Title: Comfort and Joy
Authors: Brenda and ELG
Rating: NC-17
Category: ER; J/D; angst; h/c; smarm
Spoilers: Specific mention of Shades of Grey
Summary: Daniel gets hurt. Jack makes them both feel better. (ER)
Series: Slash Consequences AKA 12 Days of Bunnyfic: #04
Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the authors. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the authors.

*Let him be alive. Let him be alive. Let him be alive.*

That one thought has been running through my head for the last forty-eight hours non-stop. Ever since this mission went to hell in a handbasket and we lost Daniel.

Fuckin' underground maze. Took us two fuckin' days to find it. Two days with Daniel in the hands of the Jaffa who ambushed his little archaeological team. Two SG soldiers killed, three scientists left for dead, one Daniel Jackson missing. They knew who they wanted. Daniel's got to be on the most wanted list of every Goa'uld and system lord in the galaxy. Thank God they didn't have a ship or there's no way we could have stopped them; apparently their only means of escape was the Stargate and we had that locked down tight. It must have been dumb luck that they stumbled across Daniel at all because it wasn't well planned. But they still managed to grab him and disappear.

I'm shouting at the top of my lungs as I bang on locked doors. I can hear Teal'c's thunderous voice and Carter's anxious one in the darkness, and further away the voices of every member of Ferretti's SG-3 who came to back us up. No reason to be quiet now; every Jaffa that was guarding this place is as dead as we could make them.

*Let him be alive. Let him be alive. Let him be alive.*

Of course he's alive, O'Neill. They wouldn't have put all those Jaffa here to guard a corpse. Dark as a fuckin' tomb in here. Even the flashlights don't give enough light. Chilly and damp, too, and God, that smell. What a lovely place to be held prisoner. My Danny's tough though. He's told me stories about digs he's been on that give *me* the creeps. He's too valuable for them to kill. But not too valuable for them not to knock around some, maybe throw in some torture to see what they can get out of him or just to pass the time, or whatever else Jaffa do to their prisoners for entertainment.

"Daniel!" I bang on the next door hard enough to send the shock wave clear up to my shoulder. Dammit, Daniel you'd better be alive and you'd better be okay because -

"Jack?"

It's so faint I barely hear it through the thick walls and I press my ear tightly against the door. "Daniel?" I shout.

"Jack! I'm in here!"

My eyes slide shut in relief for the moment it takes for my heart to start beating again, then I push myself away from the door. "Daniel, get clear of the door!"

"I'm clear."

I try not to think how weary his voice sounds, how it caught on my name that first time. Hang on, Danny. Almost there.

I send a quick message to everyone that I've found him alive, then lay into the lock with my MP-5. Seconds later I'm bursting into the dark, rank cell, almost gagging at the smell.

"Jack?"

I zero in on him with the beam of my flashlight. He's curled up on the floor next to a wall, his hands chained to a big, steel ring in the wall just above his head, and he's blindfolded. "Danny." My voice chokes, but he hears me because he turns his head in my direction.

"'Bout time." He tries to keep his voice light, but the tremor in it sort of ruins the effect.

I'm down beside him in an instant, carefully tearing that blindfold off. As soon as his eyes are revealed he gives a cry and tries to bury his face in my shoulder. "The light, Jack! Turn off your flashlight!"

Shit! He must've been blindfolded the whole time. I quickly snap off the light and put my arms around him, holding him as tightly as I can. I can feel the rasp of his whiskers where they scrape my neck and press a kiss into his matted hair. Somehow I manage to keep my voice steady and calm, although an edge of desperation seems to sneak in. "Daniel, are you all right? Just tell me you're all right."

"'m okay. Really. I'll be okay, Jack." He'll *be* okay. I try not to think about that interesting choice of words. He presses his face into my neck and I feel his body shudder as he draws in a deep breath. "But I really want to go home now."

Pulling away, I put two hands on either side of his face and try to penetrate the darkness to see his face. It's no good; it's too dim in here for me to really see him, but I lean forward and gently kiss both eyes, tasting salt, then move down and capture his mouth. "You're safe, Daniel," I whisper when we finally pull apart. "You're safe now."

"I know," he says quickly, but I can feel him begin to shake from reaction and I immediately pull him back to my chest where he belongs and begin rubbing his back, trying to soothe him.

"O'Neill!"

"Colonel!"

"In here!" I look up as Teal'c and Carter thunder into the cell and order sharply, "Turn those lights off," as Daniel whimpers and again presses his face into my jacket. "He's been blindfolded."

The lights instantly snap off and I feel Carter drop down beside us. "Daniel?" she asks softly, and lays a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm okay, Sam."

In the darkness I can just make out Teal'c's hand where it comes to rest on the top of Daniel's head. "It is good to have you back safely, Daniel Jackson."

"Good to be back, Teal'c." Daniel's so tired his words are starting to slur, and I shift to get a better grip on him.

"He's chained to that wall, Teal'c. See what you can do about that." I bend my head and whisper, "Close your eyes, Daniel," and cover his head with my arms for good measure.

It only takes one blast of the staff weapon to free him from the wall and another to slice through the chain stretched between his hands. We'll worry about the chains on his wrists once we get him back to the SGC. I take a few minutes to get some water into him, then prepare to get him to his feet. The sooner we're out of this hellhole the better for everyone, especially Daniel.

"Give me a hand, Teal'c," I murmur, and maneuver one of the Daniel's arms over my shoulders. With Teal'c's help, I get Daniel to his feet and steady him as he stumbles, hissing as cramped muscles try to stretch to support his weight.

"I'm okay," he gasps. "Just haven't been able to move around much. Give me a minute."

I'm prepared to give him all the time he wants, but he sounds exhausted and it's one hell of a hike back to the Stargate. "Carter, get a stretcher -"

"No, Jack! I can walk."

I can't see his face in the dark, but I know that tone of voice and I can picture the grim determination in his eyes. It's no point arguing with him, so I make sure I've got a good grip on him, confident that I'll feel it instantly if he starts to flag. "Okay, Daniel, we walk out." Ferretti and SG-3 are standing right outside the door, waiting. "Major," I call out, "make sure we have a clear run to the Stargate. And have a medical team standing by at base."

"Yes, sir." Before he turns away, Ferretti says, "Good to have you back, Daniel." Then he's barking orders to his men and everyone is double-timing it out of there.

"You need any help, sir?" Carter asks softly by my side.

"No, I've got him." I tighten my arm briefly. "You ready to blow this Popsicle stand, Doctor Jackson?"

"More than," is the fervent answer. "Let's get the hell out of here."

At my nod, Carter takes point and Teal'c covers our six as we move out of the prison at Daniel's shuffling pace. "It's night out there so you shouldn't have a problem with your eyes," I tell him, amazed at how calm I continue to sound when all I want to do is grab him and take him off somewhere alone so I can go over every inch of him to make sure he's okay. And after I make sure he's okay - he's okay, O'Neill, he's okay - I want to wrap him in my arms and never let go, certainly never let him go anywhere without me again, maybe never let him off Earth again. But right now all I can do is keep a firm grip on him and monitor every step he takes.

When we hit the fresh air outside he actually doubles over, coughing. "God," he gasps, when he gets his breath back. "I almost forgot what fresh air smelled like."

I pull him a little closer to me as we make our way toward the Stargate. "Hot shower, hot food, clean sheets," I murmur, "soon, Danny."

In a whisper that only carries to my ears, he adds wistfully, "And you?"

I slide my hand up to gently ruffle his hair. "Goes without saying," I reply firmly.

He makes it the whole way back to the Stargate on his own two feet, but by the time we get there, he's about ready to collapse. At my nod, Teal'c takes his other arm in preparation for the trip through the wormhole. "Almost home."

"Good," he sighs. "A little tired," he admits in what must be the understatement of the decade.

The trip through the wormhole is no better and no worse than any other we've had and between us Teal'c and I make sure Daniel lands on his feet on the other side. I'd warned Ferretti about Daniel's eyes and they've turned down the lights in the Gate Room, but it's still bright enough to make him squint painfully, and bright enough for me to get my first real look at him.

If I could go back and kill those Jaffa all over again, I would...

I've always been protective of Daniel. There was the protective way I felt about a civilian who was innocent and clueless and shouldn't be allowed out without a keeper. And then there was the protective way I felt about someone who was on my team and my responsibility, and who was still innocent and clueless, and a civilian, and shouldn't be let out without a keeper. And then there was the protective way I felt about someone who was my friend. And then there was the protective way I felt about someone who was the best damned friend I've ever had or ever could have. And then there was the way I felt about Daniel *after* he'd become the person I loved more than anything or anyone else on this or any other planet. Let me tell you, when people bruise skin you've kissed, it really pisses you off.

General Hammond said he could hear me telling the world what I was going to do to those Jaffa up in his office. Personally, I think he was exaggerating but I'm not absolutely certain. Janet said my blood pressure was up near the danger level and either I sat down and took some deep breaths or she was going to give me a sedative. Teal'c said yelling would not alter events that had already taken place, O'Neill. Carter said the main thing was to get Daniel to the infirmary as soon as possible. And Daniel said I was making his head ache. It was the last comment that shut me up.

Well, okay, it didn't exactly shut me up, but it did get me to lower the volume to quietly murderous snarling instead of incandescently furious roaring. I prowled around the infirmary after Siler had sawed the cuffs off and Janet was making her examination, thinking about how I was going to dismember Apophis and every damned Jaffa that worked for him the first chance I had while Janet checked Daniel out.

I heard him asking plaintively for a shower and her telling him no. After those damp conditions she wasn't taking any chances with him catching pneumonia. He was staying dirty but dry for the moment. I figured he must have given her one of those begging looks of his that always work a treat on me, because after a slight pause she said that if his lungs sounded better in the morning he could have a shower then. He must have realized that was the best he was going to get, because a moment later she was emerging from his curtained-off bed.

She told me Daniel wasn't badly hurt, he was just cut and bruised, and a little dehydrated, and hungry, obviously, and tired, and she'd given him a painkiller and bandaged his wounds and the best thing really was for him to get some sleep. Why didn't I go home and come back in the morning.

I made an alternative suggestion. She gave me a long look and then said, "I'll pretend I didn't hear that, Colonel."

Realizing belatedly that this was the person who was going to be letting me be near to Daniel or not, I changed my tune. "Sorry, Doc, but those guys tortured him, beat him, starved him, put him in a stinking pit with no light or heat or…"

"I know, Colonel, I know." Her voice was gentle. "They treated him very brutally and they deserved to die, but they were obviously under orders not to seriously injure him all the same. They gave him enough water to keep him alive and although they did knock him around and chain him up, and, as you say, keep him in cold, damp, unsanitary conditions, Daniel doesn't have any broken bones. I don't think he's even going to have any scar tissue. I know it looks bad at the moment. He's got a black eye, bruises just about everywhere…"

"Did they rape him?"

She stared at me in surprise and I realized belatedly that she probably hadn't expected me to be savvy enough to think of that. She blinked and then said, "No, Colonel, they didn't."

"Did you check? Did you look to see? Daniel might not tell you the truth. If those sons-of-bitches…"

"Colonel," her voice was quiet but firm. "I examined him thoroughly and he confirmed the results of my examination. They threatened him with all manner of things, but they were obviously under orders not to…follow through. He wasn't sexually assaulted in any way. His injuries are unsightly but superficial and he is *going* to be fine. What he really needs right now is some sleep. Something it's a little difficult for him to get with you stalking about muttering under your breath."

"I have to be near him." I didn't care what inferences she or anyone else drew. It was the truth. I looked at her and let her read whatever she liked in my eyes. "I have to be here." I have to be able to reach across and touch him. I have to be able to wake up and hear him breathing. I have to be able to comfort him if he has a nightmare. I have to be close enough to put my arms around him in an instant to tell us both that he's safe.

She seemed to understand it all without another word. She nodded. "Major Carter said Daniel would probably prefer it if you were close at hand. I've made up the next bed for you."

I wondered what else Carter had told her. Whatever it was, I was grateful someone else had saved me the trouble of explaining because screw 'Don't ask, don't tell' I was ready to shout it from the rooftops that Daniel Jackson was mine, mine, mine, and I had to be with him right now, *and* why, if anyone tried to keep me from him. "Thanks, Doc."

She showed me to the bed. Daniel's was curtained off, keeping it dimmer for him and giving him some privacy. "I'm trusting you, Colonel."

I stared at her and she colored a little then said, "Not to wake him, I mean. No talking to him when he needs his sleep."

I grinned at her. "Scout's honor, Doc. No midnight feasts either, I suppose?"

She smiled, relaxing. "Definitely not. He's being rehydrated intravenously right now. I don't need you getting him candy bars and coffee the second my back is turned."

I started to undo my jacket and she pulled the curtain around my bed as well. "Don’t worry about him, Colonel. He's had a bad time but he's going to be fine. You can take him home in a couple of days." Her words felt carefully chosen to me. 'You can take him home' like he was a new puppy. Or a partner. I wondered if there was anyone in the SGC who *didn't* know Dannyboy and I were an item.

I listened to her feet tippy-tapping away and then got partially undressed. Then I pulled my bed a lot closer to Daniel's and pulled the curtains around three sides, leaving the side near his bed open. About two seconds after the infirmary door closed, a quiet voice said, "Jack?"

"You're supposed to be asleep." I tried to use my stern voice but the silly grin I get when he says my name messed it up a little.

He pulled his curtain back so we could see each other. I saw a pale, bruised face on the pillow, eyes squinted painfully against even the low light. I leant across and kissed him gently on the forehead, stroking his dirty hair back from his bruised skin as I did so. "Go to sleep, Daniel."

"Can't sleep," he whispered. He reached out to put his arms around me, drips swinging wildly at the motion. He pressed his face against my chest and I kissed the top of his head then very gently put my arms around him to give him a comforting hug. He was bruised and cut all over under his thin hospital gown but he seemed glad of the contact, pressing in against me.

"I'm here, Daniel. I'm here."

Getting into the bed with him was very tempting but I knew that it was too small for us both to fit in there comfortably and anyway, that was probably a betrayal of that 'trust' Dr Fraiser had been talking about.

I hugged him until he relaxed in my arms and I could lay him back down on the bed, kissing his eyes and then very gently brushing my mouth across his dry, cut lips. "I'm right here. I'm a foot away, that's all. We can leave the curtains open and we can talk if you want to. And as soon as you're well enough to be discharged I'm going to take you home, climb into bed with you and kiss every inch of you better."

He smiled drowsily. The sedatives and painkillers were really kicking in now and I could see he'd be asleep in a minute at the most. "That sounds nice…" he murmured.

I pulled off the rest of my clothes and got into bed. I could reach across and touch his hand without any trouble. "I'm right here," I told him again. "And I'm not going anywhere."

He said, "Promise…?"

"Promise."

About two seconds later, he was fast asleep, a look of absolute contentment on his bruised face.

***

"Home sweet home."

Daniel gives a happy little sigh as I usher him inside my house and close the door behind us. I'd like to say he's looking a lot better now than he did in the infirmary last night, but the truth is, he looks worse. The bruises on his face stand out obscenely against the unhealthy pallor of his skin in the light of day, that black eye is spectacular, and he still looks tired. In spite of his exhaustion and the sedatives he had nightmares last night. Thank God I was there. My feet hit the floor at the first sound of distress and I had him in my arms before it really got going. All it really took was the sound of my voice, I think (Okay, holding him in my arms was more for me than him). I can't begin to describe what that does to me, knowing my presence and the mere sound of my voice means 'safe' to Daniel. We went through that three times last night. And, okay, only two of those nightmares were his. The last one was mine and I didn't go back to sleep afterwards. That one didn't have a happy ending; in that one, when I found Daniel in that stinking cell, I was too late to save him.

I don't think he remembers much about last night, but I was sure relieved when morning finally came. He got that long, hot shower he was longing for and ate a good breakfast. Janet even let him have coffee. And then she gave me a bottle of pills, succinct instructions (rest, food and liquids) and turned his care over to me. I know what he needs. I know what we *both* need.

As soon as the door is closed behind us, I turn and pull him carefully into my arms, mindful of the bruises and cuts all over his body. He sort of snuggles against me and begins nuzzling my ear. "You feel so good," he mumbles.

I breathe deeply to take in the smell of his freshly-shampooed hair and run my hands down his back, just sort of reassuring myself. He's going to have to put up with a lot of this for a while; I spent two days being scared shitless that I'd lost him and I'm going to need a lot of reassurance. I begin with his hair, planting kisses there and working my way down to his eyes - very carefully on that right one -- his nose, his mouth. He opens up for me immediately and I plunder his mouth, counting his teeth, checking the state of his tonsils. When we finally pull apart, he's breathing heavily and rubbing suggestively against me. "Bed," I whisper.

"Oh yes..."

"Rest," I remind him, trying to sound stern, but failing miserably with that silly smile on my face. As he opens his mouth to argue, I kiss him again. Best way I've ever found to stop him in his tracks. "Remember what I told you last night?" I murmur, taking advantage of his breathlessness and placing feather-light kisses over his face. "Going to climb into bed with you and kiss every square inch better."

His battered face lights up hopefully. "Then we'd better get started."

He has to be aching from those bruises and abused muscles, but he's moving pretty good as he pulls me into the bedroom. We're on forty-eight hours stand-down and I figure whatever Daniel wants, he gets. I'm going to spoil him rotten. I'll probably pay for it later, but right now I don't care. Rest, food and liquids are all well and good. But I think 'loving him senseless' should definitely be added to that prescription.

As soon as we're in the bedroom, he moves to unbutton his shirt, and I catch the wince as he moves his arms. I gently bat his fingers away and start on the buttons. "Let me."

"Jack..." To my surprise, he stops me and gives me an uncertain look from underneath his lashes. "It's not very... pretty," he says awkwardly. "Maybe you should just let me... I mean, I don't want you to get upset."

*Upset?* Upset that he was tortured and beaten and left in a stinking, unsanitary hole with no food and barely enough water to stay alive? Upset that he's going to be walking around with bruises and cuts and Doc Fraiser's neat little stitches at various places on his body for the next week or so? Upset that one eye is so puffy and sore he can't even wear his glasses? Upset that his clothes are hiding more bruises and cuts that I haven't even seen yet? I take a deep breath and hold it for a moment. My Daniel knows me pretty well.

I place a finger under his chin and bring his head up until he's looking at me. "I'm already upset," I say carefully. "In fact, upset doesn't begin to cover it. If I could go back and kill each one of those bastards in the slowest and most painful way I know all over again, I'd do it. But the only thing that matters right now is that you're alive and you're safe."

"And with you," he adds in a whisper.

I cup the side of his face with my hand. "Goes without saying," I agree, my voice thick with emotion. I see his eyes are moist and remember belatedly that he's still a little shaky and maybe I should lighten things up a little. "So how about it?" I ask with a leer. "Give your old Colonel a thrill?"

He manages a small smile, but his voice is soft and not quite steady as he leans in to rest his forehead against mine. "My colonel can have anything he wants."

This boy *definitely* needs some loving senseless. While he's still leaning against me, I quickly undo the buttons of his shirt and slide it off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. Nuzzling his face, I skim my hands over his back, stopping immediately when he stiffens. Kidneys. Okay, Fraiser would have checked that out. Just bruising, or she never would have let him out of the infirmary. Fuckin' bastards. He's still tense under my hands, expecting me to say something, or explode. He doesn't know how close I am. Time for diversionary tactics...for both of us.

My hands move to his belt and I take some time undoing it, then move to his fly. After what he'd been through it wouldn't surprise me to find it takes a little longer to arouse him, but as I said before, my Danny's tough. When I slip my hands inside his trousers I find he's already half hard. Smiling, I let his pants slide down his legs and rub suggestively against the bulge in the front of his boxers. "No bruises down here?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light.

"Didn't touch me down there, Jack," he whispers, rubbing the side of his face against mine. "Made a lot of comments, but they were just trying to scare me."

Well they sure succeeded in scaring *me*.

He pulls back and gives me a rueful look. "It worked until I figured out they'd probably been given orders not to damage the merchandise."

A flash of white-hot rage blazes through me, but somehow I manage to stomp it down. The next Snake-God Jaffa I run into is going to regret the day he was born. And if there's anything left of him by the time I get through with him, I might just turn him over to Teal'c. Daniel was too out of it to see Teal'c's face when the big guy got his first look at Daniel in the light. But none of that belongs here or now.

All that matters now is Daniel. Alive. In my arms. I fit my mouth to his and suck his tongue into my mouth, encouraging him to do a little excavating of his own. He doesn't disappoint.

Breathing heavily now, my pants becoming damned uncomfortable, I quickly slip his boxers off and then get my first good look at him all over. Bruises everywhere. One big one, down on his hip, looks like a boot print. Finger bruises on his arms. A neat row of Fraiser's stitches, a good three inches of them, on his left arm. His chest. His ribs. It hits me all over again, like a kick to the gut, how close I came to losing him. How close my nightmare last night came to being true. How much more abuse he would have sustained if we hadn't found him when we did. How easily they could have gotten carried away despite their orders and hit him just a little too hard or -

"Jack? Jack!" Hands on either side of my face are stroking me as Daniel urgently calls my name. I blink at him, wondering when he'd gotten all blurry. Then his lips are gently kissing my eyes and I feel moisture on my cheeks. Oh. "I'm okay, Jack, I'm okay," he's murmuring as he kisses my face over and over. "You found me in time. I'm okay. Look at me, Jack. I'm okay and I'm here and I'm safe -"

"I think I'm supposed to be telling *you* that," I manage, my voice choked.

He pulls back, reaching up to rub my cheek with a thumb. "You do tell me that. Every time you touch me. Every time I hear your voice."

It's no good. I have to crush him to my chest and hold him as tight as I dare before I'm bawling like a baby. I love him so much it scares me sometime.

He's rubbing my back, soothing me, murmuring nonsense in my ear. Then without missing a beat, his fingers are on my fly and I feel a breeze as he starts deftly undressing me. "Come on over to the bed," he whispers huskily in my ear, "and let me show you just how okay I am..."

I've actually lost count of the times I've had a naked Daniel Jackson in my bed. The Jack O'Neill who had to sit there and suck it up while Daniel flirted with Kira would be *so* envious of me for thinking that. He'd also find it unbelievable that I didn't keep some kind of count. Make a little note in my diary like those lines Ernest had on those faded old bits of paper to tell him how many days had passed. And in the beginning I did. Little 'D's beside the date in my pocket diary to tell me Daniel had stayed over. And over. And over again. But then Daniel staying over became the norm. A naked Daniel Jackson in my bed became the norm. I'm not saying I started taking it for granted, but I did start expecting to find him in between the sheets, did start relying on his warmth, begin reaching across in the middle of the night and knowing his body would be there. Just the way I used to with Sara. That's part of what happens when you become a couple. Your partner becomes something familiar, safe, expected. You stop putting little 'D's in your diary and you get used to drinking a different brand of coffee because you don't care that much and he *has* to have that particular brand or else he's unspeakable in the morning. You get used to the fact that some of the bristles in your razor aren't yours, because he will pick up the first one he comes to in the morning. Oh yes, and the clean pair of boxer shorts you knew you had? Well at first you spend an hour looking for them in perplexity. Then you learn that it only takes two seconds to yell his name accusingly. That it takes five seconds for him to walk slowly across the room and give you one of those reproachful/pleading looks that turn your guts - and your resolve - straight to custard. Another five seconds to pull on those briefs your Aunt Theresa bought you that are as uncomfortable as hell. And - if you're really lucky - about one second for him to pull them down and give you a little compensation for the borrowing of your underwear…

But this is the first time I've had a naked Daniel Jackson in my bed and not wanted to make love to him. I want to show him I love him, yes. I want to wrap him in love, smother him in it, let him know that no one ever was or ever could be better loved than him, but the little Colonel does not want to boldly go to his usual haunts today. Although as Daniel wraps his arms around my neck and pulls me down to kiss him, I hope my resolve can stay harder than my cock, that's all, because something else about a naked Daniel Jackson in my bed is that it is damn near irresistible…

As Daniel pulls me down on top of him I quickly take me weight on my arms, not wanting to put any pressure on his poor bruised body. He rolls his eyes impatiently, "I'm not made of porcelain, you know."

I fix him with my best steely-eyed stare as I gaze down onto that still-beautiful but very bruised face. "Exactly who is the ranking officer in this bedroom?"

He pouts his lower lip adorably. "I'm a civilian."

"Who gets to give the orders when we go through the Stargate?"

A bigger pout. "We're not *through* the Stargate, Jack. And anyway…it depends on the mission."

I bend down and kiss the tip of his nose. "Doctor Jackson, are you being obstructive? I'll have you know Colonel Makepeace filed a most *un*satisfactory report about your conduct while you were under his command. I really hope you're not going to make me have to do the same."

There is a light in Daniel's unblackened eye that is pure mischief. Damn, but that boy is resilient. "What you gonna do if I'm insubordinate, Jack? Put me over your knee and spank me…?"

Okay, he's onto me and he's trying to get ahead of me. My adorable but decidedly unfit-for-action anthropologist is trying to bypass Mister Conscience and Mister Commonsense and get straight to Mister Erection. Well it ain't gonna happen, Dannyboy. You may have the longest eyelashes in any known galaxy, the sexiest pout, and the best array of come-hither glances of any archaeologist on any planet, but you also have about sixty cuts and bruises all over your beautiful body which I am not going to conveniently forget about just because you want to get back to normality as fast as possible.

I don't answer him, I just look at him, gaze into his eyes and let him see how I feel about him, how much I love him, how I would never, ever hurt him, and even he can't make me. He gives a little sigh of mingled contentment and frustration, tightening the grip of his arms around my neck and rubbing the right side of his face against mine as he whispers, "Let's just do it, Jack. Let's just do it until we're both so tired we haven't got any energy left for nightmares."

I kiss his eyes. I kiss his cheekbone. I kiss his mouth. Make that I kiss his eye with the dark shadows under it where they wouldn't let him sleep, and the eye that's almost swollen closed where some son-of-a-bitch hit him, his *bruised* cheekbone, his *cut* lips. Then I kiss his bruised throat and I follow the trail of little yellow, blue, and crimson marks that leads to his left shoulder, then I run my tongue across the knots of the stitches on his arm, on his chest, on his ribs. He lies back on the bed and I hear him give a little sigh of satisfaction…there's resignation in there too, but he's happy to play things my way for a while. I think Daniel has forgotten just how much he likes to be kissed.

I keep finding more bruises, some of them are hot against my tongue, the really deep ones that are still coming out. His body is a strange mixture of silky familiarity and stitched wound strangeness. Like someone took my favorite painting and spray-painted graffiti across it. Every time I kiss him, I close my eyes, and I see those Jaffa grabbing him by the hair, slamming him against the walls, back-handing him across the face as they drag him down those endless corridors to that stinking, freezing pit of a dungeon. I wince as I come to that bruise on his hip and kiss it over and over, wanting to soothe every inch of it with my lips. I imagine him stumbling, falling, too weak with exhaustion, cold and hunger to get up as fast as they want him to; I see the son-of-a-*bitch* serpent guard kicking him so hard the bastard lifts Daniel off the ground. I hear him cry out. I hear his despair and pain and fear. But I also sense the hope inside him that he always keeps burning just for me; because he knows that while there is breath in my body, I'll always find him. As I hear and see them snapping the cuffs around his wrists, grabbing him by the hair, pulling his head up and back so they can whisper what they're going to do to him in his ear, as I see him shudder with revulsion, I also feel that flame again; that fierce defiant belief that I'll find him first; that I won't let them rape him or torture him or hand him over to Apophis. That I'll find him in time.

"And I always will, Daniel," I whisper it as I kiss a trail down his thigh. "I'll always find you in time."

He gives a little whimper and when I look up his eyes are closed but he's crying. Not sobbing, just a slow trickle of reaction. This was what he wanted to avoid. This was why he wanted me to make love to him until we were both too tired to think, because he knew this was waiting for him, thinking about how close he came, how nearly we lost each other, the terrible might have beens waiting to claim him. I scoot back up the bed, carefully avoiding putting any weight on him as I do so and kiss the tears from his eyelashes, the salt trail from his face. His arms go around my neck again and he pulls me down. When he opens his eyes, his eyelashes look even longer than usual, spiked with tears. We kiss over and over again, tongues hungry and desperate, sucking comfort from each other until we're breathless, then I carefully ease myself down next to him, lying on my side. He's there in an instant, needing no invitation to burrow in against me, arms going around my body as he tries to climb inside my skin, rubbing the side of his face against the hair of my chest like a child with a comforter. I'm Daniel's comforter, I realize. The texture of my chest hair, the smell of my aftershave, even the bristles of my jaw, these are all the things he needs to feel against his skin before he goes to sleep these days. That's a hell of a badge of honor. I tighten my grip on him and he gives a little whimper of need, pushing his groin against mine not so much eagerly as desperately.

When I try to reach down to touch him, he pushes my hand away and rubs his groin against me again. I slide down his body under a covering fire of kisses and he clutches at me, trying to hold me next to him. I make 'shushing' noises, as soothing as I can make them and continue to kiss my little path to his navel.

Daniel's got the kind of hard-on so pressing it hurts and he really needs a little help but if I touch him he's going to go off like a landmine. He needs to relax a little first. I rest my hands lightly on his hips and say, "Garbage disposal."

He gives a little groan as he feels my fingers on his hips, pushing his cock at me in desperation. I determinedly ignore it to say encouragingly, "Your turn."

"Can't…can't…got to…"

"No you don't…" That leaking head is really calling to me but those kind of climaxes aren't really much of a pleasure; they're ripped straight from you with none of the satisfying build up and just leave you exhausted but not sated. He needs to come down off that peak and then build up again slowly. "Plague pits."

"Yeuch…" Good. A slight relaxation in his poor battered body.

"Come on, Danny. Work with me here."

"Netu."

"Excellent."

"Bad eggs."

"Very good indeed."

"Galoshes."

Oh yes, he's relaxing. He's hard but no longer explosively so. I lick his cock and a pleasurable tremor runs through him. I lick it again, all the way up like an ice cream cone and he gasps with satisfaction. Then I close my mouth over that straining head and suck.

It only takes about three sucks and he comes, arching his back and crying my name. But it's such a sad sound, like he's fallen off a cliff and knows I'm not going to grab him in time. Even having my face against his groin feels like I'm too far away from him at present. I scoot back up the bed, still swallowing the last of his seed and he throws his arms around me again, I hug him close and he has his mouth open, needing to feel my tongue wrapped around his, to taste himself, taste both of us. "You're safe, Daniel," I whisper it into his mouth, then say it again as I kiss his eyelids, nuzzle it into his hair, but I think I'm saying it to myself even more than him, "you're safe."

"Let's do it." He breathes it into my neck and I can't pretend I don't hear the urgency in his voice.

I kiss him again, gently. "Daniel..."

He burrows in against me tighter. "Jack, I keep thinking maybe I'm still back there and this is just a dream. I thought I was never going to see you again. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Except being separated from you. Prove this is real. You won't hurt me, I swear." He pushes his soft sweet mouth against my neck and kisses me over and over. "Make us both better again, Jack." His voice sounds stronger, like he knows what he wants; and what he needs. He rubs his groin against mine gently, teasingly; an invitation from one body to another to which mine immediately responds. When I look down at his face that mischievous glint is back in his eyes and the invitation is written there as well, in big bold capitals as he says seductively, "Show those Jaffa what they missed, Jack…"

He sees me weaken, and then he adds the coup de grace: Eyes boring into mine, face pleading, voice soft, he says, "Please, Jack."

Okay, that's playing dirty. He knows as well as I do -- probably better -- that I have *never* been able to deny him anything when he says that. Certainly not combined with that look on his face and that note in his voice. My cock knows it too, because it is certainly starting to sit up and take notice. Daniel feels it as well, but there is no triumph in his eyes, only gratitude. That's what finally makes the decision for me. He *does* need this, and maybe I do too. We both need to get the stink of that place out of our nostrils and he needs something to replace the memories of those fuckers throwing him around and whispering their filthy threats into his ears. And I need to bury myself in him, make myself a part of him, make him a part of me.

Carefully, my eyes never leaving his, I roll us over until I'm on top of him, my weight once again on my arms. He looking at me a little anxiously and I dip my head and nuzzle his cut lips, then run my tongue slowly over them and press our lips together in the longest, gentlest kiss I can manage. We may both need this, but we are both taking this slowly and carefully. When we pull apart, I whisper, "You do know how much I love you, right?"

Tears immediately spring to his eyes and he blinks rapidly, but there's a smile on his lips as he gives his usual answer to this question, "About half as much as I love you?"

And I give *my* usual reply to that: "I guess I'll just have to prove how wrong you are, Doctor Jackson." Another kiss, this one a record-breaker. By the time I'm through with him, Daniel won't be able to remember his own name let alone those Jaffa.

With as much care as if I *were* handling porcelain, I roll over, bringing Daniel with me so he's on top. He knows what turns me on, and he zeros in on my erogenous zones with the accuracy of a heat-seeking missile. I don't exactly lie here as a passive observer, but I do let him do most of the work, at least for now. Right now he needs to be in control, to be the one calling the shots. He's licking and biting and stroking every inch of skin he can reach and I'm undulating gently against him, rubbing our groins together, feeling the arousal growing between us. I urge him on with hot whispers of what I want him to do to me, my hands carefully skimming over his bruised body.

Our cocks are like dueling hot pokers now and Daniel's moaning as he starts thrusting against me. Time to slow things down just a little. Wrapping my arms around him, I execute another perfectly timed, exquisitely gentle roll to trap him underneath. That doesn't slow him down at all. He spreads his legs, wraps his arms around me and urges impatiently, "Come on, Jack. Come on, come *on*!"

All in good time, Dannyboy. All in good time. More soothing kisses to that battered, scrunched up face. Lips locked over his, I take his moans and give him back mine. As soon as his mouth is free he's rasping, "Please, Jack, please, Jack, please."

Never could refuse him when he said that. I snake a hand under my pillow and pull out the lube we always keep there. Another kiss to give him something to think about, and then I squeeze out a generous amount of jell onto my fingers and slide one into him. He pushes down immediately, impatient for more. A second finger follows and despite his writhing and moaning -- quite a turn-on, I admit -- I take my time, stretching him carefully. A third finger follows and only when I'm confident he's ready do I withdraw my fingers and position myself over him. He's panting, almost hurting with need, and I'm not far behind him. Slowly, carefully, I enter him in one smooth thrust.

"Oh God!" His head slams back into the pillow, his eyes squeezing shut momentarily, then he's looking up at me and the happiness is practically shining out of him. I know exactly how he feels. His hands grip my arms and his gaze never leaves mine as I thrust into him, gently at first, then faster and deeper. His bruises aren't slowing him down one bit and I feel his legs wrap around me, trying to urge me even deeper and harder. But I promised myself slow and easy and that's exactly what he gets. It drives him nuts when I do this, but the end result is always worth it. His fingers are digging into my arms and I feel his body tensing under mine. One more deep thrust and...

He comes, my name a hoarse scream on his lips. He clamps down on my cock and that's all I need to explode inside him, his name torn from my throat. I collapse over him, somehow having enough wits about me to remember to support myself on shaky arms. After I get enough breath back into my body I ease carefully out of him and slide down beside him. His body is still quivering from the aftershock of orgasm and as I open my arms, he all but slams into me, wrapping his arms and legs around me to press us together as tightly as he can. He's back where he belongs, in my arms, safe.

"And that," I say softly into his hair, planting a kiss there, "is how much I love you."

"'Bout half as much as I love you," is the nearly incoherent mumble under my chin. There is a long gust of warm air against my chest as Daniel sighs deeply and with utter contentment. "Thank you," he whispers. "I needed that, Jack."

I nuzzle through that fresh-smelling hair and let out a pretty large sigh myself. "So did I," I admit. Ever mindful of the bruises and stitches, I tighten my arms, smiling when he immediately snuggles closer and rubs his cheek against my chest hair. Yep. That's me, Danny's comforter. Skimming a hand up and down his back, I ask casually, "Think you can sleep now?"

"As long as you're here," comes the sleepy answer, followed by a kiss for my chest. "What about you?"

I feel him relaxing against my body and I slow the stroking movements of my hand, easing him into slumber. "As long as you're here," I reply softly, totally relaxed for the first time in three days. Here. Safe in my arms. Right where you belong.

The End