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[Sensation Series 4] by Akire [e-mail] [www]
Title: Objects at Rest and in Motion
Paul Daniel has books on everything. There are books on the shelves, covering the desk, in cupboards and boxes, even under the bed. I discovered this last stash as I was cleaning. Hey, its not like I have much else to do with my time these days. Some of these were dog-eared and coffee stained, some looked like they’d never been opened. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason, more like they’d just been shoved out of the way and forgotten. Discarded as being surplus to requirements. I know how that feels. One title caught my eye, its print bold on its shiny dust cover. ‘Politics in a Global Context,’ it looked interesting enough for me to flop back on the bed and flip through its pages. I always was a political animal. Perhaps I should have stayed in DC, gotten a job in some Senator’s office, instead of tucking my tail between my legs and running to hide with my lover half a continent away. But then I wouldn’t have Daniel. And I couldn’t ask him to come to DC with me. His place is out there, digging through his artifacts, learning about ancient, vibrant cultures. Not hanging around like just another trophy husband at yet another political cocktail party. Not that Daniel wouldn’t turn heads. He may be heading rapidly for the wrong side of thirty-five, but he’s still a stunningly…beautiful man. There’s no other way to phrase it. It’s not a surface beauty, but something that comes from deep within. I notice it whenever we go out, the looks from both sexes and all orientations. There’s just something about him that makes you want to look again. And again. And again. Unless, of course, you piss him off. Woah boy, watch out. That pretty face hides the mind of a genius and the tongue of a viper. Oh yes, that tongue! He is so generous with those he cares for, or those he feels sympathy for. He just has no time for idiots or bullies. And from the little he has mentioned about life under the Mountain, the Stargate project is rapidly becoming a ship of fools. When I first signed on as the liason for the JCS, I was amazed at how tight SG1 were. It was like they were telepathic or something. In time, I figured it out. A look, a slight noise, an almost imperceptible shrug of the shoulders – that was all they needed to make themselves understood. Add it to their resumes: fluent in SG1-ese. I can’t pick out exactly when their little Tower of Babel fell down. It wasn’t so much a cataclysmic event as a gradual erosion. I remember when the Belisknor crashed, and Daniel’s reactions were about what I expected – he was going out of his mind with worry. He certainly didn’t notice me, even when I almost hugged him after the escape from the sub. Maybe it was still too subtle, or maybe Daniel was just being stubborn. Daniel never gives up, especially on the important things. But lately? I let the book fall back to the floor with a thump. I swear, if I saw Jack O’Neill right now, I would hit him. Hey, one upside of getting fired, they can’t court-martial me for decking the son of a bitch. Does he even realize what he’s doing to Dan? My love may grin and bear it at work, but he can’t hide from me. He never was a very good liar. Why the hell hasn’t anyone else seen this? The killer is that I no longer have my clearances, so technically Daniel shouldn’t even open a file from one of his projects in my presence. But they can’t erase what I know, and I can piece together the rest of the puzzle. My love is hurting. And there’s not a damn thing I can do to make it right. All I can do is sit here and wait. Daniel One of the upsides of having Paul move in is having someone who knows their way around a saucepan to come home to. In fact, Paul has taken over the domestic sphere. As long as he leaves my artifacts alone, I don’t care. He must be bored out of his skull, sitting around all day. There’s not a lot of call around Colorado Springs for ex-Major’s with experience in coordinating top secret military projects. I lock the door behind me and navigate the mess of boxes that line the halls. “Paul, I love you, but…” He appeared from the kitchen with a smile and a wooden spoon. “The boxes have to go. It’s alright, I’ve been calling around. I’ll have them in storage by tomorrow.” I throw my bag at the table that serves me for a desk, and step in for a kiss. He tastes of tomato and garlic, a teasing hint of the meal to come served in the most tantalizing fashion. The kiss ends slowly, both of us savouring the renewed sensation of contact after the day apart. It’s only been a week since he flew out of Georgetown for the last time, but even knowing that we no longer have to snatch moments together hasn’t changed much. I guess we’re both just tactile people. “Wash up, dinners almost ready.” I move to obey, a smile on my face. We sound so domestic. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed having someone to come home to. Knowing that Paul was waiting here for me has made this week bearable – just. By the time I return to the table, my meal is waiting for me, Paul pouring a glass of red wine. No words are needed, just a smile, a touch in passing, a sigh of pleasure as I taste the pasta. Did I mention Paul was a good cook? He grins at me after a few minutes. “At the risk of sounding like someone out of the Walton’s, how was your day?” I laugh quietly at the mental image of Paul in pearl’s and an apron. “Good, it was…” I look and him, and feel my pasted-on smile crumble. Paul knows me too well. Ever since we made that leap of faith from friend’s to lovers, its like he can read my mind. When we were forced apart by circumstance, it was…useful. We never had to waste time trying to find the words to express what we felt, what we wanted. But lately, knowing that Paul is near, and that I don’t need to explain – I think they would have thrown me back in the padded room if it wasn’t for him. It’s scary, knowing you are that dependent on someone. “Dan,” he says quietly. He pauses and sighs. He and I both know that platitudes won’t make it right. He reaches out, wraps a hand around my forearm. I soak up the contact, and will the stresses of my life away. “It’s okay, Paul.” I dredge up another smile. “I’ll cope.” I always do. “Tell me what you did today.” Paul He’s changing the subject, trying to move away from the problem. Was this how he got through life? Ignoring problems ‘til they went away? Swallowing his hurt until it nearly kills him? He wants space. I’m not convinced that’s the solution. “I found some books under your bed.” He grins, not so much for the books but for safety of the topic. “I’d forgotten about those. I ran out of shelve space…” he reads my expression and smiles more easily. “Yeah, I know, ridiculous, isn’t it? Anything good in there?” I shrug and force myself to eat another bite. “Some books on politics that read like they were written by two-year olds. I don’t know who gave those idiots a publishing contract, but I swear, it was a waste of paper.” Daniel was toying with his meal. Damn, I was hoping he’d eat more than that. Coffee is not a food group. “Perhaps you should set the record straight?” “What do you mean?” Daniel shrugs again. He’s got that ‘please hold whilst my ideas coagulate into words’ look on his face. I know better than to interrupt. “Well, your degree was in politics, right? You’ve had a lot of experience in Washington, seen a lot of stuff. Why don’t you write your interpretation?” He pushed his plate away and reached for his glass. “It’s actually not hard to get a publishing contract, especially if the editors think you know what you’re on about.” I was shaking my head half way through that speech. “Write a book? What do I know about writing a book?” He leaned forward. I could see he was taken with his idea. I have to admit, it was not without its appeal, but I wouldn’t know where to begin. “You know more than you think you do, Paul. Trust me, anyone who spends ten minutes talking politics with you would realize that you know your stuff. I could help you with the structural stuff. Writing is easy once you’ve mapped out your structure.” “You sound like you’re the one who knows his stuff, Dan.” He lifts his glass in a mock toast. “Two ph.d’s and a masters by thesis can’t be wrong.” What the hell. It’s not like I’ve got a hectic schedule any more. Besides, this is the most animated I’ve seen Dan in days. “Okay, I’ll look into it.” He reaches over and grabs my hand, twining his fingers with mine. “Paul Davis, published author. Has a nice ring to it.” Daniel I’m panting heavily as I jog up the slope. So much to study and record, so little time. I’ve got less than half an hour to get these ruins onto film before Jack herds us back through the Gate. I can see him now, standing watch a little further up the hill towards the Stargate. He looks bored out of his skull. “Daniel! Hurry up! Get your rocks and let’s get moving!” I bite down on the urge to yell back. It wouldn’t do me much good. I once told him that we had a different of opinion about everything. At least back then, he would listen to what I had to say. Now, I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall. Why am I doing this? The though strikes from out of the blue, and I stop dead in my tracks. Why am I doing this? My original reason was simple – Share. Then she died, and my reason became my last promise to her. A self-imposed mission everyone else wrote off as another delusion of Dr ‘Flaky’ Jackson. That I also fulfilled, despite their skepticism. But what now? Discovery? Hell, I’m either cooped up in a lab or exhausting myself running around planets trying to learn everything on a ridiculous timeframe. What once was a miraculous journey of discovery has become a chore. A burden too big for me to carry. Defeating Apophis? Hard to kill a guy who’s got his own resurrection-in-a-box thing going. I stare at the crumbling stone wall before me. Truthfully? I’m tired of the revenge thing. I still hate him, still hate all Goauld. I will hate what they did to me, what they took from me, ‘til the day I die. But the rage has burnt itself out. Don’t get me wrong, if I ever got a clear shot, I’d take it. But I’m not going to waste my life waiting to play assassin. “DANIEL!” I look up as Jack swaggers down the slope towards me. “You right to go?” “Yes Jack. Yes I am.” He’s too busy looking around for Sam to truly hear me. All that registers are the words. “Great, grab your rocks and let’s go.” I follow without protest back to the Stargate, dial the sequence. As the Gate explodes open and stabilizes, I caress the familiar, worn Naquada surface. I dream about the Gate glyphs. I love the patterns of lines and circles. In nearly six years, I’ve never dialed wrong. I cracked the code, I understand them. I see the beauty beneath the form. I tried to explain to the others once, but they didn’t understand. All they see is a tool, a cypher. A means to and end. Perhaps I should try explaining it to Paul, even if he’s not as familiar with them. He might understand what I feel. Beside me, Sam sends the GDO signal. I turn to look back down the hill, to the ruins and the rolling, grassy hills beyond. The sky is not-quite the right shade of blue, the grass not-quite the right shade of green. Alien without being totally foreign. Also beautiful. “Daniel!” Jack sounds cranky again. “I’m coming.” I turn around and resolutely walk through the wormhole. “Ahh, SG-1. I’d like you to meet Major Schirato. He’s to be our new liaison to the Pentagon.” I nod as cordially as I can to Paul’s unworthy successor. I think I glowered slightly. “Has Davis been reassigned?” Jack sprawled into one of the briefing room chairs, his laconic drawl drawing a look of distaste from the new Major. Hammond paused, formulating his delicate phrase. “Major Davis has resigned from service for personal reasons.” Oh, so that’s the politically correct version. I can almost hear Paul’s painful laugh at this. The other three just shrug and move on. Military mindset – one soldier is as good as the next, just fill your post and do your duty. Didn’t they ever realize how much Paul did for them? He believed in this project. This Schirato guy? I’m not holding my breath. “May I start with your department, Dr Jackson?” Huh? Start what with my department? “These records indicate that your spending allocations seem rather high for a basic field research unit.” Basic field? Oh, oh, do not denigrate my people, Major, just because they’re civilians who have more intelligence in their pinkies than you probably have in your entire being! “That budget allocation is necessary to maintain the aims and goals set to us. Major Davis…” “Is no longer here. I need to adjust the balances to bring it into line after Major Davis’ extravagance.” He got this smirk as he said that. He’s a Pentagon boy, he probably heard the gossip ten minutes after Paul got the boot. Malicious, sanctimonious prick. “Here is your revised budget, Dr Jackson. As you can see, we’ve had to make some severe cutbacks to counterbalance your above average spending. But I’m sure you’ll manage.” He slides a sheet of paper across the table at me, nods at Hammond, and everyone else stands up. “That will be all, people. Dismissed.” No one even looks back, they just all head out. I pick up the page with trembling fingers, scan the figures and close my eyes. Paul Those idiots. Those stupid, sanctimonious fools. Hammond went along with this? We both know Dan is great with bureaucrats, he wrapped that sub-Committee around his fingers that amazing day all those months ago. But he let this Schirato just walk in there and do this, and didn’t say a word in protest? This shouldn’t be happening to him, especially not so soon. I thought I’d made the reports bulletproof. Every argument, every reason meticulous documented and cross-referenced. Daniel’s a thorough scientist, but he’s not wasteful, even with other people’s money. After so many years running digs on other people’s philanthropy, he’s learnt how to squeeze the most out of every cent. But not even he could meet the stated goals of the Project on this…this pittance. Daniel had walked in the door like he was sleep-walking. “Dan?” I was at the desk, laptop open, laying out some ideas for this book. But one look at his expression and I forgot everything else. For a terrifying moment, I thought someone might have died. “Dan?” I was off the chair and making a beeline towards him. As soon as my arms were around him, he snapped out of his fugue state. “Paul.” He said my name as if it were sanctuary. In a way, I suppose I am. I led him over to the couch, where he collapsed against me and proceeded to lay the briefing out to me. Technically, Daniel shouldn’t have told me, let alone shown me classified SGC documents. But fuck them all. Daniel needs me. I sent him off to the shower, then sat back down with a calculator. They were strangling him. Choking the life out of the archeological and anthropological divisions. I put the paper down and laid my forehead on my folded arms. There was not a damn thing I could do. As far as the SGC are concerned, I have ‘left due to personal concerns.’ Persona non grata. And Daniel’s not much better off. I’ve been living with him now for six weeks. I know all his neighbours on a first-name basis. Hell, the owner of the coffee shop on the corner knows my regular order. But not once has one of his ‘friends’ from the SGC called him, or dropped by. Daniel could be deterring them, so as not to be out-ed while still working for the military. But I don’t think he had to. Oh Dan. How long have you been left alone? I sit up suddenly as a thought occurs to me. Going through the Stargate was dangerous. The System Lords have said outright that any human caught off Earth would be considered fair game. Daniel could die out there, and no one would ever think to tell me. I don’t think they even know I’m here. I feel like putting my fist through the wall. What did we ever do to piss the universe off so much? Daniel Paul is staring out the closed door to the balcony, staring at the city lights. His entire body is tense, his arms crossed over his chest. Slowly, I wander over to wrap my arms around his waist and rest my chin on his shoulder. “Paul?” “Yes, Dan?” “I’m tired.” He nuzzles his head against mine. “Let’s go to bed then.” I tighten my grip around his waist to stop him from moving. “As nice as that sounds,” he chuckles softly. “That’s not what I mean.” He doesn’t react for a long moment. “The Stargate?” I dip my face to plant a kiss on his shoulder. It easier like this, addressing our reflections in the glass. “I had an epiphany today. I was running around on this alien world, trying to gather all the data I needed before we had to rush off again, and…it hit me.” Paul tries for levity. “The planet hit you?” I whap his chest. “No, the epiphany.” Paul lays his hands over mind, gently rubbing small circles with his thumb. “And the nature of this revelation?” I sigh. “Not so much a revelation as a question. Why? Why am I doing this? And do you know what, Paul? I couldn’t think of a single good reason any more. I think I only stay there out of habit.” Paul Habit? Like hell! “Dan, you’re vital to the Project! You’re the one who figured out how to get the Gate open in the first place. You figured out that there was a second Gate on Earth. You saved the Tollans when our own government would have screwed them over. You’ve negotiated treaties with more worlds than I can count. Who else would keep Jack ‘most-likely-to-cause-an-intergalactic-incident’ O’Neill from pissing aliens off left right and centre if you’re not out there?” “Someone else,” he says simply. When I had pulled out of his embrace to turn and face him, he had folded his arms across his chest. He looked determined. “Paul, I long ago reconciled myself to the fact that I might die out there, without warning.” He laughs without humour. “Have, actually. Several times.” “Dan,” I plead. I know the missions as well as anyone could, but that doesn’t mean I’d ever get used to hearing my lover talk so flippantly about his own death. “Please.” “No, let me finish. I knew that, so I began training people, bringing in talent. If I were to…if I left tomorrow, the SGC wouldn’t grind to a halt. There wouldn’t even be a hiccup.” He drops his arms to his sides and steps closer. “Yes, I opened the Gate. So you know how important it is to me. I want it to survive, I want the Project to grow, even if I’m not there to see it. My time has passed Paul. I’m ready to move on.” I reach out to run my hands up and down his arms, a gesture to sooth me as much as him. “I just can’t imagine Cheyenne Mountain without you.” “And you think it was fun for me to see Major Buckwheat running around doing your job?” I shrug that off. “Yeah, but anyone can do what I did.” “And I’ve made sure that there are people who can do what I did, too.” Right then, I know that the argument is lost. “What are we going to do instead, Daniel?” I smile at his face. “I obvious can’t convince you to stay, but like hell I’m letting you wander off without me.” I wave at the laptop. “I can work from home. So where is home going to be. Here, still?” Daniel wraps me in a fierce hug. “Thank you, Paul. Thank you.” I laugh at his relief, knowing I have made the right decision. Though I’m glad I’m not going to be at the Mountain when Daniel makes his announcement. Daniel Paul’s right. I do have a lot of books. I’ve been bringing them home from the Mountain by the trunk full all weekend. A lot of these books were my father’s, there is no way I’m leaving them behind. My office looks empty without them. Sterile, and every noise echoes. Research material I’ve brought on a government dime is staying here for my replacement to use. There is only one thing left to do. I move through the corridors in my civilian clothes, but no-one looks twice. I’ve always kept odd hours; they probably think I’m heading home for the day. I approach from the ‘back’ way, avoiding the control room and the people there. I knock on the wooden door, and hear a gruff ‘Enter’ in reply. “General.” He looks up at me and waves the letter I had dropped into internal mail. I intended to do everything by the book. There would be no turning back. “Care to explain this, son?” I stand directly in front of him and meet his eye. “I thought it was fairly straight forward.” He shakes his head sadly, and I’m reminded again how much of a father figure George has been to all of us. Stern, patrician, but you never doubted that he cares for you deeply. “Why?” He is asking as my friend, not as my CO. I feel a hot prickle behind my eyes. Dammit, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. “Personal reasons, sir.” He stands and comes out from behind his desk to stand right next to me. “You know, if there is anything…” I wave my hand to cut him off. “Thank you, but no. This is something…something I need to do.” “Are you sure?” That at least is an easy question. I look him square in the eye. “Yes.” He sees my commitment, and offers me his hand. “If you change your mind, or just want someone to talk to…anything at all.” I nod and shake his hand. “I will. I promise. Thank you, sir.” I smile shakily. “I just want to say it was a pleasure working with you.” He looks at me proudly. “No, son. The pleasure –the privilege – was all mine.” There is nothing else for me to say. I don’t think I could speak, anyway. Instead, I nod and turn to walk away. My hand is on the door when I hear him say as much to me as to himself. “You know, it’s strange. I always thought I would be the first to go.” I close the door carefully behind me and walk into the briefing room. I press my face to the glass and look for the last time down at the ring which changed my life. “Goodbye,” I whisper. I then turn and flee. I need Paul. Paul He cried silently all the way to the airport. I don’t think he realized how big a part of his life he was walking away from until he did it. I had spent the entire afternoon by the phone, half-expecting him to call and say that he had changed his mind, that we weren’t leaving after all. I still think his place is at the SGC. No matter how many bright young things he’s trained, how much training he’s given them, they could never replace him. Ever. I’m not the only one who thinks my beautiful Daniel is one of a kind. Now that we’ve hit cruising altitude, he’s fallen into a light sleep. Today he’s been put through the emotional wringer. Apparently Sam Carter thought it was a joke, then broke down in her lab when she realized it was true. I thought he would have told them earlier, but maybe he was afraid they would try and talk him out of it or something. Daniel didn’t tell me what O’Neill’s reaction was, and I didn’t ask. I reach down between my feet and pull my pocketbook out of my bag. Inside is a bunch of photographs from one of his old college friends. A few calls, a few carefully worded conversations, and Daniel had found himself a job on a dig in Egypt. Giza. This guy, Peter something, had even found us a house. I had shipped our lives out yesterday to our new address. So Daniel is back to digging up dead cultures and not telling anyone what he knows to be the truth about them. And I’ve got a book to write. We’ll manage somehow. We’re together. That’s the most important thing. |
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