Reveries - Stargate SG1 Fanfiction

Disclaimers: Stargate SG-1, its characters and universe are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions and the Sci-Fi Channel. No copyright infringement is intended and I'm making no money from this. I have nothing but my own warped imagination and therefore I'm not worth suing. :)

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Reveries
By Alyse ([e-mail])

Retirement.

He rolls the word around in his mind, trying it on for size, mentally sounding out the syllables. Retirement. Retired. Washed up, worn out, put out to pasture.

It doesn't fit, not yet. Neither the word nor the feeling it engenders. He hopes it will. It will have to. This is it, his life now.

Retired.

He's been here before, both in reality and in pretence. He's already worked out how to fill the emptiness of the days with chores and reading and discovering new hobbies. That was then, though, before the SGC. Before he knew that the Stargate existed and before a certain scruffy archaeologist of his acquaintance opened up the Universe to him.

B.D. Before Daniel.

His knees are shot, the cartilage now almost non-existent. Too many years spent marching under merciless suns. Too much pressure, too many accidents, too much living he thinks. It's taken its toll and now not even the most up to the minute surgical procedures on offer are going to be enough to stem the tide, to keep him fit enough to stay in the field. And neither the technology offered by the Goa'uld or the Tok'ra is attractive enough to consider. No way in hell is he getting into any sarcophagus, not after seeing what it did to Daniel, and even the Tok'ra cannot remedy the effects of time.

He had a choice of course - fly a desk or walk away. He walked away, while he still could.

He doesn't feel old, not really. Tired some days, but that he's already decided is the result of living on adrenaline half the time rather than age. Although fifty is just around the corner, it hasn't hit yet. He's fit and healthy and strong. Except for the knees. But it's enough to limit his options. To take away the Stargate. And yet...

And yet he doesn't regret, not really. Even before his knees went he was slowing down, and time stops for no man, not even him. There are younger men in the field now, ones he's trained himself. Good men, under a hell of a CO. Carter's still out there, giving them hell, leading SG1 now, ready as she wasn't the last time, when his 'retirement' was a ruse. Teal'c's out there too, as seemingly ageless as they come.

And Daniel. Where else would Daniel be?

He watches Daniel now as Daniel moves through the throng, talking to everyone on an equal basis, whether they be the lowest airmen or the top brass come to see him off this time.

Come to see if he's really going this time, he thinks, putting on the cynicism like a well fitting garment. Maybe he is getting old. Maybe he's past it, a tin soldier in a war that's likely to stretch well beyond his lifetime. After all, the Tok'ra have been fighting it for two thousand years. Old, washed up, worn out...

He catches Daniel's gaze, catches the small smile of acknowledgement on Daniel's face, the brief light flaring in Daniel's expressive eyes.

Or not.

Once upon a time when he thought of retirement he thought of Sara and of maybe moving to Minnesota permanently. Of Charlie and grandkids come to visit. When retirement finally came for the first time, he thought of his gun and the days stretching in front of him, empty and void of any meaning without his son.

But that was B.D. Before life had meaning again.

The next time he 'retired' it was an act, and in carrying out that charade he'd come damn close to pushing away the same person who'd dragged him kicking and screaming out of his self-imposed isolation the first time. Who, without meaning to, had actually shown him that there was something worth living for. That in a Universe marked by great cruelty there was also great capacity for love and courage and friendship.

Yes, he'd come too damn close to throwing that friendship away in the name of 'honour' and 'duty'.

This time... It's difficult to tell what's going to happen this time. He's not out of the loop entirely. Retired but not forgotten. They can't afford to forget him. Thor likes him. So while he may out of the field and out of the 'force, he's not out of the picture.

There's part of him that quite likes that idea. Maybe something to do with the brass who've bothered to come to this, his big 'So Jack's retiring again' bash. Makes him feel... important.

Mind you, the fact that his team - his former team, and now and always his friends - have actually christened this his 'So, Jack's retiring again' bash and made banners to that effect keeps him humble. At least, that's what they told him they'd intended to do.

He basks in that for a moment, although he's already moving on, mingling with the well-wishers come to see him off while his eyes automatically search out his 'kids' in the crowd milling around. He doesn't spot them at first, too many bodies filling up his home, and he moves up the stairs, making small talk, reaching a better vantage point, master of all he surveys. There's Carter, in the corner, a crowd of young and smitten men around her. He catches her eye as she looks up and she smiles too, a bright and beaming grin that gets more than one of her conquests glancing in his direction, scoping out the competition. He raises his bottle in acknowledgement and she repeats the gesture a little more effusively before turning her attention back to her little entourage.

She looks good tonight, in civvies, the alcohol bringing an attractive flush to her features. And yet in spite of that his eyes are already roaming onwards. No matter what the expectations of half the SGC, including those gathered around her sending sour looks in his direction, she's still 'Carter' to him, no more, no less. Attractive in the abstract, but not the one he wants. He has no idea what she wants, what she expects. They've never talked about it. He hopes they never will.

Teal'c is holding court in another corner, his countenance grave and slightly disapproving. He doesn't take offence, doesn't assume that it means that Teal'c isn't enjoying himself. Teal'c always looks like that. It's no reflection on the evening or his home. It's just Teal'c. Imposing. Disciplined. A rock in more ways than one and a damn fine friend.

Yeah, he's lucky.

He doesn't catch Teal'c's eye, but that's okay because he's already moving on again, searching for that one face, the one that gets his heart beating faster in a way that Carter's never done. The one that says 'home' to him and has for a while.

There. A glimpse of dark hair in the crowd, the glint of reflected light as his target turns his head and catches the lamplight in the lenses of his glasses. Another glance, another smile, warming him through and he basks in that for far longer.

They've never talked about it. They haven't had to. It's hung between them though, unmentioned but not unnoticed. Too many obstacles to bring it into the light of day. Don't ask, don't tell. The chain of command. They've both known it was there, though. He has no doubt of that. Sometimes it's come so close to the surface that he's known that all he would have to do to break down those last few remaining barriers between them is to reach out and Daniel would be there, waiting for him.

He never has. Instead, he's held firm, even when the need has been the strongest, held firm as Daniel has held firm. Instead of acting on those feelings, that need, he's clamped down on it but letting it warm those closed and dark places inside, too many of them to count and enough to make sleep difficult some nights. He doesn't know if Daniel's held those same thoughts, feelings as closely to himself as he has, wrapped his mind and his arms around them and hugged them tightly to his chest. Doesn't know if Daniel also only brings them out in the quiet of the night, lets them soothe away the rough edges of the day. He hopes so, but he doesn't know.

They've never been able to talk about it. They can talk about it now.

It's liberating, this feeling. That's what he thinks, standing on the landing, talking to Kovacek, nodding attentively at whatever the man is saying while his eyes never leave Daniel, drinking in the sight of him. Liberating. Another word to roll around his mind. This time, for the first time, he doesn't see retirement as a prison, trapping him in inactivity with old age the only release. This time he sees it as a freedom, a gift granting him the ability to reach out and finally touch what he's wanted for so long.

Daniel smiles at him again then turns back to Ferretti.

It's late. People are making a move. There are more congratulations, more jokes about how he's going to fill the days, jokes about the pond with no fish, of encroaching senility. He smiles in all the right places, says all the right things but all the time there's a single thought thrumming through him.

Free.

People are leaving, and Carter kisses him on the cheek and yet still calls him 'sir' as she leaves, weaving her way drunkenly towards the taxi, her arm linked with Fraiser's, her silvery laugh drifting back to him as they share a joke. He catches Ferretti's smirk as he watches them go, barely registers the man's joking comment, something about how regulations don't count anymore.

How right the man is, and yet how wrong.

Daniel's still here although again they haven't talked about it. He heard some muttered comment about helping him clear up and no one turned a hair, the action so expected it passes unnoticed by those around them. For the first time he realises that it won't matter if they do notice, it won't matter if they look at Daniel and look at him and see what they feel, what he knows they both feel. There's nothing anyone can do about it anymore. They've served their time, kept to the rules and now he's free.

He sees the last car off, receives the last handshakes and the last kisses from the few female personnel he serves... has served with. The house is silent now, peaceful and he makes his way back inside, locking the front door behind him.

Daniel's in the kitchen, rinsing off glasses before placing them with neat, economical movements into the dishwasher. He pauses for a moment, watching him, admiring the fluid form as Daniel moves, the care that Daniel takes. The grace, the skill, the smoothness as Daniel handles them as carefully as any artefact. For a second he flashes to the thought of those elegant fingers moving with that same slow care over his own skin and he feels a sudden surge of mingled heat and tenderness.

They've never talked about it but they can talk about it now.

He doesn't. He moves closer, rests his hand gently on the back of Daniel's neck, lets it lie there, heavy and warm and saying everything he can't.

Daniel glances up again, his eyes hidden behind his glasses. He sees himself reflected in the lenses. His expression is serious and that seems right somehow, to not treat this moment lightly.

Daniel straightens up and his hand finally slips from Daniel's neck. He can see Daniel's eyes now, dark blue, deep and mysterious. The smiles from earlier are gone, and Daniel's expression is now as sombre and serious as his own. There's the barest hint of a frown between Daniel's expressive eyebrows but he knows the man well enough to know it's not concern or disgust. This is just how Daniel looks when Daniel's figuring something out and now, as so many times in the past, his fingertips itch with the urge to reach up and smooth those lines away.

The moment hangs heavy between them, still and silent. Daniel's the one who breaks the deadlock, moving away from him, towards the stairs, walking up to the same landing he was observing Daniel from earlier. Daniel doesn't look back.

He follows. It seems as though he's spent as much time over the last few years following Daniel as Daniel has spent following him. Taking turns, first leader then led. He likes that idea. There's a symmetry there that appeals to him.

When he walks into the bedroom, Daniel is waiting for him, his expression still calm and serious. Daniel's sitting on the bed, watching him, his hands folded neatly in his lap and his head tilted slightly to one side. As he watches, Daniel gives him a faint smile, one of those trademark blink and you miss them smiles. The frown's gone. He looks... content.

They've never talked about it. They haven't needed to. They don't need to now.

He turns and shuts the door behind him, closing it on his old life before he walks towards his new one.

The End

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Notes: Many thanks are due to Lou for her comments - much appreciated and insightful as always. And thanks and hugs to Teri, who helped me find a title.