Joy's Fiction Stargate SG-1 Slash Fanfiction

Intervals 38

I


Intervals 38

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Dear Daniel,

Well, for once, I’m not writing. I’m dictating. Found your small tape recorder in my desk, the locked side where I put my journal when I bring it to work. Do that every day, of course, as I never know when I’ll get stuck here for a few days.

Right now, I’m cleaning out my desk before I go home and get some shut-eye. SG-1’s on standdown for a while because Teal’c’s in the infirmary, along with Bra’tac. They’d been missing a few days and now that they’re back, they’ll be in the infirmary a few days more under observation by Fraiser. I believe Jonas is still sitting with Teal’c. They’ve developed an interesting bond. Never thought it possible but I can understand it. Jonas feels like an outsider, just like Teal’c used to (and still does periodically).

I know I’m responsible for that. I feel guilty sometimes, but not completely. I don’t mean to alienate him, or Teal’c, nor make it so obvious that they don’t know Earth stuff. Guess it’s just me and the way I relate to people. I don’t talk down or assume they don’t know what I’m talking about. I mean, if they don’t get something, they should ask, right?

I don’t think I need to explain why Teal’c’s in the infirmary, do I? You know what was going on, don’t you? There’s no way that he and Bra’tac survived for three days just on Junior. I *know* you helped. Something just tells me that.

God, why is there so much shit on my desk? I hate paperwork. The more I’m inundated with it, the more I hate it. And with my luck, they’ll give me a desk job when this is all over with and I’ll accept it like a good little Colonel. Then retire. 😉

I’m gonna tape this cassette to the page after the last journal entry.

That sounded ominous. Didn’t mean it to. I’ll start up another journal.

I’ll be lazy and record some of them, when I can be by myself, that is. Able to talk and do stuff at the same time. But then, the only one who’d ever listen to them would be me and… no, so not going to do that aural sex thing to myself. Jerking off, good. Jerking off to myself, bad. Just… ew.

So, Teal’c’s without Junior. There’s a really weird thought. I’m gonna have to get used to that idea. Find it kind of strange that while I’m glad he doesn’t have the snake anymore, he’s now dependent on something else to keep him alive. Six one way, half a dozen the other.

Fraiser said he’ll lose most of the advantages the snake gave him, but at least he doesn’t have to worry about losing it anymore. Instead, he’s on tretonin. Guess it’s like being dependent on insulin, isn’t it? Frankly, I’m glad he doesn’t have to worry about that snake. His wife died because she wouldn’t take another Jaffa’s snake. Didn’t really occur to me that they’d have to do that.

So, apparently the temples where they used to house the infant snakes haven’t been in operation for a while. Didn’t know that. Teal’c said it’s likely that they started hiding them after you went and did your Rambo thing on Chulak nearly six years ago. Jesus, time flies. Doesn’t seem like six years.

You know, I remember being completely at a loss when Carter told me what you’d done with her M16. I have to admit, Daniel. Though I didn’t tell you at the time, the picture of you doing that got me hard. Seriously hard. The idea of you going Rambo made my blood run south as inevitably as gravity keeps us on the ground. Gave me goosebumps, and back then, they were those ‘new’ kind of goosebumps, you know? The kind that one gets from a new relationship, like ours was. Except it wasn’t. A relationship, I mean. We’d only been together that one time.

I regret that now. Wish we’d had more times together before Hathor fucked with your… head. Then Shyla. Then Kera. Just… god, Daniel, you’re a psycho-bitch magnet. If you ever come back, could you do something about that please, thanks.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. Rambo timing and… you know, I didn’t even think we’d ever do anything again. I kept thinking that it was a one-off, just something that we’d done to soothe each other.

I couldn’t pretend to myself that nothing had happened. I didn’t show it but I was feeling it. Truthfully, I think my need for you was getting stronger, even though we hadn’t been together except for those couple of days. All I could think about between that cave-man time and that shit on Nem’s planet was how good it had been. And we hadn’t even fucked.

After you came home from Nem’s whacky world of mind games, it gave me a bit of perspective. Something I hadn’t thought about until then. Damn but you were pissed off that we’d moved your stuff. I know we hadn’t planned on it. I gave up on it a couple of times. But…

Funny how that sort of made me want you even more. And it scared me. It’s why I couldn’t seem to find the words when we were unpacking your stuff at your new loft. Made you mad. You hate it, hated it, when I wouldn’t talk.

But we managed, didn’t we?

I’ll never forget the first times. They seem to be permanently burned into my head. The first time I came down your throat, the first time you came down mine. The first time I felt myself inside you and then you inside me.

Guess I should watch what I’m saying, considering where I am. The door may be closed, but I don’t trust the acoustics of this place. Concrete can’t carry sound but ventilation ducts can. Big time.

Shit. Someone’s at the door. I’ll continue this later.

============================

Dear Daniel,

Still recording obviously.

I’m banged up again. We got a report from SG-15 about this one planet, so we went, saved another planet, killed another Goa’uld, only this time, help came from psychic visions. *Jonas’s* psychic visions. Apparently Nirrti’s deluxe gene splicer altered him enough so that his Hot Tar transformation enabled him to see the future. He had this ball of twisted nerves in his brain, like a tumor. Fraiser and another Doc took it out and he’s fine now.

I’m at home, by the way, in my spare room. I have some of your stuff stashed in here. About six boxes. I have no idea why I put them in here. Okay, maybe I do. I’m not gonna say that it’s because I want part of you with me because that sounds stupid and weak. I think if Carter and Teal’c saw the stuff, they’d kinda freak on me. Or laugh at me. Or look at me like I need a straightjacket. I know I would. I think.

I know going through your stuff sounds kind of violating but hey, if you object, come back and kick my ass, ‘kay? Go ahead. I dare ya.

I’m going through this one box…

You’ve got a lot of… memorabilia, I guess you’d call it. I packed this box but I don’t remember putting this stuff in here.

There are two things that kinda grab my attention.

One is a photo, the one that Carter had taken from that planet where we’d had that hooch and Carter started doing that strip tease on that fallen tree log next to the fire. She’d grabbed your camera (this was long before you started using that vid cam) and taken a pic of you and me laughing. Remember that pic? It was of the two of us before we’d gotten together that first time.

We were sitting next to each other, holding those colored goblets filled with that noxious stuff those people made (and we drank anyway because you said it was only polite). We were sitting very close, shoulders and legs touching, and you were looking me while I was looking down at the ground.

Huh. I’m surprised you kept this. You said you’d destroyed it because you didn’t like that *gushy* look on your face. Lyin’ sack of shit. For all your protests, you liked that pic. I have to admit, I like it. So…

It’s now going in a frame…

Hang on, setting down the recorder…

There, now it’s sitting over the fireplace. Next to the others.

Looking back, that mission was one of our better, and funnier, ones, as nothing happened except the three of us got wasted while Teal’c glowered over us, giving us that disapproving frown the entire time. That still makes me smile. The man’s lightened up a lot since then. Is he still a Jaffa without the snake? I s’pose.

Anyway, the other thing in this box is a comb made of bone. Should’ve gone in the box with all your other artifacts, but… I don’t think I was paying attention when I packed your shit up. Stuff. Whatever. I never really paid attention to some of the stuff you kept from our missions. The ones which the SGC or the Pentagon didn’t feel were worth keeping locked up, that is.

This comb is from that that mission where you’d been digging around–yeah, when are you not… were… nevermind. Carter had gone off to measure mineral deposits or something. “I found something,” you said. You were always saying that and I started to dread hearing that. Didn’t always pan out as good news, you know?

But you’d found this comb, brushed it off, and you were so excited about it.

“It’s a comb,” I said, and you nodded as if I’d just spoken Ancient or something. I thought it was nothing but a comb, worth a passing nod and probably a yawn. But you saw a whole societal structure just from this comb.

You know, I got an idea what it was like to *be* you when I was stuck on that moon with Harry. Deciphered these picture tablets they had, figured out the paranoid weed was what had made them all crazy. I did mention that before, didn’t I? Well, I’m too lazy to go back and reread what I wrote in this journal. Point is, looking at this comb made me remember just how much you loved doing that anthropology archaeology stuff.

And maybe why you stopped loving your job because you didn’t get to *do* that stuff anymore. And it’s probably why you won’t come back. There’s no helping anyone. No discoveries. Just going out, making friends, looking for weapons. But there is a purpose in that, you know. You didn’t have to leave.

I’m still trying to understand why it is you left. Well, okay, maybe because you had no choice. Live like a vegetable or go with Oma. She should’ve healed you, and man, do I have a few words for her if we ever come face to face. Which is probably why we won’t ever *be* face to face. She’s guilty, knows it, and doesn’t want me throwing it in her face.

I’ve thought about this for a while. Your having to ascend, I mean. You always said you wanted to make a difference. As part of SG-1, you were, Daniel. You just didn’t think you were. And yeah, I know I made that hard, but I swear, if you come back, I won’t make the same mistakes again. I promise.

God, this is depressing. I’m stopping this crap right now.

Later, Daniel.

~

End

Joy's Fiction Stargate SG-1 Slash Fanfiction

Joy

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