Kylie Lee | Slash fan fiction

He barely heard the door close behind Colonel Jack O'Neill. He looked back down at the framed picture in his hand. It was the portrait of a woman. "Who is she?" he'd asked Jack. "What's her name?"

"You tell me," Jack said.

He couldn't do it. He didn't know who she was. He had no idea at all. It was par for the course. He didn't know who he was, either.

"Daniel Jackson," he said. The loudness of his own voice startled him into looking up. All around him were elements of his life, only he didn't remember any of it. None of the books looked familiar. Beautiful artifacts were everywhere, but they didn't evoke anything in him—no sense of recognition, no sense that he'd seen it somewhere before. The room was cluttered but free of dust. Jack had saved some of Daniel's things, even though he thought Daniel was dead.

"Arrom," he said next. That had been his name at Vis Uban, where he had been found two months ago, naked, in the forest, in the middle of a stone circle. He had just started to answer to that name when Colonel O'Neill and his team had come through the stargate and told him they knew him. Now he had another name. They had hoped that he would remember when he saw familiar things, and he had too. That's why he had agreed to come with them when they returned through the gate to their home.

Daniel set the picture down and turned away. The woman in the picture couldn't tell him anything. What hurt most were the looks in everyone's eyes. Their eyes followed him. He understood that someone had died and they missed him, and they wanted that man back. But he wasn't that man. He didn't know who that man was. But they didn't understand that. Samantha Carter in particular seemed to want something from him. She'd come to his tent on Vis Uban and asked him to come back with them. The words she'd used when she talked about him had made him wonder if she loved him, so he'd asked her if there had ever been anything between them. He couldn't interpret the look she'd given him back. "No," she'd said, her expressive eyes suddenly wary. "No. Not in that way. We were really, really good friends."

The only one who hadn't approached him on Vis Uban was Jonas Quinn. Teal'c, Jack, and Sam had all visited separately. It seemed to Daniel that Jonas Quinn was the only person who didn't seem to want something from him. The man was clearly brilliant. He'd been in charge of inventorying the ruins inside the perimeter the soldiers had established. Daniel had seen Jonas around, totally focused on his task, directing the work of men in the now-familiar green uniforms. They had used imaging equipment to record the writings. Daniel had watched from yards away as Quinn talked with one of the many nameless soldiers, and Jonas had laughed. He had thrown his head back and laughed. He had dimples. Daniel was charmed. It was strange: Jonas was the only one who didn't seem to want something from him, and Daniel found himself wishing that Jonas would approach him. It was just perversity, he decided. Daniel had spoken with Jonas only briefly. He couldn't remember now what they'd talked about. Jonas had called him "Doctor Jackson."

Daniel set the picture down carefully. The woman's face smiled at him. He supposed she was beautiful. He stepped away and her eyes followed him, the way Samantha Carter's eyes had. This nameless woman wanted something from him too. He used a finger to gently tip the picture face down on the bedside table. "Sorry," he apologized to her. He moved around the room, flipping through dog-eared books with extensive marginalia, much of it in the same handwriting—his handwriting, he realized. They were in a variety of languages, some of which he could name. Several books were just blank books that he had filled up with his own handwriting and sketches. He picked up artifacts, then set them down. Some of them looked like weapons, some like practical tools, yet others like deities. There were no other photographs in the room.

"Vis Uban," he said. It meant "Place of Great Power." "Uban" was pretty easy. Its link to the Latin word "urbanus," "city," was obvious, although "urbanus" also had connotations of refinement and wit. "Vis" was the more interesting word here. "Vis: power, strength," he said. He knew there was more. He'd seen a Latin dictionary somewhere—there it was. He flipped through. "But also violence, or a large quantity. Used in a military sense, it means troops or forces." He tossed the dictionary down. "Vis Uban—military troops," he mused. He wondered whether the city had housed military troops. Or maybe it meant "Witty Soldier," not "Place of Great Power." Somehow, that didn't seem likely—not pretentious enough. He couldn't look up "vis" because it was an old dialect of one of the Ancient languages, and there wasn't a dictionary. Or was there?

Daniel opened the door to the corridor and cautiously stuck his head out.

"Yes, sir?" a soldier said.

Daniel blinked at him and stepped outside. The soldier looked wary. "Hi there," he said. "Jonas Quinn? I need to see Jonas Quinn."

"This way, sir," the soldier said, coming up behind Daniel.

"No, just point the way," Daniel said, without much hope.

"I'm supposed to escort you, sir," the soldier responded. He shut the door, and there was a faint thud as the lock engaged.

"Let me guess. Security clearance." As in, he didn't have it.

"This way, sir."

"What's your name?" Daniel started down the corridor the way the soldier had indicated. It freaked him out that so many people went around armed.

"Nelson, sir."

"I suppose I should have known that," Daniel said gloomily.

"No, sir."

"Yes. It says it right there." Daniel turned and touched his own breast, indicating the placement of the other's name tag. Somehow, it was symbolic. He couldn't name others, even when they were labeled. Nothing was familiar. He'd been back from—from wherever for two months. Why did they think he would remember now? He had just gotten used to Arrom.

"Yes, sir. Turn left here, sir."

Daniel was thoroughly lost when he knocked on Jonas's door a few minutes later. "I need to talk to him about a translation," he told Nelson. "It might be a while. You don't have to wait."

"I'll be right outside, sir," Nelson said as the door swung open.

"Doctor Jackson," Jonas said, surprised and pleased.

"Can I talk to you?" Daniel said. "I wanted to know if you have a dictionary of any Ancient dialects."

"Sure," Jonas said. "I mean, yes. Come in."

Daniel stepped inside. Jonas eyed Nelson before shutting the door firmly behind him. "My own personal bodyguard," Daniel confessed. "He goes everywhere with me. He's quite devoted."

"Nelson's all right," Jonas said. He waved a hand as he turned to dig through some books, indicating that Daniel should amuse himself. "Make yourself at home. I'm really glad you came by. I want to talk to you about some translation things—if you're up to it, I mean. And you'll want your office back, of course. And—your tools. I was just sorting through things today."

Daniel tuned out Jonas as Jonas rattled on. Jonas seemed enthusiastic but a little nervous. It seemed that this was where Jonas lived. There was a neatly made bed and a nightstand, but mostly there were books. Daniel suddenly realized that he had no idea what time it was. Maybe it was late. Well, he obviously hadn't woken Jonas up. "Do you really have a dictionary of the Ancient languages?" he asked when Jonas ran down.

"Yes and no," Jonas said cryptically, bending over double to view books on a low shelf. "Here." He grabbed a few books and stood up triumphantly. "What were you thinking?"

"Vis Uban, Place of Great Power," Daniel said. "Or possibly Vis Uban, Witty Soldier."

"Oh, Latin, yeah," Jonas said. He smiled at Daniel's joke, and Daniel saw the dimples again.

"I wanted to double-check 'vis.'"

Jonas dumped the books on the bed. "Well, what I have are your notes." He flipped a book open. "You were cross-referencing Ancient terms and compiling a list by site and by context. The meanings of all the words have been inferred." He indicated a page, and Daniel recognized the handwriting. It was the same as the handwriting in the books in his own room. It was his own handwriting. He could read the characters and words, but the thought processes revealed by the notes made no sense to him. "The site implies a date," Jonas continued, warming to his theme. "But it's recursive. Some of the stroke characteristics and diacriticals help us date a site, so sometimes a site has been dated on the basis of the writings, not the other way around. The tendency of some cultures to retain Ancient writings as artifacts or objects of worship has just made it more confusing."

"How much of this is firm?" Daniel asked. He gently touched Jonas's hand, indicating a gloss on the page, and Jonas immediately moved his hand out of the way. Daniel ran his fingers over the black ink. He'd written "GOD DAMN IT" in all caps, put a box around it, and decorated it with incongruous flowers. He was sympathetic. He knew how he must have felt, faced with something that had to be made sense of, only to face utter defeat.

"None of it," Jonas said.

"Well, that's a problem." Daniel shut the book. "I wondered whether Vis Uban was a barracks housing military troops."

"Could be," Jonas said. He thought for a second. Daniel watched curiously. Jonas was shorter than him, round-faced, with messy, dark blond hair and brown eyes. He had an air of intense focus when he was thinking that Daniel liked. And Jonas didn't seem uncomfortable with Daniel, the way Jack and Sam were. "I surveyed the site, but I was primarily looking for writing. I wasn't looking for evidence of the culture contemporaneous with the writing. We could do a low-flying scan—you know, from above, using alternative imaging technologies. We could reconstruct the configuration of the original buildings, assuming they aren't buried too deeply. The plan of the buildings should give us a big clue about the original inhabitants."

"Architecture. Yes," Daniel said. It was a good idea. "I'm not convinced. I mean, I don't know about the whole—I actually have a hunch that it really does mean 'Place of Great Power.'" Sometimes the most obvious reading was the right one. "I just wanted to check it out," he finished. He turned and met Jonas's eyes. Jonas was standing too close. "What did you find?" he asked. "I mean, on Vis Uban. Besides me."

"Well, come to the meeting tomorrow and find out," Jonas said. "It's at ten. I'm giving a briefing." He hesitated. "It's classified, though," he added. Daniel got it. He wasn't invited. Jonas tapped the pile of books. "It's all based on your stuff. Everything you left behind—all your notes—I've studied it all."

"And I'm brilliant?"

Jonas grinned. "Yep," he said. "But so am I. I'm a fast learner."

Daniel smiled back. He felt encouraged. Jonas was talking to him, treating him like a colleague. "I don't doubt it." Daniel knew that Jonas's research, coupled with a hunch, had led to the rescue party. He hadn't felt like he needed rescuing, and indeed the team that had come through the gate hadn't known he was even alive, but this world was more to his taste than the one he'd been found on, although he hadn't felt that way when he left. It had been hard leaving the only home he remembered. Maybe he just saw possibility no matter where he was—artifacts to study, things to learn. Apparently that was his job, and it transcended who he was. "Can I get copies of your notes?"

"Absolutely. I can get them to you tomorrow at the briefing." Daniel was pleased that Jonas took it as read that Daniel would be there. Jonas separated the books into two piles. His leg brushed against Daniel's as he shifted his weight. "You can take these," he said, indicating one pile. "These, I need to copy some stuff first, and then you can have them."

"Jim said something about throwing a lot of my things away," Daniel said.

"Jim?" Jonas said blankly.

"The guy with—with the hair." Daniel waved at his own head.

Jonas seemed to know who he was talking about. "Oh, the Colonel. Colonel Jack O'Neill. Not Jim. Jack."

"Yeah. Him."

"Colonel O'Neill kept some of your personal stuff. He called ahead and had a team put your room together. I don't know about the stuff they threw out. You should ask him."

"Oh. Okay."

"I doubt they would have thrown away anything valuable, and they definitely didn't throw away any books. And your office wasn't touched. Everything is still there."

"Good." Daniel turned away and began pacing around the room. He had what he came for, but he didn't want to go. Jonas wasn't exactly free with the information, but he didn't seem to want something from Daniel, and that was refreshing. He remembered Sam's eyes following him on Vis Uban; he remembered Jack studying him when he thought Daniel wasn't paying attention. Jonas seemed happy to talk about translations and ruins.

"Well?" Jonas asked at last. "Anything familiar?" He gestured. "Some of these books are yours."

"No," Daniel said. "Everybody keeps forgetting. It's been two months for me. I was there for two months before SG-1 came and got me. Nothing seems familiar—not there, not here." He took a book out, flipped it open, and immediately closed it and returned it to the shelf. "Were we friends?" he asked bluntly.

"No," Jonas said.

"Why not?"

"Just—history."

"No, see, I don't know," Daniel said. Jonas wasn't behaving as though they were mortal enemies. He didn't understand at all. "I don't know why we weren't friends."

Jonas said at last, "I didn't get assigned to SG-1 until you—until you'd left."

Daniel eyed Jonas. Jonas didn't want to say, "Until you'd ascended." He supposed ascension was rare. He wondered why he'd achieved it. He wondered even more why he'd come back. "Oh. I didn't know that. Were you my replacement?"

Jonas just shrugged.

"Can you tell me something?"

"Maybe."

"Why does everybody call me by both my names? 'Daniel Jackson.' Doesn't anybody call me Dan, or Danny?" It bothered him that he did not respond at some fundamental level to the sound of his own name. It was just a sound. It didn't hold any meaning for him. If someone spoke it in a crowded room, he wouldn't hear it. There would be no automatic turning toward a voice, no electric shock that demanded attention be paid to the speaker.

Jonas laughed. "I don't know. Teal'c calls you Daniel Jackson and I guess everybody else does because he does. And you don't seem much like a Dan or a Danny to me. People who call you by your first name call you 'Daniel.'"

"You're not one of those people?" Jonas had called him "Doctor Jackson" when he showed up at the door.

"Why do you ask?"

"I want you to call me Daniel."

"Then I will," Jonas said.

Daniel moved a pile of books aside and sat down on the bed. He leaned forward, forearms on his legs. He clasped his hands and surveyed the floor. "I think I'm supposed to remember something," he said. His voice sounded fretful even to his own ears. "I'm supposed to remember something important. Really important." He looked up and met Jonas's eyes. "I'm late for something," he said. "I mean, really late. Terribly late."

"You'll remember," Jonas said. "Otherwise, what's the point of coming back?"

Daniel brightened. "That's true," he said. "My body," he said abruptly. "I look the same?"

"Exactly the same."

"Okay," he said. He'd just gotten a body. No wonder it felt so insubstantial. Body and mind—they hadn't integrated yet. His mind skittered, and his body plodded. They weren't yet synchronous. "Then do you mind—?" He remembered the press of Jonas's leg against his. He remembered those dimples. He remembered watching Jonas as Jonas worked. He'd wanted Jonas then. He still did. He stood up.

"What?" Jonas asked.

"Just this," Daniel said.

He crossed the few steps to Jonas, put his hands on Jonas's head, and kissed him. Jonas didn't shut his eyes or draw back. When Daniel released him, Jonas looked at him for a long few moments, then brushed Daniel's cheek.

"Daniel Jackson," Jonas said.

Daniel leaned in again, tasting him this time, deepening the kiss, and Jonas's hands lightly touched Daniel's sides before they slid down and cupped Daniel's ass. The kiss had been a question, and Jonas had given him an answer. They didn't need to stop. Jonas stepped forward and Daniel felt Jonas's penis stir, then solidify into an erection as they kissed. He could feel its heat. Daniel had felt desire since he'd seen Jonas smile on Vis Uban. He'd waited for Jonas to approach, to talk to him, and he never did. He'd been both relieved and disappointed.

"We were really, really good friends," Samantha Carter had said. Daniel guessed it was because he liked men. The picture of the woman that he had tipped over was probably his sister or some other family member, and they'd left the picture out on purpose, hoping it would jog his memory. He could let go now. He could forget, at least for a while, trying to make sense of the world. Now, here, alone with Jonas, things were simple. Maybe they had been lovers before. If that was the case, Daniel should savor it—the sensation of being with someone beloved, as if it were new, as if it were the first time. It could be a homecoming for both of them, a reunion: the dead man returned to life.

He pulled back again, panting a little, and looked down at Jonas's round face, brown eyes, and untidy hair. His fingers stroked Jonas's jaw. He felt the slight prickle of stubble. Jonas was breathing fast too. Daniel saw how this face could be the most important thing in the world. When Jonas smiled, it changed his face. "Were we?" he asked Jonas, just as he'd asked it of Samantha Carter. "You and me?"

"You tell me," Jonas said.

Daniel shook his head slowly. He hadn't expected an answer. "It's my first time," he told Jonas. He put his arms around him and leaned around, as if he were going to bury his face in the crook of Jonas's neck. Instead, he whispered, "Help me remember what it's like to be human."

Jonas fingers tightened on his ass, and Daniel's erection was suddenly painful. "Take it off," Jonas said, tugging at his shirt, and Daniel let Jonas slide his jacket off. His own hands crept underneath Jonas's T-shirt, enjoying the feel of Jonas's skin. They pulled back long enough to remove their shirts. Daniel took off his glasses and tossed them on top of the untidy pile of discarded clothes. The world became smaller with the glasses off: things at the periphery of vision were suddenly out of focus. His center was Jonas.

Jonas's hands came around and fumbled with Daniel's waistband, undoing Daniel's trousers, as he steered Daniel across the room. Daniel's back hit the wall, and Jonas slid Daniel's trousers down. They wrapped their arms around each other, their mouths devouring, and Daniel grew breathless. Jonas's mouth was aggressive, but when he took Daniel's penis in his hand, his touch was tentative.

Daniel laid his hand over Jonas's. "Yes," he said encouragingly, and Jonas's hand squeezed more firmly. Daniel set a pace, then released Jonas's hand so he could touch Jonas's body. Jonas's hand stroked as his tongue played with Daniel's, and Daniel knew he couldn't last. Sensation piled on sensation. His heart hammered. His sweaty body pressed against Jonas's. Just as pleasurable as the feel of Jonas's hand on his penis was the feel of Jonas under his hands. He learned the planes of Jonas's body, the softness of Jonas's ass, the taste of salt on Jonas's skin. He always came back to Jonas's mouth—soft, generous, demanding. Jonas's free hand slid up Daniel's body and came to rest on his chest. When Jonas scraped his nipple with a fingernail, Daniel's body tightened. He broke their kiss and grabbed Jonas's head.

"Now," he said as his body shattered. His orgasm pulsed through his entire body, starting with his groin and radiating outward, ripples of exquisite pleasure that broke him apart. He wasn't aware of anything but the strength of his coming, of the white heat that consumed him. The intensity peaked, leaving him breathless, then slowly receded.

Jonas's brown eyes brought him back. Daniel had been staring into Jonas's eyes when he came, holding Jonas's head in his hands. Jonas had anchored him here. The sensation should have carried him away. He didn't see how anyone could bear it. He had never felt anything like that before. He felt certain that he would have remembered something so profound.

"Time," he whispered. Jonas released his penis and leaned into him. Daniel could feel Jonas's erection against his leg. "How long was I gone?"

"It doesn't matter," Jonas said. He didn't ask what Daniel meant. Daniel couldn't have told him. "You came back."

Daniel had been broken apart and put back together. Now Jonas had done it to him. Daniel stroked Jonas's collarbone and studied Jonas's face, forcing his eyes to focus. He still didn't have any answers. His orgasm hadn't brought his identity to him in a blinding flash of light and pleasure. He wanted to be able to look at Jonas with the full force of shared context.

He dipped his head and kissed Jonas. He could start by sharing context with Jonas right now. "Tell me what you need," he said.

"Your mouth," Jonas said. "Put your mouth on me."

Daniel obliged. He kissed Jonas as he tugged Jonas's trousers and briefs down. He turned Jonas's back to the wall and pressed him against it as he wrapped a hand loosely around Jonas's penis. Although it wasn't particularly large, it was fat. He stroked Jonas's length a few times, then began using his hands in tandem with his mouth as he worked his way down. Jonas responded to Daniel's touch with sighs, with quick inhalations. Daniel, kneeling at Jonas's feet, spent a long time at Jonas's belly: the expanse of Jonas's lightly furred stomach invited open-mouthed kisses, and he could tell that Jonas enjoyed it.

"There, Daniel. Yes," Jonas said when Daniel finally enveloped Jonas's penis. Jonas put a hand on Daniel's head.

Daniel drew Jonas in and began sucking. Jonas filled his mouth, the taut skin of his shaft a contrast to the soft, almost rubbery glans. He could taste Jonas's semen from the precome. He found himself pulling on Jonas frantically, and he forced himself to slow down. He found the slit at the tip and tongued it, then began a rhythmic slide, swirling his tongue over the cap. His palm brushed Jonas's sacs as he used his hand to pleasure the base of Jonas's penis. Daniel could feel the remnants of his own orgasm in his stomach. He felt like he could come again, just from what his mouth felt. He dipped his head up and down, his tongue pushing hard against Jonas's shaft, unbearably excited but unable to get hard again. His mouth knew what to do, and Jonas responded.

Jonas's hand suddenly tightened on his hair, and Jonas tugged in short, hard jerks. Daniel felt Jonas's testicles tighten. Jonas was so hard, so hot, that nothing could hurt. Daniel increased the suction and matched Jonas's desperate pace. He was aware of Jonas's breathing changing, and a second later, Jonas came, gout after gout of warm semen pouring into Daniel's mouth. Jonas didn't make noise when he came. Instead, he breathed raggedly. Daniel found this sole evidence of loss of control intensely erotic.

When Jonas was done, Daniel released Jonas's penis and sat back. He swallowed and wiped his mouth. Jonas bent his legs and slid his back down the wall until he was sitting next to Daniel. He was too far away.

"Come here," Daniel said. He tugged Jonas toward him, and they lay on the floor, body against body, arms around each other, trousers still around their ankles. Jonas was still breathing harshly. Daniel gently stroked Jonas's face with the backs of his fingers. Jonas's breathing slowed, then became regular. "I don't remember what you are to me," Daniel confessed after a while. "I don't feel anything deep inside."

"You don't need to," Jonas said. His brown eyes were guileless, but Daniel saw through it.

"You do," Daniel said. "You feel something. That's why you didn't come visit me on Vis Uban." Jonas closed his eyes for a long moment, as though Daniel had hurt him, but he didn't say anything. Daniel continued, "You broke me apart and put me back together. And then I did it to you." And when they came back from wherever they had been, when they were reconstituted and turned into humans again, the other became part of them. Daniel now had a little bit of Jonas in him, and vice versa. Surely that counted for something. Surely that anchored him in this time and place. Surely now he could remember.

"I have to go," Jonas said, touching Daniel's chest. He sounded matter-of-fact, but his demeanor was sad.

"You live here," Daniel pointed out. He pulled Jonas's hair through his fingers. It felt almost liquid. He wanted Jonas to smile again.

"No, I mean, now that you're back, I think I have to go." Jonas pressed his palm hard against Daniel's breastbone. "Especially now that we—now that we did this." He hesitated. He was trying to tell Daniel something. "I don't want to go. I finally found something here. I wanted you, and you came back. I have things I need to tell you."

"Later," Daniel said. He put his hand on Jonas's. Daniel felt like he was on the edge of possibility, on the edge of remembering. He would go to sleep when he got back to his room, and when he woke up, he would remember who Jonas was. He would remember whether they had been enemies or lovers or something in between. Then everything would change. But that was in the future.

"I still want you. Just so you know that."

"Jonas, I don't understand."

"That's all right, Daniel," Jonas said. He kissed Daniel, and Daniel understood that it meant goodbye. "I don't think it's me you want to be with."