Quartet
by Lady of Asheru
Rating: PG13
Pairing: J/D
Category/summary: New year's schmoop
Date: Dec 31 2002
Disclaimer: Not mine alas, and don't I know it
Note: Not beta'd so any faults are mine alone (prizes offered for spotting typos though!)
Spoilers: none
If Daniel’s life had a soundtrack, it came in the form of words, a quartet of
voices that was more often dissonant than harmonious.
“So, Carter, what are you reading?” said Jack, obviously bored out of his skull
by the long walk back to the gate.
Around them, the swamps of planet P9X662 bubbled and burped, expelling the
unmistakeable aroma of blocked drains. Too bad the MALP couldn’t warn us
about the stink, thought Daniel glumly. There was a muffled yelp and a
popping noise, and he turned round just in time to see Sam lose a boot. It sank
without trace, leaving her standing on one foot like a crane.
“I don’t suppose one of you guys would like to come and help?” Sam said,
testily. Jack and Daniel looked at each other, smirking. It was just too good to
resist, especially after she’d laughed her ass off when the pair of them had
fallen into quicksand earlier.
Teal’c nobly strode to her side and she leaned on him, sighing, as she put a
hand down into the slime to recover the disappearing footwear.
“WIMPS,” said Carter, sliding her foot back into the boot with a grimace.
“Who are you calling a wimp?” asked Jack, squaring his mud covered shoulders in
a “hero of the swamp” way. Daniel put his hand over his mouth to suppress a
chuckle. More like Swamp Thing, he thought.
Sam rolled her eyes, gesturing with her hand for them to start walking again.
“WIMPS – Weakly Interacting Massive Particles, or dark matter,” she continued.
“It’s thought they provide much of the gravitational force that holds the
visible part of the galaxy together.”
“And that’s your idea of a relaxing read?” asked Jack, shaking his head. He
looked across at Daniel. “I’m not even going to ask you, it’s probably not even
in English.”
“I’m reading a fascinating account of mummification through the ages,” said
Daniel, primly. “In fact this swamp would probably be ideal for preserving our
bodies for millennia.” He shadowed his eyes with one hand, looking across to the
horizon, where the sun was slowly setting. They’d been on the swamp planet all
day, with nothing to show for it but a mud facial.
“Mummification,” said Jack, thoughtfully. “Like those people with more money
than sense who have their heads preserved in a bucket?”
Not for the first time, Daniel marvelled at Jack’s knight’s move thinking. “Yes
– that would be a modern equivalent. Though the cryonic suspension companies
prefer to call them ‘the potentially alive,’ I believe,” he replied, smiling.
Jack snorted. “I know how they feel,” he said, mysteriously, just as the gate
came into view at last.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“OK, is this the point where heart-felt prayer might do some good?” asked
Daniel, stabbing the remote control viciously.
“There’s a patron saint for everything,” said Jack, from the other end of the
couch. Carter, taking the scientific approach, got up and thumped the TV set,
hard. The picture continued to roll for a second, and then dissolved into a
snowstorm.
“There can’t be one for everything,” said Daniel, grouchily. Teal’c
silently handed him another beer. Daniel knew Jack had been looking forward to
watching the game for weeks, and he did not want to see him disappointed. “Is
there a patron saint of TV?”
“Saint Clare of Assisi,” said Jack, with a grunt.
“No way,“ said Daniel, still fiddling with the remote. Jack gestured impatiently
to him to hand it over. He passed it across with a sigh.
“Toward the end of her life, when she was too ill to attend Mass, an image of
the service would display on the wall of her cell. Hence the patron saint of
TV,” explained Jack, pressing the same buttons Daniel had. Miraculously, the
picture re-appeared, and came into focus. They’d only missed the first few
minutes.
“Yes!!” Carter cried, bounding back to squeeze onto the couch between Jack and
Daniel. Teal’c raised an eyebrow from the cavernous armchair to their right.
“You see, sometimes all you need is a bit of divine intervention,” said Jack,
turning up the volume. “That, and knowing which button to press.” He handed the
control back to Daniel, tacitly acknowledging his status as guest in Daniel’s
flat. Their fingers touched briefly, sending a warm shiver down Daniel’s spine.
“Daniel, move over will you?” said Sam, elbowing him the ribs. Daniel settled
back to watch the game.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Daniel rubbed his eyes, wearily. He’d spent all of New Year’s Eve in his
windowless office, translating cuneiform tablets from the latest off-world
excavation. It was a depressing but true fact that the first form of writing had
been created to serve the purposes of accountants and lawyers, not poets.
Instead of considering the eternal questions – the nature of truth, the
mysteries of love, how to live with the certain knowledge of death - the
earliest Sumerian writing found on earth recorded the transfer of 300 acres of
land. This was what civilisation was built upon, buying and selling, owning and
acquiring. The latest finds from planet P7Z-993 were in the same vein. Slide
after slide of tablets describing the sale of animals, the extraction of taxes.
Briefly, Daniel imagined completing a tax return in clay tablets, using
pictograms. In some ways it would be easier to explain the strange transitions
in his legal – and tax status. In a fair world, they’d be able to count time
spent on other planets as tax deductible. He sighed, stretching his arms above
his head. New Year’s Eve, a time for taking account of the year and thinking
about the next. No wonder he felt morbid. The past year was full of places and
people he never wanted to see again, and interesting insights into his character
flaws he would rather have done without.
“I thought I’d find you moping in here,” said Jack, lounging against the
doorway.
“I’m not moping,” said Daniel, untruthfully.
“You are too, I can tell,” said Jack, looking him up and down. “You can’t spend
New Year’s Eve on your own, Daniel, I won’t allow it.”
“I’m not on my own, I’m on a base full of people,” said Daniel reasonably.
“I think you’ll find that most people have gone home already,” said Jack,
reaching round the back of the door for Daniel’s coat. He slung it across the
room at Daniel, who caught it with a sigh.
“Come on, Daniel,” Jack said softly. “Come and spend New Year’s Eve with me.”
And it suddenly occurred to Daniel, like the translation of a missing word, that
Jack might be lonely. He got up and shrugged into his coat, muttering, “Well,
this translation can wait until tomorrow I guess…”
“Atta boy, Daniel,” said Jack, already reaching into his pocket for the keys to
his truck. They walked down the corridors together, Daniel thinking back to the
time when he’d just got back from Abydos, and Jack had taken him home. Such a
long, long time ago. A lifetime, and yet it appeared he still needed rescuing.
He looked sideways at Jack. Such a generous man. Daniel felt the warmth of
Jack’s affection slowly melting away his sombre thoughts.
They drove to Jack’s house through empty streets. It was 11.30pm and everyone
else was already where they wanted to be.
“Let’s go up to the observation deck,” said Jack, grabbing a bottle of champagne
from his fridge and handing Daniel two glasses. Daniel followed him up, his
heart lighter with each step.
Jack poured the champagne out, the glasses sparkling in the starlight. Above
them, the universe stretched out, comfortingly infinite. Anything could happen.
From somewhere deep within the house, a clock chimed midnight.
“Happy New Year, Daniel,” said Jack, raising his glass to Daniel’s.
Daniel stood looking at Jack’s face, half in shadow, half in light. He raised
his glass. “To Janus, the Roman god of gateways and doorways,” he said solemnly.
Two headed January, looking forward and back. The moment outside of time,
without reckoning. Jack stared at him, denial and desire flickering across his
face until Daniel leaned in, making the choice for them both, sealing their
future with a kiss.
End