Archive of Our Own

For the 2014  jd_ficathon 

Summary: In October Jack came to the cabin to forget.

Word count: about 9100
Rating: PG (not even that)
This story is not so much an AU as a reset. We're going to go back to the beginning.

Many thanks to ancientmuse   who first beta'd this, and to princessofgeeks  who pushed me to make this better. All remaining mistakes are due to my own stubbornness. Thanks especially to milanthruil  who has waited so long. I'm sorry for the wait, but this thing proved to be more complicated than I expected. I hope you enjoy it.

~::~

In October Jack came to the cabin. He spent the month inside, ignoring the lake, the boat, and the leaves falling. He drank until oblivion took him and he couldn't drink anymore. In November he went back to Colorado to sign the divorce papers and then came back to the cabin. His whole life was gone, his wife, his son, and his home. He took his grandfather's gun out of the drawer in the bedside table and loaded it. Each click of a bullet in its chamber echoed in the small room. He turned the chamber, listening to the clicks for an hour. Then he unloaded the gun, put it in the drawer, put the ammo in a box on the closet shelf, and went to take a shower.

In December he went to the hardware store. Jack thought the store was unusually busy until he remembered it was a Saturday—and a Saturday before Christmas. He didn't like coming to town anymore, especially on a Saturday when he was likely to run into someone he knew. As quickly as he could, he filled the basket with the things on his list: a plunger for the clog in the bathroom sink, a set of hinges for a broken cupboard door in the kitchen, some brackets for a shelf in the bedroom, and a fishing lure. The lure wasn't on the list, but it had been a long time since Jack had done any fishing. He turned it over in his hand.

“Are you an ice fisherman?” the man next to him asked.

“No,” Jack said without looking up. “I prefer to do my fishing in a boat.”

“Do those things work?” the guy asked.

Jack finally raised his head to see a long-haired... kid of about 20. He didn't look familiar, so not one of the locals “Are you a fisherman?”

“No, not really.”

“It's a funny place to live if you don't fish,” Jack said. “It's the national pastime around here.”

“Yeah, I've noticed.” There was something odd about the tone of voice as if he didn't think fishing should be anyone's pastime. “Well...” long-haired guy waved a basket at him “...gotta go. Good luck with the fishing.”

Jack ended up in line behind him but they didn't continue their conversation. When Jack got to the counter, the clerk recognized him.

“Jack O'Neill! It's good to see you in town. Merry Christmas.”

“Thanks, Brad.” Jack hoped the chitchat would stop there. He couldn't handle one more person saying, “I'm sorry for your loss” and he sure as hell wasn't wishing anyone a merry anything. It was why he'd come to the cabin in the first place. To cut off any further pleasantries, Jack asked, “Hey, Brad. Do you know anyone who could help me fix a cupboard door? I've got the hinges but I think I need another pair of hands.”

“I could do it for you if you can wait until next Sunday,” Brad offered.

“No, thanks. I know you're busy.” God, no, he didn't want anybody he knew at the cabin. “Just somebody I can hire for an hour or two.”

“Daniel, here, is a handyman,” Brad said helpfully. “I've heard he's pretty good and his prices are reasonable.”

“Daniel” turned out to be the long-haired guy who didn't fish and who was juggling three bags and three receipts.

“That so?” Jack asked. He put out his hand. “Jack O'Neill.”

Daniel fumbled with the bags, dropping one in his haste to take the hand. “I heard. Daniel Jackson.”

“If you've got time this week--”

“Tuesday,” Daniel said. “Is that okay with you? About 10:00?”

“Tuesday's okay with me. Second driveway on the left past the broken pine, up by the old Mendoza place.” He stepped out of the way of other customers coming to the counter to give Daniel an address and bit back a smile. He really hoped Daniel wasn't as fumble-fingered a handyman as he appeared to be. Well, he thought, what's the worst that could happen? He'd need a new cupboard door.

~::~

“You need a new cupboard door,” Daniel said. He stood savoring the cup of coffee in his hand and glaring at the door. They'd tried to put it back but according to Daniel, “The door is warped and beyond repair—probably from humidity. If you do one door, you really should do both. It doesn't make much sense otherwise.”

“Yeah.” Jack had to agree; the door was beyond repair.

“And weighted hinges so that the door falls closed. I can order two door fronts if you want. Or I can make them; that would be a little cheaper.”

“You can make them?” Jack said, impressed.

“They won't be anything fancy, but yeah, I can do that. Pine, maybe,” Daniel said looking around the kitchen. “What did you do to the door anyway?”

It was none of Daniel's business what he'd done to the door. Sometime in October or maybe November, he'd slammed the door in a fit of rage because it wouldn't close properly. Then he'd yanked the door so hard he'd pulled it off its hinges. The door had been warped for years.

He got up and took his coffee cup to the sink. Damn Daniel for asking about the fucking door. For the first time in months, he'd felt human. He'd shaved and put on a clean shirt. He'd tidied the place up and made coffee. Now it was ruined because of a stupid geek who couldn't keep his mouth shut.

He heard a chair move behind him and then the noise of tools being put away. Still, he couldn't turn around.

Daniel placed his empty cup on the counter to Jack's left. “I'm so sorry,” he said. “If you....” He didn't finish. Jack heard the sound of a door closing and the crunch of gravel as a truck pulled out of the driveway. It took him five days to call Daniel.

When he left the cabin in January, he ran his hands over the new pine doors.

~::~

At the end of June he came up on leave for a long weekend. Oddly enough, he saw Daniel again at a poker game. Brad at the hardware store hosted a Wednesday night game and Jack had a standing invitation. Usually, he didn't go, but he needed to get his mind off work.

“Hey, Jack!” Brad shook his hand warmly. “It's nice to see you. I hope you brought beer.”

He lifted the carton. “Would I come without beer?”

“Not if you know what's good for you.” Brad introduced him to the couple of people at the table he didn't know. “This is Andy, Artie's son, and this Red—he's got the body shop on the corner, and I think you know Daniel.”

Jack shook hands with the two guys he didn't know and waved at the rest. “Are we playing poker or what?” As Andy dealt the cards Jack looked at the long-haired guy who didn't fish. He was as out of place at a poker game as he was at the hardware store, Jack thought, especially when he passed on the beer.

“I don't really like beer,” he said.

In the midst of the laughter, Jack handed him a bottle. “This isn't beer, it's Guinness. Try it.” Looking skeptical, Daniel accepted.

As everyone anted up, Jack kept watching Daniel. He had the worst poker face Jack had ever seen. His eyebrows moved all the time, and he bit his lip as he rearranged his cards. Yep, Jack thought, a pigeon ripe for the plucking.

“Don't underestimate him,” Brad said and grinned.

“We've been suckered by Daniel before,” Red added as he too watched Daniel. “He looks so innocent on the outside, but there's plotting and scheming going on underneath.”

Daniel, seemingly oblivious to the chatter, bet fifty cents. Andy raised and they were off to the races.

At the end of the hand, it was just Jack and Daniel. Jack pushed his chair back, sure that he had this hand won. He'd taken two cards and Daniel had taken three. He'd bet confidently and Daniel had hesitated all through the game. As he waited for Daniel to fold, he watched. Contrary to his first assessment, Daniel wasn't a kid. Andy, who had to be 20 or 21 if Jack had his calculations right, was a kid, but Daniel had lines around his full mouth and crow's feet around blue eyes. There was something almost solemn about the face, something hidden. Something beautiful.

He blinked. Beautiful? Where the hell had that come from? As he pulled himself back to his cards, he saw Brad smiling at him.

“So, you up here long this time?” he asked.

Jack welcomed the reprieve, anything to get his mind off a beautiful and out-of-bounds geek. “A long weekend. I've got to be back to work on Monday.”

“Where do you work, Jack?” That was Gerald, one of the bank managers in town.

“Didn't you know?” Brad said. “He's in the Air Force, a colonel.”

“Really?” Andy, who had been policing the empties, slid back into his chair. “Doing what?”

“At the moment, I'm a test pilot. I work at Edwards Air Force Base in California.” Jack said. He didn't say that it had taken him six months to renew his certifications, six months of simulators and exams and sweat. He also didn't say it was a step up and away from special ops—although special ops assignments found him far too often.

“That sounds dangerous,” Daniel said.

“It can be. We train and we practice. We have safety protocols coming out our asses. And then we get to fly some of the hottest, newest, sweetest airplanes ever made.” Jack didn't like all the attention focused on him so he tapped the table. “Are you going to call or not?”

Daniel took a deep breath and let it out before he threw his chips into the pot. “I call.”

Jack laid his hand on the table. “Three of a kind. Whatcha got?”

“Two pair,” Daniel said. Jack was about to reach for the pot when he saw the crooked little smile. Daniel laid down four eights. Jack smiled right back.

“Told you,” Brad muttered as Daniel scooped up his winnings. “All sweet on the outside, but ruthless on the inside.”

~::~

It was October when he came again, and like a year ago, he crawled into a bottle. After a week he went back to California with a hangover. Charlie had been gone more than a year and Sara almost as long.

He had leave in December. Brad's store was busy again, and Jack wondered what you could buy at a hardware store that you could give someone for Christmas. Not that he cared because he didn't celebrate Christmas. He filled up his basket with the stuff on his list: caulk for the windows, WD40 for the snow blower, and a pair of work gloves.

“How did that fishing lure turn out?”

Jack smiled at the voice. “Hey, Daniel.”

“Hi.” Daniel had a cart this time.

“I never got to use the thing,” Jack admitted. “It's still in the tackle box. You stocking up?” He nodded at the cart.

“I've got a renovation job starting after Christmas so I'm trying to get the truck loaded with the stuff I'll need. It's north of town about 50 miles. It'll probably take me three weeks so I should start out full and then I'll come back to town when I need to restock.”

“Are you going to stay up there?” Jack asked.

“Well, maybe, once I get the insulation in. For the first few days I'll just commute. The owners want it winter-ready for next year, but they won't be back until March.”

“If they're gone, why don't you start now?” Jack was walking beside Daniel in the crowded store.

“I'm teaching a class right now. It doesn't finish for another week. And then I've got company coming for Christmas, some old friends from school.”

Daniel had a life. Somehow that surprised him.

“You're taking a class?” He'd start with the easy stuff.

“No, I'm teaching a class.”

“In what?” Jack thought maybe he taught English to wet-behind-the-ears freshmen, poor guy.

“I have an undergrad anthropology class and a graduate class in linguistics.” He reached for a packet of wood screws, weighed them in his hand, and then put them back for a smaller size.

“What?”

“Through the University of Duluth. Online—which is something new. That's why I can't start the other job yet; I have to be near an Internet connection.” They were in the power tools section of the store. Daniel picked up a circular saw, checked the price and put it down. “I really need a new one of these but they're so damned expensive.”

“You're teaching a graduate-level class?” Jack asked. “You need at least a Masters degree to do that. You have a Masters degree?” He didn't stop to think about how rude the question was or that he was asking it in the middle of a crowded Ace Hardware.

“Yes, Jack, I have a Masters. Actually, I have a PhD.”

“In what?”

“I have one in one in linguistics and one in archeology.”

Jack was dumbfounded. “What the hell are you doing playing handyman in a little hick town in Minnesota?”

Daniel shrugged. “I like it here.”

Jack watched Daniel walk away and thought, “Me too.”

~::~

Jack spent a week at the cabin in May. He had Daniel help him with the deck railing.

“You have a cabin near here?” Jack asked. Daniel had his long hair hidden under a boonie, much to Jack's disappointment.

“No, I live in town,” Daniel said through a mouth full of nails. “Actually, I rent a little house in the suburbs.”

Jack laughed at that. The “suburbs” of town meant that he lived on a dirt road somewhere within driving distance of a gas station.

As he nailed, Daniel continued in time to the hammer: “It's quiet, it's cheap, it's got a little porch and a little yard. The internet works. Really, that's all I need.” Daniel wiped his hands on the rag hanging from his belt. “Is that all you need?

No, Jack thought, it's not all I need, but it's all I'm going to get. “That's it for today. Thanks, Daniel.”

Daniel waved over his shoulder as he made his way to the truck. “See you in a few months.”

Jack sighed—and then wondered if he could break something.

~::~

It was another October.

“You look pretty rough. What happened?” Daniel put the hammer back in the toolbox and slammed the lid. “I mean it's none of my business, but you don't look like you should be up here alone.”

“I came up here for some peace and quiet.” And to get away from work and special ops and did he have “gullible” tattooed on his forehead that he'd been talked into taking another mission? Doing special ops—black ops work--had lost him his home and his family the first time. Why had he gone again? Oh, yeah, because he didn't have a home and a family to lose anymore. He rubbed a finger over the stitches in his eyebrow.

“Sorry, Jack, I'll get out of your hair.” Daniel was worried about him, and for the first time in a week, he felt himself relax. Not many people bothered to care, not that he let them. “That whole door frame should be replaced, but it'll hold for now. If you have any more problems with it, call me.” A storm a few weeks ago had twisted the storm door off its hinges. Daniel had come out to make temporary repairs.

As Daniel got ready to go, Jack realized he didn't want to be alone. “Could you give me an estimate on the door?”

“Now?” Daniel hefted the toolbox under his arm. “I can come back and do it when you're feeling more up to company. It's not a problem.”

“Nah,” Jack said. “I don't want you to have to make the long trip from suburbia.”

Daniel laughed, obviously delighted that Jack remembered their conversation. “Yeah, let's get an estimate.”

Jack watched him as he walked back to the cabin. The geeky glasses didn't match with Jack's stereotype of a handyman even if the broad shoulders did. Daniel looked more like he should be behind a desk somewhere than up here in the middle of nowhere being a fix-it guy. He watched Daniel measure, jot some figures down in a pocket notebook, mutter something like “two or three hours.” When he turned Jack was there looking over his shoulder. They were face to face.

“I didn't know you were behind me.”

Jack forced himself to take a step back and out of Daniel's personal space. Something about the man drew him like a moth to flame. “I was, uh, trying to see what you were doing.”

“Oh. Well...” and Daniel flipped open his notebook “...I measured both the door and the opening. I'm pretty sure it'll only take me a few hours to replace, although getting the old frame out is always the toughest part of the job. I might have to get someone to come help me with that.”

“I don't mind helping if it's just grunt work you need.” That would ensure Daniel came alone.

Daniel looked directly at him. “I need some muscle to get the old door out and the new one in place.”

“I can do that,” Jack said and grinned.

“Yeah, you sure can,” Daniel said. “I... um... I didn't mean....”

The blush made Jack laugh out loud. Daniel thrust an estimate in his hands and then ran for the truck before Jack could gather his wits to stop him.

The phone rang a half an hour later, just as Jack was getting ready to take the boat out into the water. What he needed right now was some fishing, relaxing and mindless fishing. “Hello?”

“Jack?”

It was Daniel and Jack held the phone a little tighter. Maybe Daniel had decided not to take the job because Jack had embarrassed him. “Yeah?”

“Do you need the door in the next couple of days? If you can wait until Saturday, I'm going in to Brainerd tomorrow and I'll check Home Depot. The prices and selection are better there. Or I could bring you out a catalog and you could order one. It'll take longer for it to be delivered, of course.”

Jack cut him off. “Saturday's fine. Just get me something with a window in it.”

“Great!” The silence lengthened. “Jack, this afternoon....”

“I'll see you Saturday, Daniel.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He didn't say goodbye.

They didn't meet on Saturday because Jack got a call: “I hate to ask you to come back in, Colonel, but we have a situation....”

Jack left a message for Daniel: “Gotta go in to work. I'll see you in a week or so—I hope. The door can wait.”

It was more like a month before Jack got back to the cabin, this time with General Vidrine's solemn vow that he had a week's leave. It was dark when he pulled into the driveway, but even in the dark he could see the new door. There was a note taped to the inside: “I painted the trim the same color it was before or as close as I could find. The key is where you left it for me.”

~::~

The fourth October after Charlie's death, he was overseas.

He came back in December, even though he didn't think going to the cabin with a broken leg was a good idea, especially since he couldn't drive. But he needed the time away. He called Daniel to pick him up at the airport. The drive from the airport to the cabin was quiet; Jack didn't feel like talking and Daniel left it at that.

As Daniel helped him up the steps, Jack pushed him away. “I can do this.”

“Sure you can,” Daniel said. He stepped away although Jack noticed he wasn't more than two steps behind him.

Once they were inside, and Jack had his leg up on the couch, he said, “Bring me the bottle from the cupboard.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. He put the bottle on the coffee table with a thump. He came back with a glass and put it on the table with a second thump. Then he left. Jack sighed his disappointment, wondering if he'd just screwed a friendship he'd come to value. It didn't matter. Jack didn't deserve such a friend.

When Daniel returned an hour later with groceries, Jack was all but asleep on the couch. Quietly, Daniel put the groceries away, made Jack a sandwich, and switched out the whiskey for a soda, but not before he'd checked the level of the liquid in the bottle. Jack had poured a shot into the glass and tossed back half.

Daniel brought a pillow and blanket out of the bedroom for Jack. “Do you need to take your meds?” Daniel asked.

“In my bag,” Jack said. “Painkillers.”

Daniel read the directions carefully. He placed one tablet beside the soda and left the pill bottle on the kitchen counter.

When he picked up his keys to go, Jack held out a hand to him. “Daniel.”

Daniel came and took the hand.

“Thank you.”

Daniel squeezed his hand then tucked in under the blanket. “Anytime.”

Jack felt the pressure on his hand for an hour. God, he had it bad.

It was May before Jack saw the place—and Daniel--again.

~::~

“I'd like to take you to dinner to thank you for all the work you've done at the cabin.”

“Hello, Jack.”

“Didn't I say hello?”

“No.”

“Sorry. Hi, Daniel.”

Daniel chuckled. “You know you did pay me for the jobs at the cabin. You don't need to take me to dinner.”

“I'd like to take you to dinner,” Jack insisted. “Let's take a trip to Duluth.”

“Duluth,” Daniel said. “Yeah, okay. Could we go a little early and make it a business trip? I need to stop at the university.”

“Sure. When?”

“How long are you going to be in town?”

“Two weeks.”

“Two weeks! That's almost like normal people.”

“I know,” Jack said. “I might even get that fishing lure out of the tackle box.”

“Ah, fishing. In the lake with no fish.”

“Are you dissing my lake?” Jack asked.

The answer was immediate. “Yes.”

“So, dinner on Friday? We'll stop at the university, take a walk by the lake, and then go eat.”

Daniel hesitated for a minute. “I'd like that.”

“Why don't you come out to the cabin and we'll take my truck to Duluth?”

“Are you saying my truck wouldn't make it that far?”

The answer was immediate. “Yes.”

Daniel chuckled again and Jack grinned at the sound. “Fine. We'll take your truck. But I'm paying for gas.”

“Fine,” Jack said. “Then I'm paying for dinner.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Are we done with this conversation?” Daniel asked after a pause.

“I think we've exhausted the possibilities for the moment.”

The trip to Duluth turned out to be the beginning of something more than friendship. Jack felt the touch of a hand in his as they walked the beach. He felt that same hand on his knee as they drove home. And then the feel of two lips, it was a sweetness that left him weak in the knees. Two weeks later, Jack didn't want to leave.

~::~

Before he came back to the cabin, Jack did some research. He wasn't comfortable with the whole computer thing, but he knew how to do a basic search, and he had to know more about Daniel Jackson. The man had not two but three PhD's. He'd been born in Egypt. His parents were dead—and god was that a punch in the gut to learn. He'd been on numerous archeological digs up and down the Nile valley. He was also an A-number-one fruitcake, spouting some ridiculous theory about the age of the pyramids and who built them. “Men from Atlantis” the headline read. People had walked out of Daniel's lecture and that was the end of a prestigious academic career.

Sometimes, Jack thought, it was better not to know things. Well, not for Daniel, obviously, but for him. He sighed. How could somebody so smart be so stupid? It didn't change the fact that he wanted to see Daniel again.

~::~

The October wind beat at the cabin windows.

Jack put the chess set on the coffee table. He pulled a package of cookies from the cupboard, running his hands over the wood as he did. He checked the coffee pot; it was ready to go. All he needed now was Daniel.

A knock at the door, a quick turn of the nob, and Daniel was inside. “I used my key,” he said. “I hope you don't mind. That rain's turning to sleet.”

“How were the roads?” Jack asked. He flicked on the coffee pot and grabbed Daniel's coat to hang on a nearby hook.

“The roads are okay so far. Once the sun goes down, it's not going to be fit driving weather for anybody.”

Jack smiled. Maybe Daniel would need to stay the night at the cabin. They'd planned an afternoon chess game and dinner. Jack had plans for after that.

Daniel sat by the chess board with his hair still damp, and concentrated on his next move. The two of them were pretty equally matched. Unlike when he played poker, Daniel sat very still in front of the chess board and gave his focus entirely to the game. He had a cup of coffee to his right, which he ignored. That told Jack how intently Daniel was concentrating.

“So,” Jack said, “you studied in Chicago.”

“Yeah.” Daniel fingered the bishop. Not the best move to make, Jack thought. “At the Oriental Institute. I loved it there.”
`
“I lived in Chicago for a while. Nice city.”

Daniel's finger left the bishop. “Great city. Good food, lots of museums, sports, lots to do.” He fingered the rook. That's the move Jack would make if it were him.

Over the course of a couple of years, they'd played seven games. Daniel had won four of them. Jack planned to even them up today. “I went to high school there before the Academy. Spent a lot of summers at Cubs games.”

“You're a masochist, then,” Daniel said, his eyes still on the chess board. Jack choked on his beer and Daniel looked up, his eyes sparkling.

“I'm a person of faith, Daniel. Sooner or later, the Cubs are going to win the World Series.”

“If you say so, Jack.” He moved the knight.

The game progressed. They talked about Chicago: did Nancy's have the world's best pizza? They talked about Minnesota: was Brad ready to let his son take over the store?

They took a break to put a roast in the oven, complaining all the while about Minnesota weather. Jack peeled potatoes while Daniel made a salad. They put a bottle of wine in the fridge to chill. And through it all, they touched one another. Jack touched Daniel's back as he bent over the cutting board. Daniel touched Jack's shoulder as he washed out a bowl. It was exhilarating, a little frightening, and everything Jack wanted.

They sat back at the board. Jack felt a contentment he hadn't had in years. Daniel's company was an easy thing, a comfortable thing, and not something Jack had gone looking for. It was an unexpected thing.

Jack realized that in a few more moves, Daniel would have another win in the bag. Damn, the man was good. But that just meant they'd need to meet again for Jack to get even. “You decided not to teach, I mean after you were done with your doctorate?”

“I thought about it,” Daniel said, his eyes focused on board. “I also thought about going back to Egypt to work. I was born and raised there.”

“I know.”

“I messed up my academic career by doing something stupid, so going home sounded like a good idea for a while.” Daniel stretched, running his fingers through his hair. “I keep looking at the board wondering if you've got a hidden strategy here.”

“Possible,” Jack said. His strategy had nothing to do with chess, however. He got up to refill Daniel's coffee. “So why didn't you? Go back to Egypt?” he asked from the kitchen.

“When I messed up my academic career, the consequences were broader than I thought. No one would hire me.” He fingered the rook. “No, I take it back; you have no hidden strategy here. Checkmate in three moves.”

“When you said the pyramids are 10,000 years old.” Jack stopped dead in his tracks.

Daniel's hand froze. “You know about that?”

“Yeah.” He put Daniel's coffee beside him. “I know.”

“How?”

“I did some research on you. I wanted to know more about you.” Jack tried to make it sound like a good thing.

“Research?”

“I did an internet search for your name. It wasn't hard to find.”

“So you know about my lecture?” He moved away from the chess board, away from Jack. “You think I'm crazy.”

“Yeah. I'm mean, no.” Jack took a deep breath. “I don't think you're crazy; yeah, I know about the lecture. You have to admit, Daniel, it's a pretty flaky idea.”

Daniel stood, hands clenched by his sides. “It's not flaky, it's true. I'd stake my reputation on it.”

“You did stake your reputation on it,” Jack said. “And now you're working as a handyman in small-town Minnesota. Why, Daniel?”

“Because the truth is important. Because I won't prostitute myself and lie—even for the sake of my career. Because I like it here; I like the quiet, I like the... people.” He stumbled on the last word and his whole body collapsed in on itself. “I have to go,” he whispered.

“It's snowing. You shouldn't be driving in--”

“I have to go,” Daniel repeated. “I'm sorry, Jack.” He pulled his coat off the hook and was out the door before he even had it on.

The scent of the roast made Jack queasy. He should have kept his mouth shut.

It was a year before he was able to go to the cabin again.

~::~

Another October. Another chess match, but not the one on the board.

They stood with the chess board between them. Jack had left it as it was last October with Daniel three moves away from checkmate. Over the course of the year, they'd left each other a couple of answering-machine messages. Yes, Nancy's still had the best pizza in Chicago, according to Jack who'd been there over Christmas. No, Brad wasn't ready to hand the store over to his son, according to Daniel who'd been to a poker game in May.

They'd talked on the phone only once: “I have tickets to the opera, La Boheme, a student performance in Duluth. In October. Will you go with me?” Jack asked. Daniel had said yes.

The October sun shone in the window, so the chill in the room had nothing to do with the weather.

“I've been offered a job.” Daniel shifted from foot to foot. He'd come in the door with an “I can't stay long” and refused to take off his coat.

“Where?” Jack asked.

“I can't tell you. Not yet.”

“You can't tell me? Daniel, if you want out of this thing we have, just say so. I don't know why you wanted to be with someone like me in the first place.”

“I wanted to be with someone like you because you're someone like you. I... care about you, Jack, but this is a chance to prove my theories. I can't pass that up.”

“Of course it is. Because sensible, reasonable people would hire you to do.... to do what, Daniel? ”

He avoided the question. “I'm leaving in the morning. I wanted you to know. I'll call once I'm able.” He held out the key to the cabin. “Thank you.”

Jack couldn't take it and Daniel placed it on the counter with a metallic click. He couldn't take the key, and he couldn't take Daniel in his arms and tell him to stay. Oh, how he wanted to.

Daniel hesitated, and for a minute, Jack thought he'd change his mind. He shook his head as though trying to work something through. Then with a sigh, he turned and walked out the door.

Damn Daniel and his stupid theories. Who in their right mind would think up something so...? He tried to find a synonym for flaky, or stupid, or wrong. And how could he be so gullible to believe that someone would give him a job talking about such garbage?

Jack ran his fingers through his hair. He heard the door of the truck slam. If he let Daniel go now, he didn't know when they'd be together again, and whatever this was between them, he didn't want it to be over. Hell, it hadn't even started yet. No doubt Daniel was going to need somebody when the shit hit the fan...when this fiasco was over. He grabbed the key off the counter and ran.

Daniel stopped and rolled down the window. “Jack?”

“Keep it.” Jack thrust the key at him. “You know, just in case you need it.”

For the first time since he'd arrived at the cabin, Daniel smiled. “Thank you.”

“You'll be back, right, when you get a break from your new job?”

“I hope so.”

“Well, then, you'll have a key to get in. Don't forget the road.”

“Second one on the left past the broken pine, which, by the way, is not a direction.”

“Yeah, well. See you around, Doctor Jackson.” He lifted a hand to touch Daniel's cheek. “Good luck.”

“I'll be back,” Daniel promised. He put the truck in drive and pulled away.

Jack watched it until it was out of the driveway and on the main road. The sun was beginning to set before he could bring himself to go in. It took him 10 minutes to empty the perishables out of the fridge, another 10 to pack his duffel bag. He pulled the boat onto the shore and tipped it over. He brought in the fishing poles, leaning them in the corner by the door. He locked up the cabin. By nightfall, he was on the road to the airport.

He canceled his tickets to La Boheme.

~::~

When he wasn't working, Jack haunted the coffee shops in Colorado Springs. For reasons passing understanding, Jack had resigned his job as a test pilot instructor and taken a job at the Air Force Academy as a history and aeronautical engineering instructor. It was time for a regular nine-to-five day job. It wasn't high risk and it wasn't exciting. But it might allow him to live a normal life... if he could find the man he wanted to live it with. He decided several things within his first few weeks in the Springs: he should have had more sympathy for Daniel who taught undergrads, and he liked Caribou coffee better than Starbucks. When he wasn't working, he went for coffee, hoping to accidentally run into a multiple PhD handyman with a caffeine habit. He never did.

In October he spent the weekend in his apartment drinking. School schedules didn't allow time away to go to the cabin. He stopped drinking when he realized he'd have to face perceptive and arrogant Air Force cadets. He wondered if he'd ever been that young. By Monday morning he was almost sober. As he dressed for work, he replayed Daniel's last message on his answering machine, left four months prior: “I'm living in Colorado Springs, Jack. Once I'm settled, I'll send you an address in case you want to, you know, be in touch... or something.” There was a pause. “I'll see you soon, I hope.”

There had been no further messages. Jack called the last number he had for Daniel and still nothing. He sent an email and it bounced back. He wondered what kind of fool he was moving to Colorado Springs to find someone who obviously didn't want to be found. But there had been a compulsion about it, a need Jack had no name for. Just as he was reaching for his car keys, his cell phone rang. It was General Vidrine's flunky, Paul Davis: “Colonel O'Neill? I've got your classes covered for today. General Vidrine needs you to meet him at NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain, in an hour.” Jack stopped for coffee on his way, just in case....

~::~

From the driveway the house looked a little like his Minnesota cabin. He wondered how long it would take him to get to Minnesota from here. Less than 24 hours, he guessed. If he left now, he'd probably be at the cabin by dinnertime tomorrow. That would work. He'd send his resignation letter to Vidrine by FedEx, and by the following week, he'd be unemployed and hopefully retired. It was a plan. How the hell had things changed so fast? Yesterday, he'd been a school teacher. Now he was.... He didn't know.

Davis hadn't covered his classes for a day, he'd covered them for three days, and during those three days Jack had moved his way down the 28 floors of Cheyenne Mountain. Security briefings followed background checks followed nondisclosure agreements followed fitness testing followed weapons re-certification followed psychological profiling followed.... Even at the height of his involvement in special ops, Jack had never been put through his paces so intensely.

Day three found him at the bottom of a mountain, up close and personal with a big metal ring called a Stargate.

“We're assembling teams, Colonel O'Neill?” General Hammond said. “Are you interested?”

Jack leaned his head on the steering wheel. Was he interested? He had 24 hours to give them an answer. And if it hadn't been for his final briefing with Hammond, Vidrine, and Stargate Command's civilian liaison, Jack's answer would have been an unequivocal no. No, he didn't want to risk his life anymore. No, he didn't want to go to... to... other planets. He couldn't even think the word without balking.

He sighed and lifted his head. Oh, hell, who was he kidding? Of course he was interested. He hadn't spent a successful career in the military by turning down opportunities. But before he made a decision, there was someone he needed to see on the other side of the door of that house. He got out of the truck, walked up the tidy little sidewalk, and knocked. His hand had barely fallen to his side when the door opened. He stared at the man in front of him. Daniel had cut his hair; he looked tired; he looked fabulous. Finally, Jack cleared his throat and found his voice. “Daniel.”

“Jack.”

“Can I come in?”

“Oh. Yes. Sorry.” Daniel stepped back and allowed Jack to enter.

“Cute place. Is it yours?”

“Yeah,” Daniel admitted. “Well, not mine, the bank's for now, but yeah, I bought it.”

“Nice.” Jack looked at the stone fireplace and the patio doors that led to a deck. Beyond that was a stunning view of a forest and in the background a mountain. “Lots and lots of trees.” He winced at how inane that sounded.

“I think the view sold the house for me,” Daniel said. “It reminds me of--”

“Minnesota,” they both said together.

Daniel's smile almost brought Jack to his knees. “Yeah.”

But before Jack could do something with that smile, Daniel said, “Let me show you the rest of the house.”

It had two bedrooms, a bathroom in the hall, and a bath off the master bedroom. The laundry room was off the main bath and the basement was unfinished but useable. The small dining room was already set up for coffee. The kitchen, however, left something to be desired. It was functional but nothing else.

“You need some new cupboard doors,” Jack said as he turned to take in the whole kitchen. “I know somebody who does that sort of thing, or I used to.”

“I wish I had time to make them,” Daniel said as he switched on the coffee pot, “but I've been kind of busy.”

“Too busy to call an old friend?” Jack tried to keep the bitterness from his voice and failed.

Daniel reached for the sugar bowl in the cupboard and set it on the counter. He took the pitcher of cream from the fridge and set it beside the sugar. Without turning around, he said, “They wouldn't let me. Supposedly, it's a security risk. They even confiscated my phone for a while, made me sign a nondisclosure agreement.”

“Yeah, I've dealt in that kind of stuff before.”

Surprised, Daniel turned. “Of course you have. I hadn't thought that.”

Once the coffee was done perking, Daniel poured them each a cup and they sat at the dining room table. Daniel put some cream in his coffee and stirred. Jack put a half a spoonful of sugar in his coffee and stirred. Neither one of them said anything.

Finally, Daniel broke the silence. “You met with General Vidrine and General Hammond today?” It wasn't a question, really, because Daniel already knew the answer. He'd been at one of those meetings.

“Yeah.”

“I like General Hammond. I think he's the right person to find the balance between military and civilian interests in the Stargate program.”

“Hammond's got a reputation for being tough and fair,” Jack said. “If anyone can guide a new program like this, it's him.”

“Good,” Daniel said. He sipped his coffee.

“So, the pyramids were built by aliens?”

“I did tell you that before.”

“You have to admit, it's still a pretty flaky idea.”

“I'm not denying that.”

“Civilian liaison. That's a big responsibility.”

“I'm beginning to realize how big,” Daniel admitted. “It's... overwhelming.”

Jack picked up a cookie. He nibbled on the edges and Daniel watched him. This was so far beyond what he'd expected. He'd hoped to find Daniel. He wanted to go out for a drink with a friend after work or maybe go to the cabin over school breaks, but this.... This was beyond anything he'd imagined.

Daniel picked up a cookie, brought it to his mouth but put it on his plate before he took a bite. “Can we do this, Jack? Can we work together? Hammond and Vidrine both know that we know one another so that's not a problem. But is it a problem for us?” He picked up the cookie, rolling it on its edge. “I want to go through the Stargate. I can't tell you what it means to me to know my theories, however flaky...” he looked up and smiled “...are true. The cultural and linguistic opportunities alone are staggering.”

Jack's personal life wasn't the issue here. He was a fool to think so. He and Daniel were two competent professionals being given the chance of a lifetime. Everything else took a back seat to that. Jack picked up Daniel's hand, the one fiddling with the cookie. He stuffed the cookie in his mouth, spitting crumbs as he said, “Not a problem for me.” Daniel's laugh made it worthwhile.

They shook hands at the door before Jack left.

“I'll see you at work in the morning,” Daniel said.

He made his decision. “I'm counting on it. Which one of us is picking up coffee on the way in?” He held Daniel's hand a moment longer than he needed to. “The Caribou on Fourteenth opens at six.”

He'd found Daniel Jackson. That was enough.

~::~

Another October, another trip to Minnesota.

Jack hauled himself up the steps, cursing the last-minute meeting with Hammond, the delayed flight, and the heavy rain that had followed him halfway to the cabin. His shoulder ached from a hard fall on the ramp and his eyes were gritty from lack of sleep. It was now past midnight and he stood on the steps looking out at the lake. The air was crisp cold and the stars bright in a storm-washed sky. He sighed in relief.

He entered the house quietly, dropping his duffel in the front hall before he pulled the bottle from the cupboard. He poured himself just enough for a swallow and tossed in back. It felt warm going down, a balm against the autumn chill. Then, quietly, he walked to the living room. The fire was banked for the night but it had enough light to cast a glow on the person asleep on the couch. Jack knelt. “Hey,” he said and waited.

The eyes opened and blinked. “Hey.” The smile that had won Jack over many years ago was still there.

“I thought you were going to wait up for me.” He put a hand on the spiky, sleep-tousled hair.

“I was.” Daniel swung his legs around to sit up. “Sit. It's not good for you to be on your knees.”

Jack took the offered hand and sat as close to Daniel as he could.

“Your meeting with Hammond go okay?”

“Paperwork is the bane of every job,” Jack said.

“So true,” Daniel admitted. “How's Teal'c settling in?”

“Seems to be okay. It's hard to tell, really. He's not dead and nobody's hauled him away, so I'd have to say things are okay for now.” He eased himself back into the couch cushions, the long day—the long week finally catching up to him. They were talking about work even when they weren't at work. He wanted to forget work for a few days.

“What do you think of Sam Carter?” Daniel leaned back..

“She'll take some getting used to.”

“Because she's a woman?”

“Because she's a scientist.”

Daniel pulled away far enough to turn and look Jack in the eye. “A scientist? You have a problem with scientists?”

“Well, not anymore, obviously.” He ignored Daniel's scowl.

Jack sighed. “I missed my flight, and then the next flight was delayed. I meant to be here four hours ago. Sorry.”

“But you're here now,” Daniel said.

“I'm here,” Jack agreed. “And I see you didn't lose your key.”

“Did you think I would?”

“When you left here two Octobers ago? I didn't know what to think.”

“And now?”

“I don't care. All I want to do right now is ravish your body. For the record, I've wanted to ravish it for quite a while now.”

Daniel laughed again. “It's been a while in the ravishing department.”

“Or we could play chess,” Jack said. “We've got a game to finish.”

“The board's already set up, but tomorrow, okay?”

Jack settled on the couch, enjoying the quiet, the soft firelight, and the company. “Daniel, not that I want to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything but--”

“Why now,” Daniel finished for him.

“Why now?”

Daniel was silent for so long that Jack began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep. “I've had time to think.”

They'd been talking about this for six months. It had taken almost six months for Daniel to think of the two of them as anything other than two people who worked together. He hadn't wanted to jeopardize either Jack's position or their working relationship. In those six months, they'd done endless training sessions and endured endless meetings. The next six months had been about forming a team and going through the Stargate.

“To think about...?”

Daniel turned and touched Jack's shoulder. “You were hurt.”

His shoulder twitched under Daniel's gentle fingers. “I've been hurt before. And sad as it is, I'll probably be hurt again.”

“I know.” His hand reached for Jack's face, for the scar in the eyebrow. He brought the hand back down before he made contact. “I wanted this job more than I've wanted anything in...in... I don't know how long. I wanted to be right. I wanted to prove to everyone that my theories were sound. I can't forget that I started my career as an academic.”

“You were right. You are.” He patted Daniel's knee to calm him down. “Aliens built the pyramids: that's still one of the craziest things I've ever heard.”

“I know.” Daniel grinned and then sobered. “But when we fell through the 'gate and you hit the ramp, I realized that this job might be dangerous.”

Jack snorted.

“I mean I know it's dangerous but somehow it became very real.”

“Yeah.” What could he say to Daniel who wasn't military? Jack accepted that injuries were part of the job. Daniel couldn't do that, at least not yet. It was something you became hardened to eventually.

“I remember thinking that...”

“Keep going.” Jack didn't want Daniel to stop, not now, not when an explanation was so close to hand.

“I remember thinking that there's never enough time.” He turned suddenly to stare at Jack. “There's never enough time, Jack. Life is so fragile. Something could happen to one of us and we'd never get to....” He waved his hand around the cabin.

“Make new cupboard doors?” Jack asked innocently.

Daniel smiled. “Well, we could, if you really want to.”

“I really don't,” Jack said.

Daniel's outburst faded. They sat side by side in the darkness listening to the crackle of the wood in the fireplace. Outside, an owl called, and a animal, a raccoon maybe, scrabbled on the deck.

“I still can't believe you came to Colorado Springs to find me,” Daneil

Jack shrugged. “Someone I cared about was gone. I had to find him.”

“Are you sorry you took the job?”

“No.” It was an honest answer, freely given. He'd had his doubts, certainly, but the last year had proven him wrong. His admiration for Daniel had grown. The man was brilliant and capable. Jack hadn't stopped being attracted to him, he'd simply learned to temper that attraction with respect.

Going through the 'gate, well that wasn't going to get old anytime soon.

“Can we do this, Jack? Can we have the job and...” his hand moved up the inside of Jack's leg, following the seam of the denim “...each other?”

The heat of Daniel's touch took his breath away. They'd kissed,  held hands, but they'd never done this. Jack's body ached. Before he lost the thread of the conversation entirely, he pushed away. Taking Daniel's hands in his own, partly to make a point, and partly to keep Daniel from distracting him further, he said, “We can have both if that's what you want. I want to go through the Stargate, Daniel, and I want to do it with you. I also want... this. We can only have it here, for a while anyway, but at least we could have something.” He rubbed Daniel's hands with his thumbs. “Somewhere along the way, I possibly... might have...” Daniel's hands were callused, handyman calluses, archeologist calluses, soldier calluses “...Somewhere along the way, I seem to have fallen in love with you.”

“Oh.”

Jack stilled and let go.

Daniel stood. He stirred the fire, adding logs until the flames came back to life, but he didn't come back to the couch. When he finally turned, he held out his hand to Jack. “I'd like to make love here by the fire. Is that okay with you?”

“Um, yeah. I've got a double sized piece of foam I used to use for the tent. We can bring the bedspread from the other room.” He took the offered hand.

“Summer vacation,” Daniel said, slipping his fingers under the buttons on Jack's shirt, one by one. “We've got summer vacation.”

“Yeah, and leave at Christmas.” Jack could barely talk. His hands shook as he pulled on the belt at Daniel's waist.

“Fishing opener,” Daniel whispered as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head. “We'll come up here and not fish.”

“Long weekends.” Jack gasped as he saw five years of wanting in front of him. “It's not enough time.”

“It is.” Daniel pulled him down to the floor. His knees were going to regret this in the morning, and his back too. But he would never regret being here with Daniel. Each “vacation,” “leave,” “weekend” held a kiss, a promise, a future.

“And every October,” Daniel said. “When it's cold and storming outside, when the leaves begin to fall, we'll find the second cabin on the left past the broken pine—which is still not a direction. Because I might possibly have fallen in love with you too.”

~::~

Milanthruil requested
First time
“Somewhere along the way I seem to have fallen in love with you.”
Optional Request: AU