Never Alone 35: Faking It
Daniel Jackson was a worried man. Pleased with himself in some ways, and sometimes a little smug, but this didn't stop him being worried. Pleased because he felt honored Jack had asked him to be his best man. Pleased because he was in the loop about the wedding preparations and privy to the little secret surprises both Jack and Sam planned for each other for their nuptials. Pleased because his two friends were so in love and seemed to be happy at last. Pleased because their relationship seemed to work when it so easily might not have, which could have broken either one of them. Pleased because it pleased him to please Jack, although there was no way he'd ever admit that openly.
But with the role of best man comes many responsibilities, so he was also worried. Worried about organizing the bachelor party. Worried he'd loose or forget the rings at the most crucial of times. Worried about what he was going to say in his best man's speech. Worried about playing host at the reception and making sure everything went smoothly. Worried he'd screw up and forget to do that one important thing, whatever it may be.
Right now, in the middle of the night and unable to sleep, Daniel was going through a worry phase and all pleasure and self-satisfaction had vanished into the ether. In his overactive mind, the little things had grown out of all proportion, germinating and burgeoning as they have a habit of doing when darkness and quiet descend and most people are snoring their heads off in bed, living in a world of dreams. This is a time when shadows, ghosts and demons ascend from their places of hiding to haunt the living who should have been sleeping, but could not.
Taking the role very seriously, Daniel had read so much about the duties and responsibilities of the best man that he could have written a book. Research was something he was good at, but when his Google search on "role of best man" brought up over ninety million links, he'd been what might be called more than a little stunned.
Filtering through the information to get the gist of what his duties entailed was the easy part, but there was a lot to consider. Daniel thought he would probably work on his speech for days, honing its content so it was entertaining, but acceptable. He was certain that part of his responsibilities would be one of the hardest, and most nerve-wracking.
It surprised him to find one could even buy pre-written wedding speeches on line, although perhaps it shouldn't have because he knew you could purchase just about anything through the internet these days. Not that he intended to do anything like that, of course. His speech would be unique, and entirely appropriate to his two best friends and the occasion.
The speech was, however, a tricky issue. Many of the best amusing anecdotes about Jack, Daniel couldn't divulge to anyone that didn't have triple super plus extra trinium coated security clearance, or whatever, which was a bit of a headache. With tongue firmly in cheek, Daniel wondered if he could find a way to sneak some of those in without revealing national secrets and having to kill a number of the wedding guests afterwards.
Playing host at the reception could be another difficult chore. 'Ensure you are the last man standing', one page of advice had offered, so not much alcohol for Daniel Jackson that day. A few small sips of champagne as toastmaster and that would be about it, otherwise he might embarrass himself. Jack had always told Daniel he was a cheap date and he was right. The younger man still couldn't hold his liquor too well. Practice did not necessarily make perfect, as he had learned, often to his regret when he suffered for indulging.
Organizing the bachelor party was a huge responsibility, but he hoped he could pull that off with a little help from Jimmy as a chief adviser and confidante. To Daniel's surprise, even Jimmy agreed the party should probably be entirely PG rated. Neither of them thought Jack was the kind of man who would appreciate strippers and the like, even though some of his guests might.
The groom and many of his friends might be Air Force, which could imply some NC-17 content, but Jack was a two-star general and that meant the event should probably have a little decorum. No strippers, no lap dancers, no tying naked to lampposts, no one way trips to Timbuktu - just a few friends getting together, having fun, and probably getting drunk as skunks. All except Daniel, of course, who as best man had the responsibility of getting the groom home in one piece.
Of course, as also advised in all the research, they agreed to hold the stag night a few days before the big event. The notion of Jack O'Neill suffering a hangover at his own wedding didn't bear thinking about, and Sam would kill Daniel if he let that happen. The night before the wedding, he planned to stick to Jack like his shadow, which hopefully wouldn't be too hard. His friend would be staying at his place so Sam and her entourage could use hers.
Then there was that bad luck to see the bride superstition to consider and, although not necessarily overly superstitious, Jack wasn't taking any chances. For a man who took many risks in his life, he thought certain things simply weren't worth risking.
Daniel figured arranging the transport for both the bachelor do and the wedding shouldn't cause too many problems, assuming nothing went wrong, but it was his job to ensure nothing did go wrong. He was okay with that, although it made him slightly nervous to realize he would be pivotal to so many of the wedding arrangements, a focal point of contact and all that. What if he wasn't up to it?
Deep down, he was fairly confident that he wouldn't forget or lose the rings, which didn't stop Daniel worrying about it. The literature was so emphatic on that point, often repeating a mantra about rings so many times that it was sufficient to make any normal, rational man lean toward the paranoid. Presumably, that was the whole point.
Already, Daniel had a dozen or more brightly colored little sticky notes scattered in strategic places in his house to remind him about them, and various other things he had to remember on the day, and in the weeks leading up to the wedding. He even had a small notebook that he kept with him at all times while on Earth, to ensure he had reminders and notes to refer to if his genius of a brain should fail him.
However, one job in particular was going to be tough, and when he considered the possibilities it filled him with anxiety above everything else. It was part of a best man's role to keep the groom calm. Yeah right, like that was going to happen! Daniel figured Jack would be as jittery as young boy on his first day at school.
Most people probably wouldn't believe Jack to be a jittery kind of guy. He was an Air Force General, after all, with nerves of steel and all that, and Daniel had seen those put to the test many times. But Jack was also very human and, when it came to affairs of the heart, could behave as much like a gauche teenager as the next guy, particularly about Sam.
Not for the first time did Daniel consider how Jack could turn into a gooey mess as far as she was concerned - all that tough, pragmatic soldier O'Neill type behavior could just melt into a puddle on the floor. It was kind of endearing, really, although Jack would have been mortified to hear it described as such.
So, Daniel was confident Jack wouldn't get backing out at the last minute type nerves. No way in hell would his friend ever back out of this marriage, which was something he clearly wanted more than almost anything else he could have in the entire galaxy. That was part of the point of why Jack might be a nervous wreck. So what that he'd been married before and knew the score - a fat lot of difference that would make.
The younger man knew his old friend well enough to realize that, by the day of the wedding, Jack would probably be quaking in his boots worrying about the raft of things that might go wrong. All normal wedding nerves, but in Jack O'Neill style. Boy, could that man fidget. Jack was so restless when tense. Daniel could envisage constant movement - pacing, fiddling, gesticulating, squirming, doodling, twiddling. He made a mental note to himself to buy Jack a heap of yo-yos to play with on the day so he could keep occupied, a notion Daniel knew he should jot down in his notebook. That could prove to be a good investment, because surely Jack would drive him to distraction and turn him into a wreck too.
Consequently, however anxious Daniel might be about his role as best man, he realized he would never be able to show any outward signs to his friend. He would need to exude confidence enough for the both of them so Jack would stay as calm as possible, and believe him when Daniel told him that everything would be perfect and nothing would go wrong. That's what best men do, right?
Daniel made another mental note to keep the ever cool and collected Teal'c close-by for moral support, and to keep Jack in line if necessary. On the other hand, a zatted groom might not go down too well. The little scene that sprang to Daniel's mind made him chuckle aloud with mirth. He could so see Teal'c doing that.
Preoccupied as he was, Daniel didn't hear the light step behind him and was surprised when a hand grasped his arm gently, although he turned to face Francine with a smile on his lips because that soft and comforting touch was very welcome.
"Can't sleep, darling?" she whispered enquiringly, allowing her hand to brush over him as he turned, and then draping it delicately across his neck.
As she had entered the room, the vision of Daniel Jackson standing staring out of the window in only his boxers had made her heart skip a beat, and she had smiled. The smile remained on her lips as Daniel turned, and broadened at the sight of his. Daniel's hand moved to hers on his neck, enclosing it in his and then pulling it to his lips for a tender kiss. Affection danced in his eyes and warmed Francine's heart.
"Just thinking," he replied, placing his other arm around her waist and tugging her closer.
"You never stop thinking."
"Part of the human condition," he said. "Keeps us as much alive as gravity or oxygen."
His small smile turned into an all out grin, eyes wrinkling at the corners and nose puckering up in that adorable manner she so loved, prompting Francine to lean forward and kiss it. Her free hand skittered down his bared back, stopping when it reached the elastic of his boxers.
"Very profound," she commented lightly, and Daniel chuckled in response.
"Hardly that," he said, kissing her brow.
"I like it when you're profound."
They inched closer, and Daniel's lips trailed down her cheek while Francine hitched a small breath, sighing in approval of his affection.
"In that case, I'll try more often," he responded in a low tone. "I didn't wake you, did I?" This time, concern tinged his voice.
"I don't know. I just kind of noticed you weren't there, I guess. I like it when you're there."
"I like it when you're there too," he said, pulling her toward him and enfolding her in his arms. She nuzzled her face into his neck and embraced him in return.
Daniel and Francine's relationship had started most inauspiciously. She had made a play for Jack and Daniel had walked in on that. Then, later at her party, she'd gone all out for Daniel, flirting outrageously, and seducing him with equal shamelessness. Just another notch on her bedpost, Daniel had supposed, and he hadn't been averse to using her for sexual gratification either.
She had seemed to be that type, wanting to be used as much as wanting to use, and the seduction had appeared to be a casual sexual encounter, as if they might meet occasionally for wild sex and find nothing else to keep them interested in each other. It was apparent that Jack and Sam had set them up especially for that purpose. They believed their friend needed sex and found it for him. Daniel was betting that was Jack's idea and that Sam simply went along with it.
As it turned out, the Francine Butler who hid beneath the outrageously flirtatious and seductive mask was an entirely different woman. Daniel had discovered that very quickly indeed, and had no regrets about embroiling himself in this relationship, quite the reverse. At first, they each filled a desperate need in the other; a need for sex and companionship with a member of the opposite sex. The desperation part had faded while the need for each other had grown, as had the companionship. It wasn't about sex anymore. It was more than that, although how much more neither of them knew.
Although they didn't know it about each other, they both sometimes wondered if an irresistible force had taken a hold and was gripping them increasingly tightly in its embrace. Neither of them wanted to over analyze it, and for different reasons.
Francine had been hurt, many times and badly. Her mask hid deep scars borne from heartache and pain. Involvement, reliance, and commitment all scared the crap out of her, and most of the time she kept things light enough to cover the deeper emotions she hardly dared admit, even to herself.
Daniel had loved Sha're with every fiber of his being. Never had there been such a love, or so he thought in that way people do when they find something so special that it seems the word love is insufficient to describe it. Then he had lost her, too soon and too terribly, and the loss served to amplify the special nature of that love.
Since then he had loved, or so it seemed, but never truly, deeply loved. Not like with Sha're - nothing and no one could live up to the memory and emotion Sha're invoked, even years after her death. Or this was what Daniel's subconscious seemed to think. His late wife was a hard act to follow, as can so often be the case with those who get torn so abruptly and prematurely from one's side.
Both Daniel and Francine were aware they could be a little infatuated with each other, and drift off into dreams, fantasies and realms that made them appear this way. Rarely did either of them speak of feelings, and infatuation is something quite different to love. So, they simply existed and behaved how they behaved, not examining or dissecting it as that might spoil it for either one of them.
As he held her in his arms, Daniel's mind wandered back to a conversation he'd had with Jack about this very subject just a few weeks before.
At the time, Daniel was staying with Francine and popped over to visit his friend, her neighbor, as was his habit if Jack and he were around at the same time. They'd get together, even if only briefly, and maybe have a beer sitting in Jack's den or the yard. Sometimes they might go out to a bar, and the three of them got together occasionally for a meal. Daniel and Francine tried their best not to let Jack feel like the odd man out, although when Sam was around as well a foursome was better, and could be kind of fun.
The four of them got along okay, but both couples liked their alone time, and lots of it. Enforced separation for long periods had that effect. They didn't like, or want, to live in each other's pockets.
On this occasion, the two men were sitting in Jack's den sipping beer and playing chess. The den tended to be the male only bastion in his house in Alexandria and Sam rarely entered when she was there. Jack had set it up shortly after moving there, and sometimes used it when he needed quality alone time while he had visitors staying. Unless invited inside, it was strictly no entry.
With the exception of the desk, where he might park himself to write or use his laptop when necessary, Jack could sit there in comfort to watch TV or listen to music undisturbed if he so wished. Jokingly, he referred to it as his 'Hockey and Mozart Room' and, while vaguely humorous, this was equally deadly serious. Sam called it the "O'Neill Inner Sanctum" and wouldn't have dreamed of interfering.
Unlike his living room, which contained newer furniture fit for any guests, this was a place where he could slob around in old comfy chairs he'd had for years and moved with him from place to place. The chairs were well worn, might even be said to be dilapidated, and Sara had always rolled her eyes good-humouredly when he insisted on taking them with him when they moved, ensuring they were carefully packed and stored for transit. The chairs had been with him since the year blob, and Jack held a certain attachment to them. Heaven help the woman who might try to part him from them, and Sam knew better than to make such a futile attempt.
Apart from the chairs, the room contained some of the photographs and memorabilia Jack has collected over the years, the kinds of things that were closest to his heart. His son Charlie featured quite prominently. An old baseball mitt and ball, for example, a photo of him holding a baseball bat in mid air, ready to strike the ball at a school team game, and a couple of him as a baby and older.
There was a striking photograph of Sam with Jack placed prominently on his desk; one in which Jack believed she could have easily competed with the most beautiful and elegant of actresses or models, dressed up in formal evening wear with her hair and make up just so. She couldn't have looked less like a member of the USA's armed forces, although Jack himself was wearing full dress uniform, medals and all.
The official photographer had taken it at one of those formal events they'd attended in DC. Sam also had a copy of it in her living room at home. Her own take on it was to display the gorgeousness of Jack in his dress blues, of course, rather than anything to do with how she looked. As far as she was concerned, only a wedding photograph of their pair of them might be good enough to usurp its pride of place in her home.
One of the photos was an action shot of Jack playing ice hockey in his youth, fully padded up in his old team colors. Through the protective head gear, one could see a gritty expression on his face, and it was obvious that he was skating in for the kill. One of his old buddies had taken the shot.
Sadly, his old friend had been killed in action many years before. The pair had joined the Air Force simultaneously, having shared one of those "together forever" type friendships, with lifetime blood oaths and the kind of things the young do collectively during High School and beyond. Jack could have told many a tale, ranging from good and bad through to highly entertaining. The photo brought back many memories - memories of his youth, of the years before he had married and settled down.
The den also contained various items of memorabilia from his journey through the Air Force, from wet behind the ears cadet, right up to the present day. Most of it was highly personal stuff, candid photographs or a variety of trophies and tokens that signified specific events in his life, rather than any of the official kinds of things he kept elsewhere, like the medals or certificates of achievement he'd earned.
The photos and letters from his mother's effects were stored here, some on public display while some wasn't, and the box he had kept in his locker at the SGC now occupied the room, the contents in tact. Jack could never bear to part with that, or what it contained inside, although he rarely opened it anymore. He didn't really need to because the memories from those years already surrounded him in this sanctum. Old snapshots and correspondence, for example, and souvenirs, like the stuff he'd kept from his childhood: baseball cards, signed memorabilia of old heroes and the like.
This room said much about Jack O'Neill and the things that had been, or remained important, in his life. Daniel enjoyed spending time with his friend in the den. There was something intimate and sometimes almost conspiratorially male about the room. It was a place of bonding and friendship, and a place in which to lick one's wounds and reflect. It was a place where Jack could come and hide himself away when he couldn't be in Minnesota and peacefully fishing his way back to normality.
As they played chess, the two men had been talking about this and that, nothing of Earth shattering consequence, just companionable stuff. Then Jack noticed a far away expression creep over Daniel's features. He watched for a while, not expecting him to remain trance like for long, initially assuming his friend was thinking about his next move.
Convinced he had won the game with a checkmate and that maybe Daniel was pondering this, when he didn't stir for what seemed an age, O'Neill chuckled mirthfully. He hadn't failed to notice that Daniel could be a little bit wistful after having spent some time with Francine.
'Earth to Daniel Jackson, come in,' he thought. Then, speaking aloud, Jack made his friend jerk in his chair at the sound of his deliberately booming tone. "Daniel, you've gone off in a dream again. What does that woman do to you, for cryin' out loud?"
Jack's amused smirk spoke in no uncertain terms about exactly what he thought Francine Butler did to him, and Daniel winced, briefly pondering whether this was what he could appear to be like when he brought up the subject of Sam with Jack. The notion gave him pause.
"Let's not go there," Daniel replied, continuing to think the shoe seemed to be on the other foot in this exchange. Jack would frequently use exactly those same words to Daniel when he probed about something his friend didn't really wish to discuss.
"Nothing wrong with a little friendly chat about the womenfolk, is there Daniel?" Jack replied tartly, probably thinking exactly the same thing as Daniel about role reversal, therefore deliberately pushing it just like the younger man might. "I don't know why you don't just admit you're crazy about her and have done with it."
Jack's direct and blunt approach to the subject surprised Daniel. "I-I'm not crazy about her," he retorted, noting Jack's eyes roll in disbelief. "Sure I like her, like her a lot, enjoy her company, the sex..." He frowned, noticing the smirk return to Jack's lips but deciding to ignore it. "What's not to like, for Christ's sakes? But it's not that kind of relationship, you know. not really serious."
"Bullshit!" Jack bit back and, seeing the look of shocked chagrin on Daniels face, added, "I'm just sayin'." He shrugged, a boyish innocent expression creeping over his face, something that didn't fool Daniel Jackson for one single minute.
"Francine isn't the kind of woman a man should be serious about," Daniel asserted, taking Jack by surprise. He remembered Daniel defending her in the past and now he seemed to be on the attack. What was it with this guy?
"That's where you are wrong, buddy. Francine is a good woman," Jack said defensively of his neighbor.
"You've changed your tune haven't you? I remember you saying something like that to me!"
"Yeah, well." Jack started to reply with a small pang of guilt, briefly pondering that old adage about protesting too much. "That was ages ago, before I got to know her better. It was you who told me that she isn't like she appears on the surface, and you were right. Don't let the memory of something you think was better blind you from what you've got right now. That's all I'm saying."
"Memory of something I think was better?" Daniel queried disbelievingly, still wrong footed by Jack's views on this particular subject.
"You know what I mean. Don't be so deliberately obtuse."
"You mean Sha're?" Daniel's forbidding expression at the mention of his late wife's name might have put a different man off from continuing the conversation along this path, but not so Jack O'Neill.
"Duh! Sure I mean Sha're. Who else would I mean?"
Daniel all but gave up trying to steer Jack away from this sensitive theme and sighed resignedly. "But Francine couldn't be more different to Sha're."
"That's precisely my point," said Jack, and Daniel stared at him incredulously, mouth wide open but unmoving. "Look, Daniel, if you want to live in denial that's your problem. I just thought." Jack didn't get the chance to finish.
"Denial? That's rich coming from a master of denial, isn't it?" The attacked tried to turn the tables on his attacker, but Daniel wasn't going divert Jack so easily. Instead, O'Neill's eyes narrowed and his mouth formed into a thin slit of irritation before opening to respond.
"If you're thinking about Sam, that wasn't really denial, Daniel, just self-denial. Things have changed, moved on."
"Yeah, well maybe that's been true for a while, but it doesn't stop pot and kettle coming to mind. So just butt out, okay, because my relationship with Francine is my business."
Daniel was clearly agitated and slightly annoyed. Jack figured he probably couldn't blame him for that as the man's reaction reminded him of how he might have behaved in similar circumstances, and not really so long ago.
"Okay," he replied in an exasperated manner, holding his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. "I guess I just want my friends to be as happy as I am."
Although slightly put out by Jack's attitude, Daniel smiled at that, his manner becoming more placid. He kind of liked that Jack wanted this for his friends because he had an inkling of how happy Sam made him.
"I'm perfectly content with things the way they are," he claimed.
"Are you?" Jack retorted, peering at him probingly. "It occurs to me that you seem a lot happier when Francine is around than when she isn't, that's all."
"You really think.?" Daniel queried, as if the fact came as a surprise to him, but Jack said nothing, although his expression was a definite affirmative.
A few moments of silence settled between the two men and O'Neill decided he'd probably said enough on the subject of Francine.
"Checkmate I think you'll find, by the way," he said, changing the subject back to their game.
Daniel glared at him briefly before turning his attentions to the chess board, relieved by the change of topic. Staring at it for a while, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, pushing his glasses up his nose and then drumming his fingers on their frame at his temple as he pondered various permutations. In a slightly perturbed manner, he looked back toward Jack, a faint expression of vexation on his face.
He so hated when Jack bested him at chess although, given that his friend was a tactical genius when it came to military strategy, he was pretty darned good at the game and Daniel shouldn't have been so surprised. He always was, though, thinking he was the better player when it came to chess, something that Jack also purported.
Perhaps this chess thing was one of those friendship myths that they'd built up between them over the years. Daniel hadn't kept a tally of wins and losses but, now he considered it, thought Jack was a sneaky son of a gun who deliberately played up to that myth, lulling his opponent into a false sense of security. Nothing with Jack was ever as simple as it seemed. It had taken Daniel a while to realize and understand that about his old colleague, and Jack retained his touch, the ability of obscuration.
Reluctantly, he had to concede defeat and Daniel laid down his king with a grimace. "Okay, so you got me this time, but next time." he said in a tone of jocular threat.
"Yeah sure, Daniel. Whatever," Jack replied with amusement, and a dismissive wave of his hand. "Want a drink?" he asked, reaching toward the small well stocked fridge that was also a feature of his den.
Daniel glanced at his watch, taken aback by the rapid passing of time. "I'd better not. Francine expected me back an hour ago."
"Bet she didn't expect any such thing despite what you might have told her. She knows you too well to be duped," Jack replied with a smirk. The pair often ran over time when they got together. Both Sam and Francine were aware of that and neither of them batted an eye at the prospect of anything different.
Daniel grinned. "Yeah, you're probably right, but now I know I'm late I guess I should get going."
"Francine doesn't know you know you're late," Jack retorted, and Daniel chuckled, wondering if his friend really expected or wanted him to stick around for a while longer.
"Maybe. She might not actually expect me back for hours. So perhaps I should surprise her and turn up early."
Noting Daniel's wistful smile, Jack thought back to the conversation he'd started earlier and that had seemed to disturb his young friend.
"Okay old buddy, go sow your wild oats." He rose from his chair, ready to see Daniel off the premises and pointedly ignoring his irritated glance.
"Wild oats?" Daniel said in a miffed tone, but Jack merely shrugged and moved away to open the den door.
Silently, the two men walked through the house to the front door, Daniel stepping ahead of Jack and opening it to leave. They exchanged quick comradely grins on the doorstep, but no parting words as Daniel started to walk away from the front door, so he was surprised when Jack spoke again.
"Don't make Francine live up to the memory of a dead woman, Daniel. It's not fair on her, or on you."
Daniel didn't turn back to look at his friend, simply waving an arm behind him to acknowledge he'd heard. He had to admit that before Jack voiced those thoughts earlier, he had tried to avoid contemplating that Sha're's memory remained an obstacle to living the rest of his life, believing he was living it - and managing very well too, thank you very much. Sure, he thought about his dead wife quite a lot, and very fondly, continuing to mourn her loss, but she was gone, wasn't she? He was handling it, wasn't he?
Jack's words made him wonder about it, but he didn't like to dig too deep into that morass, fearful of what he might find. He had too much other crap to deal with, right? So, he tinkered around the edges of the pool, only venturing to dip his toe in from time to time but never fully submersing himself. One day, Daniel knew he'd have to wade deep out into that water and duck his head under but maybe now wasn't the right time.
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Now, with his arms entwined around Francine, Daniel was pondering whether Jack had been right about him being in denial.
"So, what's keeping you awake, rock boy?" she asked fondly. Daniel snorted. He swore Francine must have got that term of endearment from Jack but, funnily enough, rather enjoyed the little nickname coming from her. Coming from Jack, on the other hand, it probably would have irritated him.
"I was thinking about best man duties," he confessed.
"You'll do fine, Daniel," she asserted, wholly confident that he would.
"What if I don't?"
"What makes you think you won't?"
"It's a big responsibility. I don't want to let Jack down or make him regret asking me. There's a lot to remember."
If Francine had known some of the work he'd done at the SGC, diplomacy and the like, she might have laughed that he should worry about something so comparatively trivial, although she would have understood that for Daniel it wasn't trivial; for him there was something very significant about being the best man to General Jack O'Neill.
However, she didn't know, and didn't laugh, although she did try to make light of it. Francine knew about the kinds of demons that can haunt a person in the middle of the night, both the relatively minor and important ones, and wanted to help chase Daniel's away.
"All these sticky memos and notes everywhere aren't enough?" she teased, waving her hand around at his house in general.
Daniel sighed. "You think I worry too much."
"Yeah. You'll be the best, best man ever."
He laughed and pulled his head back to look her in the eyes. "Sweet, but I don't necessarily have to be as long as I'm competent."
"You're a pretty competent man in many areas, Doctor Daniel Jackson," she replied in a slightly mocking tone, eyeing him in a suggestive manner. "So there's no reason to suppose you shouldn't do a good job of that too."
Kissing her briefly on the cheek, he smirked. "I guess we should go back to bed and test that competency you refer to."
"Now that would be a real pleasure," she drawled in a throaty manner that Daniel could almost have sworn was a purr.
One of her fingertips softly trailed along the line of his cheekbone and they moved apart. Placing the flat of his hand against her back, he steered her toward the bedroom and, pausing at the door, pulled her close for a kiss, his tongue seeking hers with passion. Francine could feel his sudden desire writ large thorough his boxers.
"Mmmm, big boy, are you gonna make love to mama?" she teased, grabbing his ass. Daniel laughed.
"Too darned right I am. C'mere."
She giggled as he swayed her in his arms and then pulled her through the door toward the bed. Then he noticed something that gave him pause and, for the first time, truly ponder the impact Sha're might have on Francine. His wife's picture still stood on his nightstand and Francine couldn't have failed to notice it, yet had said nothing. He wondered if it bothered her.
Yeah, Jack was probably right. It irked Daniel to realize it, but that didn't make what he'd said any the less true.
Francine noticed his slight change of mood, surprised when he reached for the ubiquitous photo of his wife and opened a draw, placing it inside. Smiling at her shyly, he took her hand, softly nibbling her fingertips.
"Why did you do that?" she asked.
"She'd been dead for a long time, Francine, and you're right here and very much alive."
Her eyebrows arched with astonishment. "I'm not sure what that means," she said uncertainly.
"Does it have to mean something?"
"I-I don't know."
He peered at her seriously for a moment before encouraging her to sit on the bed. When he spoke, Daniel didn't meet her eyes, but his fingers absently stroked the knuckles of her hand.
"I've lived under her shadow for a long time. She'll always seem perfect in my memory because she's gone and I was so in love with her. But no one is perfect in reality. I can't let her memory haunt me for the rest of my life. I have to move on." He glanced up at Francine, finding her expression filled with emotion, and figured the photo probably had bothered her. "I can't have my late wife staring down at us while we're making love now, can I?" he said more light-heartedly. "As Jack might say, that's just wrong on so many levels."
She summoned a laugh but continued to reel from the implications, confused.
"Commitment scares the hell out of me, Daniel," she admitted after a long pause of consideration. Now, his eyes remained firmly fixed on hers.
"I know. Me too. That's why it doesn't have to mean anything, not if you don't want it to."
She nodded and sniffled, moved by the conversation more than she might have imagined. "Okay, but what if I do want it to?"
"Then I think I can live with that too. Better. probably." The shy smile was back.
"I-I don't know what. I'm not sure. I really like you, Daniel. More than just like, I guess." Her words petered out into nothing, Francine's lack of certainty clear in the tenor of her voice. With an arm snaking around her back and draping over her shoulders, Daniel smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way, giving her a quick and gentle squeeze.
"It's okay, Francine. We can fake it," he responded smiling in that way she loved so much again. "Just take it as it comes, huh? I don't know either, but I figure we should try and find out, don't you?"
This time, a small smile accompanied her nod, and she reached up a hand to cup his cheek.
"Make love to me, Daniel," she whispered, and Francine's expression was not seductive, outrageously flirtatious, or in the least facetious. Rather, it was that of a young woman who held genuine feelings of affection towards the man she requested the lovemaking from.
So, he did as she asked because she asked it of him, not simply because he wanted to anyway, taking his slow, tender and thoughtful time with the seduction. As he did so, Daniel realized how much he enjoyed the pleasure she took from it - as much as his own. That pleasure seemed to enhance his, and their lovemaking that night was joyous, filled with warmth and devotion. Afterwards, they snuggled up closely to each other, saying little for a considerable time.
"Competent enough for you?" he asked jokily, breaching the silence.
"Mmmm. a whole lot more than competent, rock boy," she replied with a sated grin, running her finger through his hair. "Feel better?"
"Yeah. Like you say, I'll be the best, best man ever!" he exclaimed wholeheartedly, making her laugh with that deep throaty sound he enjoyed so much.
"I'm sure Jack will think so."
"Ya think?" said Daniel with a grin. Francine didn't respond, simply taking him into her arms and caressing his back until she heard and felt the tell tale signs of sleep. Then she allowed herself to relax entirely so she could join him in the land of dreams
Hot and sweaty after a day filled with stuffy meetings in the stuffy Pentagon, when he opened his front door, Jack O'Neill shot straight up the stairs, throwing his briefcase on his bed and loosening his tie.
"Agh!" he exclaimed, as the tie stubbornly stayed put while he exerted increasing force trying to remove it. Frustrated, he gave up momentarily, instead shucking off his shoes and socks and unzipping his pants. Hurriedly, he removed the pants, folding them neatly over a chair, then his jacket, which joined the pants, and his boxers, which didn't.
Returning to struggle with the tie, he mumbled something about more haste less speed when, this time, it seemed to slip off with ease. For a few seconds, he glared at it as if it were alive and deliberately sent to plague him, before throwing it on the bed along with his shirt.
Naked as the day he was born, Jack trotted into the adjoining bathroom, turning on the shower to heat up before sliding into the cubicle and heaving a long languorous and relieved sigh.
"Nothing like a steaming hot shower to help give a man some perspective," he muttered aloud, reaching for the shower gel and lathering himself while the water cascaded pleasingly down his bare flesh.
It had been a pig of a day. All those days when Jack's schedule dictated meeting after meeting were a pig, in his opinion. It seemed he hardly got a break to pause for breath. When is a man supposed to get any real work done, for crying out loud?
The shower was expedient rather than a luxury, so he finished quickly, stepping out of the cubicle and reaching for a large towel to wrap around him. Barely pausing to dry his soaked skin, he sauntered back to the bedroom and lay down on his bed without bothering to get dressed, reaching for the phone and hitting the speed dial.
The forkful of pasta that was edging toward Sam Carter's mouth came to an abrupt halt as the telephone rang. Placing the fork back in the bowl, and pushing the dish to one side, she quickly got up and ran to answer the call. It was Jack's turn to call her and she really hoped it was him.
The reliance she placed on hearing his voice, on some form of contact, had ceased to bother her a long time ago. In fact, she loved the secure and comforting feelings that reliance gave her, as well as the frisson of excitement she still felt each time she heard his voice on the other end of the phone.
"Sam Carter," she said brightly as she picked up the handset.
"Jack O'Neill," the voice down the other end of the line echoed in similar refrain. The pair both smiled.
"Hi, honey," Sam replied, slumping onto the couch and tucking her legs up under her to settle down for the duration. And it would be for quite some duration, because their calls always were, even though they were frequent and often filled with long periods of silence. The silence didn't matter when it was Jack on the other end of the line. All that mattered was that he was there. She might have preferred his physical presence, but this was the next best thing. Jack felt the same way, and Sam knew that very well.
Sometimes they might speak, or not, more than once in a day. Late at night, when they were in bed, one might call the other just because it felt good to do that when they were about to go to sleep. In the absence of the other right by their side for a cuddle, this virtual cuddle did very well indeed as a substitute.
Maybe it was corny, maybe it wasn't, but these little things made the couple more content about their obligatory long absences from each other. They were just some of the long list of things they did to demonstrate their strong bond, often without even considering they were doing them.
"Hey babe," said Jack in response to her hi.
"The flowers are lovely, Jack. Thanks."
She'd been delighted when the large bouquet turned up before she left for the SGC that morning. Jack didn't send her flowers that often, just often enough it seemed, and not so often that she failed to appreciate them when they arrived.
That morning's bouquet sat proudly in a vase Jack had also given her after she had fallen in love with it on one of their many meanders into the centre of Alexandria. A little shop not far from Jack's place sold the unusual and the curious, a lot of which was very much to Sam's taste. The pair often popped in when she stayed with him, and Jack might not buy anything there and then, but he would make mental notes and sometimes turn up in Colorado Springs with an object she seemed to desire.
Jack enjoyed spending money on her. Not vast fortunes because he didn't have those, but he was well off enough to be relatively lavish and liked giving her gifts.
Sam had placed the vase of flowers in the living room and could see it from where she sat. The evening light shining through her window seemed to heighten the various shades of pink, red and white petals with their hues of greenery.
Jack didn't reply to her comment about the bouquet, merely smiling contentedly. It gave him immense satisfaction to please her.
"So, whatchya doing?" he asked.
"I was eating."
"Oh. I could call back."
"Don't you dare hang up! You think I care about cold congealed pasta when I can talk to you instead?"
"Cold congealed pasta? Sounds yummy," he responded in a sarcastic tone.
"Well, that's what they created microwaves for wasn't it?"
"To reheat cold congealed pasta?" He arched an eyebrow amusedly and although she couldn't see that, Sam might easily have guessed.
"Of course. What else?"
Jack chuckled, starting to feel relaxed after his long day of meetings. A shower and talking to Sam - nothing much could beat that.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Lying on my bed in nothing but a towel."
"Butt naked? Mmmm. wish this phone had a screen. We really should set up that webcam I keep talking about."
"Does that mean I would get to see you butt naked too?"
"Yeahsureyabetchya!" she replied, giggling.
"Then why the heck didn't you say so? We'll get one in every room!"
"Aw, Jack, you are so adorable."
"Yeah, I know."
"Don't you just!" They both laughed again.
"How's all the crap for the wedding going? Anything I should know about?"
"Just that I'm beginning to think we should have eloped," Sam grumbled, noting her husband-to-be's amused snort.
"Still can. I can pack a bag in five."
Sam snickered. "Imagine everyone's disappointment if we ran off and got married."
"Daniel would be devastated. He so seems to be getting into all that best man stuff."
She grinned indulgently. "He might not say it, Jack, but he admires you. I think he feels honored you asked him rather than an older friend like Jimmy."
"Think I'd trust Jimmy? Left to him, my bachelor party would end with me trussed up like a turkey at Thanksgiving and on a train to Nowheresville."
"That's a bit unfair to Jimmy, but I take your point. I'd be mortified if you were a no show," she said light-heartedly.
"As if. 'Ain't no mountain high enough', as the song goes," he retorted, getting the desired reaction of a chuckle from Sam, plus a refrain along the lines of 'nothing will keep me, keep me from you', thrown in for good measure. Jack chortled merrily and then returned to what she had said earlier. "So, you figure Daniel feels honored, eh?" he asked, and Sam imagined his boyish and shy but also somewhat smug grin beaming down the phone at her.
"Of course he does."
"Admires me, you say?"
She laughed at his tone. "Sure, you two have your moments, but."
"Moments?" Jack interrupted. "You've got that right, we rarely agree about anything. But. Daniel is special. Like it might have been with one of my kid brothers, I guess."
Sam's thoughts turned to Jack's turbulent childhood but she detected no rancor or sorrow in his tone. Their trip to Chicago seemed to have mellowed him as far as his family were concerned, particularly toward his mother. Somehow, he seemed more at ease with himself these days, which was great for him, and for them. She wondered if Jack's thoughts had strayed along the same path.
"Special?" she replied. "Yes, he's special. He's family. That's special."
"Don't you dare ever tell Daniel I said that, by the way," he warned and Sam chuckled.
"You men are nuts. The world would be a better place if you got into that touchy feely stuff with your friends."
"Daniel and I do touchy feely stuff," he objected.
"Sure you do," she replied.
"Do I detect a slight hint of sarcasm, Colonel Carter?"
"Only a slight hint?" she replied with tongue firmly in cheek.
"I'll have you know that I'm quite good at touchy feely stuff. Well, better these days than I used to be." After he spoke, Sam could have sworn she could see the shrug she imagined his shoulders making.
"With me, maybe."
"See!"
"But with Daniel?"
"Yeah, well, I try. He can be difficult."
"He says that about you."
"He does? Oh." His tone sounded vaguely disappointed.
"Don't pout."
"How do you know.?"
"I just know."
"Right. Of course you do."
She imagined him furrowing his eyebrows in puzzlement as he fell silent. "Wish I could see you now, Mr. Scarecrow."
Sam determined that when she went to Jack's next, she'd go armed with webcams and spend some of their precious time together setting them up. That would be so worth it.
"Me too, Dorothy."
This time, she envisaged a smile again - one of those deeply affectionate ones that Jack seemed to aim only at her, or so Sam liked to think.
"I can see you in my minds eye. I guess that will have to do," he added, picking up a photograph of Sam from close to where he was sitting and smiling at it inanely. Yes, he could picture every freckle and line on her face, every expression she might use, her blue eyes twinkling gaily, her red lips crinkling into a dimpled smile, and every other little detail. But, it didn't hurt to look at the photo anyway and wish it was the real thing.
"Me too, honey," she replied wistfully and they lapsed into silence, each simply listening to the shallow breath of the other. Jack and Sam passed a lot of phone time in peaceable silence.
"I'm gonna sign those papers with Jimmy tomorrow," Jack said, remembering he hadn't mentioned it.
"Great. Our very own restaurant." she responded in a gently mocking tone. "I'm pleased you decided to go for it, not just because it's Jimmy, but it's a good deal," she added more seriously.
"If it's a success," he reminded her.
"It will be. Jane will see to that."
Jack chuckled affably. Sam might be right about that. Combined, Jimmy and Jane would be quite a formidable partnership, and couple. How could it fail?
Jimmy genuinely had eloped, which had surprised all his friends, as well as Jane. Sweeping her away for a short break, he returned to DC as a married man and Jack had been stunned. Of course, he knew that Jimmy was crazy about Jane, and that he'd proposed, but to actually go through with it - so abruptly, so unannounced - that was a shocker.
Jack kind of envied Jimmy and Jane's elopement and so empathized with Sam's earlier words, almost wishing they could do the same. Her words had been borne from frustration with wedding plans, however, and he knew Sam really wanted to walk down the aisle with all eyes turned toward her, looking beautiful in her wedding dress. Essentially, that was what he wanted too.
In fact, he keenly anticipated standing there next to Daniel in overawed astonishment and joy as he watched her walk toward him. Jack could picture the scene almost as sharply as he could Sam's face. Whatever her dress was like, however she looked, he knew she'd set the world alight that day, and his heart. Hell, even if she wore BDUs it wouldn't bother Jack much. She'd look stunning anyway, heading slowly down the aisle toward him on her way to becoming Mrs. O'Neill. Mrs. O'Neill. oh, boy! That sure was something.
Jack knew he would adore Sam just as much without all of those trappings, even the wedding certificate, but he very much wanted to proclaim their union to the world, and that's what weddings are for, aren't they?
"I bet they'll make a great couple," Sam said, referring to Jimmy and Jane.
"They seemed happy enough at the poker game the other night. I guess I'm glad Jimmy grasped the nettle. Never thought I'd live to see that day."
"Nettle? So if Jane's a nettle, what am I? The thorn in your side?"
"You betchya," he agreed with faint laughter in his voice. "A giant thorn that is buried so deep that I kind of love it now. It niggles sometimes, but you know." Jack paused for effect and heard a pleasing amused grunt from Sam. "I sure would miss it if it were gone."
"Very cute, sweetie," she said with faint sarcasm, smirking and imagining Jack poking his tongue out at her.
"When a person pokes his tongue out at you, can you hear it all the way down there in the Springs?" he retorted with mock acidity, which made Sam chuckle, particularly given the picture of Jack she'd just conjured in her mind.
"Oh, definitely," she replied, still chortling to herself.
"Don't tell me. you really did know I was poking my tongue out, didn't ya?"
When she murmured agreement, they laughed simultaneously before slipping back into silence again. This was the comforting lull of contact. Not together in the same room, perhaps, and unable to touch as they would have wished, but the phone would do very well indeed, for now. They didn't need to say anything to each other now any more than they did when they were together. On the other hand.
"Did you say you're only wearing a towel?" she asked after a while.
"Uh, huh. fresh out of the shower. I'm still damp." His tone was slightly teasing, as if he guessed what she might be thinking and wanted to lead her into temptation.
"Wet Jack O'Neill with damp hair sticking up all over the place. yummmmy, you wicked tease. I've so gotta sort out the webcam!"
"That could get kinda x-rated, don't you think?"
"Getting x-rated would be pretty good right about now."
"Feeling horny, honey?"
Sam could picture him smirking in a self-satisfied sort of way, and grinned. "Maybe. how about you?"
"I might be persuaded..." he taunted, hearing her draw in a sharp breath.
"Right, so go for it, Jack - make love to me."
He beamed delightedly to himself as if this was what he'd wanted all along. Phone sex. Faking it could be a lot of fun. Sometimes the phone sex was borne from a desperation that separation brought on the couple, but this time it wasn't desperation so much as a simple need to feel intimate.
"I'd like that," he responded eagerly. In Jack and Sam language, her request meant he had to do most of the talking, concocting the lovemaking scenario and talking her through it as they did whatever they needed to do to satisfy themselves. They didn't do this often, but took considerable pleasure from it when they did.
"Okay, Mr. Scarecrow. I'm ready and waiting for you."
"Patience, Dorothy, patience." He thought for a moment before continuing, inspired by the shower, and the towel.
So, Jack devised a tale that would give her the wet, disheveled lover she craved. One in which he got home feeling horny as hell, but found her asleep on his bed, fully clothed. Frustrated that he couldn't make love to her as he desired, Jack took a shower, thinking he'd have to satisfy himself. Then, he changed his mind, stopping before it was too late, and determining to seduce her awake. He talked them both through their virtual lovemaking, from sensual start to climactic finish.
Afterward, when a gentle snoring sound told her that he'd dozed off on the other end of the line, Sam grinned indulgently, settling down to simply listen.
A long while later, she heard him stir. "Was that alright for you baby?" he asked blearily as if there's been no interruption, and then Sam heard him start, as if he had just realized what had happened. "Crap, I fell asleep!"
"You sure did," she replied with a slight titter in her tone.
"You should have shouted at me down the phone or something and woken me up." Jack sounded slightly irked, but Sam knew it was with himself, not her.
"Now, why on earth would I want to do that?" she relied smoothly. "It almost felt like you were lying next to me, like we really had just made love. I kind of liked that."
"Sam, babe." he started in an apologetic manner. Then she heard him sigh, probably grasping what she had just said. "So it was okay?"
"The snoring or the virtual sex?" she asked with an attitude of innocence, and he growled at her because Jack knew she understood what he was asking perfectly well. "Seriously, Jack, it was good, really good."
"Why, thank you, ma'am," he responded in bright tone. "But, next time, it's your turn to do all the hard work and make love to me."
"I'd like that, my love. Maybe we could take a shower together, or have a bath." She conjured various scenarios in her mind, trying to imagine one they hadn't used before. "How about the SGC gateroom, right there in front of the whole command? Or in my lab, throwing everything off the table and getting right down to it, with me coming down on you. Or in the locker room, fulfilling that promising situation we got into all those years ago when we were both infected. I still kind of like that idea." Her voice was husky and seductive.
"Sam, stop! What is this? Phone sex maniacs are us?" he joked and she giggled appreciatively.
"Spoil sport. You're tired?" she asked and he grunted a response. "Another time?"
"You can count on that!" He paused and then snickered aloud. "The gate room? Really? Now I kind of like that little fantasy."
"Screwing on the ramp after a difficult mission? Or up against the wall?" she suggested.
"Right in front of the SFs? That would be one hell of a welcome home."
"I'll work on it," she promised.
"You do that - next time."
They both knew that the other was grinning like crazy at this bantering exchange. Jack appreciated and enjoyed the repartee with Sam because, these days, it came to them very freely and naturally. So, he would have loved to continue the chitchat but really was exhausted. Sam empathized. She'd had her fair share of days that left her feeling like that. Their consequent farewells were reluctant ones.
After hanging up, Jack decided he was hungry, pondering when he'd last eaten a meal at home instead of snacking in the Pentagon. Deciding he needed an intake of calories to ward off a grumbling stomach that might keep him awake, he swiftly pulled on his special lazing around the house jogging gear, hoping he wouldn't lie awake because he ate too soon before going to bed.
"Can't win. Need to eat," O'Neill muttered as he picked up the phone to call the local Chinese. Then he remembered that the other night when his poker friends came over, they'd had huge quantities of Chinese take-out delivered and some of it ended up in his refrigerator. So, he wandered down to the kitchen to check out whether it was still edible.
Take-out cartons littered his fridge, and Jack arched his eyebrows with surprise because he hadn't realized quite how much food they'd left. Perhaps he should have issued doggie bags to his guests. Picking out a carton, he opened it gingerly and peered inside, half expecting to find something that looked like the insides of an alien. It looked okay. He took a wary sniff, preparing his nose for an onslaught of distaste. It smelled okay. That had to mean it was okay, right?
Deciding he'd eaten far worse, Jack removed all of it from the refrigerator and spread it out over the kitchen table, digging into the cartons with a spoon and piling a plate high with various Chinese delicacies. Then he thrust it into the microwave to heat through, taking perverse pleasure from the fact that he could picture Sam doing the same thing with her cold congealed pasta, and grinning like a prize goofball.
An inspired thought occurred to him and he got his cell and called Sam, who was taken aback to hear from him so soon.
"Is your cold congealed pasta ready?" he asked.
"Just about to take it out of the microwave when you called," she replied, frowning into the phone thinking he'd gone nuts, calling to ask about her pasta.
"Feel like having dinner together tonight?"
When she realized his motives, Sam tittered appreciatively. "You're asking me on a date, General?" Jack grunted an affirmative. "You betchya, sir!"
So, the couple sat in their own homes to eat, phones on loud speaker by their sides, and munching on their totally different meals. Sometimes they chattered between mouthfuls and sometimes they remained silent as they chewed and pondered. The one constant throughout was that the pair were totally at ease with each other. By the end of their meals, they'd decided it was almost as good as a real date. Thus, a new Jack and Sam pastime was borne - pretending to be on a date while sharing a meal over the phone line.
Later in bed when his phone rang once again, Jack grumbled before picking it up, muttering something about why can't a man be allowed to get a good night's sleep? It wasn't the Pentagon with a crisis, as he had supposed, but Sam, and he realized it was intended to be one of their good night, hug in bed type calls. This was turning out to be akin to living in the same house. Not quite, but close enough for a couple of lovers who were separated by hundreds of miles.
Then she started talking about greeting each other in the gateroom after a difficult mission, and Jack smiled, settling down to listen. There's life in the old dog yet, he thought with a smirk. Yeahsureyabetchya.
End
Story Notes: Email: su_freund@ficwithfins.com
Website: http://www.ficwithfins.com/
An adult Only version of this story can be found on my website, here: http://www.ficwithfins.com/AA3_1/archive/3/neveralone12.html
Content Warnings: Sexual situations and use of mild language
Pairings: Jack & Sam, Daniel/Other (Francine)
Season: S9 onwards
Spoilers: Nothing of much consequence
Sequel/Series Info: Sequel to Never Alone Part 34: Truly, Madly, Deeply
Status: Continuing Series
File Size: 116 KB
Archive: My site, Jackfic, SJD yes, FanFiction Net
Author's Note:
1. I dedicate this story to the fans of Francine Butler and to Francine's alter ego across the Big Pond in Alexandria, Virginia, USA, who knows who she is!
2. My apologies to one and all for the delay in adding a new chapter to this series. Some of you have been nudging me, and you have all been waiting patiently for too long, but my muse wanted me to turn my mind to other things, and sometimes there is no way one can control the muse.
3. This chapter has not been beta read, and I hope it doesn't suffer from that lack and that you enjoy it despite any mistakes I might have made.
Website: http://www.ficwithfins.com/
An adult Only version of this story can be found on my website, here: http://www.ficwithfins.com/AA3_1/archive/3/neveralone12.html
Content Warnings: Sexual situations and use of mild language
Pairings: Jack & Sam, Daniel/Other (Francine)
Season: S9 onwards
Spoilers: Nothing of much consequence
Sequel/Series Info: Sequel to Never Alone Part 34: Truly, Madly, Deeply
Status: Continuing Series
File Size: 116 KB
Archive: My site, Jackfic, SJD yes, FanFiction Net
Author's Note:
1. I dedicate this story to the fans of Francine Butler and to Francine's alter ego across the Big Pond in Alexandria, Virginia, USA, who knows who she is!
2. My apologies to one and all for the delay in adding a new chapter to this series. Some of you have been nudging me, and you have all been waiting patiently for too long, but my muse wanted me to turn my mind to other things, and sometimes there is no way one can control the muse.
3. This chapter has not been beta read, and I hope it doesn't suffer from that lack and that you enjoy it despite any mistakes I might have made.
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]