?"

 

"Perhaps O'Neill has just had an academic, Samantha."

 

Snorting, Sam opened up the box of muffins and pulled open the second drawer of her filing cabinet to get some plates. She had never been keen on paperwork and found lots of creative ways for using the space.

 

"I will be in the studio, Samantha, I will be fixing the spare tripod, it is broken I believe."

 

"Okay, Sweetcakes," Sam grinned blowing her lover a kiss.

 

Sam busied herself with the first job of the day and that was collecting up unexposed films in time for the commercial lab to collect them. Just as she finished filling the carton, the buzzer rang and answering it, she pressed the security button to allow the lab's gopher to access the elevator and make his way to the loft.

 

As Graham Simmons travelled in the elevator his mind was firmly fixed on one Samantha Carter. He'd been lusting after the blonde for months, ever since he got his job with JoLab and he wished he had enough money to take her out on a date. He figured if he had plenty of cash he could show her a really good time. His salary was nowhere near enough to wine and dine her in an expensive restaurant, and he imagined if he were loaded he would buy her roses and hire a limousine to ferry her around the city. Sighing, he wondered how he could get money quickly, and short of robbing a bank, he always drew a blank.

 

When he arrived in the office he smiled broadly, seeing Sam on her own and out of the clutches of the big black guy.

 

"Hi there," he greeted her cheerily. "You're looking good today, new sweater?"

 

Sam was used to Graham's banter and she just smiled at him, not wanting to get involved. Handing him the carton of film she asked after his mother.

 

"She's a lot better thanks, the doctor says once she gets the cast off and with a little physio she'll be back to mud wrestling in no time. Hey, what about that other film on the shelf. Think you might have missed that one."

 

Turning, Sam spotted Jack's canister and without thinking or even realising its significance she tossed it into the box along with the rest. "There you go, have a nice day," she said and turning her back on the young man she pulled out the top drawer of her cabinet.

 

Graham hesitated for a moment and then left. He would find a way of asking her out, just as soon as he had enough money. She would be his one day, he'd make sure of it somehow.

 

-o-

 

The next few days were bitter sweet for Jack and Daniel. They both had busy work schedules and couldn't see each other for a whole week. Jack had to fly to Colorado Springs for a few days on business, and Daniel was up to his neck planning for the new archaeology course that Dean Hammond had assigned him. They'd managed to speak to each other just once on the phone, and by the fourth evening they were desperate to see each other again.

 

Daniel was asleep over his books in his tiny apartment when the phone rang.

 

Not even bothering to lift his head he groped for the phone on his table and grunted a greeting to whoever it was that was on the other end of the line.

 

"Daniel? Is that you? Are you feeling okay?" Jack's concerned voice came from the ether.

 

"Oh god, Jack! Hey, am I glad to hear from you," Daniel said quickly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

 

"Busy? You sound like you just woke up."

 

"I have, I've been working on this new course and I must have fallen asleep. Anyway that's enough of me, how are you?"

 

"I'm fine, missing you though."

 

"You are?"

 

"Oh yeah," Jack drawled, his voice low and breathy.

 

"What are you doing now?" Daniel asked, unsure of what the photographer could possibly be doing to make his voice sound like that.

 

"Thinking of you," Jack went on suggestively, "and your very nice body."

 

"Jack? Where are you exactly?"

 

"In some hotel bedroom. Why?"

 

"I just wondered," Daniel replied a sly grin growing on his lips. "So...you miss me huh?"

 

"I do."

 

"Are you missing my lips around you dick by any chance?"

 

"Daniel! Are you gonna talk dirty to me?"

 

"If you want me to," Daniel smiled, carrying his phone to the large, roomy armchair.

 

"I want you to." The academic could hear the smile in Jack's voice.

 

"I'm unzipping, Jack and taking off my jeans." Daniel could hear Jack hiss down the phone line. "I've taken off my shirt too. I'm commando, Jack and now I'm naked."

 

The archaeologist could hear Jack's breath hitch as he spoke. "What are you doing now, Jack?"

 

"I'm laying on the bed, in the dark and I'm naked as well."

 

"I can feel my nipples hardening, Jack. When I rub them I can feel heat shooting through them, it feels good." That remark elicited a moan from Jack and Daniel continued. "If I wet my fingers and squeeze, my nipples get even harder and now I'm rubbing them till they throb, oh god, that's good," Daniel breathed, his voice trembling slightly.

 

Taking advantage of the pause in Daniel's commentary, Jack added to their building lustfulness. "You're making me hard, Danny, making my cock as stiff as hell."

 

Moaning, Daniel's breathing was becoming erratic. "My dick is hard too. I'm pulling at it now, jerking through my fist."

 

"Fuck! You turn me on so much, enough to make me come when I hear what you're doing."

 

"I'm spreading my thighs and resting a leg on each arm of the chair, I'm stretched wide, Jack and if I move forward on the seat a little, I can touch my ass."

 

"Jeeze!" exclaimed Jack, moving his hand faster over his shaft.

 

"I'm sucking my fingers now, making them nice and wet."

 

"Ohgodohgodoh..." Jack breathed.

 

"I'm pushing my wet fingers into my ass...oh...god...that's so good...aah!"

 

Jack pulled and stroked his cock rapidly, his climax building fast. "Fuck yourself, Danny, use those long fingers and f...I'm...so close. Let me hear you again, whaddya doin', Danny?"

"I'm finger fucking my ass and jerking myself off, hard and fast now...closer...I'm getting sooooo....oh yeah..."

 

"Do it fast, Danny, fast and hard, come for me like I'm gonna come for you...now! NOW!"

 

Both men jerked through their orgasms, breathing hard as they came in tandem.

 

For a few moments, silence fell across the phone line as their bodies calmed and recovered.

 

"You okay, Daniel? You still there?"

 

"I'm here, Jack, I'm more than okay."

 

"Good, that's good," panted Jack.

 

-o-

 

The next morning Jack felt like he was floating on air. He'd never experienced phone sex before and he made a mental note to get a speaker phone, having hands free phone sex would be even better.

 

As he wandered into the office, Sam was just unpacking the latest batch of negs returned from the lab and suddenly Jack went cold. The film of Daniel's shoot, the one with that picture, the photos that Jack was going to process himself, he'd forgotten all about it and when he glanced over Carter's shoulder to the shelf behind her, he couldn't see the damn canister.

 

"Carter? Didja find a film canister on that shelf earlier in the week?"

 

"Um, yeah there was one there. I put it in with the rest of the film. Is there a problem?"

 

"You bet there's a fucking problem! What the hell did you do that for? Did it have a label on it?" Not waiting for his assistant to answer, he continued, his anger building. "No, there wasn't was there? It wasn't supposed to go anywhere except my lab. What the fuck were you thinking?"

 

"I'm sorry, I didn't know...I didn't know it was important," Sam replied, her voice climbing in both volume and pitch. "You didn't say anything, how was I supposed to know?"

Witnessing Jack's ire and Sam's shrill defence, Big T got out of his seat and moved between the warring colleagues.

 

"O'Neill, you must keep your temper. Samantha so must you. Apologise to each other. Accidents happen and neither of you are mind readers. I suggest you calm yourselves before I am forced to take action."

 

Planting his hands on his hips and dropping his head, Jack struggled to control his temper and his breathing. Sam glanced between Jack and T, upset and tearful; she banged the wallet of negs down on her desk and pulled open the top drawer of her filing cabinet, blinking back the tears as she looked for her packet of chocolate chip cookies.

 

"I'm sorry, Sam, I apologise," Jack said through gritted teeth. "I should have taken better care of the film and where I left it. Just give me the negs and I'll get outta your hair."

Sam was still upset, but tried not to show it. "Anyone wanna cookie?"

 

-o-

 

It was going to be an excruciating night for both of Jack and Daniel. They hadn't seen each other since Monday morning when Daniel had to leave early. They'd arranged to have dinner and Daniel agreed to stay over for the weekend, except their plans were about to go haywire.

 

Daniel's last lecture was due to finish at four so he'd brought his overnight bag to work with him and would get to Jack's as fast as the subway could carry him. He wanted Jack as surely as Jack wanted him, but it just wasn't going to happen.

 

"Hey, Daniel, gonna be long?"

 

"Yeah, I'm afraid so. Look, I can't talk for long. I'm just calling to let you know my lecture..."

 

"The three o'clock?"

 

"Yeah, it's been moved to six."

 

"What?"

 

"Sorry. I won't finish until seven, and the Dean wants me to attend some reception for our sponsors."

 

"Fuck!"

 

"Precisely. They're sponsoring my new course so I'll have to put in an appearance."

 

"I'll meet you at the University."

 

"No, you can't do that. They won't let you bring a car on campus without Hammond's say so and I can't guarantee what time I'll be through. It might be better if I don't come over tonight."

 

There was a long pause.

 

"Jack? Jack, did you hear me? I'll see you tomorrow okay?"

 

"No, it's not okay, all right? Just...just get here when you can."

 

"I'm gonna be really late though."

 

"It doesn't matter, just be here."

 

"I'll do my best. Look, I have to go, I've got a seminar. I'll see you later, bye."

 

"Bye, Daniel," Jack murmured to a dead phone line. It was 2pm. "This sucks," he groaned in frustration. Jack knew he should be 'mature' about this, about his relationship with Daniel. He should stand back a little and be 'grown up' about it. He knew he should stop acting like a petulant hormonal teenager. After a long moment with his head down thinking, he drew in a deep breath. "Still sucks," he grunted.

 

Jack spent the next few hours studying the negs of Daniel's shoot. Even he had to admit they were good and Daniel was a natural in front of the camera; he could feel his flesh heat up as he looked at the images, they were very erotic indeed. The photographer's eye took the chinagraph pencil and struck through two or three on the top row and moved on to the next until the second image on the third row made him suck in a breath.

 

Daniel was pictured under the shower, facing away from the camera; he was naked and wet, his skin shiny and smooth. He was holding the showerhead with the single flow setting upwards, and the water was cascading between his buttocks. It was a glorious image and Jack's cock twitched as he stared at it.

 

"Boss?"

 

"What?" Jack barked as he snapped off the light box. "What is it?" I'm right in the middle of something here."

 

Sam took a step back and frowned at the photographer. "Sorry," she said in more of a 'you're a bad tempered bastard today?' kind of way rather than with a genuine tone of apology.

Jack sighed heavily and got up from his stool to join her in the office.

 

"Sorry," he said, waving his hand and trying to dismiss what he knew to be his growing crankiness.

 

"Phone," she said with a poisonous expression.

 

Jack took the receiver, still looking at her, facing down her obvious annoyance.

 

"O'Neill," he said, trying to calm his voice.

 

"   "

 

"This weekend? Ah, no, sorry, no can do. I don't work weekends."

 

Sam's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Jack would normally work 24/7 if the offer were there. Looking at T she shrugged. This was not the Jack O'Neill she knew.

 

"Sure, let me check my schedule. How about the first of next month? Where? Vancouver? Okay, bye."

 

"Are you feeling well, O'Neill?" Big T asked carefully.

 

"Yeah, why?"

 

"You refused work."

 

"I didn't refuse it, just don't want to work weekends anymore, is all."

 

"What's the job, Boss?" Sam asked, reaching for her notebook.

 

"Some new TV series. They want promotional stills."

 

"Ooooh, what is it and who's in it and can I come too?"

 

"Dunno. Something about a star and a gate and I have no idea who's in it and yes, you and T can come too."

 

The afternoon wore on very slowly for Jack. Sam and T couldn't fail to notice his agitation, he was like a coiled spring and experience had taught them to stay clear when their employer was in this kind of mood.

 

"Has everything come back from the lab that should have?" Jack asked.

 

"Yes, Jack. You asked me that an hour ago. There is nothing outstanding," Sam replied firmly.

 

"Okay then," Jack muttered. "Oh and T?"

 

"It is four thirty-five and forty seconds, O'Neill."

 

"I was juss checkin'," Jack said absently as he stared at the email subject of one of his messages. Fatten yr candy cane it said. Highlighting it and clicking on delete, he passed on to the next email.

 

"You've got a clock on the computer, Boss, bottom right hand corner," Sam called across the office.

 

"I know!" the photographer whined and getting up to pace around his desk, he poked at his penholder.

 

Sam and T left work at 5.30pm and Jack was at last alone. His head ached, but not as much as his heart. He knew he'd fallen for Daniel, hook, line and sinker and it both hurt and exhilarated him. He hated not being able to see the younger man.

 

-o-

 

Daniel finished his late lecture and made his way to one of the large meeting rooms for the sponsor's reception. When he ambled into the room his heart stopped and he felt sick.

"Stephen, how are you?" he asked coldly as he grimaced a smile at a dark haired, shorter man.

 

"I'm good, Daniel and you?"

 

Daniel's body stiffened as he heard the sneer in the other man's voice. Doctor Stephen Rayner and Daniel had been friends once and academic colleagues. In fact, they'd been more than friends, they'd been lovers for a short while, until Stephen had nearly wrecked Daniel's career. They'd had a passionate affair during the time Daniel was writing his thesis. Having made some important finds that supported his pyramids theory, he knew that once his treatise was published he'd get the research fellowship to Cairo University and he wanted that more than anything.

 

Stephen had initiated their sexual relationship and they spent a lot of time in Daniel's bed, on his kitchen table, in the shower and busting the springs in his couch. They were young, energetic and demanding of each other until Stephen had stolen his work. The man had downloaded all of Daniel's notes; data and carbon dating analyses, wiping the hard drive afterwards. He must have altered the properties on each of Daniel's files, back dating them so that Daniel couldn't even use what he'd saved on his floppy disks. Stephen had written a best seller pulp non-fiction piece and had gained a commercial reputation on the back of Daniel's hard work. He'd not understood Daniel's theories fully and had reproduced a bastardised version of it.

 

Stephen went on to catch the plum jobs, the Mercedes and the smart apartment. Daniel was consigned to the circuit of secondary universities until he'd landed the job at Columbia. The whole affair had been devastating for him, more so because Stephen had played his body and emotions for personal ambition and had made a mint out of it. Hoping Stephen would fuck off and die, Daniel had tried to move on from the experience and here he was again. Wanting Stephen to fuck off and die suddenly didn't do it for Daniel, he wanted him to fuck off and die very, very slowly.

 

"Ah, gentlemen," Dean Hammond said jovially, greeting both Daniel and Stephen as they stood together. "Come and meet your sponsors, Doctor Rayner. It's West County Housing Associates."

 

"Your sponsor?" asked Daniel sharply, glaring at Stephen.

 

"Yes, my sponsor. Dean Hammond has asked me to head up the new department. You'll be answering to me from now on, Daniel."

 

Daniel felt a tidal wave of shock trammel through his body as the revelation hit him. He didn't know what he wanted to do first. Kill Stephen or kill himself.

 

Hammond whisked Stephen away to meet Julian Luck, the sponsor's chief executive, leaving Daniel still stunned and sick to his stomach. Wheeling around, he headed for the exit where he threw up behind a tree.

 

As he travelled the subway, his body jostled and shaken by the train, his head was swimming and he felt like crap. He was certainly in no mood for sex and the impact of Stephen's arrival back in his life was already having an effect on his relationship with Jack. Damn.

 

-o-

 

Pulling back the elevator gate, Jack could see Daniel wasn't looking so good.

 

"Hey," he said gently, taking Daniel's overnight bag from him. "What's up?"

 

"Nothing, I just don't feel so good," Daniel muttered. His head was pounding now and he just wanted to sleep.

 

"Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? Me?"

 

Giving Jack a weak smile, Daniel rubbed the photographer's upper arm. "Sorry, Jack. I just need to sleep. I know I'm not what you wanted or expected and I feel really bad about that, and if you want to call it a day, I'll understand."

 

"What? Don't feel bad about anything please, and stop talking like that. C'mon, let's get you into bed, huh? We've got the whole weekend ahead of us," Jack said softly, and taking his hand, led Daniel to his bedroom. "You get comfortable and I'll bring you some water. Want some Tylenol?"

 

Daniel nodded and began to undress. Jack hesitated for a moment and then let the academic have some privacy. He felt like a heel for having lustful thoughts when the guy was so obviously ill.

 

Sighing, he went to the cabinet in the bathroom. "Momma said there'd be days like this," he instructed the mirror as he reached for the small bottle of painkillers.

 

Jack gave Daniel the pills and then sat down beside him on the bed to stroke his forehead for a while. When he was satisfied Daniel was asleep, he crept out of the bedroom and settled on the den sofa. He didn't want to disturb the man, and he would just have to look forward to waking up in his arms on Sunday morning instead.

 

-o-

 

The next morning was wet and miserable. By the time Daniel woke, Jack's usual Saturday wash up was in full swing. He thought it best to stay away from the office; he didn't want to embarrass Jack in front of Sam and T although he supposed it would probably be okay. Instead, he made himself some toast and settled on the den sofa in front of the TV for an hour.

 

That cloud of gloom that seem to follow Daniel now filled every inch of his horizon, turning into a full-blown storm and the meteorological evidence outside the window just confirmed it. How was he ever going to work with Stephen? He couldn't believe the snake had turned up again. Daniel wondered if he could get a job at another university, but he didn't want to leave Jack; even though their relationship was just a few weeks old, Daniel knew he could commit every ounce of his being to the photographer if he were to ask him, but Daniel sensed he wasn't ready yet. Shaking his head, the academic knew he would just have to ride out this latest storm and hope that loving Jack would be enough.

 

As he moved some magazines off the coffee table so that he could put his feet up, Daniel noticed Jack's bracelet, realising that the photographer must have slept on the couch last night. Feeling guilty, Daniel pursed his lips and picking up the piece of jewellery, looked at it idly. As he did, his interest was aroused by the design, weight and shape of it. It was made of two pieces of metal and two pieces of leather. The underside of the bangle that would rest against the skin was made of a narrow band of soft black leather with two additional ribs of gold attached opposite each other. One of the metal pieces had a small raised nub and one of the leather bands had tiny line of piercing in it.

 

As Daniel squeezed the bracelet, the silver pieces slid inside the leather, thus making the bracelet wholly leather and much, much smaller. Frowning, he couldn't figure out why the bracelet was made like that, except to be resized for a small wrist, but then no gold would be showing at all. He concluded that maybe it was a baptism gift, something that would last a lifetime and expand with the growth of the wearer. Thinking no more about it, he replaced it on the table and surfed the TV channels, waiting for Jack to finish his work.

 

"Daniel, feeling better?"

 

It was Jack and Daniel's heart soared.

 

"Much better thanks," he beamed, patting the space on the sofa next to him.

 

Sitting down, Jack beamed as well. "Whaddya wanna do today?"

 

"I'm easy."

 

"I hope so, Doctor Jackson," Jack leered as he leaned in to kiss the archaeologist.

 

Daniel responded readily and lying down on the sofa together, they necked. It was great.

 

"Boss? We're...oh! Going now."

 

Daniel started and was ready to leap off the sofa, guilt ridden and embarrassed, but Jack held him, not letting him move.

 

"Okay, Cater, lock up after you."

 

"Byeeeee, Daniel!" she smirked as she left the den.

 

"Jack? That was so embarrassing."

 

"No, it wasn't. I don't care who sees us, Danny."

 

Giving him a hug, Daniel rolled off the sofa and straightened up.

 

"Hey, where d'ya think you're goin'?"

 

"I have to pee, Jack," Daniel laughed.

 

When he'd finished he went back to the den to find Jack lying naked on the couch.

 

"Jack! I can see what you've got on your mind."

 

"Yeah, wanna help me get it off? My mind that is."

 

"C'mon, Jack, show me what you've got! In your bedroom, that is."

 

Grabbing his hand and pulling the naked photographer off the sofa, Daniel led the way to Jack's bed and as the older man fell onto the mattress, making it bounce, Daniel was stripping. He was desperate to feel Jack's skin against his own.

 

Standing next to the bed, Daniel surveyed his quarry. Jack's body was lean but muscled with long limbs. He was gloriously nude except for the navel ring and his bracelet.

Reaching for his semi erect cock, Daniel stroked himself as Jack watched.

 

"God, Danny, you really turn me on," Jack groaned.

 

"Don't touch yourself yet," the academic ordered and Jack's hand fell away from his dick to rest on the mattress beside him.

 

"When was the last time for you, Jack?"

 

"The photographer raised his eyebrows in question.

 

"I mean when was the last time you had penetrative sex?"

 

"You mean in general or with anyone in particular?"

 

"You know what I mean," breathed Daniel as he kneeled on the bed, still stroking his cock. "When was the last time you had your ass fucked?"

 

Swallowing, Jack's eyes flicked from Daniel's eyes to his still moving hand.

 

"A few years, why?" Jack settled on staring at Daniel's erection, but he did break eye contact with it long enough to look at the academic for his answer.

 

"Just wondered," Daniel smiled.

 

"Are you thinking I don't want it?

 

"I wasn't sure but it's okay, I don't mind."

 

"Yes, you do and so do I. I'll admit to feeling a little nervous but not about that, just about being able to satisfy you."

 

"We can take our time, there's no rush," Daniel said gently, shuffling closer to Jack, his hand still on his dick. "There's a lot we can do without going all the way."

 

"I know that, but I want to go all the way, Danny."

 

"Okay, you lead, I'll follow," the academic whispered as he bent to penetrate Jack's mouth with his tongue. "Not yet, Jack."

 

"Why won't you let me touch myself, Danny?"

 

"Because I want to be the one to do that," the younger man replied huskily, suckling Jack's nipples and grazing his teeth against the small hard nubs.

 

Daniel teased Jack unmercifully, exploring every part of his body without ever making contact with his genitalia. He would make his lover scream his orgasm when the time came. Laving Jack's navel ring, Daniel was fascinated by the contrast of hard smooth metal against warm giving skin. The archaeologist followed the line of dark hair from Jack's piercing to his groin, dragging his tongue seductively to its goal with his lover making a series of low soft appreciative sounds, encouraging Daniel to focus his attention to where Jack so desperately wanted it. Brushing his fingertips along Jack's length, Daniel mouthed a wet trail of contact across the hardened shaft, gently massaging his balls in the palm of his hand. Gradually, Jack's excitement was making him shift backwards up the bed until he was sitting up, his body resting against the brass headboard.

 

"Let me touch you, Danny, let me feel you."

 

Smiling against his cock, Daniel slipped his mouth over the head, making Jack hiss loudly in response.

 

"You're not playing fair with me. I want my turn." Jack's voice was soft and trembling, his brown eyes almost black with desire as he watched and felt his lover suck and lave his erection.

 

Looking up through his eyelashes, Daniel stared intently at Jack's face.

 

"Tell me what you want, tell me what you want me to do, Jack," the academic's voice firm and controlled.

 

"Give me you ass. I want your ass and I want you on all fours, Danny. Hold on to the foot of the bed and give me what you've got," commanded Jack, his voice stronger now, his lust building.

 

Turning, Daniel did as Jack asked him, grasping the horizontal pole of the bed frame, which was above his hips. The position he adopted was comfortable and as he held onto the frame he realised just how much purchase he could gain from it. He could bend his back and drop his spine, lift his hips and use his body like a cantilever against Jack's likely penetration of him. As he glanced over his shoulder he saw Jack sitting upright and using his hands to shift his weight, moving up behind him. Sitting behind him, Jack bent his knees and gripped Daniel's hips as the younger man moved his feet to rest either side of Jack's hips. This position would save Jack's knees for a while, not to mention give him access to Daniel's inner core.

 

Jack was staring right at Daniel's firm round buttocks and licking his lips he spread his fingers across the beckoning flesh, revelling in the heat and texture of it. As he kneaded and massaged the academic's muscular globes Jack parted them over and over, revealing glimpses of Daniel's small tight puckered ass, teasing himself with anticipation.

Reaching back, Jack grabbed the tube of lubrication for when he'd need it and he was more than ready to use it. Spreading his lover's buttocks yet again, Jack leaned in to run his tongue around the tight ring of muscle and felt it flinch as Daniel moaned with pleasure.

 

"That is soooo good, Jack, so good," Daniel chanted, pushing his hips back slightly to concentrate the sensations Jack was generating right through the younger man's ass.

Jack held Daniel's buttocks apart with his thumbs as he pushed the tip of his tongue past the rim making Daniel hiss and chant even louder. Moving his mouth to lave over the skin of each buttock in turn, Jack lubricated his fingers, he wanted to penetrate Daniel and then make him beg for more. Slowly, Jack screwed his finger into Daniel's anus and his lover gasped.

 

"Fuck! More, Jack, give me more!"

 

"One at a time, Danny, have patience, I want you beggin for it, beggin' me to fuck you."

 

As Jack pushed in a second finger he stroked himself to full hardness and, pulling his fingers away from Daniel quickly, he took off his bracelet and slipped it over his cock, letting it drop down his shaft to the root while the archaeologist panted and moaned at the loss of contact. Jack squeezed the bracelet together, reducing its size and fastening it tightly around the root of his dick. Smiling, he was determined that he would satisfy Daniel by not coming too soon. His bracelet doubled as a cock ring.

 

After a few minutes of loving and careful preparation Jack needed to be inside his lover. Shifting his body, he got to his knees and leaned close to his lover, palming his balls through his legs and ghosting his hand over them, testing the fullness and weight of Daniel's testicles and the hardness of his cock. Letting go, he watched them swing gently and just had to kiss and lave them, taking each one into his mouth in turn. Daniel gave a primal growl at this and leaving go of the brass pole with one hand, reached back to grip his buttock, spreading it for Jack.

 

"Please, Jack, I want you so badly."

 

"Are you sure?" Jack whispered, his body so tense with anticipation he thought he would snap. Lubing his cock very liberally, the photographer made his move.

 

"I'm sure, I'm sure, please!"

 

"Okay, I'm ready and very, very willing, Danny. Can you feel it, feel my cock pressing against you? Does it feel good?"

 

By now Daniel was ready to scream, beg, plead, implore, beseech and entreat, anything so long as Jack filled him. Jack inched his cock into Daniel's ass, stopping frequently to allow his lover time to adjust. Though Daniel could feel the burn it was minimal and he was thankful for how carefully Jack had prepped him. As Jack penetrated deeper and deeper, Daniel dropped his head, allowing his full concentration to track every sensation of the photographer's movements.

 

Jack began to move his hips, pushing into his lover's ass with long slow strokes and biting his lower lip, Daniel found the sensation all enveloping. As Jack increased the speed of his thrusting, Daniel pushed back against him and breathless, asked Jack to be still while he rocked his hips against the photographer, fucking himself on Jack's cock. With rapid swinging movements Daniel fucked himself hard and grasping his hips Jack held against him and started to move in rhythm with his lover so that their bodies met and parted at the same time.

 

Jack could feel his climax swirling in his balls and he knew even with the cock ring he was going to come very soon. He wanted to hold on for Daniel, make it last for him as long as he could. As Daniel moved, hungry for the pleasure of Jack's cock high up inside him, he had a sudden flashback of he and Stephen doing the same thing. He didn't know where it came from, or why now at this precise moment, but the very thought of it began to wilt his erection and he just wanted Jack to come and finish it.

Jack was anxious not to ejaculate too early and yet he couldn't hold back any longer; snapping at the fastener to his bracelet he released it to fall open on the mattress and now he could give full reign to his lust and need.

 

"Danny, I'm close, I'm gonna come, are you...close?"

 

"Yes, Jack, I'm very close. Fuck me like you mean it, don't hold back, fuck me hard and fast."

 

Jack took Daniel's invitation and pounded hard into his lover's flesh, his climax racing to meet him. Feeling the heat travel through his balls, tightening them, he exploded into Daniel's body, his semen spurting and pumping deep inside.

 

Jack fell back onto the bed, his chest heaving, his lungs burning and resting his arm over his face; he closed his eyes, fighting to recover from his exertions and his climax. As his lover lay on the bed sightless, Daniel gathered up his body into the foetal position for a few moments, fighting back his emotions. Checking the prone photographer, he was convinced Jack had momentarily fallen asleep and this made Daniel feel even more wretched. Rejected by Stephen, he was now rejected by Jack. Sliding off the bed carefully, so as not to disturb the older man, Daniel retreated to the bathroom and locked the door.

 

Flipping the lever on the shower he stood under it, letting it pound onto his neck and shoulders as he leaned his forehead against the marble clad wall, his tears mingling with the steaming water. Stephen had screwed him for profit and now he wondered if Jack was doing the same. He had absolutely nothing to offer the photographer except his body and even that didn't seem to want to work properly. Was Jack using him? Courting his 'assets' so that he could photograph them and make money from it? Angry, Daniel realised that Jack hadn't even shown him the photographs from the previous weekend.

 

After a long while Daniel dried off, dressed and went out into the street. He walked slowly in the autumn sun, the rain having stopped, until he came to a newsstand on the corner. Buying a newspaper, Daniel crossed the street and sat down on a bench just inside a little park. Leafing through the pages he caught sight of two men smiling broadly as they shook hands for the camera. It was a photograph of Stephen and the man whom he took to be Julian Luck taken the evening before at the reception; probably about the same time he was depositing the contents of his stomach behind the tree. Horrified, Daniel tore at the newspaper, shredding it and jamming it into a wire trashcan beside the bench. Still his past haunted him. Resting his head in his hands for a while he needed to figure out a way of dealing with all this crap, dumping it and moving on, before it destroyed him and his fledgling relationship with Jack.

 

Jack regained consciousness just as he heard Daniel leaving the apartment. Panic gripped his stomach as the older man sat up, deafened by the silence in the loft. Feeling like crap, he thought he hadn't satisfied Daniel with his lovemaking and the younger man had taken off in disgust or disappointment. He hadn't meant to zone like that but he was so overwhelmed by his physical reaction to Daniel that his emotions had swamped him and he had wept quiet tears behind the shield of his arm, not wanting Daniel to see how much he felt for him. It was too soon and he didn't want to frighten off the archaeologist. It had happened anyway he smiled ruefully. Jack had a chequered career as a lover and he'd had his fair share of rejection, humiliation and scorn. He wanted to be a good lover, but that hadn't always been the case, and this time, with Daniel, he wanted everything to be perfect and yet he had still failed. He was alone again.

 

An hour later, Daniel was back in Jack's loft and creeping into the bedroom to check on him.

 

"Where have you been?" the photographer asked quietly, the hurt plainly sounding in his voice.

 

"You were sleeping so I went for a walk," Daniel replied, pulling off his clothes and getting back into bed.

 

"You left me," Jack croaked. "Why did you leave?"

 

"I told you. You were asleep; I thought it best to let you alone."

 

"I wasn't asleep, Daniel, I was resting. I heard you go to the bathroom and when you didn't come back to bed I thought you'd gone for good."

 

"No, no that's not true," Daniel said, reaching out to touch the photographer but the older man pulled away from him.

 

"I wanted to make you feel so good and I failed didn't I?"

 

"What? You were awesome, Jack."

 

"But not awesome enough to make you come though."

 

"Don't be silly, of course I came," Daniel lied.

 

"There was no evidence when I looked."

 

"I try to be a tidy house guest; I cleaned up and then took a shower."

 

"I don't believe you," Jack said, his voice small and defeated, "but it doesn't really matter. I'll understand if you don't want to see me again, you don't have to stay, Daniel."

 

"I'm not going anywhere, Jack. I want to be with you. If I didn't want to be with you I wouldn't have come back. Look, I think we're both tired and maybe we're just expecting too much of ourselves. It's been like an emotional roller coaster over the last week or so for both of us."

 

Jack thought for a moment and looking into Daniel's crystal blue eyes he smiled.

 

"Wanna start over?"

 

"Let's do that," Daniel smiled back, knowing now that's what he needed to shed the weight of Stephen from around his neck, he needed to start again, afresh with the man smiling back at him.

 

-o-

 

"Is that really me?"

 

"Oh yeah."

 

"I can't believe I look like that," Daniel said surprised, staring at his image again on the sheet of negs resting on the light box.

 

"You'd better believe it, Daniel," Jack laughed.

 

"But I look so..."

 

"Good?"

 

"Not like I expected."

 

"I keep telling you, the camera loves you. You are spectacular!"

 

"Well, if you put it like that."

 

"I do!"

 

"I can't take all the credit, you're a fine photographer as well, Jack."

 

"Thanks but I'm not as good as I should have been. That last photo I took, the one showing your…"

 

"Face?"

 

"Yeah, that one," the photographer grinned, then his face dropped. "It didn't come out, I'm sorry."

 

"Why?"

 

"I don't know. I've been trying to figure it out. It could have been a fault with the film, with the camera or something during the processing. I have no idea. It would have been a damned good picture too."

 

"Never mind, it doesn't matter, you've still got the others."

 

"I know but that photograph was special," Jack whispered, brushing his hand over Daniel's cheek. "You did say that one was just for me and now I don't have the memento."

 

"Are you getting sappy?"

 

"No! I was juss sayin', is all."

 

Nodding, Daniel tried not to laugh. He liked the idea of Jack being sappy, well just a little bit maybe, every now and again, once in a while, here and there.

"Wanna get something to eat?" Jack asked, switching off the light box.

 

"Sure, but it'll have to be quick. It's that time, you know, Sunday evening and work tomorrow."

 

"Why don't you stay?" Jack asked quietly as he stared at his bare feet. "You could always stay...permanently y'know. Move your stuff in here, with me."

 

"I don't know Jack, I live pretty close to the University and if I came here, it would mean a lot more travelling."

 

"Yeah, you're right. It was a stupid idea. Sorry." Jack's good humour was evaporating very quickly. He wanted every aspect of Daniel in his life including a more permanent arrangement. He tried hard not to show his disappointment, but he failed miserably.

 

"Look, give things a while to settle down at work and I'll think about it, okay?"

 

"Sounds like a plan," Jack smiled, cheering up just a little.

 

-o-

 

When they'd finished their makeshift meal, Jack made a fresh pot of coffee. Watching him, Daniel really wanted to take up the photographer's invitation to move in with him, but until he could deal with his feelings about Stephen there would be no point. He would be distracted and he didn't want a repeat of what happened earlier in the day.

 

"Jack? What will you do with those photographs?"

 

"Yours?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"I think they would make the backbone of a really good calendar if you must know. I was thinking I might trawl around for some other good male models."

 

"And you'd want use my pictures even though there are plenty of professionals out there?"

 

"Of course, I did say your pictures would be the backbone didn't I?"

 

"Won't some photographic male model union object?"

 

Choking on his mouthful of coffee, Jack spluttered and laughed at the same time. "I don't think so, Daniel! Seriously, you should think of turning pro, you'd get plenty of work."

 

"It would be a short lived career though. Once I lost my looks I wouldn't be any good. No, I think I'll stick to archaeology thanks."

 

After Jack walked with Daniel to the subway, he swung by a small bar that he sometimes went to when he wanted to think. The idea of a calendar was filling his thoughts now and his creative mind was in full flow, considering the layout, format, how he could get it printed, promoted and sold. Maybe he could hold a photographic exhibition, invite his wealthier clients and persuade them to invest in the project.

 

Over the next few weeks Jack and Daniel spent all their free time together, which wasn't much given their workloads. Daniel tried to stay out of Stephen's way, keep his head down and do his work. As was usual after the first month or so of the new semester, the numbers of students attending his lectures was beginning to decline. It always happened, but as soon as assignments were being given out, they would all be back, panicking that they might fail Daniel's part of their course if they couldn't do the work.

 

One Monday morning, after Daniel had spent the weekend with Jack, most of it in his bed or in the shower or across the breakfast bar or on the sofa in the den, he was feeling very good about himself. Stephen had left him to his own devices most of the time and they only met for Rayner's 'team' meetings, which consisted of Daniel, the teaching assistant and Stephen. Daniel tried to keep his mind on University matters and refused to bite when Stephen got sarcastic about the falling numbers of students in his classes.

 

This particular morning, as Daniel strolled into the lecture hall, he was surprised and pleased to see so many students. It would be at least another two weeks before he assigned projects. As he looked up at the steeply raked rows of seats he saw that there wasn't a vacant place anywhere. Puzzled, he put his pile of textbooks and lecture notes on the table in front of him.

 

As he started his lecture he noticed that many of the students didn't seem to be paying much attention to what he was saying, instead some were just staring at him and smiling, others were nudging each other and giggling, others whispering incessantly to those in front of or behind them. The academic could also see sheets of paper being passed around.

"Um, does anyone have any questions so far?" he asked, raising his voice to gain their attention.

 

"Yes, Doctor Jackson, I've got one," a young man said, sticking his hand up rather enthusiastically.

 

"What is it, Mr. Kruger?"

 

"Do you happen to know how much a male model earns?"

 

"What?"

 

"I'm only asking because obviously a University professor doesn't make very much, otherwise he wouldn't need a second job."

 

"Mr. Kruger, fascinating as the subject might be, I fail to understand the relevance of your question."

 

"The point I'm trying to make, Doctor Jackson, is that you might get a higher salary doing what you do outside the University than inside it."

 

"I'm sorry, you've lost me. What are you talking about?" Daniel suddenly felt at a huge disadvantage. Whatever it was that the student was hinting at, he didn't understand but the rest of the auditorium seemed to.

 

"You might be lost, Doctor Jackson, but look what I've found!" The young student was laughing as he waved a piece of paper in the air.

 

Still none the wiser, Daniel frowned getting quite angry now. What the hell had gotten into the student body this morning?

 

"Here, why don't you have a look?" a female student said as she got up from her seat in the first row and sidled slowly up to Daniel, showing him the content of the sheet of paper.

Stunned, Daniel stared hard at the paper. It was a photocopy of that picture, of his image, totally naked with his erect penis plainly in view. It was unmistakably Daniel. Looking up at his students, who by now were laughing or leering at him, the academic fled the hall in panic, anguish and with humiliation threatening to overcome him. Retreating to his office and locking the door, he took the phone off the hook, frightened that someone, anyone, might want to talk to him. Daniel's body was shaking as he looked at the picture again, the one that Jack had taken, promising him that no one would ever see it, and here it was, being photocopied and distributed across the campus. He wanted to die. Though his office was a retreat, it was also a prison.

 

Picking up the phone, he dialled Jack and when he heard Sam's voice Daniel slammed down the receiver. He needed to confront the photographer and the phone wouldn't do. He would have to travel downtown and have it out with him. How could his lover sell him out so cheaply? Yes, Jack would have his calendar and Daniel's image would probably have the starring role. Jack had lied to him. Daniel had been used all along.

 

Looking at the piece of paper again and smoothing out the crumpled page, Daniel noticed a small imprint in the top right hand corner. It said JoLab. The academic wondered if this was the processing laboratory, though he was sure Jack said he was going to develop the film himself, something he just happened to forget to tell him. Switching on his computer, Daniel decided to try and find out if JoLab did, in fact, do film processing. They might tell him who had submitted the film. One part of Daniel refused to believe Jack could do such a thing, the part already damaged by Stephen wanted evidence so that he could challenge Jack for sure.

 

After a while, Daniel found what he was looking for. JoLab was the name of a film processing company all right and he checked the address. It was just a few blocks from Jack's loft. As he scrolled down the page of company information he found something else that grabbed his stomach and squeezed hard, twisting it into knots. JoLab had a solitary owner who was also the director of the company; it was one Jack O'Neill.

 

-o-

 

Daniel slumped in his chair, his mind in turmoil and a long time passed before he came to his senses. Reaching for the phone, he made a call.

 

Staying in his office for as long as he could, he knew he would have to leave eventually. Hauling himself out of his chair, he cleared his office of as much as he could carry, and opening the door awkwardly, he peered into the hallway, expecting the faculty academics to be camped outside waiting for him. There was no sign of anyone so he made a run for it, wanting to get off the campus as quickly as possible. As he made his way across the lawn outside of his building he saw Dean Hammond and Stephen heading his way. Stopping, Daniel looked around, desperate to avoid their company but it was too late, they'd spotted him and the Dean was waving at him.

 

Dropping his head, his arms full of books and papers, Daniel could do nothing but wait for the tidal wave to hit him now.

 

"Doctor Jackson," the portly Dean puffed. "I need to talk to you."

 

"Really?" Daniel replied, hoping the copies of that photo had passed him by.

 

"Yes, really, Daniel," added Stephen, his sneer obvious enough that if Daniel hadn't had his arms full, he would have punched him.

 

"Before you say anything, Dean, I quit."

 

"You what, son?"

 

"I said I quit," Daniel said emphatically and walked away from the men as their gaze followed him, the late afternoon sun hanging low in the sky.

 

Having dumped his stuff off at his apartment, Daniel packed most of his belongings then made his way over to Jack's loft. By the time he got there, Sam and T were just making ready to leave for their place. Jack wasn't there.

 

"Hi, Daniel, sorry you've just missed Jack. I think he's gone to see someone about a calendar. Why don't you wait, he said he wouldn't be long."

 

"Thanks, Sam, I will. Oh, by the way, just as a matter of interest, how much does a male model earn?"

 

"Depends, clothed or nude?"

 

"Nude."

 

"Hmmm, about $800 an hour. Of course, the photographer is the one who really cashes in if he sells the photo in the right places. Does that answer your question?"

"Yes, that's more than enough information, thanks."

 

After Sam and T had left, Daniel settled himself behind T's desk and waited for Jack. Daniel was ready to challenge Jack on that missing photograph. The photographer had obviously lifted it from the original batch of negs and sold it for a lot of money. Somehow the picture had been pirated and distributed; hence the free flow of copies around the University.

 

So, he'd been used and abused yet again; why the hell did he keep making such bad judgements about his lovers? He really thought Jack was special and that maybe just maybe, they might have had a future together. Well he wasn't going to slink off like he had with Stephen, he was going to deal with Jack, tell him what he thought of his little scheme and then he was leaving, never to see or speak to him again. It was the only way. Daniel knew he could never trust Jack again, not ever, not after this.

 

After waiting an hour or so, Jack still hadn't shown and Daniel was getting more and more anxious. He had a plane to catch and couldn't afford to miss it. Sighing, he pulled the crumpled copy of that picture from his pocket and reaching for a pen from the desk, wrote Jack a note. It said:

 

Jack,

 

As you can see, your handiwork has reached its public. I expect you had a good laugh at my expense, making me believe that I was worth bothering with, that maybe we had a future, when all along you were just using me.

Well, your idea worked. The hundreds of people who have seen this photograph think it's good. They laughed at me, but not at the photographic expertise that caught me on film.

 

Oh yes, your camera loved me, but did you...ever?

 

Daniel

 

Daniel's anger mixed with a profound sadness as he left the note pinned to the door to Jack's apartment. Glancing at his watch, he picked up his bags and made for the street below.

Jack was pleased with his meeting. The publisher was very interested in his calendar project and offered to invest in the exhibition to launch it. If he could get moving on it, he would have it ready in time for the Christmas market. He was sure Daniel would be pleased, and as he strolled along the darkening streets, the remnants of the autumn leaves swirling around his feet, he planned on taking his lover to an exclusive and very expensive restaurant to celebrate.

 

As he turned into Lafayette Street, Jack waited for the yellow cab as it sped by and then crossed the street among the crowd of other pedestrians; little did he know that the cab was carrying his lover away from him for good.

 

When Jack got back to his office, he checked the phone messages and kicking off his shoes, scooped them up off the floor with a flourish and made for his apartment, stopping when he saw Daniel's note on the door. As he read the message, Jack leaned his back against the door and slowly slid down it to sit on the floor, shock and utter disbelief numbing his body and mind.

 

He'd just learned two things, what happened to the photograph and the fact that Daniel could think such a thing about him. He'd always considered himself to be a man of integrity, how could Daniel have misread him so badly? How did he fail to see who Jack really was? After several minutes he dragged himself to his feet and reached for the phone.

"C'mon, Danny, answer," he chanted as the phone rang and rang, but with no reply. Stuffing his feet back into his shoes he rushed out of his building to hail a cab, heading straight for his lover's apartment on Columbus Circle.

 

When he got to Daniel's place in a run down apartment building he pressed the buzzer. There was no response. By now he was distraught and his only focus was to find Daniel. Staring at the panel of tiny, silvered buttons he pressed them all, desperate for anyone to answer. When someone did, Jack called 'delivery' through the intercom and the security lock clicked open. Leaping up the stairs two at a time, he ran along the dim hallway to Daniel's apartment and hammered on the door, yelling his lover's name but there was no reply. Jack wondered if Daniel might still be at the University when a head peered out of the apartment next door.

 

"You lookin' for the teacher, meine scheine?"

 

"Yes," Jack said breathlessly, "Daniel Jackson. You know where he is?"

 

"You mean the nice yingele?"

 

"The what?"

 

"The nice young man, with the glasses and the clean shoes. He's gone."

 

"Gone?"

 

"Oy! Is there an echo around here? I heard him telling the super, he's left. He didn't even give notice; he just went away. Vey, I have never seen him so upset. If I get my hands on the momzer that did it!"

 

Jack just stared at the yenta. Daniel was upset? That was something he supposed.

 

"Are you telling me Daniel left with all his stuff and moved out of his apartment?"

 

"Oy vey, what did I just tell you, schmuck!"

 

"Okay, thanks, lady," and with that Jack was gone, rushing headlong down the stairs.

 

"Mischigene," muttered the old woman, shaking her head as she disappeared back into her apartment.

 

When Jack was out on the street again he didn't know what to do or where to go. He was confused and hurt. The one person in his life that meant everything to him had just disappeared; left without any clue as to where he might have gone. Jack was beginning to think that Daniel had just disappeared into thin air, but he would have to go to the University to satisfy himself that the academic wasn't just holed up there.

 

As the world passed him by, Jack stood in the middle of the street, trying to hold back his tears and as he looked up at the sky to sniff them back, he saw a plane overhead. If only he knew that Daniel had disappeared literally into thin air, aboard the plane in the sky above his head.

 

-o-

 

Over the next few hours Jack's mind refused to function. He'd driven to the University in the hope of speaking to Dean Hammond but it was 8pm by the time the photographer got there, and all the faculty members had gone home. As he sat in his car wondering what to do next, a sorry sheet of crumpled paper drifted past his car door. It was Daniel's image, tumbling across the grass at the edge of the parking lot. On seeing this ghostly reminder, Jack gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles and rested his head on the central portion of it.

 

After he'd parked the Jeep, the photographer headed for his local bar and got quietly smashed. The next morning when T and Sam turned up for work they found Jack slumped over T's desk, fully clothed and still asleep from the night before. Under his head lay the creased picture of Daniel.

 

Glancing at T, Sam's concern for her boss was written all over her face. T stopped her advancing hand.

 

"Get donuts, Samantha. I will wake him myself."

 

"But..."

 

T said nothing more but gave her the tiniest frown. Without further argument, the blonde took the elevator to the street below in search of donuts.

 

Meanwhile, T took off his hat and coat and laid a large hand on Jack's shoulder.

 

"O'Neill," he said softly. "O'Neill? You must wake now," his voice a little more insistent. Shaking his shoulder gently, the big man managed to get a response from the photographer.

 

"Wha...?"

 

"O'Neill, it is morning. You must shower and shave and make yourself ready for work."

 

"Fuk 'ff, T."

 

"I will not. You must rouse yourself. If you do not, the day will be wasted."

 

Jack could only groan as he lifted his pounding head from the desktop. Bleary-eyed, his hair tousled and his clothes awry, Jack staggered to his apartment and fell on the bed. It was 2pm before he reappeared in the office.

 

"Hey, Boss, feeling better?"

 

"Ah, no. Not really," Jack muttered, still feeling very fragile.

 

"What happened last night?" Sam continued, her concern evident.

 

"I had a drink or three."

 

"And the rest, I'd say," she added gently. "Are you going to give us a clue?" she forged on.

 

"Daniel's...gone," breathed Jack, his heart breaking a little more as he heard himself say the words.

 

"Gone? Gone where?"

 

"I don't know," Jack choked and plunged his hands into his pockets, looking up at something on the wall past Sam's head. She could see the photographer battling to keep a tight hold on his emotions as his mouth twisted.

 

"Samantha, donuts," T ordered quietly.

 

"But..."

 

T gave her a repeat performance of his frown and she left quickly.

 

"O'Neill, what is troubling you?" T had seen this reaction in Jack before, when Charlie had died.

 

"Look at this," Jack spat, waving that picture in T's face.

 

"I have seen it," T said, his voice matter of fact.

 

"Oh."

 

"Indeed. It is a good photograph, O'Neill, if a little...revealing."

 

"I promised him no one would see it, ever. When I got the negs back, that one wasn't there. It must have been lifted. Someone stole the neg T and Daniel was made to pay the price.

So have I."

 

"What does Daniel Jackson say about it?"

 

"Apart from accusing me of doing this deliberately and cashing in on the picture, nothing. He's gone. I've been to his apartment, the University, no one's seen him, it's like he's just vanished and I don't know where else to look."

 

"If Daniel Jackson does not want to be found then it is unlikely even you will be able to, O'Neill."

 

"I just want the chance to explain it wasn't me. I don't expect him to believe me; I just need to be able to tell him I didn't do it."

 

Jack paced. He couldn't look at T, he couldn't afford the additional energy it would take to look at his friend; he needed every ounce to keep himself under control.

 

"Maybe he's just gone to ground until it all blows over and then he'll come back," Jack said quietly trying to convince himself that this might be the case and maybe he should do the same, get out of the city for a few days and wait for Daniel to show up again.

 

"That is a possibility, O'Neill. In the meantime you have work to do and a business to run. These things will not look after themselves."

 

"No, I know that, T, just give me a few days. I'm gonna go to the beach house. If he turns up, call me immediately and don't let him outta your sight. You got that?"

 

With that, Jack grabbed his coat and keys and took off for the Hamptons. He was gone for six days before he reappeared back at the loft. Sam and T tried to keep the business going, rearranging appointments with important high paying clients. Sam took over Jack's camera for the lesser jobs and between them they kept the place running. Sam couldn't conceal her relief when the photographer finally breezed in through the door. He looked okay, healthy enough but he had a haunted look about him and she thought he might have lost a few pounds.

 

Over the next few days and weeks Jack threw himself full tilt into his business, working longer and harder than he had for years. He was a man possessed, possessed by the loss of his lover. The less time he had to think about Daniel the more he liked it. He became more demanding of Sam and T and at one point the big man had drawn Jack aside to ask him to behave less like a martinet and more like a reasonable boss towards Sam.

 

Jack pulled back a little, but didn't let up on the schedule he'd set himself. He was punishing himself for what happed to Daniel and wanted to make sure that Graham Simmons also suffered. Jack had made his own enquiries at JoLab and discovered the young man's culpability in the whole affair. The photographer couldn't do what he wanted, which was to beat him to a pulp, so he fired him instead.

 

As time dragged by, the small knot in Jack's gut twisted and tightened and sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night moaning Daniel's name, sobbing and choking in the dark of his bedroom. He very rarely smiled or joked anymore, and Sam and T grew more concerned about his mental and emotional stability.

 

-o-

 

Daniel looked out of his apartment window to view the tiny park across the road and the flowering daffodils. It had been many years since he'd looked on an English springtime. Packing his briefcase, the academic made ready to leave for work. After he left New York on that fateful day he'd headed for London then travelled to the far south west of the country to his old colleague, Ken Hickley at the University of Plymouth. When Daniel was so devastated over that photograph and Jack's involvement with it, he'd called Ken to see if there were any teaching positions available and luckily Ken had an opening for a researcher. The pay wasn't much but Daniel jumped at the chance, getting on the first flight out of the States to put as much distance as he could between himself and the photographer.

 

Managing to find a small apartment at the top of an old large house, Daniel settled into his work, but the huge void in his life remained. As he walked the mile and a half to the University, his mind was on Jack, as it always was during these quiet strolls to Portland Villas and his office. Ken was a good friend and tried to include Daniel in the round of social activities, parties, get togethers, jaunts to the pub and so on and the academic knew he was probably lousy company, but was grateful to his colleague for trying to lighten his load. Daniel had been tempted on more than one occasion to contact Jack, but that nightmare of his last lecture at Columbia always put a stop to any inclination he had.

 

Ken had introduced Daniel to one of the part time staff of the department, Ben Seager, in the hope that he might find a loving partner. Daniel thought about it but not for very long. He'd been burned twice in the last ten years and he wasn't about to make that mistake again. Besides, he still had strong feelings for Jack, no matter what had happened between them and no matter how badly he thought Jack had treated him; he couldn't help it and that was what was making life so much harder to live.

 

One afternoon in late spring, eight months after leaving the US, Daniel met Ken just outside his office.

 

"Daniel, pack your bags, we're going surfing."

 

"What? Just because I'm an American it doesn't mean to say I know how to surf!"

 

"Look, a gang of us are going down to Cornwall for the weekend, before the bloody tourists get in the way. Why don't you come with us, you'll like it and if you get bored you can always go around the Tate Gallery or the Barbara Hepworth museum."

 

"I've got some grading to do," Daniel said as his bit his lower lip. He really wanted to have a look at the Tate.

 

"Three or four days off won't hurt, and you haven't really had a break since you got here."

 

"Funny, where I come from a weekend usually consists of two days, you know, Saturday and Sunday. How come a Brit weekend adds up to four?"

 

Snorting, Ken clapped Daniel on the back as he turned to leave. "Just be ready tomorrow lunch, okay?"

 

Smiling, Daniel watched his colleague walk briskly towards the main part of the campus. Surfing would be a good activity; he needed something physical to do. He missed those long energetic nights with Jack, he needed to get rid of the pent up frustration and tension in his body, and Ben just didn't do it for him.

 

-o-

 

"Well, if it isn't Michael O'Rourke, you old dog! You and Rachel have finally decided to tie the knot then? Congratulations...I guess."

 

"   "

 

"Yeah, yeah I know, I'm a cynic. Seriously though, it's good news. Give my best wishes to Rachel as well will you? Just hope she knows what she's taking on!"

 

"   "

 

"Really? You're inviting me to your wedding. That would be great, thanks, Mike, of course I'll come. When and where?"

 

"   "

 

"Next month, yeah, I can do that. Where?"

 

"   "

 

"Where!"

 

"   "

 

"St Ives? Cornwall? England?"

 

"   "

 

"Yeah, I know that's where Rachel is from. Okay, okay, I'll be there. Can I what?"

 

"   "

 

"That's what I thought you said. As a favour to Rachel I'll take your wedding photographs. Sure, see you then, bye."

 

"Boss?"

 

"I'm gonna take a vacation next month, Carter," Jack said, his voice a mix of surprise and puzzlement. Had he just been taken for a ride? He eyed Sam suspiciously. She'd been on at Jack for the last three months to take a break, and then along comes the call from Mike asking him to his wedding in England.

 

"That's great, you deserve a break," Sam smiled, thinking that she and T did as well, except they might go to Hawaii instead.

 

Jack thought he was feeling a little better of late. He still missed Daniel like hell, but he was beginning to accept the fact he would never see him again, although in the early hours of the morning when he woke and couldn't get back to sleep he still hoped the academic might walk back into his life again. It was the only thing that kept him going through the long sleepless nights and the cold empty mornings when he rolled over to find his bed empty...still.

 

-o-

 

Jack made his way down the steep narrow street from his hotel to St Ives harbour. At the bottom of the hill the vista opened out and he could see the sea and Carbis Bay beyond. To his right was the lifeboat house and slipway and to his left was the main street, full of shops, cafes and restaurants. Staring up at the huge red, blue and white bow of the lifeboat, he decided to have a look inside the building that housed it, and the exhibition of photographs and other paraphernalia associated with the activities of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution, known throughout Britain as the RNLI. He didn't realise that Britain's coastal waters, and the people that sailed them were protected and rescued by volunteers who staffed the various lifeboat stations. As he stared up at the exhibition of black and white photographs, he saw the images of lifeboat crews long dead because of age or being lost at sea as they conducted their business of rescuing people in trouble.

 

Jack read the names of the different crews and found that many of the men shared the same family monikers. They must have been related to each other and where a crew might have been lost in a storm or other catastrophe, two or sometimes three generations of the same family had died. Shaking his head, Jack moved on to look at more photographs, in awe at how people risked their lives as volunteers time and time again. The phrase came back to him as a sober reminder; ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances.

Jack came to a conclusion right there and then; he would spend more time undertaking the kinds of photography projects he really wanted to, recording the lives of ordinary people and their experiences. The male pin-up calendar had done very well, and Jack had managed to get it out on the shelves just before the Christmas holidays. He hadn't used one single photograph from Daniel's shoot, he couldn't bear to; it made him feel too dishonest, like he was betraying a confidence. It was the irony of all ironies; in Daniel's eyes the betrayal had already happened with devastating consequences for both of them.

 

An hour later the photographer left the lifeboat station and wandered along the top of the harbour wall. Stopping for a few moments, he leaned against the metal railing and, with eyes narrowed against the sunlight, looked out at the little boats moored within the protection of the harbour itself. He'd only been in St Ives for two days and already the place had made an impression on him. It was a small fishing village whose population multiplied in size during the summer months until it was a heaving mass of sightseers or visitors staying a week or two in the tiny old cottages that crowded up the hill behind the harbour. He liked being able to walk everywhere without the need for a car; parking was difficult and limited anyway in the tiny town, and the liberation it gave him was something he hadn't had for a long while.

 

Continuing his walk he looked up at the buildings across the road from the railing and noticed a sun canopy shifting in the light breeze. There was a café up above street level with a narrow terrace containing tables and chairs. Making his way up a narrow flight of stone steps he entered the café and seated himself at one of the tables. He had a great view of all the activity going on below him. After his coffee had arrived he watched with interest as people went about the business of being holidaymakers and those who went about the business of servicing the holidaymakers. It was still quite early in the season so the massive crowds that invaded this little place during the peak times were not yet in evidence.

Sipping his drink, Jack saw a rotund older lady taking receipt of a big cardboard box full of t-shirts in their plastic covers, brightly coloured umbrellas, beach shoes and tacky cheap novelty ornaments. The van driver didn't seem to be in any hurry to move on and he and the shop owner chatted amiably for a while. The photographer's eye roamed the scene in front of him, looking for possible opportunities to use his camera. He wasn't particularly interested in the views; he wanted to take some shots of the people.

 

The camera hung heavily around his neck, reminding him of the promise he had made to himself while he was visiting the lifeboat station, ordinary people doing extraordinary things.

 

An unusual movement grabbed his attention and his gaze settled on an older slim woman wearing a flowery dress with a full skirt, getting out of a car. The driver unloaded various items from the trunk and drove away, leaving the woman to organise herself. First she set out a folding director's chair on the sidewalk and planted a large sun umbrella into a small weighted stand to shade the sitter. Next she arranged a large sign festooned with lengths of gaily-coloured ribbons, leaning it against one of the seats that lined the harbour wall. Planting a wide brimmed straw hat firmly on her head, the woman stood behind the little chair and waited. Intrigued, Jack continued to watch her, wondering what it was she was going to do.

 

Taking his camera, he lined up the woman and her sidewalk wares in his lens and took a photograph. After a short while a young woman and her little daughter stopped to talk to the straw-hat woman. Jack continued to snap pictures as they spoke. The child sat down in the director's chair and the straw-hat woman started to braid the ribbons into her hair. As the two adults chatted together, the child grimaced as her hair was twisted around the ribbons. Jack froze the moment of two smiling women and an unhappy and uncomfortable child.

A few hours later Jack decided it was time to walk on again; he wanted to visit Porthmear beach. St Ives was very fortunate to have four white-sand beaches. The farthest away, and beyond the lifeboat station, was Porthminster Beach; there was the harbour when the tide went out, Porthgwidden around the headland that made up part of the harbour wall and then Porthmear. Jack walked past the Sloop pub and turned left along The Digey, a narrow street lined with tiny pastel painted pink, white, pale blue and pale yellow cottages, their steps, windows and doors decorated with brightly coloured flowers in pots, window boxes, and stone troughs. Jack followed the gentle slope up to the sea wall as he wondered where all these little streets got their weird names like Salubrious Street, Salubrious Terrace and Street an Pol. The one that really made him smile was Virgin Street, but he put that down to a sick and overactive imagination. Craning his neck to peer over the top of the sea wall, the photographer looked out over the Atlantic Ocean and a pain seared through his heart as he remembered the day he saw Daniel wade out of the same body of water three thousand miles away at his beach house in the Hamptons, his memory still fresh from the stunning image of the academic wearing that wet t-shirt.

 

It had now been over eight months since Daniel had left without a word, except for the angry note scrawled on the back of that photograph. In Jack's mind it would always be referred to as that photograph, he couldn't bring himself to think of it as Daniel's photograph; he found the anger, guilt and loss just too difficult to deal with. Shaking himself mentally, Jack followed the wall, looking at the beach stretching before him. There were a few people sitting on the sand, a lifeguard patrolling on foot between the flags and about twenty surfers milling about in the surf.

 

Jack dipped through a break in the wall and took a seat at yet another café, this one a storey high above the beach with an ice cream vendor beneath it. Sitting under a sun umbrella at a table overlooking the white sand, Jack ordered coffee. At this rate he would be as wired as Daniel used to get by drinking so much of it; then that pain shot through his body again. No matter how hard he tried, his thoughts always came back to Daniel. Outwardly Jack appeared calm and relaxed, inwardly he just wanted to scream, his loneliness a constant torture to his heart, mind and body.

 

Idly, Jack lifted his camera and stared through the viewfinder. The surfers were just too far away as the tide was going out now and they followed the surf, further and further out from the shore. Swapping lenses, he fitted the zoom and looked again. He could see the detail of individuals now and panned the camera very slowly across the knot of surfers in the water.

 

-o-

 

Daniel was having a good time in the water, and he was glad of the wet suit Ken had lent him. Spending this amount of time in the Atlantic Ocean in early June meant a wet suit was a necessity. He was beginning to get the hang of timing the waves to catch them just before the top curled over and broke, dissipating the power of the sea as it foamed and bubbled onto the shore. He was still only at the body surfing stage but was feeling confident enough to try at least to kneel on the board as the next step to standing and riding the waves like the more experienced guys.

 

Squinting at the terrace café above the beach, Daniel's stomach started rumbling and he realised he was really hungry. He couldn't make out much detail; wearing glasses was not recommended for this kind of activity. He couldn't see the tall lean man with a camera in his hand either.

 

Daniel lay on the surfboard and paddled with his hands past the breakers for yet another attempt at standing up.

 

Jack watched through his lens as the swimmers and surfers enjoyed the sun and sea. He spotted a surfer lying belly down as he manipulated his way out past the breaking waves. The photographer followed his progress and Jack hoped he might get a spectacular picture of the swimmer surfing his way back to shore.

 

Daniel floated on his board for a while; getting his breath back and thinking through the steps he needed to take to get himself upright and balanced. He wanted to be able to make it close into shore with his head above the water instead of under it. Straddling the board with his thighs, Daniel swung around to face the beach, ready to try yet again to make just one dignified ride.

 

Still studying the surfer, Jack stared hard through the viewfinder. As the man on the board lined himself up, facing the shore, the photographer thought he looked so much like Daniel it made his heart race. Could it be him? Could it be the man he'd loved and lost? It couldn't be him, three thousand miles away from New York and in the same small Cornish village as Jack? Holding his breath, Jack glanced away from the camera to get a real life perspective on where the surfer was and where he was likely to land up. Looking back through the sight, Jack swore under his breath, the surfer was gone.

 

Daniel managed to get to his feet as the wave swell took his board, but as he did so he lost his balance yet again and fell headlong into the water. Damn.

 

By the time Jack panned the camera across the other surfers the Daniel-look-alike was gone from his view. Putting it down on the table in front of him, Jack scrubbed his fingers through his hair and stared at his empty coffee cup. He was seeing Daniel where he didn't exist, projecting his fervent hope of ever seeing him again onto every male he saw from a distance. Looking at his watch and seeing it was nearly 4.30 he debated going back to his hotel for a nap. He and Michael and a few of Michael's friends were going out that evening for a bachelor supper. The shock of seeing someone who looked so much like Daniel suddenly made the photographer feel very tired. Maybe a nap and a shower would help him re-balance his equilibrium.

 

As he paused for the waitress to bring his tab, Jack took one more look down the beach to the surfers to find that some of them had already retreated to the sand; there were just a few left in the water. A small group of men in wet suits were walking up the beach towards the café, laughing and talking together, their surfboards under their arms. One member of the party was heading straight for the terrace, his comrades veering off in the opposite direction to the other end of the beach.

 

"Hey! Daniel! Where are you going? The caff is this way."

 

"Oh, I thought we'd be going up there to the terrace," Daniel replied swinging around and calling after Ken and his friends.

 

"Nah, Terry's Caff is more our style and they don't mind us being in wet suits, dripping all over their floor and treading sand everywhere. In any case, there's much more room at Terry's to stow the boards till we're ready to go."

 

Jack watched as at the longhaired surfer on his own turned around to catch up with his friends. Sighing, the photographer paid his bill and picking up the camera, walked away from the terrace café and, cutting up past the Tate Gallery, took a long flight of steps up to the top of the hill. He would get to his hotel from this direction more conveniently than going back through the town, along by the harbour and back up the steep hill.

 

Daniel, Ken, and the rest of the surfers settled down at Terry's Caff for a much-earned drink and a large plate of fries each. Idly, Daniel thought about the photographic opportunities Porthmear Beach had to offer. If only Jack were here to record it all...

 

-o-

 

Jack continued to work his butt off driven by the notion in his mind that for a moment a few weeks ago he thought he'd seen Daniel on a surfboard off a beach in Cornwall, England. The image continued to haunt him, not because the man might have actually been Daniel, but because he could have believed in the possibility. Jack came to the conclusion that he was losing his mind. "Nothing new there," he muttered aloud as he padded barefoot from his apartment to his office.

 

He and his staff had toiled through the hot and humid New York summer, and as Labor Day weekend approached he was looking forward to a few days at the beach house in the Hamptons. He wasn't going to throw a party like he did last year; he just wanted a quiet break in which to relax.

 

Daniel spent the summer in St Ives. When his contract at the University ended he borrowed Ken's camping gear and lived on site. He got himself a bicycle to travel the two miles into the village and secured a job, tending bar at The Sloop pub. Daniel proved to be a popular bar tender and women and men alike tried to attract his attention when they laid eyes on his long sun-bleached hair and muscular tanned body. He'd never been promiscuous and he wasn't about to start now, even though for someone in his position, the opportunities were endless. He'd spent his leisure time trying to master the surfboard and by the end of the summer season, he was pretty good at it. As St Ives began to close down it was time for Daniel to leave and his obvious destination was the Big Apple.

 

The academic managed to save some money that gave him a couple of weeks leeway before he would need to find work again. Moving into an even smaller apartment than he'd left on Columbus Circus, he wandered the streets, readjusting to life in New York. It was so very different from St Ives that for the first couple of days, Daniel experienced considerable culture shock though as time went on it faded and it was like he'd never left.

 

As Labor Day weekend approached, Daniel browsed through a local bookstore looking for something to read. He didn't have any plans for the holiday and figured he would stay in his room, read, eat and surf the TV channels. Sadly, it was the only surfing he could do now. As he moved around the small book-crowded store he spotted a display of calendars. They were reduced in price because their usefulness was almost over. Attracted by the colourful pictures, Daniel idly rifled through them and when he found a collection of black and white photographs of nude men, his heart almost stopped beating. Taking it off the display hanger, the academic slowly leafed through the year from January all the way to December. The poses, lighting and general composition of the models reminded Daniel of those photographs Jack had taken of him in the loft. Swallowing, he felt his body start to tremble. Was this Jack's photography project; the project that he, Daniel, had encouraged the man to develop? Flipping the calendar around he studied the back cover looking for anything that would identify it as Jack's work and sure enough, there was a small portrait of his ex-lover and a short biography to go with it.

 

"You gonna buy the merchandise or just handle it?"

 

"What?"

 

"The calendar. Are you going to make a purchase or not?"

 

Faced with the irritated expression of the large woman glaring at him, Daniel nodded and pulled out some change from his jeans pocket. He didn't bother buying a book, he just needed to do some thinking, and taking the calendar, he left the store.

 

Slumping across the bed, Daniel lay on his stomach and propping the calendar on the pillows, looked at each photograph again in turn and he suddenly realised that his pictures were not part of the collection. Jack must have chosen not to use them. Turning onto his back and letting the calendar fall to the floor, Daniel stared up at the cracks in the ceiling plaster and thought about that. Why would Jack not use those pictures of him? He'd said they were good. Daniel couldn't make up his mind whether he was annoyed that the photographer hadn't included them or disappointed at himself for even wanting to be part of Jack's grand scheme.

 

When the whole dreadful fiasco had blown up, Daniel went to Jack's place, determined to have it out with him but he never did. Now that he'd seen the calendar he was both confused and upset. During his time in England he'd managed to push his feelings for Jack away, and now everything he'd ever felt about the man was invading his mind and body, unbidden and unwelcome.

 

Retrieving a bottle of water from the tiny fridge in his room, Daniel took a swig and thought some more. He'd made some pretty big assumptions about Jack's motives and actions concerning that photograph just as he had about the picture of the Afghan woman and even Jack's relationship with his doctor. Could Daniel have been wrong about Jack? Could he have judged him unfairly? He'd done it once before, could he have done it again?

 

Grabbing the phone, Daniel dialled Jack's number to hear Sam's voice. The message said:

 

"Hi, you've reached the offices of Jack O'Neill. We're all taking a little vacation over Labor Day weekend, but we'll be back for your business on Tuesday. Leave a message if you want to. You know we'll always get back to you as soon as we can."

 

Daniel didn't leave a message and he wondered if Jack might be in the Hamptons. He could call the photographer and check or he could just go and see for himself. The other option was to do nothing and maybe that's what he should do...nothing.

 

-o-

 

It was Saturday evening and the sky was rather grey and overcast. Pulling on a sweater, Jack sat out on the wooden platform above the beach sipping at his glass of Jack Daniels and enjoying the peace and quiet of a rare break. Maybe he should get out of the rat race entirely, sell the loft in SoHo and just move here permanently, but then what would he do with his time? He had no one to share it with. Swigging down the rest of his drink he went inside to fix some supper.

 

He thought he needed this little sojourn and now he wasn't so sure. Yes, the place was peaceful and quiet but now it felt like a morgue; it was too damned quiet. As he poked at the onions gently frying in the pan, he wondered what Daniel might be doing. He always wondered what Daniel might be doing, and it drove him crazy because he never had an answer. When Jack had served in the Air Force it was one of his most painful duties to report to a family that their son had gone missing in action. There was no body to bring home, no news as to what might have happened to him. It was the chapter of a book that could never be closed, never finished, just like the Daniel chapter in his own life.

 

After his meal, Jack went to bed; his head hurt and he felt like crap again. Every so often he would think long and hard about Daniel, about what had happened, what could have been and the story always ended in the same place. It was always a blank and he could never get past the note that Daniel had left him. He'd tried so many times to imagine what would have happened between them if that fucking photograph had never been taken or at the very least, had never left his loft in the first place. The picture had turned from a memento of joy to the epitaph of something lost. Groaning with frustration, Jack turned over in his bed and let the tears dampen his pillow.

 

-o-

 

Sunday morning dawned clear and bright after the rain of the night before. Daniel knew it had rained; he'd lain awake and listened to it beat against his window throughout the long dark hours. Sitting up in bed, he saw Jack's calendar still lying on the floor where it had fallen. Reaching down for it, Daniel flopped back on the pillows and stared at Jack's portrait, running his fingertip across the handsome features. Maybe it was time to take a trip to the Hamptons to finish what he'd started and confront Jack about that damn photograph.

By late morning Daniel was at the Southampton railway station and wondering how he could get a cab to Gin Lane. He didn't care about the cost, having spent a sleepless night thinking about this; he just wanted to get to Jack's beach house and secure some closure for himself about the whole sorry affair and besides, he had questions that needed answers.

 

Yawning into his coffee cup, Jack felt less than happy. He'd had a bad night and for the first time in some months he'd woken choking out Daniel's name. He walked through the house in just his boxers and stood on the platform looking out at the sea. The sun was shining and its heat was still strong regardless of the lateness of the season. His naked body began to stir under the caressing warmth of the morning and he went back to his bedroom to pull on a pair of grey sweats and a white t-shirt. He felt like a walk along the shore. He had decisions to make.

 

Putting the receiver down, Daniel stood away from the payphone and waited for his cab to arrive. He was still undecided as to what he was going to say to Jack, assuming that he was on Long Island. He needed to know how that photograph had gotten into circulation and why. He also needed to make sure that Jack understood the devastating effects that picture had caused for him. Was that all he wanted to say? He didn't know.

 

When Daniel paid off the taxi he looked up at the beach house and hoped that Jack was there. He wasn't quite sure why he hoped. Was it because he just wanted to see the older man again and for no other reason or was it because he still wanted to pick a fight with him? Whichever it was, hesitating by the front door wasn't helping. Ringing the doorbell, the academic waited and waited and waited. That was it; Jack wasn't at home. Turning, he cursed that he hadn't asked the driver to wait. Swinging back to look at the front door, Daniel gingerly tried the handle. He had come a long way so he might as well be absolutely certain. The door didn't give; it was locked. The academic walked around the back of the house. The only other way in were the sliding doors from the platform to the living room.

 

As he walked into the house, Daniel called Jack's name but there was no response. Surely Jack wouldn't leave the back of the house unlocked if he weren't there somewhere? As he roamed the empty silent house Daniel was acutely aware that he shouldn't be there, but as he rounded the doorway into the kitchen he could smell coffee, and cupping his hand around the empty glass pot placed on the marble counter, he could feel it was still warm. Jack must be around, but where? Then Daniel remembered the telescope on the platform and jogging back through the house and along to the far end, he squinted against the sun to see if there was anyone on the beach. Sure enough in the distance he could just make out a lone figure walking away from his direction.

 

As Jack walked slowly along the beach, his eyes looked down at the few inches of sand just in front of his bare feet. He had to make some decisions about his current situation. He couldn't put his life on hold any longer, and he couldn't make a decision based on Daniel being with him anymore. Jack was on his own now, and probably always would be. He knew now he would never see Daniel again and he had to move on. The knot in his stomach clenched, reminding him that he still had feelings for the younger man, feelings that would remain unrequited and would accompany him throughout the rest of his days.

 

That aside there was still the question of his future and what he wanted to do with it. He'd promised himself when he was in St Ives and looking at the old photos of the lifeboat men that he would take real photographs of real people. He still wanted to do that. He could gradually change the nature of his business and build up a reputation for photojournalism that might still make him a living. He could sell the beach house and remain in the city or he could just take some Tylenol and put off making any decision at all. Sighing heavily, he walked on.

 

Carefully sighting the telescope, Daniel could clearly see whom it was walking along the beach alone. It was Jack. The younger man's stomach somersaulted as he saw the lean body and long limbs of his ex-lover. His hair looked a little greyer than Daniel remembered, but then it had been just over a year since he'd first met Jack and ten months since they'd last been together. Daniel debated what he should do, wait for Jack in the house until he came back or go after him? Pulling off his shoes and socks, Daniel raced down the wooden walkway from the platform and onto the beach. As he ran he was vaguely aware of the strobing effect of the picket fence as he passed it to his left, the glittering water on his right.

"Jack!" Daniel called as he continued to sprint along the beach, kicking up sand with each stride as he drove forward to catch his quarry.

 

Stopping, the photographer spun around to see his ex-lover running along the beach, waving and calling to him. Was this really Daniel or was he definitely losing his mind after all?

"Daniel," he breathed and waited for the younger man to draw level with him.

 

"I can't believe you're here," gasped the academic, resting his hands on his hips and bending forward to catch his breath.

 

"Well, I was the last time I looked. Whaddya doin' here, Daniel?"

 

"Can we talk?"

 

"I thought we were doing that," Jack replied with an edge to his voice. He was waiting for Daniel to lay into him, to reprise that note of his with a vocal rendition.

 

"I mean really talk, about what happened."

 

"What's there to say? Boy meets boy, they have a good time then outta the blue one of 'em disappears without so much as a by your leave.’ All I get is a note that says you're leaving. Why? Why didja just take off like that?"

 

The look on his face and the tone in his voice told Daniel that Jack was very upset. Strange, he'd expected the photographer to be pleased that he was there. This wasn't quite the welcome he'd anticipated.

 

"What is it, Daniel? I've wanted to talk since you left, now how long ago was that? Let me think. Oh I know, ten months, two days and," glancing at his Breitling, "sixteen hours." Jack glared at Daniel for a moment and he could see the academic was looking a little non-plussed. "I'm sorry, you took me by surprise. I'm also sorry about what happened too. It wasn't my..."

 

"What are you going to tell me, Jack?" Daniel retorted, not even letting Jack finish. "Are you going to say that the one thing I asked you to do, to not let that photograph get into circulation was not your fault? Are you going to be like Bart Simpson and say 'it wasn't me'?"

 

Jack could see and hear Daniel's pain surfacing and he wanted to comfort the younger man, to try and make him see how sorry he was for the whole fiasco.

 

"What can I say? It wasn't me. A kid at JoLab ripped off the neg in the hope of making enough money to date Sam. The film should never have gone to the lab in the first place; I was gonna process it myself. I left it out and Sam put it in with the consignment by mistake and the kid collected it. I'm sorry; it was my fault for not keeping it secure. I take the blame for that but not for what happened after. I was hurt too, Danny. You didn't trust me; you thought the worst about me and didn't even give me a chance to explain. I didn't know where you were and I tried to find you, but you left no trail for me to follow, damn it."

 

Jack was close to tears; he couldn't bear the thought that after this meeting Daniel would reject him again. He had to make Daniel see that the photographer still loved him and he would be prepared to do anything to prove that.

 

"I saw you got your calendar made."

 

"Yeah, it went over well."

 

"I bet it did," Daniel hissed.

 

"Hey! I didn't use any of your pictures in it, none of them. I thought you might have thought better of me than that. I guess you don't."

 

Hesitating, Daniel said nothing for a moment and it was enough for Jack to think the worse.

 

Staring hard at him for a moment, Jack moved away. "I was stupid to think that we could ever be anything to each other and I'm sorry we ever met," the photographer spat as he walked away towards the house.

 

Stunned, Daniel watched Jack walk back along the beach, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. After several moments when it was clear Jack was going to neither stop, nor look back, the younger man took off after him as fast as he could. Catching up to the photographer, Daniel ran in front of him but Jack wouldn't stop walking so the academic had to jog backwards to keep contact with him.

 

"Wait, Jack, please."

 

Sighing, Jack stopped, his face tense, his eyes sad. "Spit it out, Daniel. Anything else you wanna dump on me?"

 

"That's not fair," said Daniel, his voice growing louder. "You just said you were sorry we ever met. Do you mean that?"

 

By now Daniel was hurt and upset as well, and in response he shoved Jack hard in the chest. The older man was caught off guard and losing his balance, staggered backwards falling on his back in the damp sand at the water's edge. Dropping to his knees and straddling his hips, Daniel grabbed Jack's wrists and windmilled them behind the photographer's head, pinning him down. Jack wriggled, attempting to free himself but Daniel held him firm. The academic was forced to lean forward, his body lowered against Jack's as he gripped the older man's wrists. They were both gasping for breath and Daniel could feel the erratic rhythm of the photographer's heartbeat.

 

Jack stared at Daniel, acknowledging that his throwaway comment had stirred the younger man's emotions. Once, at the beginning of their turbulent relationship, Jack had decided to hold back his desire to commit, thinking that it was up to Daniel to make the first move. Now, as he lay beneath the archaeologist, Jack realised that he was already committed, that he always had been; he'd just never articulated it, to himself or to Daniel. Relaxing now, Jack didn't want to fight. He knew how he felt and why; the rest was up to the man who pinned him against the sand.

 

Blinking, Daniel leaned closer to Jack, their lips just inches apart. He didn't want to walk away, not now, not after all that had happened to them. They had major issues to work through and the only way that was going to happen was for Daniel to trust Jack, really trust him, something he had never really done. He'd always thought that the photographer was playing with him; he couldn't believe that Jack might genuinely want him and here he was, the photographer, laying himself open for whatever Daniel wanted to do. In order to commit to the older man, the academic suddenly realised he had to trust him.

 

Their gazes locked and as gentle wavelets lapped around them the academic kissed the photographer. It was a hungry, angry sort of kiss that momentarily set their bodies ablaze. With a single movement, Jack flipped Daniel and lay on top of him, his hands latching onto the younger man's long wet hair, twisting it around and in between his fingers. Drawing back from another searing kiss, Jack looked at Daniel, studying his face and waiting for him to speak. Would Daniel trust him, give himself freely to the photographer? It was now or never.

 

"I'm sorry. I was wrong; I acted like judge and jury and didn't give you hearing," Daniel panted, running his fingers over Jack's damp t-shirt, his words running away with him. "You have to understand, my whole career was going down the tubes and I panicked. I needed someone to blame and I blamed you. I was stupid. I should have waited to hear you out but I ran. I was hurt and humiliated and I needed to get away, can you understand that?"

 

"I can see that you wanted to get outta the heat, yeah, but you could have come to me, I would have helped you, tried to explain to the Dean, I dunno, somethin'. I could have said Sam was playing on the computer and just manipulated the picture, pasting your face onto another body. Believe me, I've gone through every explanation my sick imagination could think of."

 

Slowly, Jack stood and offered his hand to the younger man, pulling him to his feet. They were wet and sandy, dishevelled and unsure of themselves and each other.

 

Daniel smiled fleetingly and then tentatively reached out to touch Jack's chest.

 

"Don't, Danny, please. Don't tease me. I couldn't stand it if you did this then left me again."

 

The look in Jack's eyes was pleading, searching Daniel's face for reassurance.

 

"Oh god, Jack, I've made a mess of everything haven't I?"

 

"We both have, one way or another."

 

"What can we do about it?"

 

"We can get back to the house and clean up is what we can do," Jack smiled.

 

They walked along the beach in silence and Daniel couldn't stop looking at Jack. His wet t-shirt clung to him, revealing his taut chest and two dark patches that were his nipples, the hard nubs pushing against the fabric. Jack ran his fingers through his wet hair, slicking it back off his forehead. The academic kept staring at him.

 

"What?" Jack asked, acutely aware of the younger man's gaze on him.

 

"You...you look..."

 

"A mess?

 

"Stunning."

 

"Really?" Jack grinned then his expression changed, becoming serious. "You asked what we should do about all this." Jack stopped walking. "It's up to you, I guess. I know how I feel about you, but the choice has to be yours, Daniel."

 

"How do you feel about me?"

 

"The truth?"

 

Biting his lower lip, Daniel nodded slowly, a furrow developing in his brow.

 

"The truth is I love you and I'm in love with you, and always have been. I should have told you but I didn't want to frighten you off." Jack's voice wasn't much more than a whisper, so desperate was he for Daniel to feel the same, afraid that if he raised his voice to a normal volume, he might chase away any feelings the younger man had for him.

 

Dipping his head, Daniel held his body in a self-hug. Taking a breath and looking up he dared to touch Jack's chest again, laying his hand flat against the older man's heart and feeling its racing beat.

 

"I love you too, Jack, but I'm bad at trusting. I'm sorry for that but I can learn. I want a chance to make it right."

 

"So do I, Danny," Jack said, laying his hand on top of Daniel's. "C'mon, let's get back, we've got some decisions to make," and for once the photographer didn't get a headache when he thought about it.

 

When they got back to the beach house, both of them were more than ready for a shower and to get into some dry warm clothes.

 

"Look, I know I'm gonna sound like a bad host but let me shower first. That way you can take as long as you like while I fix us something to eat."

 

"It's a deal, Jack. Um...I don't have a change of clothes."

 

"There's a surprise," Jack smiled ironically. "You never come prepared, do you?"

 

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect..."

 

"It's okay, I was kidding," Jack laughed, resting his hand on Daniel's shoulder and as he turned to head for his bedroom closet, Daniel grabbed his arm.

 

"Wait," he gasped, taking the chance, "we could shower together and then I can help you with dinner."

 

"Are you sure?" Jack responded surprised. He'd wanted to let Daniel sort his thoughts and feelings, but maybe he already had.

 

"I'm sure," Daniel smiled, pulling the photographer against him. "I want an appetiser," he whispered against Jack's ear, sending his message of desire straight to the older man's groin.

 

Flipping the shower lever with one hand, Daniel still held tight to Jack as the hot water flowed, pulling the photographer under with him. They stood together, letting the therapeutic shower warm them up. They were still fully clothed, their garments sticking to them. As Jack started to peel off his t-shirt, Daniel's fingertips followed, brushing them against the older man's newly revealed flesh. There was no shucking off his sweats or the pooling effect of the cloth around his feet. Everything needed to be peeled, pulled and persuaded away from his skin and Daniel took full advantage of the close contact needed to divest Jack of all his clothes.

 

Daniel's eyes roved over the photographer's body, revelling in the textures of his skin, from the soft smattering of chest hair, the smooth and giving flesh of his waist and abdomen, to the silky feel of the line of hair from his navel to his groin, not to mention the hard metal of that piercing. Running his hands over Jack's thighs he enjoyed the contrast of the rougher texture of the hair on his legs as he pulled off the heavy water-laden sweats.

 

Fully naked, Daniel could only stare at Jack, reacquainting himself with the reality of the photographer's greying hair, his deep brown eyes, broad shoulders and muscular arms. The sight made Daniel's cock twitch with the thought of sinking his fingertips into Jack's flesh. As the academic focused on the older man's groin, he smiled covetously, wanting to touch Jack's cock, not erect yet, but ready and waiting for the stimulation it would get when Daniel too, was naked.

 

"You look good enough to eat, Jack," Daniel breathed, licking his lips and remembering the pre-erect soft feel of the older man's cock between his lips and how it responded to his touch, growing hard and filling his mouth in moments. His thoughts dissipated like a shower of tiny lights as Jack unfastened his buttons one by one and planting a soft kiss on each new inch of flesh as he peeled back Daniel's shirt. Enveloping his nipples one at a time, Jack coaxed a long low moan from the lips of the linguist and smiling against them, remembered Daniel's boast of being able to speak twenty-three different languages. As far as the photographer was concerned, this particular language was by far the most interesting, and drawing out any version of it made his pulse quicken.

 

As Jack's hands rendered Daniel completely naked, the images captured of the academic through the lens of his camera filled his mind for a moment and then Jack had an idea. Swiping his discarded white t-shirt from the floor of the shower, Jack offered it to Daniel.

 

"Put it on, Danny, please."

 

Daniel stared at the limp, wet garment and then at Jack.

 

"Why?"

 

"Because I want to do now, what I wanted to do then."

 

"And that would be?"

 

"Following up on that pose you made, stretching up and taking off the tee. When I saw you through my lens I wanted you so badly. I don't know how I managed to keep myself together long enough to finish the shoot."

 

Saying nothing more, Daniel took the shirt and put it on with some difficulty. Wet t-shirt material tended to stick together and cling instead of covering his torso with ease. It just seemed to refuse to move over his skin and it took Jack's assistance to arrange it in place.

 

"Okay, Daniel, you know how to stand."

 

Turning his back on the photographer, the academic began to peel the t-shirt off his body, letting it stretch around his shoulders and arms. Jack watched intensely as he looked at the strong muscular body of the man in front of him, his mouth opening slowly as his eyes focused on Daniel's firm round buttocks, the tan line clearly visible at his waist and thighs, the paler skin glowing under the bathroom lights.

 

"Jeeze, Danny, you are such a turn on," hissed Jack, his cock hardening as he stared at the academic's glistening wet body.

 

Daniel held his position for a few moments widening his stance, allowing Jack a view of his balls swinging gently between his legs. Swallowing, Jack moved up behind the academic and let his hands trace the contours of Daniel's body. Remaining motionless, Daniel let the older man touch and feel him. Because the t-shirt was almost over his head, Daniel couldn't see and Jack's touch was all the more erotic for that. He knew he would have to trust in Jack's ministrations, allowing the photographer access to him, emotionally and physically. This was the beginning of the healing process for both of them and they knew it.

 

As Jack kissed the crook of Daniel's neck, the academic's breath hitched and throwing off the t-shirt, he turned into Jack's embrace and they kissed, tenderly and lovingly.

"You wanna take this any further, Daniel?" Jack asked, his voice trembling as he looked into Daniel's eyes.

 

"God, yes," the academic whispered, kissing Jack again, this time with passion and need.

 

All the while they'd been apart Daniel had wanted this, missed this, even though his intellect had rejected the photographer, his body had longed for his touch. It was something Daniel had never managed to reconcile until now. He knew the truth at last and desperately wanted to consummate the fact.

 

"Then do as I ask, Daniel. You owe me," Jack said, his voice stronger and firmer now.

 

Smiling, Daniel knew that whatever Jack wanted he would give him, trusting at last that the photographer would never hurt him. Daniel had done that to himself and to Jack. The tone of Jack's voice and his request excited Daniel, and willingly he gave himself up to the older man's attentions.

 

"Turn around, Danny," Jack murmured and as the younger man did so, the photographer slipped his hand between Daniel's thighs to cup his heavy balls, massaging them gently.

Daniel's body responded immediately and he stepped sideways, arched his back and thrust his hips towards Jack, giving him all the access he wanted. Leaning against the tiles, the academic rested his head against his forearms and felt Jack's other hand firmly against his back and then move slowly and purposefully around his waist to his abdomen. The photographer was so good at this and Daniel's body tingled under his touch.

 

Pressing himself up against the academic's back, Jack continued to palm the younger man's balls and as his hand ran slowly down his abdomen he sought out Daniel's hard cock, wrapping his fingers around the shaft. Daniel started to thrust through Jack's hand, gasping at the double sensation in his dick and the pull against his balls as the older man tightened his grasp. As his hips rocked forward and back, Daniel could also feel Jack's cock pushing between his buttocks. He was not only jerking himself off through the older man's hand, he was stroking Jack's dick in the cleft of his butt.

 

The men continued their actions for a few minutes until Jack could feel his orgasm close and releasing Daniel for just a moment, he reached up and took the conditioner from the shelf, flipping the top and pouring the viscous fluid over his fingers. As the water cascaded over their bodies, Jack pushed the showerhead away from them. There was no point in using the conditioner as lubricant if it was going to get washed away.

 

Holding Daniel around his waist, Jack pulled him close and kissing along his left shoulder, he pressed his fingers between his lover's buttocks.

 

"Are you sure, Danny? Tell me you want this," Jack rasped, his fingertip already rubbing against the pucker of Daniel's ass.

 

Daniel nodded, grinding out a yes between his teeth; his brain was hardly able to process anything except his physical responses to Jack's sweet onslaught. As his fingers penetrated, Jack groaned, the soft heat radiating through his hand. Spreading his hands against the tiles, Daniel dropped his head between his arms and pushed his hips onto Jack's fingers.

 

"God, Jack, you're amazing," the academic crooned as the photographer withdrew and pushed in again repeatedly, stretching Daniel, preparing him to take Jack's dick.

 

Gasping and panting, neither man could speak, both centred on their pleasure and lust. As Daniel felt Jack's cock pushing against him, he bent at the waist and relaxing his knees, offered the photographer his body and his inner core.

 

Clamping his hands on Daniel's hips, Jack breached his lover's ass, filling him slowly but surely. He paused momentarily to give the academic time to adjust to his size before he started his slow inexorable move towards climax. As Jack's penetrating thrusts increased in speed, Daniel's hands were sliding across the wet tiles and he had no purchase with which to resist his lover's movements.

 

"The towel rail, Daniel, grab onto the rail," Jack panted and withdrawing they both moved to the drier part of the bathroom and the academic took up his position again, flexing his fingers around the metal bar and presenting his ass for Jack. This time Jack didn't hesitate but rammed into his lover fast and hard, eliciting a loud groan from the academic. As the photographer pounded into him, Daniel began to mutter expletives, the sound of which drove Jack on even harder.

 

"Touch yourself, Danny, I need you to come. I want to hear you."

 

Grabbing his cock, Daniel was only too pleased for Jack to hear him as he yelled out his pleasure in a dozen different languages starting with English and racing through his dictionary of choice phrases.

 

"Fuck me, Jack, fuck me hard!" Daniel chanted loudly and continuing his litany, he moved on to, "Fuck mich Jack, fick mich hart!" "Nek ni, nek ni. Ye-la!" "Rapido...rapido..." "Sikiºmek beni, Jack, sikiºmek beni sert...baisez-moi, Jack, baisez-moi dur! Fuck 'm 'n anawdd...scopilio, Jack, scopilio duro! Fuck ako matigas!"

 

Jack didn't hold back, but pistoned his hips and cock, his orgasm so close now and roaring his climax, Jack came, pulsing his semen high up inside his lover and Daniel squeezed his ass muscles making the older man howl with pleasure. At Jack's very vocal responses, Daniel could feel his balls tighten and pumping through his hand he was close as well. With the swirling sensation gathering and riding up through his cock, the academic orgasmed, hard and long. Jack pulled away from him and turning him quickly he held Daniel close to him as their bodies shuddered through the aftershocks and panting, they clung to each other as their bodies calmed.

 

After they had recovered and started their longed-for meal, Jack gave Daniel a sideways glance. "Are you here to stay, Daniel, or not?"

 

"Well, it's pretty late to travel back to the city..."

 

"I didn't mean that. I meant are you going to leave me again?"

 

"No, Jack, never."

 

-o-

 

Fifteen months later...

 

Fifteen months later on Christmas Eve, Jack's long lean body was stretched out on one of the three beach house sofas. He and Daniel had enjoyed a good dinner and now Jack just wanted to relax and recover. Both men had been so busy recently that today was the first time in nearly two weeks that they'd actually spent time together without one or either of them being across the globe...and apart.

 

Jack adjusted his headphones and pointing the remote at the CD player, he let the music run and Jiacomo Puccini's Turandot wash over him. He was content to listen and wait for his favourite piece, Nessun Dorma.

 

Closing his eyes, he reviewed the last fifteen months and the whirlwind of events that had propelled him and Daniel to this point, Christmas Eve in the Hamptons. He cracked open an eyelid to see Daniel walk across his line of vision and his heart swelled with love and pride. Yes the past year or so had been a whirlwind of activity and events; it had also been a roller coaster of intense emotions. In the two years, eleven months and twenty-nine days that Jack had known him, he'd met and loved Daniel, lost him when he went away, they'd found each other again and at last he was Jack's and Jack was his.

 

When Daniel came back from England he lived in a tiny shack of an apartment back on Columbus Circle with no job and very little in savings. That hadn't bothered Jack, he was making enough money to keep them both very comfortably but Daniel was having none of it. Smiling, Jack remembered their argument during which the academic insisted he didn't want to be a kept man. Inadvertently, the photographer had upset him badly when he said Daniel could repay Jack's financial support with sex; Daniel had flipped. Jack was kidding but they'd misread each other and ended up not speaking for two days.

 

During those two days though, Daniel had landed himself a very good job indeed. Now he was the United Nations Archaeology Liaison Officer for the World's SSS sites. Jack always laughed at that, saying it sounded as though Daniel was getting himself mixed up with a load of snakes. In fact, Daniel's job title meant that he had responsibility for sites of special scientific significance. The post entailed travelling the globe, acting as the UN's diplomat and specialist with archaeological experience and knowledge. It was Daniel's job to assess sites and negotiate with governments to preserve and protect them, and to support other experts to continue the study and research on them. The pay was more than Daniel could have imagined and not only that, he loved the job, immersing himself in different cultures and languages both ancient and modern. He also had a small team of researchers with access to a world of ancient records and artefacts, literally.

 

Jack chuckled as he thought about the best part. Daniel was offered the job after a head to head selection process with Stephen Rayner. Yep, Daniel had whupped his ass and when his appointment was confirmed, the academic had personally wiped the smug look right off Rayner's face.

 

The past twelve months had meant some big changes for Jack as well. He'd pursued his dream of being a full-fledged photojournalist and his photographs were sought after by many of the world's most 'serious' newspapers and magazines. Sometimes, Jack and Daniel even managed to arrange their assignments so that they could travel together and even be in the same country at the same time. He'd sold the loft in SoHo and was now based solely at the beach house.

 

With help from Jack, Sam and T now owned and managed JoLab. They still worked together and lived together. Grinning broadly, Jack remembered the looks on their faces when he'd presented the ownership papers for the lab to them. He was sure that was the first and only time Sam had been completely lost for words. It had been worth handing over the lab just for that.

 

And here they were the photographer and his academic. The last year or so had been a steep learning curve for both of them as they adjusted and readjusted to being together; living under the same roof, still having different interests, arguing, bickering and falling out, as well as loving each other to distraction and being in love with one another to the fullest extent of their passion. Jack concluded he had waited his whole life for Daniel, he just wasn't aware of it until the first time he'd photographed the younger man, then he knew.

His reminiscences were disturbed when he became aware of movement and vague sounds. Opening his eyes slowly, Jack could see Daniel waving his hand and mouthing words at him. Clicking the remote to pause the music, he pulled off the headphones to hear Daniel shouting at him.

 

"Jack! Are you listening to a word I'm...oh, sorry, was I shouting?" Daniel asked with a grin, knowing full well he was and pleased that Jack could now hear him.

 

"Yeah, you were shouting for cryin' out loud. What's up?"

 

"I need you to make me a promise," Daniel began as he knelt beside Jack who was still prone on the sofa and draping himself across his lover's chest, he drew his fingertips gently across Jack's lips.

 

"Well, if you put it like that," Jack drawled as he kissed Daniel's fingers.

 

"Just hear me out before you let your dick rule your brain, Jack," the academic laughed softly, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his mouth.

 

Encircling Daniel in his arms, Jack kissed the younger man with lazy, languorous kisses.

 

"This is good," the photographer sighed.

 

"Yes, it is," replied Daniel as he pulled himself away reluctantly from Jack's charms.

 

"Jack? I've got some things to do in the bedroom and I want you to stay out for the next hour. Promise?"

 

"Oooh, what things?" Jack grinned, his curiosity getting the better of him.

 

"You'll see later, it's a surprise."

 

"Nice or nasty?"

 

"I hope you'll think it's nice, but it won't be if you don't stay exactly where you are until I tell you to move. Deal?"

 

"Ya might have to tie me down, Danny," Jack grinned again, feeling his cock start to thicken at the thought of one of their 'tie me up and fuck me stupid' games.

"Jaaack! Please? Just stay there for an hour, for me?"

 

Jack detected a suggestion of agitation growing in the academic's voice and knew whatever it was that Daniel was planning, it was important to him.

 

"Okay, I promise. Scout's honour," Jack conceded, taking Daniel's hand and kissing his open palm.

 

"Love you," quipped the younger man as he rose and made for their bedroom.

 

Daniel's soft laughter faded as he entered the bedroom. He had something to do; something that would show Jack it was of primary importance to both of them.

 

Reaching under the bed, Daniel pulled out a large framed poster of himself. It was almost life size and very heavy. It was a poster version of that photograph, the one that had driven Daniel away from Jack and had threatened to kill them both, inch by inch, day by day and year by year; to the point where they would have lived separated, desperately unhappy, lonely and unfulfilled lives. The picture had been painful for both of them and even for months after they'd got back together, Daniel couldn't bear to think of it. Stephen was determined to use it to undermine and sabotage Daniel's chance of securing the UN job. Rayner had even left a photocopy of it in Daniel's briefcase when he'd left it on the coffee table in the waiting room while he used the bathroom. The sight of it had thrown Daniel for a moment as he got out his papers for the interview presentation, but he'd gotten over his shock at finding it by using it to illustrate his mini lecture on the propaganda of ancient Greek statuary and the power of the human form in presenting political views and actions.

From then on the photograph had diminished as a threat to Daniel's psyche and the representation of his demonised self retreated to the background of his consciousness. Today Daniel was going to exhibit that photograph on their bedroom wall as his gift to Jack. He hoped that his lover would understand the importance of Daniel choosing to allow the image back into their relationship. It was the symbol of the journey they had taken as friends and lovers.

 

Daniel arranged for some workmen to come to the house and fit the hanging mechanism for the picture earlier that day while Jack was still flying across the Atlantic in Concorde. He'd also hoped that Jack wouldn't notice the heavy duty bracket on the wall, which he didn't, being far too interested in making up for lost time by smothering Daniel in kisses and embraces.

 

Now all he had to do was get the picture hung. Moving the two bedroom chairs against the wall, he lifted the framed poster to rest across them so that when he came to attach it to the wall he wouldn't have to lift it too much higher. It was really a two person job, but the academic wanted it safely in place before Jack saw it, saw him, almost life size, naked and erect.

 

Carefully, Daniel managed to hang it and using the duster and polish he'd brought with him, cleaned the fingerprints off the glass. Standing back to admire his handiwork, Daniel smiled. Even he had to admit it was a good photograph. At long last he could gaze on his portrait and without experiencing feelings of dread or panic.

 

After Sam and T had taken control of JoLab, Daniel asked her for the negative, which had taken a while for her to find. The aftermath of Jack's 'enquiry' had left the company's record keeping like a bomb had hit it, which in effect, Jack had delivered when, on that fateful day, he'd descended on the lab ready to start World War Three.

 

After Daniel had the neg, he carried it with him wherever he went, worried that otherwise someone would find it at JoLab and use it against him and Jack. He spent a month, agitated and anxious and Jack had picked up on his insecurity immediately. The photographer hadn't asked Daniel why, he'd just been loving and considerate, trying to reinforce his feelings for the academic and unknown to Jack, Daniel had been grateful for the photographer's ability to carry him through that difficult time. Then when he'd had the UN interview and was confronted with his fears, he'd overcome them with incredible success and from then on, the photograph was no longer a threat and for the past few months, it had become that symbol of his feelings for Jack.

 

Cleaning his glasses, Daniel took one more look at his image on the wall and smiled with pleasure and pride. Jack was a damned good photographer. The academic had one more thing to do before he would let Jack see his efforts.

 

Taking the reading lamp from his side of the bed, Daniel arranged it on the wide windowsill behind the gauze fabric of the net curtains. He leaned his hands against the windowpane and checked the angle of the lighting. It gave almost the same effect as the lighting in the photograph. Satisfied, Daniel stripped off his clothes and stared at the picture on the wall, pulling at his flaccid cock. He wasn't jerking off to his own image, but to the memory of what had happened right after the photograph was taken, the first time he and Jack had made love. Remembering his feelings and the way he'd responded to the older man's exquisite play on his body, Daniel quickly hardened.

 

When he was ready, Daniel tiptoed through the house to the living room and as he peeked through the opening he could see Jack, sans headphones, snoozing. Calling his name, Daniel retreated back to the bedroom as Jack stirred.

 

"Wha?" grunted the photographer as he turned on his side.

 

"Jack! You can come into the bedroom now."

 

"K," Jack yawned, rolling off the sofa and staggering to the bedroom. As he approached he thought it odd that there were no lamps on, save the diffused illumination of a small soft point of light in the opposite corner of the room.

 

"Hey, Jack," Daniel breathed seductively, as he looked at the photographer through his lashes.

 

Jack froze mid step as he saw his lover reprising the pose of that picture and he felt his mouth go dry as he took in the beautiful form and large erect penis of his Daniel, the glow of the light softening the edges of his body yet conversely highlighting the strong muscular contours.

 

"Look over there, Jack," Daniel added, cocking his head to the wall with the poster.

 

The photographer's jaw dropped when he saw the picture and glancing to Daniel and back to the poster, he blinked. Daniel crossed the room silently to stand beside his lover.

 

"This is my gift to you, Jack. It's everything I am and everything you've made me."

 

Glancing again at Daniel, Jack smiled. He understood the significance of the photograph for himself and for Daniel. Their relationship had come full circle.

 

-o-

 

The End