superbadgirl | J/D Slash (pre) Fic: The Very Minute

One more Snapshot for the road.

Title: The Very Minute
Author:

superbadgirl (Carrie)
Season/spoiler: 7
Series: Story five from Snapshots
Rating: still PG
Summary: Jack and Daniel are on the same page at last, and at the same time.

Disclaimer: Not mine, damnit.

The Very Minute
~~*~~

There were only fragments, never anything more solid than that even though Daniel had been back for months. It sometimes felt as though his brain was a colander, retaining only the big pieces and letting the finer details wash right through. He didn’t tell anyone about the frustration because they all wanted, deserved, some normalcy. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t quite know what that was.

He was certain, though, that there was something in those finer, out of reach details, something specific and very important he was still missing, but he could not put a name to it. All he knew was that sometimes he had this itchy sensation in his stomach, if that was actually something a stomach could possibly feel. Kind of like he was experiencing right now. He glanced up and caught Jack looking at him intently.

“It’s your turn,” Jack said, staring back down to the board.

“I know.”

He noticed the tips of Jack’s ears were pink and wondered if it was from the beer. Jack didn’t seem the type to succumb easily to the effects of alcohol. Daniel raised his eyebrows once, then squinted at the board. He could already see the moves he needed to make to win. The game would be over in three moves. Jack had said he’d only stay for one match. Daniel didn’t make the move he should have.

“Huh,” Jack said.

“What?” Daniel said. He was nervous all of a sudden.

“Sometimes a guy just says huh for no reason, Daniel.”

“Really.”

“Yeah.” Jack lifted his beer bottle to his lips, took a long drink from it and then held it out. “Do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

Daniel took the bottle and left Jack to ponder chess pieces. He was confident he’d still win in the end, but what Jack did next would tell him how quickly or slowly that would happen. His memories didn’t tell him if he customarily beat Jack at chess or not, or even whether he cared about winning. Actually, he realized, he didn’t take any real joy in knowing he was better than Jack at chess. He didn’t know why he was so focused on it, or why he had decided to prolong the game. He stopped at the step and looked back at Jack, who was slouched in his chair with a scowl lining his face.

Daniel smiled and stepped into the dining area, walking through it into the kitchen. He set the empty on the counter, opening the refrigerator at the same time. An open carton of Chinese take out, a pizza box, a jar of pickles. And beer. Lots and lots of beer. He narrowed his eyes at the wreckage of Jack’s diet, torn between wry amusement and infinite sadness. He was certain, suddenly, that he had stood in this exact spot and seen a different picture. He closed his eyes, but his memory gave him nothing. He was tired of being full of holes. Daniel opened his eyes and took out another beer for Jack.

“Hey,” Jack said, from right behind him. “You going to stand there all day or what?”

He must have fallen into one of those mental holes. Daniel stepped back. He heard the refrigerator door click shut with a slight sucking sound. That feeling had returned, itching at the base of his skull this time. He blinked. He heard voices, himself and Jack wrestling with words. He saw them playing off each other. He saw Jack touching him on the arm, cuffing the nape of his neck. He saw Jack clearly, chiseled by sun and shadows. The pictures and sounds were nothing compared to the feeling. He swallowed.

“No,” Daniel said, embarrassed when his voice came out raspy. “Not all day.”

Without really thinking beyond the reverberations of those images and sounds long past, of feelings very much in the present, Daniel walked over to Jack and handed him the beer. He understood what had been missing, and it was terrifying, heartbreaking and full of hope.

“Daniel?”

Jack’s fingers brushed against his, accidentally, and the touch was fleeting but it lasted on Daniel’s skin. God, Daniel understood now but didn’t know if he wanted to. Jack didn’t…

“Daniel?” Jack said again. Daniel stared at Jack, mouth open. He’d spent months keeping his features composed and unaffected, but found he could not keep the shock from shining through. “You okay?”

“Jack…” He couldn’t say it. How could he? “I…”

Jack leaned close to him, put the beer bottle on the counter without losing focus on him. Daniel jumped when a cold, wet hand touched his arm. Jack’s eyes drove into him, searching. They were beautiful eyes. He swallowed again.

“You?”

“I remember something.”

“You do?” Jack said, still searching but differently now. More desperate. “What do you remember?”

“Me.” Daniel swallowed. He felt Jack’s hand on him. The itchy feeling broadened, moving from skull to stomach to fingers to toes. He couldn’t say it. But he had to. “And you.”

Jack smiled and his face became somehow softer, as if for all these months he had been holding it prisoner in a stiff mask. Relief and unrestrained happiness warmed through Daniel. He thought this was the very minute, the first time he had actually felt whole since he’d returned.

“Finally.”