Title: New Year's Resolution
Authors: Brenda and ELG
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jack and Daniel learn an important lesson about life...
Spoilers: Seasons 3 and 4
Series: Slash Consequences AKA 12 Days of Bunnyfic: #12
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.

Daniel Jackson stared blearily at the slowly dripping Mr. Coffee and absently wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Stupid head cold. Stupid wrong brand of coffee dripping into the pot because Jack forgot to buy the brand he'd *specifically* asked him to buy. Stupid chair where he'd stubbed his toe in the dark because he hadn't turned on the light so as not to disturb his majesty Jack O'Neill. Oh yeah. And stupid Jack, too. After all, he was the reason Daniel was standing here barefoot with a throbbing toe waiting for what would prove to be a totally unsatisfactory cup of coffee to start his day. He had a suspicion Jack was somehow responsible for his head cold as well, but he couldn't prove it.

For two people so different in nature who were still learning how to live together in harmony as life partners, this last week couldn't have been worse. At the request of the President himself, Daniel was heading up the delegation to hammer out a treaty with the Nubaii, the inhabitants of PCX-337. Their naquada mines were of supreme importance to Earth, and knowing how important it was to show some tangible results to the military from the Stargate program, Daniel had thrown himself whole-heartedly into the negotiations. While he had been busy 'gating to and from PCX-337, Hammond had taken the opportunity to stand down SG-1 and pull Jack into the annual budget negotiations with a small group of visiting Senators who controlled the purse strings. When they had seen each other at all during the last week, Daniel had been preoccupied with treaty concerns and Jack had been wild-eyed from hours of being closeted in a room with politicians tearing apart the Stargate budget.

To make matters worse, their schedules were completely opposite due to the days and nights on PCX-337. So when Jack was home in the evenings, Daniel was off-world; and when it was night on Nubaiin, it was daytime in Colorado. To make matters *even* worse, both Jack's budget meeting and Daniel's diplomatic initiative had needed an extra day's work. With Monday being New Year's Day, they'd had to give up their Saturday off, something guaranteed to put Jack into the worst possible mood imaginable, especially as he'd had tickets to some hockey game he now couldn't use. All in all a lousy week had merged seamlessly into a lousy weekend and they hadn't been home together for far too many days. Until last night.

Last night. Oh boy. Daniel rubbed the spot over his left eye where his headache persisted. What a wonderful homecoming that was.

What should have been a welcome reunion capped by the hottest sex in the galaxy had instead turned into angry words and petty sniping. He could still feel the resentment bubble up inside him at the injustice of Jack's attitude.

So he had spent a lot of time with Major Davis while he was off-world. Big deal. He didn't understand what Jack's problem was with Davis. The major had been a damned *rock* for him when Jack had been trapped in that sub and Daniel thought he had just given the order that was going to kill him and Teal'c. It so happened Davis was part of the team sent by the President; what was he supposed to do, ignore the man? And Davis did *not* have a cold.

Okay, so he was supposed to set the VCR to tape that game Jack knew he wouldn't be home to see, and he'd forgotten. Well, excuse me, he'd had other things on his mind. Like an intergalactic treaty and feeling lousy and lethargic because he was coming down with this damned cold. And it wasn't like Jack couldn't read about the stupid game in the stupid sports pages. Which of course he had reasonably pointed out to Jack at some length.

And, oh yes, they were out of toothpaste, and apparently that was his fault as well. His suggestion that they simply use baking soda until they could get to the store was met with incredulous disbelief - although Daniel knew full well Jack had probably used worse than baking powder to clean his teeth during his life in the military. Instead Jack huffed downstairs and grabbed his car keys, slamming the front door on his way out. He drove to the damned drug store and bought the damned toothpaste and then stood in the bathroom and brushed his damned teeth for a good five minutes. The only amusing part of that was Jack was so steamed he'd forgotten to pick up beer while he was out (something *else* Daniel had forgotten to do, causing Jack's list of grievances to grow by leaps and bounds) so he still didn’t have any beer in the house.

When Jack finally left the bathroom with his sparkling teeth and came into the bedroom, Daniel made sure he was already in bed, covers pulled up tightly around his shoulders, eyes firmly shut. When Jack laid a tentative hand on his shoulder, he said loudly that he had a headache. Well, he had, literally. It's true he didn't explain that, but he shouldn't have to, should he? Jack should have known he was feeling totally crappy from his head cold. In fact, there was a time when Jack could just look at him and know how he was feeling; he didn't have to ask and Daniel didn't have to tell him. In fact, he'd fuss over him and hover like a mother hen over even the most trivial ailments and hurts. Now he didn't even care if Daniel felt like his head was exploding from the cotton wool that was building up inside.

The coffee finally stopped dripping, and Daniel poured a cup and took a tentative sip. Yeech. He'd had better coffee on digs in the middle of nowhere. Resisting the urge to pour the whole pot down the drain, he gritted his teeth and kept drinking, his only consolation the fact Jack would have to drink the stuff too. At least it was caffeine. And if Jack was going to be as unreasonable today as he was last night he was going to need all the caffeine he could get.

As he stood in front of the kitchen window and stared out into the winter wonderland that was Colorado in December, he remembered what day it was: New Year's Eve. They had turned down every invitation to New Year's parties, their shared desire to stay home and see in the new year by loving each other senseless.

He raised his cup to his reflection in the mirror. "Happy New Year," he said sourly.

***

Jack O'Neill woke up in a bad temper. For a moment he couldn't think *why* he was in a bad temper and then he remembered: Daniel. There were times when Daniel was a little trying, and then there were times when Daniel was so unbelievably unreasonable and irritating he wondered what the hell he'd ever seen in him. And then there were days like yesterday…

Jack groaned and rolled over, thumping the pillow which had suddenly got very uncomfortable. He still couldn't believe that after the week he'd had, Daniel had been thinking about him so little that he hadn't bothered to tape the game for him. He'd been looking forward to that game for a *month*; been talking about it for even longer. The most important game of the season. All Daniel had needed to do was press a button, and Jack was so *not* in his thoughts that he hadn't even remembered to do that.

He'd come in to find Daniel snuggled up in the armchair, reading some stupid book on stupid Egypt, ruining his eyes by not even having the lamp pointing in the right direction. There had been no food in the house, no beer, no toothpaste. It wasn't that long ago Daniel had been thinking about him so much he'd stop off and buy him little treats on the way home; surprise him with a home cooked meal; surprise him with other stuff too.

It wasn't that he'd expected to come home to the smell of home baking and Daniel wearing only a towel and a come-hither smile - although that would have been nice - but he did expect more than a casual 'Hey…' as he walked through the door, before Daniel turned the page. When Jack had looked across at the VCR and seen nothing whirring, no red light showing 'Rec', the anger had begun to build; by the time he'd checked out the cupboards and found them all bare, he'd been feeling seriously pissed off.

It hadn't helped that he'd had to spend one of the most boring weeks of his life listening to morons talk about balancing the figures while knowing all the while that Daniel was off-world. And not off-world with Carter and Teal'c; off-world with Major Freakin' Davis. He swore if one more person in Cheyenne Mountain mentioned what a *nice* guy Davis was, he was going to have to kill someone. Such a nice young man. Such lovely manners. And so handsome with it. God, he could practically hear his mother saying it. The same Major Davis who had been so *there* for Daniel after Jack had callously run off and left him in the infirmary. Yes, that time, when Jack had so inconsiderately let Thor beam him up onto his ship so he could try to save the planet.

While Jack had been off gallivanting, Davis had been looking out for Daniel; making sure Daniel wasn't getting too upset; soothing him; offering reassurances; worrying about poor Daniel opening up that nasty appendix wound. Yeah, right. Like he'd been so damned nice to Daniel out of the goodness of his heart. And like he hadn't been there like flies on a corpse looking out for Daniel again after that business with the sub. And that business with the death glider. And now, well lookee here, there's a surprise, it was that nice young Major Davis who'd volunteered to go off world with Daniel on this diplomatic mission. The guy *so* wanted to share a sleeping bag with Daniel he practically had it on his résumé under 'hobbies'.

"Son-of-a-bitch…" Jack growled it indignantly and rolled over again only to find himself staring at six-foot of barefoot anthropologist standing by the side of his bed. Uh-oh make that six foot of barefoot anthropologist in a snit standing by the side of his bed.

Daniel glared at him. "Are you talking to me?"

"No - I'm - " Jack sat up. He was torn between wanting to patch things up and yell some more. He didn't like having arguments with Daniel. On the other hand, Daniel was being incredibly annoying at the moment. He met Daniel's blue gaze levelly. "I was just thinking out loud."

"About?"

Oh so now he wasn't even allowed to have *thoughts* Daniel didn't approve of. He glared right back. "None of your damned business."

"Well isn't that charming." Daniel slammed a mug down on the bedside table. "You asked me to call you. I called you. Here’s your damned coffee, and I hope it chokes you. Oh and a very happy New Year's Eve to you by the way."

"You are such a miserable little s.o.b. in the mornings!" Jack yelled it after his retreating back. Daniel briefly paused in the doorway, shoulders quivering with indignation, but then he stomped out of the bedroom. Jack picked up the pillow and hurled it at the door. It landed with a very satisfying thump before sliding to the carpet.

Scowling, Jack went into the bathroom. As he cleaned his teeth he was thinking about the way Daniel had brushed him off the night before. How suspicious was that? They hadn't seen each other for over a week. He'd been thinking about them getting sweaty and naked together in those last few briefings with such intensity it had been physically painful and he'd had to shift uncomfortably in his seat. Daniel, however, had obviously not been thinking about getting sweaty and naked with *him* with anything like the same enthusiasm. Daniel had pulled the old 'I have a headache' crap despite the fact Jack had been ready to apologize for being bad tempered even though Daniel had forgotten to tape the game and to buy beer and toothpaste. Daniel was acting suspiciously like someone who was getting it from elsewhere.

Scowling at his own reflection, Jack wondered if they could get through this. Thinking about the way Daniel was acting at the moment, he wondered if even wanted to try…

***

Daniel poured himself another cup of coffee and slammed the pot back down so hard he wouldn't have been surprised to see it shatter. He'd taken Jack a cup of coffee as a peace offering, hoping they could just put last night behind them and start all over, and what did he walk into? *Son-of-a-bitch.* Wasn't hard to figure out who Jack was talking about - especially when he wouldn't admit it.

He'd even decided to go out and buy Jack some of that expensive imported beer he liked so much - well, forget that! Jack could just drink crappy coffee right along with him.

He carried the cup into the living room and sank down onto the sofa, staring broodily into the cold fireplace. He had some wonderful memories of that fireplace, of the times he and Jack had made love in front of a roaring fire and cuddled afterwards, of the things they had said to each other in the quiet, intimate darkness. He had other memories too: of the first time they made love, of long nights spent exploring each other, of the wonder and joy they had both felt when they realized they had really 'found' one another and that being in each other's arms was like coming home. Those memories should have warmed him. Instead he felt an emptiness build inside as he realized this was the first really big fight he'd had with Jack - well, the first personal fight. They'd had their share of disagreements on the team, but that was different. That was work. This wasn't. He'd never fought with Sha're. What had there been to fight about? They'd lived a year as man and wife in idyllic bliss with none of the stresses he and Jack faced on a regular basis - not only travel to alien planets and the constant dangers they encountered, but the stress of a couple living together in a clandestine relationship. Compared to this, he and Sha're were merely playing house.

He drank the coffee in his cup, no longer even tasting it, thoughts whirling through his mind like a mad dust-devil, leaving confusion and apprehension in its wake. What if this was the beginning of the end? What if, the truth was, they *couldn't* make a go of this?

Abruptly getting to his feet, Daniel began pacing around the living room, teeth worrying his lower lip. This damned head cold was making it difficult to think coherently. In his whole life, he had never felt things as...intensely as when he was with Jack. Every emotion was heightened, every sense sharpened; colors were brighter, life was more interesting...he was happier.

He came to a stop in front of the fireplace, staring into the cold embers of a long-dead fire. But it appeared the reverse was true as well, because right now his emotions had never felt so raw, his senses duller; colors had taken on a greyish hue, life suddenly looked bleak, and depression settled over him like a heavy mantle.

What a difference a night made. Yesterday he thought he was comfortably ensconced in a satisfying, all-encompassing relationship for the rest of his life. But now...

This was stupid. He was letting his insecurities get the better of him. It was just a silly argument. He'd take Jack another cup of coffee, he'd apologize, and then they'd forget last night ever happened. That would work. Wouldn't it?

Striding back into the kitchen, he quickly poured another cup of coffee. But as he turned around, he saw Jack passing by the kitchen with his jacket on. Jack didn't say a word or even look in his direction as Daniel came out of the kitchen with the coffee.

"Where are you going?"

Jack pulled his keys out of his pocket. "In case you hadn't noticed, Daniel, there's no food in the house," he said shortly.

Daniel fought down the flash of impatience that wanted to bubble up. "Yes, I know. I should have gone shopping, but I didn't feel --"

"Didn't feel like it?" Jack wheeled around, mouth set grimly. "But you felt like going out to dinner with Major Davis, didn't you?"

Daniel's jaw dropped. "How did you  --?"

Jack snorted. "Oh, come on, Daniel, it's a small base. People talk. And people sure as hell talked about *that.*"

"There was nothing to talk *about*," Daniel shot back between gritted teeth. "I was tired, I knew there was no food in the house, Paul asked if I'd like to --"

"Oh, so now it's 'Paul', is it?"

Daniel could feel his fingers tightening around the cup in his hand. "It *is* his name," he said icily. *And he was a helluva lot nicer to me than you're being right now.*  Just in time he stopped himself from saying that.

Daniel could actually see the anger flare through Jack. "Well, I'm glad you and *Paul* had such a lovely time," Jack said contemptuously. "But it would have really been nice, Daniel, if you could have found fifteen minutes in your oh-so-important schedule to stop and pick up some god-damned groceries so we'd have something to eat!" He waved his hand. "But of course, if you were having such a good time with *Paul* --"

"Jack!" Daniel's sharp voice actually stopped Jack mid-sentence. As the two stared at each other, the tension built between them until Daniel turned on his heel, announcing, "You really are an ass, Jack," and stomped back into the kitchen to dump the coffee unceremoniously into the sink.

His only answer was the slamming of the front door.

***

There was nothing like an egg McMuffin for giving a guy a sense of proportion. And two egg McMuffins with sausage, not to mention a good hot cup of coffee to wash them down, gave a guy back not only his sense of proportion but his sense of humor too. Jack sat back in his chair and took a more leisurely sip of coffee. The first McMuffin hadn't really touched the sides. He'd fallen on it in a way probably very reminiscent of a Siberian wolf on an unwary elk after a week's starvation. Now that one had hit bottom he was starting to feel more human. He was also starting to feel a little silly.

Had he really accused Daniel of…? With Major…? And he'd thrown a hissy fit over a hockey game and a tube of toothpaste, right? Two things of absolutely earth-shattering importance, of course. Jack grimaced in wry amusement at the complete stupidity of his and Daniel's behavior over the last twenty-four hours. They really had acted like…well, newlyweds. Newlyweds who'd just hit their first snag and didn't know how to cope with it. Which would have been fair enough if they hadn't been practically living in each other's pockets for the last four years.

Jack grinned suddenly and took another swig of coffee. But, perhaps that was the trouble. He and Daniel were used to having the other guy around. Originally for conversation and companionship. More recently for…other stuff as well. A week of having to go cold turkey without one another and they clearly started climbing up the walls. They'd been so damned sexually frustrated they'd given one another headaches in retaliation.

His grin got wider. Oh boy.  He and Daniel obviously really *were* in for the long haul because they were acting exactly like a married couple. He had been through this whole thing so many times before with Sara. 'Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you!', 'All I asked you to do was buy a goddamned newspaper! Is that so much to ask?', 'Yes, the dinner party was tonight, Jack O'Neill, and don't you dare pretend you didn't know it!' Little grievances built and built in the pressure cooker of marriage and every now and then one of them blew their lid. Usually with a lot of noise. Occasionally some food hit the ceiling. Or the walls. Or whichever one of you ducked the slowest…He remembered Sara cooking spaghetti Bolognese on their honeymoon. He'd been hungry and had wanted the food to be ready long before it was. They'd been arguing for hours about something he couldn't even remember now. One of those totally insignificant disagreements that got magnified out of all proportion if you let it. He'd told her you could tell when spaghetti was ready if it would stick against a wall when thrown. Which was when she'd tossed the whole pan at the far end of the kitchen, then burst into tears. He'd had his arms wrapped around her before the spaghetti finished sliding to the floor. The make-up sex had been spectacular.

His grin faded as he remembered that for all his certainty that there was nothing he and Sara couldn't get through; no problem they couldn't get past; in the end they'd hit a brick wall. The trouble was his marriage had been so far down his list of priorities at the time that he couldn't now remember all the signs. He'd been a dead man walking. What did it matter if his marriage was on the rocks, over the falls, and being battered to powder in the rapids? But when, on Abydos, he'd come to realize there was a point to life after all, he'd thought his marriage would still be there waiting for him. It always had been in the past. Special Ops. Iraq. Secrecy. Lies. Arguments. Infidelities of the mind if not the body. But the marriage survived. The marriage was like home. You went back to it and it was always there waiting for you. Some days it was a little chillier than other days but it was always *there.* And then he'd come back from Abydos and found someone had demolished his home in his absence and he couldn't ever rebuild it again.

Jack took a strengthening swig of coffee. Luckily, this row with Daniel wasn't like that. This was something minor. The kind of petty disagreement couples had all the time. This was a very small downturn on the graph of domestic bliss. He'd lost Sara, yes, but that was a mistake he was never going to make twice. Daniel was his home now and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure he stayed that way. There wasn't anyone else getting the key to *his* anthropologist's door. Smiling again at the thought of what a nice time he and Daniel were going to have forgiving each other later, Jack polished off the last of his coffee and then headed out of the door.

As he walked back to the car, it occurred to Jack that Daniel was going to be hungry. He was also going to be in need of some really *good* coffee. And he'd probably feel a lot better if he was given one of those icing sugar sprinkled pastry things with the pistachio nuts and almonds and god knows what else that Daniel liked so much. Telling Daniel he was loved was always a good way to get back in his good books. But buying him really good coffee and a Danish pretty much guaranteed you became his favorite bedtime reading…

Jack decided a little detour to Starbucks might be a very good idea...

***

Daniel stood in their bedroom and stared at the duffel bag he'd dumped into the middle of the bed. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to stuff his clothes in that bag and just leave? Part of him was so angry and hurt that he was ready to do exactly that. Jack had made it very obvious what he thought of him and about him - *with Major Davis?* Thanks a bunch, Jack. Is that how far trust goes with you?

It was the part of him that was empty and bewildered that kept him standing there unable to take the necessary steps to the closet. Was this really it? Was it that easy for Jack to walk away from what they had? It wouldn't be that easy for him, Daniel knew. He could never go back to the way they had been - just friends, just team mates. He couldn't just shut off the part of him that loved Jack like life itself.

He was still standing there staring at the duffel bag when the sound of the doorbell snapped him out of his brooding. *Jack!*

Turning on his heel, Daniel rushed out of the room and bounded down the stairs, ignoring the renewed throb in his abused toe. Skidding to a halt in front of the door, he eyed it warily, his hurt anger returning now that he was going to face the cause of it again. If Jack thought he was going to just fall into his arms - and into bed - like nothing had happened, he had another thought coming. He was going to damn well apologize for that crack about Major Davis for starters. And he was going straight back out and buy some decent coffee. Then they'd have a little apparently long overdue talk about trust.

That settled, Daniel reached out and opened the door, his cool words dying in his throat as he found, instead of a contrite Jack, a pair of senior citizens standing on the front steps. The woman was holding a what looked like a cake wrapped in foil on a plate, and both were beaming at him. He shook himself out of his reverie. "Um...hi."

"Hello." The man stuck out his hand and Daniel shook it automatically. "So glad we finally caught you at home. We're your neighbors. I'm Jacob Svenson, and this is my wife, Christa."

"Daniel. Daniel Jackson," he answered as he had on a hundred different occasions on a hundred different planets.

"You're hard people to catch at home," Mrs. Svenson said with a smile, "you and Colonel O'Neill."

Daniel gaped at her. "You...know Jack?"

"Saw him a few days ago as he was leaving for work," Mr. Svenson explained. "Christa and I were out for a walk. We introduced ourselves and he told us to come by sometime."

"Really?" Thanks for letting me know, Jack. Belatedly remembering his manners, and realizing his feet were getting really *cold*, he stepped aside, "Well, please come in." As they did so, it occurred to him that he had no right to be letting people into Jack's house anyway and heard himself launching into a garbled explanation. "I don't actually live here. I'm just…visiting. Jack should be back later - " Yes, Jack should be back later, but he very much doubted that there would be any Daniel Jackson to let him into the house when he arrived.

He took a moment to study them as they stepped past him into the warm house. They must have been in their late sixties, both of them tall and fine-boned, lean without being gaunt. Mrs. Svenson had high cheekbones, sparkling blue eyes and white hair swept back in a loose, becoming bun. She was attractive now, but Daniel guessed she had been stunning in her youth. Mr. Svenson had an easy-going manner about him, and his slate grey eyes shone with intelligence. Both of them looked as if they laughed a lot, Daniel thought.

Mrs. Svenson was looking around the cozy living room with approval in her eyes. "We've only been in the neighborhood for a couple of weeks. We just moved here from Wisconsin." Daniel remembered seeing a moving van on the street, but had been too busy to think much about it. "We always thought Colorado was such a beautiful state and wanted to retire here." She held out the plate to him. "I brought you some homemade streusel."

"Christa's specialty," Mr. Svenson told him, with a gentle smile for his wife. "No one makes streusel like my Christa."

"Thank you." Daniel accepted the cake and looked toward the kitchen. "Could I offer you some coffee...ahh." He grimaced. "Except it's really awful coffee. Jack bought the wrong kind...again." He almost cringed as the words left his mouth. Did that really sound as petty as he thought it did?

But instead of giving him the reproving looks he deserved, the Svensons merely looked at one another and laughed, as if sharing a private joke.

Confused, Daniel asked, "I'm sorry, did I...?"

Mrs. Svenson patted his arm. "If you only knew in forty-six years how many times I had to send Jacob back to the store to buy the *right* kind of tea."

"Even when she writes it down for me I seem to pick up another brand," Mr. Svenson said cheerfully. "What's wrong with Tetleys, I'd like to know?"

This was obviously an on-going theme for the Svensons because the woman merely said serenely, "You know what's wrong with it, dear - I don't drink it."

"Poured it down the drain the last time I tried to slip it in on her," Mr. Svenson confided in an undertone.

"But preferable to what I did with it some of the other times." Mrs. Svenson turned guileless blue eyes on Daniel. "I've mellowed with age."

Daniel found himself grinning, enchanted by the mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, if you really don't mind some truly terrible coffee...?"

"I've often found that even the worst coffee improves in good company," Mr. Svenson pointed out amiably.

"Well, then..." Daniel looked at the couple in front of him, clearly still in love with each other after forty-six years, and quickly dropped his gaze to the cake in his hands, feeling that awful emptiness build up inside him again. "Yes, I could use some good company right now."

There was a moment of silence, then Daniel felt Mrs. Svenson's hand on his arm, giving him a gentle pat. "Why don't you relax with Jacob and I'll see what I can to make that coffee a bit more palatable," she said briskly. "Do you have some nutmeg in the house?"

***

As she sipped the coffee she had helped Daniel to doctor, Christa was taking the opportunity to examine him covertly. His age was difficult to guess but she'd put him around thirty. He was tall and broad-shouldered yet somehow the overwhelming impression was of someone boyish and vulnerable. His skin was frankly flawless. *Most* unfair, in her opinion that all that creamy perfection should be wasted on a man. In both senses. His eyes were exactly the same shade of blue as the cornflowers on her mother's bone china tea set. His mouth was…

Christa gave herself a mental shake. The boy was probably younger than her grandson. And although at another time she might have allowed herself to be distracted by his physical appearance - well she might be *old*, it didn't mean she was *dead* - at the moment, it was his mental state that was concerning her more.

She didn't think of herself as a particularly spiritual person, and she certainly didn't have any magical powers, she was just observant, and time was on her side. Jacob was the one with all the book knowledge, she just knew about people. You couldn't get to the age of seventy and not have picked up quite a store of knowledge on the way. And if you were good at reading people when you were twenty, you were *damned* good at it after another half a century of study.

This young man was unhappy in a way that made her insides hurt in sympathy. He was radiating the kind of muted despair which women got when their husbands told them they were having an affair; the sort her sister had been trying to conceal from her when they'd told her about the cancer; the kind that went so deep it hurt every cell in your body. It wasn't too difficult to diagnose the cause. She had been introduced to it last week and had felt old hormones she hadn't realized she still possessed sitting up and taking notice. But what she'd realized in their five-minute conversation was that after the zinging of her biological responses had let up, the impression she was left with of Colonel O'Neill was not of someone simply desirable but of someone dependable. Someone who gave off such strong vibes of comfort and security that it would be very easy to sink into dependence upon him. And almost unbearable to give up that comfort once you'd become accustomed to it.

Christa was a woman of seventy-three, married to a man five years older than herself. She could wake up any morning and find Jacob dead in the bed next to her and the statistics would no more than shrug. Oh yes, she knew what the prospect of losing someone who represented ultimate comfort and ultimate security felt like.

Daniel was talking to Jacob about Egypt. A place they both knew well, but his gaze kept flickering towards the door. He looked torn between hope and defiance. Someone steeling himself for an ordeal, half wanting it over with, half wanting to put it off forever. The way people acted when they were in shock but trying not to show it. He was listening to what Jacob was saying but every now and then his face glazed over as his misery resurfaced and he couldn't get away from it. Jacob was luckily sympathetic enough to know the boy needed easy conversational lobs. Like playing table tennis with an eight year-old.

"…and have you ever been to Abydos…?"

A violent flinch from the boy and a slosh of coffee on the table. Oh dear, perhaps he and Colonel O'Neill had 'honeymooned' there. Daniel's gaze went to the mantelpiece briefly, pain flickering across his face, and then he was forcing a smile. "Yes, several times. My parents were friends of Barry Kemp and…"

She found Egyptology as boring as Jacob found it fascinating. But they had worked through that quite well over the years. When they visited Egypt now, he went and looked at dead pharaohs while she had a much more interesting time looking at live horses. Having different interests didn't necessarily mean you had to be always having differences of opinion.

She wondered if these two had worked that out yet. She stole another look at Daniel. He was gazing fixedly at the front door again, trying not to look yearning but not really able to disguise all that hurt and apprehension as well as that anger. She shook her head. *Silly boy. Of course he isn't going to leave you.* Men could be such fools at times. But then, of course, this young man hadn't been there last week, when Colonel O'Neill had introduced himself to them, suggested they came over any time, they could meet his friend Daniel. Even if he himself wasn't in, Daniel would probably be there as he tended to…visit often. His coffee pretty much sucked as Daniel was always telling him, but they needn't worry because Daniel's was wonderful. She'd counted seven 'Daniel's in a few minutes of conversation. Her youngest great-grandson didn't mention Pokemon as many times in a sentence as that.

She looked at the photographs on the mantelpiece, and then looked again because they were so interesting. Jacob had always told her she was too curious, but how could you not be curious about something as fascinating as the rest of the human race? She was on her feet and heading towards the photographs before she'd even thought about it.

"Would you like some…?" Daniel said it awkwardly, breaking off as he evidently remembered he had nothing to distract her with because his cupboard was bare at the moment. She smiled at him sympathetically. As if anything could have distracted her anyway. Landslides were easily divertible compared with her. If they were going to be neighbors the poor lad had better get used to that idea right now.

"I'll get some more coffee." He jumped to his feet and started collecting up their cups. Sensible boy. If he couldn't stop her looking at the photographs, he could at least take himself out of the range of her inevitable questions. It wouldn't work but it was still a nice try.

Christa looked back at the photographs. Usually when people got together they tended to want to erase their pasts, but these two seemed to want to cling onto theirs for all they were worth. The pictures of the women surprised her. Had she misread their relationship? No, she didn't think so. There was a family portrait of a younger Colonel O'Neill with a blond woman and a boy of around ten. They looked so happy she found herself smiling in automatic response. She wondered if Colonel O'Neill still had visitation rights. If the marriage had broken up because of the 'Daniel' he was clearly so besotted by. She felt a spasm of acute sympathy for the woman in the portrait. She had a lovely face; not conventionally beautiful but with strength and kindness in every plane. Not the kind of woman a man would walk away from easily. The kind that would leave one hell of a gap. She felt a twinge of disquiet. She had taken to that boy in the kitchen straight away, but she didn't approve of marriage wrecking.

Which was when she saw the picture of the *other* woman, the one with the dark hair; young, exotic, and so beautiful it rather took the breath away. Had they *both* had wives then? Was this pairing she had been smiling upon so indulgently five minutes earlier responsible for making two fellow women miserable and lonely?

"That's Sha're."

She jumped as she realized Daniel was standing by her shoulder. Jacob was always telling her that her hearing was going but she thought he was just teasing her. Perhaps he was right after all.

He picked up the photograph and stared at it fixedly for a moment. "My late wife."

"I'm so sorry," the words were shocked out of her breathlessly. He was a widower? He seemed too young to have endured such a loss.

He moved quickly now, long fingers picking up the pictures with great precision, plucking each one from its place on the mantelpiece and offering it to her. He spoke rapidly: "That's Jack and Sara and…Charlie. He was their son. He accidentally shot himself with Jack's gun."

Picture followed picture. Each one put back exactly where it had been standing before. "This is my grandfather. He…emigrated. These are my parents. They're dead now. These are my foster parents. They're dead too. This is Jack and Sara on their wedding day. They're divorced now. This is Charlie after a Little League game. Apparently he scored the winning home run. This is Jack and Sara on Charlie's seventh birthday…"

Behind the words she could hear another refrain: *Nothing lasts; no one stays; everyone leaves you eventually by one route or another.*

She put a hand on his arm to stop the litany of losses, taking the family portrait from him. "It's a terrible thing to lose a child."

He nodded. He wrapped his arms around himself at once she noticed, as though he was trying to keep the heat in. Or the world out. "Yes, it is."

"It must have been very hard for Colonel O'Neill's wife." She darted him a quick look as she spoke, trying to assess if there was hostility there, guilt. If he was uncomfortable. But when he gazed at the blonde woman in the photograph she saw only compassion in his eyes.

"Very hard. She had a lot to put up with." There was a pause before he said with emphasis and a touch of defiance: "A *lot* to put up with."

"Military men can be difficult I've heard." She slipped it into the conversation smoothly, holding out the picture so he could put it back.

Daniel put the photograph back on the mantelpiece. "Very difficult. They have all these rules and regulations which they supposedly have to stick to even if they don't make *any* kind of sense." He winced then, darting her a quick look. "So I've heard."

She pretended not to notice the emphasis with which he'd spoken. "I've heard that too." After a pause she added innocently: "I've heard they're not always the best communicators in the world, either?"

"Oh they’re *lousy* communicators. That's because bullets are really their first language." He winced again. "Well…not always, obviously. I mean they do have…redeeming qualities."

"Loyalty? Compassion? The urge to protect those weaker than themselves? The kind of minds that can only see wrong and right, never shades of grey, but will do what they think is right even if it kills them?"

Daniel swallowed hard and darted her another look. "Yes."

She nodded. "One of our sons joined the marines. We never knew where it came from. A throwback to some ancestor on Jacob's side, I always say. He could never really explain to us why it was something he felt he needed to do. What he was hoping to achieve with it. What *good* he was expecting to do. But I think he did join up to do good."

"Jack wants to do good." It came out quickly. "I think he has a stronger desire to do good than almost anyone I've ever met, probably because some of the things he had to do in the past weren't particularly…good. We have a friend who is just the same. I don't think those of us who've never had to do truly bad things can know that feels. Having things you have to…make up for." He ran his finger along the dust on the mantelpiece. "Did your son…?"

"I never asked. I probably should have done. It might have helped him to have to talk about it."

"He's dead." Not a question.

She nodded. "Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"Yes." She glanced across at Jacob. "So are we."

He sighed, looking between them. "It's good to have someone else around when the bad things happen."

He sounded so wistful. "It's more than good." She said it with emphasis. "Sometimes it's the difference between life and death."

He looked back at the photograph. "Jack would agree with you there."

The ache in his voice made her want to put her arms around him. He was already mourning something he hadn't even lost yet, she could see it in the misery in his eyes, the way he was automatically hugging himself again, gazing at that photograph of Colonel O'Neill as though he could will it not to walk out on him.

Christa sighed for the unnecessary hardship people were always putting themselves through. She knew Daniel was a doctor of archaeology. Had got his PhD very young indeed, because Colonel O'Neill had just happened to mention it, with the kind of pride usually associated with a new grandchild, at least twice. Jacob had a PhD as well. It didn't mean anything sometimes. It hadn't stopped him sobbing into the soup all those years ago because he thought she was going to leave him for Albert Simiola, even though Albert Simiola had meant nothing to her whatsoever and Jacob was her whole world. There was nothing like a really clever man for displaying true stupidity.

There was a kind of superiority which came with years. She had started taking it for granted. It made up for the twinges, the aches, the failing hearing, the eyesight so capricious you had to own four pairs of glasses none of which would ever be within reach when you needed them. But you knew things. Knew how to deal with loss, for one thing. Had a fund of general and personal knowledge younger people could only envy. Except, looking into young Daniel's oversized blue eyes, she suspected there was very little she could teach him about loss, and he might well know things she didn't. But one thing she did know that he obviously hadn't learned yet was that just as one swallow didn't make a summer, one argument didn't make a divorce court. Even a coffee pot thrown with some accuracy and not a little venom didn't make for a divorce court. Nor did screaming rows, diverging interests and, if she was really honest, the occasional infidelity. It was astonishing what two people who truly loved one another could weather if they wanted to. Admitting how much they wanted to was too often the stumbling block.

She said, "You know, Colonel O'Neill said to me…"

Which was when the front door opened and the man himself walked into the house. The plastic handles of numerous grocery bags were digging deeply into his wrists, while in his arms was a big brown paper bag that smelt strongly of almonds and the best kind of coffee.

***

As he automatically put the coffee, groceries, and bag of Danish pastries down on the work surface, Jack wondered why the person who looked the most surprised to see him was Daniel. After all he *did* live here. This was his house. And he was the one who had come back from having breakfast to find the place full of senior citizens. Shouldn't he be the one who looked surprised? He nodded automatically at the elderly man and woman whom he sort of recognized although he couldn't quite remember from where.

"Colonel O'Neill." The accent was vaguely European sounding and the voice was enough to jog his memory. The new neighbors. She and Daniel were standing by the mantelpiece and Daniel was self-hugging, so she'd probably been making him tell her about Sha're. Daniel had wiped the surprised expression from his face now. He had that closed-off look he got when he was trying not to give anything away. Right, so Daniel was still pissed-off with him and feeling hurt. That was okay. They'd been there before. He could work with that.

"We met last week…?" The woman was watching him carefully, as if he was mirror writing she was trying to read backwards.

He gave her his best smile as he strode forward, hand outstretched. "Mrs Svenson. A pleasure to see you here. Sorry, I was out. I bought the wrong kind of coffee." Ah good, that had registered. A blink of surprise from Daniel. A slight relaxation of the get-the-hell-away-from-me-world body language.

"Doctor Jackson told us." There was a hint of mischief in her eyes. Behind her Daniel was wincing.

It was an opening and he was damned grateful for it. "You ratting me out to our new neighbors, Daniel?" He wrapped a smile around it as a softener, wanting it made clear it was a joke. There was a twitch from Daniel in return - you couldn’t call it a smile - but his face did sort of flex a little for a millisecond. He was still very still and closed-off looking but Jack was getting a strong sense of an underlying confusion. Which was good. If Daniel was confused then Jack had him guessing. It was when Daniel got certain about things that you had to duck.

Over the next ten minutes as he emptied the coffee pot, ground the beans, refilled the coffee pot, let the rich brown liquid drip through the filter, all the while talking to Mr and Mrs Svenson, there was a part of himself completely focused on Daniel. Daniel was incredibly unhappy, that much was obvious. So either Mrs Svenson had upset him, someone had phoned with bad news while Jack was out, or Daniel was still in a snit about their little spat this morning.

"You bought a lot of pastries, Colonel. Were you expecting company?"

She had set them out on a plate nicely for them, just the way his mother always insisted you had to. He and Daniel were a little inclined to eat things out of cartons. It saved on washing-up. He scratched his jaw in embarrassment. "Well Daniel likes nuts and chocolate, and they had four with nuts and four with chocolate so I thought I'd get all of them and then he could choose."

Mrs Svenson gave him a slow smile and he wondered why he was getting such a strong feeling she'd just finished decoding that mirror writing. "I think you need to re-educate my husband, Colonel O'Neill. I very much like your approach to shopping."

They poured the coffee and found the plates together. She wasn't someone you opposed; if she said the blue willow pattern was the best choice for Danish pastries, you got out a chair, stood on it, and pulled the good china down from the top shelf. But she was fun, and easy to talk to. She reminded him of Catherine and he made a mental note to get Jacob Svenson introduced to Ernest as well. A guy who'd spent fifty years by himself could only cope with hand-picked company but there was something restful about Jacob he felt sure Ernest would appreciate. Mrs Svenson - 'Call me, Christa, please…' - soon had them arranged to her liking in the living room. Jacob and Daniel on the sofa on the other side of the coffee table, while she took the armchair.

"Drape yourself decoratively, Colonel O'Neill, please?" she invited, patting the arm of the chair. The mischievous glint in her eye made him wonder if she hadn't led Jacob a bit of a dance in her time. Even at seventy-odd she definitely still had something.

He gave her his best dirty grin and perched himself on the arm of the chair. "Only if you promise to call me Jack." But when he glanced across at Daniel he was still making those very small movements, tight and buttoned down as someone acting on automatic pilot. Pour coffee into cup. Pick up cup. Sip coffee. Stare at Danish as though it's an unfathomable mystery. Pick up Danish. Break off small piece of Danish. Put it into mouth. Chew. Jack tried to make eye contact with him but Daniel was determinedly avoiding his gaze. Oh boy, the sooner the Svensons left the better because then they could start fixing this. Christ, but Daniel took little things hard sometimes.

Jacob and Christa were talking about the recipe for a happy marriage. Old couples always did that. Jacob was talking about Egypt and its unfathomable mysteries. Yawn. Way to go, Christa, she actually *was* yawning.

"Full of dust and dead things…"

"No appreciation of the infinite mysteries of the…"

Oh he was so with Christa on this one. Oh and now they were talking about give and take, all the usual things. Except Christa was talking about picking your battles wisely and Jacob was talking about not letting the sun go down on your anger. Jack just bet she was one hell of a handful and no mistake. She was telling them all the awful things she'd said over the years she'd never meant. Jacob was saying sometimes you remembered the lies more clearly than the truths. Words had more power than anybody dreamed of. Well that was damned true.

"But what if it's the end." It was the first thing Daniel had said in fifteen minutes and they all stared at him in surprise. He looked up at them with a mixture of desperation and defiance. "What if he - they - make it clear they don't trust you any more and they don't want to be with you?"

Jack stared at him in surprise. Daniel and Sha're had got to that point? No, Daniel and Sha're had still been honeymooners. They hadn't known what an honest-to-goodness row was. So was this guilt transference because of Sha're's unwilling infidelity. Or was this to do with that Sarah girl he'd been to college with that Daniel had told him about once. That six-foot blonde with the cut-glass accent who'd apparently dumped him.

Christa and Jacob were talking marriage platitudes but Daniel wasn't listening to them. Daniel was staring straight at him.

Okay, Daniel was clearly trying to tell him something here. Maybe it was about that Sarah dame. She'd dumped him because she thought Daniel was cheating on her? No. Never. You'd have to be a moron and a half to think Daniel would ever be unfaithful, and by all accounts she'd been a brains trust in a model-girl's body. Of course Daniel didn't notice when people were coming onto *him*. He thought people were just being friendly when they were actually saying 'My place, seven thirty, me and you horizontal on the rug, how about it?' So if you were the one standing there watching him smile at whoever was putting the moves on him it could be damned annoying. He himself had got pretty pissed off about the one man Doctor Daniel Jackson Appreciation Society that was Major Paul Davis and -

Oh fuck-le-doodle-do.

Jack's throat felt suddenly very dry. When he spoke his voice sounded like someone else. "I wouldn't know because I've never got to that point. Sara and I had our ups and downs and I sure as hell said a lot of things I wish I hadn't now, but I never intended to give up on that relationship."

Daniel looked across the pastries at him. "So why did you?"

He didn't think he'd ever picked his words so carefully. "I didn't realize that was how it looked to her. I was just thinking about me. I do that a lot. But I never gave up on the marriage. I just gave up on me. Unfortunately Sara thought I'd given up on her as well. It's an easy mistake to make."

Daniel was pulling an inoffensive pastry to shreds. He looked across at Christa. "But what if you realize the person you're with has the ability to make you miserable in a way that - "

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?" Jack spoke quickly, addressing his words to Jacob, almost begging the man for back-up. "That's the way it goes with relationships. The more you love them, the more it would hurt to lose them. Doesn't mean you should go ahead and pull the plug to save yourself pain later on."

Jacob nodded. "As I have often said to Christa - a man can easily hurt himself with the cutlery he uses every day but it doesn't mean he should throw away his knives and forks and eat with his fingers."

Christa looked across at Daniel. "Men and their favorite sayings can be very trying at times."

"Some men can just be very trying." Daniel said it robustly, but he wasn't looking so certain as he had a moment before.

"So can other people," Jack returned. "That's why sometimes they get yelled at. Yelling doesn't mean diddly."

"Words can mean a hell of a lot," Daniel countered shortly.

"Depends on who's using them. Some people don't always pick their words as carefully as they should. Some people are jerks who haven't had enough sleep or…other stuff, and who get tetchy when they get jealous." He took care to add quickly, "And some people get jealous for no good reason."

"Some people get jealous because they have always had trust issues with other people and they've managed to carry them straight over to the different kind of relationship they…" Daniel seemed to realize that these hypotheticals wouldn't have convinced a three year-old. He looked at Christa and then grimaced and busied himself with his Danish.

"Some people have something too good to give up on." Jack said it forcefully. "And some people don't know enough about…engineering to have learned the difference between a couple of surface cracks and a major structural fault."

"And some people have no way of telling if a bridge is going to collapse underneath them except by walking across it."

"That's the same for everyone, Daniel," Jack spoke gently. "The other alternative is to never cross any bridges."

There was a breathless silence in which Jack swore he could hear his own heartbeat reverberating through the room. All those years he'd been trained to spot danger and he'd never seen this one coming at all. Daniel had thought that was it? One stupid fight and he thought everything was over? How could a guy so clever be so frighteningly dumb?

"I never asked what you did for a living, Colonel O'Neill?" Jacob's words provided a welcome distraction.

"We're explorers." Daniel answered before he could. "Both of us. That's what we do."

"Sounds like a job where you have to cross a lot of bridges," Christa put in.

"Yes, it is." Daniel took a sip of coffee as if he really needed it.

"Is it dangerous?" Jacob pressed.

"Sometimes." Jack kept his gaze fixed on Daniel.

"You could get hurt?"

"Sometimes we do get hurt." Jack willed him to get it. *Come on, Daniel, you're a smart guy.*

"But you still keep exploring?" Jacob's tone was very gentle.

They all looked at Daniel waiting for him to answer. He peered defiantly over the edge of his coffee cup. "Yes. We still do."

"Why?"

*Way to go, Christa.* Jack decided these two were definitely his favorite neighbors of all time.

Daniel shrugged. "Sometimes I'm not sure."

Okay, so Daniel wasn't going to be the one to say it. The linguist was keeping stumm because he needed to hear this said, not say it himself. "Because it's worth it and because we want to," Jack insisted. "And we want to because most of the time it's so damned good it makes up for the odd occasions when it's…less than good."

He waited breathlessly to see if Daniel would nod. They exchanged a glance and he gave Daniel his best begging look, needing to see that softening in those expressive blue eyes. Daniel nodded, a tiny motion, but then he was ducking his head so Jack couldn't see how completely he'd just capitulated.

Jack leant back, feeling a little faint at how close he'd come to losing something without ever even knowing it was in danger. He felt like an unarmed man hearing that a murderer with a gun had just been arrested outside his house.

He looked across at Jacob and saw the man was looking at Christa. In response to what was obviously some sign, the elderly man got to his feet. "I think it is time for us to go now. Thank you so much for your hospitality, Daniel. Colonel O'Neill."

"Oh you're welcome." He saw them to the door, having to fight an urge to kiss both of them. "You're so welcome. Please come again. Soon."

"We are just across the street," Christa gave him an amused glance. "You are always welcome to visit."

"I think I'll probably be doing that. Often."

"You needn't worry if my husband isn't home, Colonel." She gave him a thoroughly X-ratable smile.

"I won't." As Jack reached out to shake Jacob's hand he saw the man looking at Daniel sympathetically. Yes, well Jacob would sympathize with Daniel, of course. He probably saw himself as the long-suffering one in the relationship. But Jack could just bet Christa could tell him a thing or two about living with some hypersensitive smartalec with a martyr complex.

He kissed Christa on the cheek with gusto and whispered, "There's a kidney right here with your name on it."

She whispered back, "Don't try to be good enough for him, Colonel. Just try to keep him distracted from noticing too many of your faults at one time."

"Now, that, I can probable manage."

"Happy New Year, Colonel," Jacob said it in quiet amusement.

Jack met his gaze, letting the man see his gratitude. "Thanks to the two of you, I think it actually might be. Happy New Year to you too."

Closing the door behind them, he still felt a little like a man who'd run a very long race but he was starting to recover. As he walked back into the sitting room, Daniel was nervously picking off the chocolate flakes from one of the pastries. Jack said gently, "Hey…"

Daniel looked up at him. "Hey."

Jack scratched his jaw. "I'm thinking we should probably talk."

Daniel sucked on a piece of chocolate and then said with new decision, "Well I'm thinking we should do what we should have done last night."

Jack tried to look as if he really wanted to do this. "Talk about relationship…stuff?"

Rising to his feet, Daniel brushed pastry crumbs from his lap. "Get drunk, get naked, and have some fun." He met Jack's gaze levelly, as if he didn't even know what doubt was. "It's New Year's Eve, Jack. Let's celebrate."

For a long moment, Jack just stared at him. It happened over and over again and yet he could never keep it in mind just how damned resilient Daniel was. Yes, he was vulnerable, sensitive, easily damaged both physically and mentally, but he was also part rubber and part high tensile steel. As Daniel looked him straight in the eye; a look that promised all manner of make-up strategies; his throat felt a little dry again. He had to swallow hard to croak out his response:

"That sounds like a plan to me."

***

Glancing across at the bedside table, Jack pressed another kiss onto the top of the head tucked under his chin. Five minutes to midnight and all was most definitely well. He smiled as he felt soft lips nuzzle his chest. Oh boy, yes, after a shaky start the old year was going out, not with a whimper, but with several pretty spectacular bangs.

While the Svensons were still crossing the street to get back to their own house, he and Daniel had ignored the 'get drunk' part of Daniel's plan as being too time-consuming and gone right to the 'getting naked and having some fun' section. Racing upstairs and breaking all land speed records at discarding clothes, they'd fallen upon each other like starving men being shown a banquet. The fast and furious sex had taken the desperate edge off for both of them, for all of…oh at least ten minutes.

They'd tried slow and leisurely next. Then they'd picked up the pace again for a little hot, hard, and breathless, before sleeping for hours with their arms wrapped around each other, inhaling the comfort of each other's scent. On waking they'd played out a shower scene which certainly hadn't come from 'Psycho'. After that they'd realized they were now starving, and had fallen on the grocery bags with the same hunger they'd earlier fallen on each other. There was nothing like very expensive junk food for giving two men in their prime a renewed appetite for other things.

They'd next decided to remind themselves how the couch was good for matters other than watching hockey. As they'd been owed a lost week of fun, they'd then decided they had made up for Monday to Friday but were still owed a Saturday and Sunday. As Daniel had pointed out they always had so much more energy on the weekends that it meant they were still owed quite a lot. And as *Jack* had pointed out, New Year's Eve was practically a National Holiday, and as such merited being considered a special occasion, which meant they were owed even more. That, of course, was without even taking into account the indisputable fact that everything always went double for make-up sex. Meaning they were owed so much that…

Retiring to the bedroom again to try to make up some of the shortfall had seemed the only fair and reasonable thing to do.

Jack sighed with something that was suspiciously close to contentment. He was poised on the brink of a brand new millennium with a naked archaeologist half asleep on his chest. What better way to start another year? By mutual consent they hadn't talked about the cause of that stomach-churning scene in the living room. They hadn’t really talked about anything. Between hunger and…hunger, their mouths had been occupied in other ways for hours. And normally, he would be all for letting actions speak louder than words but he never again wanted to come back to find a packed duffle bag in his bedroom. Not unless there were two of them and they were both labeled 'Maui'. It wasn't words that had driven Sara away, but silence. He might not be the brightest guy in the world but he did know how to learn from his mistakes, and if the end of his marriage had taught him anything it had taught him that some things were so damned important it was even worth having a conversation about them.

The only delay in the earlier proceedings had been Daniel’s attempt to surreptitiously sweep the duffle bag on the bed out of sight before Jack could see it. But he had seen it and still felt a cold chill settle in his stomach every time he thought about it. It really had been that close. If the Svensons hadn’t made their timely appearance and interrupted Daniel, would he have come back to an empty house? Jack, better than most, knew how final that step could be.

Wine, he decided suddenly. A bottle of very fine wine for the Svensons. It was the least he could do. And flowers. He grinned into the sweet-smelling hair under his nose. The biggest, most colorful bouquet of flowers he could find for Christa, bless her understanding heart.

Daniel stirred against him and he pulled his head back just in time to prevent his chin from being bumped as the younger man looked up at him with eyes filled with contentment. "Hey."

Jack grinned. "Hey yourself."

Daniel gave a little sigh, then his gaze slipped away. "Jack, I’m sorry about the game. You reminded me you wanted it - umpth!"

Jack put a stop to the apology with the simple expediency of fitting his mouth over Daniel’s and slipping his tongue between their lips to wrap it around Daniel’s. When he finally pulled back, Daniel was looking a little dazed. "It was just a game, Daniel," Jack said calmly. "Wasn’t worth a fight."

Daniel flicked out his tongue to wet his lower lip. "But I should have gone out for food. I knew we didn’t have anything - ommth!"

This time when Jack pulled back, Daniel was definitely breathing a lot faster. "Plenty of take-out places in this town. We’re not going to starve."

The younger man gave him a deliberately provocative look from under his lashes. "Are you going to let me finish *any* sentence?"

"Depends on what you have to say," Jack grinned, reveling in the silky feel of that perfect skin under his roaming hands.

Daniel gave him a long look, then brought up a hand and gently traced the side of Jack’s face with one finger. "How about, I love you?"

Oh no fair. Jack felt his heart do a little skip number and the breath catch in his throat. Did it to him every time. He rolled over, trapping Daniel underneath him, looking down into the serene face of the man who didn’t seem to realize the kind of power he had over Jack O’Neill’s life. *That's my heart you're holding there, Danny, if you only knew.* Bending down, he took Daniel’s mouth in a slow, sweet kiss. When they parted with a sigh, he whispered huskily, "I can’t promise I won’t be a jerk again in the future, Daniel. We both know the odds on that. But you do have my promise that I'm in this for a long haul."

Daniel blinked very fast, then gave a little nod. "Me too," he said, his voice also a little thick. After a moment, he reached up and began running his fingers through Jack’s hair, no doubt spiking it up in retaliation for all the times Jack had done that to him. "And I can’t promise I won’t overreact again if we have a fight." He gave Jack such an apologetic look the older man felt his insides melt all over again. "I’m kind of new at this. Sha're and I…"

"You never fought," Jack finished gently. "It’s okay, Daniel. We’re going to have arguments  -- we do at work  -- but the important thing to remember is that we see it through and work it out."  He paused, making sure he had Daniel's complete attention before he said very clearly, "And I'm sorry for what I said about Major Davis."

Daniel's fingers paused in their hair-arranging only a moment before beginning a gentle scalp massage. "Major Davis has been a good friend, Jack. And I would never --"

Jack immediately covered Daniel's mouth with his so those words were left unsaid, then brought them together in a kiss that was almost desperate in its intensity. It was Daniel who gentled it and then continued to run his fingers through Jack's hair as Jack pressed his face against the safe haven of Daniel's neck. Finally, Jack pulled away and looked down into the peaceful face of the man under him, remembering Christa's parting words: *Don't try to be good enough for him, Colonel.* Not much chance of that, he thought ruefully.

"You never have to say that, Daniel, because I *know.* It may not seem like it, but there is a helluva difference between being jealous of the attention a good-looking, *much* younger guy gives you, and not trusting you." When Daniel didn't protest that, he relaxed a fraction. "And though I may occasionally want to rip the guy's head off and use it as a hockey puck, I do know he's just being a good friend." He leaned over and pressed a kiss between those wide blue eyes. "And just for the record, I have *always* trusted you."

"I know." Daniel sounded so certain of that Jack knew the worst was over. While he was enjoying himself planting kisses over that kissable face, making that delectable body squirm, Daniel said suddenly, "I think the Svensons know."

Jack stopped his foraging and looked at his thoughtful face. "Know what?"

"About us."

Jack just managed to stop the *Ya think?* that wanted to pop out of his mouth. Instead he hid his smile by nuzzling a convenient ear. "Does that bother you?"

There was some more squirming as Jack stuck his tongue directly into that ear. "No…I like them. It's kind of nice, them knowing."

"Yes, it is."

"We wouldn't have to pretend with them."

Daniel sounded so wistful Jack immediately suggested: "I was thinking we could introduce them to Catherine and Ernest. I bet Ernest and Jacob would get on like a house on fire. And as for Catherine and Christa…" The mind boggled at the thought of those two formidable woman coming together. It took him a moment to realize Daniel was looking up at him with an expression of gentle amusement on his face. "What?" he asked, almost defensively.

In answer, Daniel darted a glance across at the clock by the bedside, then pulled him down for a kiss that left no hidden recesses in his mouth unexplored. Jack was finally released, a little breathless and flushed from Daniel's excavation, in time to hear a whispered: "Happy New Year, Colonel."

The sound of fireworks being let off and people cheering in the street seemed only fitting.

A new year. A new beginning. They were both smart enough to take the knowledge of what they'd learned and use it to build their future together. Happy New Year indeed. "Hmmm." Jack nuzzled the long, pale neck presented for his inspection. "Made any New Year's Resolutions, Doctor Jackson?"

"Just one." Raising his head, Jack looked down into blue eyes filled with intent. "It involves a certain colonel and the rest of my life."

As Daniel's hands began skimming up and down his back they began exchanging light, undemanding kisses. "Funny. I've made the same resolution," Jack murmured against soft lips. "Only mine involves a guy who is way too smart for his own good, drinks too much coffee and likes to play with rocks…but I love him anyway."

Daniel gave a provocative wriggle and wrapped his long legs around Jack, pulling him tight against him, causing their cocks, already hard, to slide against each other. As they both gasped at the spark of contact, Daniel breathed, "Maybe you'd like to *show* him just how much. That is, if it's no trouble or anything…"

"Oh, it's no trouble at all. In fact, it would be a pleasure." Jack's hips were already involuntarily moving in the age-old rhythm, but he was deliberately keeping his movements slow and deliberate. "Fast or slow, Danny?" he asked gently.

The other man looked up at him, and Jack saw the answer in his eyes before he spoke a single word. "Let's make it last forever, Jack," he said simply.

They would have a lot of bridges to cross in the future, but they knew now they'd be crossing them together. "Oh, we will, Daniel," he promised, setting a pace that would provide the sweetest, slowest journey for both of them. "We will."

Fin