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brainofckTitle: Beauty
Author:muck_a_luck, posting in brainofck
Artist:sam_gardener
Fanmix:melayneseahawk
Beta:zats_clear
Genre: AU, action/adventure, romance
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill
Content/warnings: Violence. Character death (of secondary characters).
Summary: During combat operations somewhere in Northern Kuwait or Southern Iraq, Jack O'Neill becomes the Air Force "liaison" to a local warlord known as The Beast. An AU loosely based on Beauty and the Beast.
Words: 28,000 (or so)
Disclaimer: If anybody is planning a script like this for SG-1, I'm certainly not going to claim any rights to it. However, I'd be delighted to work in a co-writing/consulting/first-reader/advisory-type capacity, with my fee to be negotiated at that time. :D
Awesome fanmix by Mel located here.
Amazing art by Sam_Gardener located here. I will take a stab at incorporating it into the story over the next couple of mornings.
Once upon a time there was a US Air Force Special Tactics general named West. General West had been a moderately successful general in the Persian Gulf conflict in 1991. In fact, he had been so successful that he had drawn the jealous eye of other, more ambitious generals, who thought it would be better if General West were less successful. So General West was given more and more difficult and pointless assignments to accomplish, and his teams were placed in more and more danger and peril.
One day, General West received orders that he should send a team to contact the most notorious warlord in the region, a brutal holy warrior known locally as the Beast. Oddly, he was rumored to be an Egyptian, though the intel on that wasn't confirmed or from a reliable source. The Beast was known to refer to his compound as Abydos. A constructive relationship with the Beast was critical to the current strategy, as the Beast controlled several key roads through the region vital to establishing supply routes. General West also strongly suspected that the Beast had influence well beyond his own territorial boundaries. General West hoped that the Beast could be persuaded to use his connections to smooth the way for the general's teams when they needed to be inserted into dangerous locals in the future.
Generals do not become separated from their troops in battle, General West thought to himself for the hundredth time as he plodded on through the brain-frying summer heat. It must be 102, and there was no shade. He stopped to take another careful sip from his nearly empty canteen and do another survey of the valley below him.
The corporal driving his transport – Charlie Marsh, said the tags now around his CO's neck – had taken a bad hit. The kid had gotten him through the blast zone that had taken out the vehicle behind them and severely damaged the one behind that, but he died slumped over the wheel minutes later.
The IEDs had just been the beginning of the ambush, which had become an all-out bombardment. They were completely surrounded. General West didn't know how many of his other men had survived it. He had barely dragged himself out of his stalled out vehicle when it was blasted apart. The explosion rung his bell real good, and he woke up groggy, disoriented and alone.
He had no map, no working radio, no idea where his escort was, and only the sun in the sky to show him which way was up.
It had been years since he did this in the field, but the training was in his bones, and now he was just special tactics on a mission again. Just like the old days.
He pushed on to the top of the low hill he was hoping to use to gain a small vantage point for observation of the surrounding territory. As he came to the top, he saw that it hid a small village – just a complex of buildings, really, surrounding what appeared to be a well. Beyond that he could see there was a large, irrigated, well-tended date orchard. He approached carefully, sidearm in hand, but there was no movement or sound from the compound. He did a circuit of the buildings, checking through windows and open doors for any inhabitants. Cookfires were still burning smokily in a couple of the kitchens, but it was clear that the compound was empty. Or vacated. Either way, water was his first priority. He filled his canteen from the full water bucket in the corner of one of the kitchens.
Communication was his second priority, but he hadn't seen so much as a ham radio with a dead battery as he moved around the houses. Next up, then – transportation. He really would have asked, but as there was no one to ask, he took. It was easy to connect the right two wires under the dash of one of the beaten-up Jeeps parked at the edge of the town.
He steered the truck slowly down the dirt track leading back toward the main road, dodging potholes and broken ground. The vehicle had no mirrors. He tried to divide his attention between the road immediately in front of him, and the countryside around him, but he was still startled when two mounted horsemen rode up to either side of his vehicle. They paced him easily, as three… four… five more caught and passed them to block his path. A quick glance behind showed he was fully encircled. Weighing his options, General West stopped the jeep and stepped out onto the dirt shoulder of the track.
The men were dressed in local garb, with the addition of turbans that covered their heads, and blue veils over their faces. General West's heart skipped a beat, as he realized that he had just given himself up to the troops of the Beast. He had either wandered a lot farther from the convoy's planned path than he had realized, or he should never have relied on stale intel. He had no idea the Beast had extended his reach so far. This was not an auspicious way to achieve first contact with the warlord.
"Please come with us," said one of the men in polite, respectful Arabic, but in a tone that brooked no argument.
"That will not be possible," West replied, in their language. "As you can see, I am on United States Air Force business."
"You have trespassed on private property, and stolen the only vehicle of a family that has done you and your United States Air Force no harm. You must come to meet with our village leader to discuss payment."
General West knew a threat when he heard one. His hand twitched toward his sidearm. Four horsemen raised automatic rifles.
"There is no need to resort to violence," their leader stated firmly. "Ahsan, please drive the jeep back to the house."
One of the men dismounted and approached the jeep, climbing in from the passenger side.
"If you would, please take Ahsan's horse and follow us," their leader ordered.
The Beast – or Daniyal, as he had introduced himself in an Arabic much more Egyptian than Iraqi – poured out the tea, which General West accepted with a courteous inclination of his head. The Beast wore the same blue alasho as his men. The Beast had always been a conundrum for the analysts – possibly Egyptian, possibly Taureg, a non-Iraqi with extensive influence. Seeing the blue, blue eyes, above the veil, West understood immediately what the Beast was hiding. A European warlord who had learned his Arabic in Egypt. Somehow the general felt that wasn't going to make his mission with regard to the Beast any easier.
"If I am to allow you to pass to and fro through my territories," the Beast said in thoughtful response to General West's proposal, "I will require something in return. You have caused me a lot of trouble and worry today alone."
"Of course," the general agreed. That was how these things always went. Warlords bartered their power into more wealth, and possibly more power.
"It is the custom among the tribes to keep a… guest… of the other party, as insurance of continued good intentions."
West's eyes narrowed. The Beast continued.
"Of course, usually we foster out sons, but in your case, I'm sure your unmarried children remain in America, so that is not the solution to this problem."
"I cannot give you a hostage. We don't own our people or traffic them like slaves," the general did not try to keep the bite out of his voice.
"Naturally not! And this individual would not be a prisoner here!. He would be perfectly free to leave whenever he should desire."
The Beast paused. He was not partaking of the tea, as he had not removed his face covering, but he held the cup in his long, work-roughened fingers contemplatively, his eyes focused on the amber liquid.
"However, should he choose to leave my compound, for any reason, then my relationship with the United States Air Force would be at an end, and passage would no longer be allowed." Those piercing blue eyes lifted from the tea to search General West's face with an intensity that suggested the Beast was trying to search the general's very soul. "And make no mistake, the welfare of my guest would be dependent upon my people remaining unmolested, your people remaining in their trucks and passing through without stopping, and most of all, Abydos and the surrounding villages remaining completely undisturbed. I value my privacy and I protect the safety of those who have trusted me to lead them."
One of the veiled warriors rushed into the room. He bent to whisper into the Beast's ear. Daniyal nodded shortly and dismissed the messenger, who left just as hurriedly.
The Beast turned his attention back to General West, but now there was obvious impatience in his tone.
"You could assign a liaison here," the Beast suggested.
"Not under the terms you have just so clearly described," West stated with finality.
"Then I will consider the matter closed," the Beast replied cordially. "However, now we must move on to the issue of your breaking and entering into the homes of three families, and your theft from the kitchen of one, in addition, of course, to the theft of the jeep."
"I apologize for not approaching your people for assistance. My entire squad was attacked and destroyed not very far from here. I'm sure you can understand that I thought I might not be in the best neighborhood."
"That is an unfortunate choice of words, General West. I like this neighborhood very much," the Beast said sharply. "Until we decide how to handle the issue of your behavior, you will be a guest here. If you were just an errant criminal passing through our town, the consequences will be very different than they would be for an ally and a friend."
The Beast rose abruptly. Two of his men entered.
"Ghalib and Mahaz will escort you to your room. Bathe and rest. Dinner will be served shortly. I regret that I will not be able to join you until the morning, at which time we may determine whether we are friends, or you are a mere thief in a very bad neighborhood."
The Beast left with a brisk step.
The general considered long and hard about what team to send to establish contact with the Beast. He had the best of the best, the cream of special operations warriors at his command. But he had one team that was particularly reliable and effective, and because of this particularly dear to the general's heart. For this delicate assignment he planned to choose Lt Col Jonathan J. O'Neill's team. Despite his gruff, blunt, and undiplomatic approach, Colonel O'Neill seemed to have a special ability to win over indigenous populations, from the peasant farmer to the holy warrior to the highest local government leaders. If anyone would achieve the kind of access that General West hoped to establish with the Beast, he felt certain that individual would be Colonel O'Neill.
Jack O'Neill reviewed the slender briefing file on the folding table in the middle of the tent. It was a makeshift command center for the retrieval of General West. This was what Jack did, and he liked the work. Still, as he sat down and started flipping through the few pages in the folder, he had a bad feeling about this one. That ambush had demolished a whole convoy escorting a General. That was a bad sign about the level of organization and strategic capability of the enemy. The alternative theory was that it was a really strong indicator that they were not prepared to enter this territory at all to have fallen into a simple trap and lost a vital asset. Either way, it meant that retrieval was not going to be as easy as one, two, three. And not that Jack was looking for easy. Easy was kind of boring, actually, and didn't require as much C-4. But he wasn't looking for a suicide mission either.
Colonel Schonberger led the briefing.
"At 0650 yesterday, General West's escort radioed that they were under attack. They were taking mortar and small arms fire, and had already lost one truck. We haven't had any contact since then. We need a team to go in, assess the situation. Based on your intel, we will decide whether to proceed with an immediate extraction using our team, or to send in a larger force."
"I thought this area was supposed to be low on hostiles, Colonel?"
"We suspect it was an external group that came into the area specifically for this attack. There is one local warlord who would be a candidate to pull an action like this off. He's locally known as The Beast, and has a reputation for taking no prisoners. But our intel in this area is so poor, we aren't even sure if he actually exists, or is just a local legend. There also seems to be a long-running local family feud in this area, and it is possible that our people somehow ran afoul of that. I'm relying on you to get the real story so that we can move appropriately."
There was a nice, short Q&A and technical discussion that followed, that didn't help Jack's bad feeling at all.
The team dropped in just after sundown, bundling up their 'chutes and hiding them in the brush and moving forward in a standard formation. Jack took point. They confirmed the intel from the aerial recon. There were no survivors on the scene.
"Looks like they were completely blown away," Farris commented over the headset. "But I don't see any bodies."
The trucks were twisted wrecks. However, they had been removed from the main road and were no longer obstructing passage. And someone had cleaned up the human remains. It wasn't that busy a road, but still, even the few local travellers might not like having to walk by rotting corpses on their way to the nearest market town. Jack wanted to know who had dealt with the bodies and what they had done with the dead. He also wanted to know where the survivors, if any, had been taken. The situation on the ground looked bad. Nobody who had been in one of those trucks had survived the hit, he felt sure. Still, Jack was nothing if not thorough.
He had to circle far out from the main road to find clear sign to follow from the confused trampling of the battle zone. Small groups had broken away from the area. He signed to Rouse to follow a second trail. Rouse gave him the thumbs up. Jack liked working with Rouse. The man knew how to keep his eyes open and his mouth shut.
As best Jack could tell, it might have been two distinct forces, one probably in pursuit of the other. One large group had left going northwest. That had been the most interesting feature from the aerial photos, and that was where Jack wanted to go. He felt certain that if there were any prisoners, they would have been taken away by the large retreating force.
Rouse emerged from the foliage. Though his infrared goggles Jack saw the sergeant smirk as Jack nearly slit his throat before he realized who he was.
"Don't sneak up on a guy," Jack muttered.
Rouse gestured back to where he had picked up the trail.
"Five guys, went about a mile that way, then started breaking off. Two got into a vehicle, I'd say a Ford F-150, the other three went three separate directions on foot. I don't think they were carrying much. Definitely no prisoners." Rouse gestured to the tracks of the larger group. "Those are the guys we need to follow," he concluded.
"F-150? You are so full of shit, Rouse," he said. Rouse chuckled. Jack keyed his radio.
"Lightening Two, you find anything?" Jack asked.
"Negative," came Boucher's response.
"Lightening Three?" Jack asked.
"Nothing," Arroyo replied.
"Regroup, up the northwest trail," Jack ordered.
He didn't have to wait long. Both men hauled ass, following the trail of the large group across rough terrain until the trail took a turn onto a well-maintained narrow side track. Jack and his team flanked the road, moving quietly through the edges of a large date orchard. Irrigation ditches broke up the flat ground. After what Jack estimated to be about a half mile, they came to a break in the foliage.
"Looks like the perimeter of a large compound," Boucher said over the radio.
"Cut the chatter," Jack growled. He signaled Farris and Boucher to stay put, and began his own advance over the open space. The compound seemed quiet, but his night-vision goggles picked out at least one guard on the front door of the large main building. There could be more.
Suddenly, large, intense lights started coming on. Jack pulled off his goggles and hit the ground, but temporarily blinded by the flood lights, there wasn't much else he could do.
He heard running feet coming from the date grove behind them. That was bad. Commands barked in Arabic for his men to drop their weapons, kneel, put their hands on their heads. A foot nudged his hip.
"That goes for you, too," the man ordered. Jack did as instructed. Blinking against the light as he sat up on his knees, he blinked again, this time in disbelief. No way. They were being captured by Blue Men of the Sahara. Jack wondered if he had taken a blow to the head without realizing it.
Efficient hands removed his pack and patted him down. His sidearm was taken immediately. They realized the danger of his field vest and took it, too, but they didn't find his ankle knife. Amateurs.
As his eyes adapted to the bright light he identified their leader. He stood a little away from Jack, and unlike his men, who all carried rifles, he seemed to be armed simply with a nine mil that he held lightly in his right hand. Jack didn't see any sign of a holster. Amateurs. Seriously.
If this guy was The Beast, Jack was unimpressed.
The blue turbans herded his men toward him.
"Welcome, friends," said their leader. "I apologize for treating you in this disrespectful way, but considering the unusual circumstances, I felt it was best to take no chances of a deadly misunderstanding."
Great, Jack thought. Super-villain speeches. And the guy's Arabic was clearly not local. The Egyptian accent was clear, and the underlying intonations sounded like the guy was probably American. Well, he sounded like lots of the guys Jack went to language school with, anyway. What the hell?!
"Would you like to come in and join us for dinner?" the man offered. "My name is Daniyal."
"Colonel Jack O'Neill, United States Air Force. I'm here to pick up my general, if you don't mind," he replied, in English.
"Of course!" Daniyal agreed, though he was not lured into switching languages. "Thankfully, we were able to help him after he was attacked. There were no other survivors, sadly, but I can assure you that the attackers were punished. You will not have any more problems travelling on the nearby roads. Come inside. Let's continue this discussion over supper."
"What's up with this guy, Colonel?" Arroyo muttered. ”Dining with the Enemy? Is this some kind of B movie?”
"You are not prisoners," Daniyal replied, still in Arabic, despite the fact Arroyo spoke to Jack in English. "You may leave right now if you like and report back to your command. I will gladly return all your equipment, though if you want to take your weapons away with you, I will send my men along to carry them to your pick-up or rendezvous or however you refer to it. But if you come inside, you can eat and rest and meet with your general immediately, then you can all leave together."
"Then we will accept you generous hospitality," Jack replied politely, this time sticking to Arabic, as this Daniyal character seemed to want to do. It wasn't that he had no doubts. But although they had been stopped and disarmed by another armed force, none of his men had been injured and they were not restrained at the moment. He felt Daniyal was making a sincere offer.
As Daniyal turned to lead the way to the house, Jack fell in step beside him.
"So who attacked our convoy? Do you know why?" he asked Daniyal. They passed through the front gate into the fenced-in area around the buildings. Jack felt soft grass under his feet. An irrigated lawn. Nice. Just what you would expect from an American in Iraq.
"I am afraid it may have been a personal attack against me," Daniyal said quietly. "I am embarrassed to say that I offended some neighbors in the recent past. I thought the problem was resolved, but I believe the unprovoked attack of US military forces so close to my property in an area I am rumored to control, was intended to bring outside attention and hostility against me and my interests."
Jack sighed inwardly. Maybe the guy was right. And maybe the guy was an American ex pat who had become a local big shot and developed megalomania and delusions of grandeur.
"Once we get inside, you can radio for a pickup for your men and General West at the gates of my property, down at the road. However, if you are willing to wait until morning, we can show you the remains of the force that attacked your convoy so that you can learn whatever you can for your usual professional evaluation. Also, the bodies of your comrades have not yet been laid to rest. You will need to make arrangements to have them brought home, as well."
Daniyal opened the front door of the large building. Jack followed him inside. They were in an open room with a long table and lots of chairs. The general was standing at one end of the table, pouring over detailed local maps with the help of one of the blue-turbaned men.
Jack was relieved to see the general was in good condition. He saw his CO appraise his team, then turn to the Beast.
"Your men must be very skilled warriors, to have captured my best team without harming a single one of them," West said.
The Beast nodded.
"They treated us respectfully, as you yourself did, and did not use force or resist capture when they were discovered trespassing by my people."
"We have no wish to harm civilians," General West commented.
"So your actions seem to indicate," the Beast agreed. "Because of this, I am inclined to overlook that you borrowed a vehicle without permission. And in the desert, it is only understandable that a person on foot must have water. You were in an emergency situation. I'm sure you would have asked for water if anyone had been in town, rather than taking it without asking."
Jack knew he should feel relief at the tone of the negotiations. It sounded as if the general and the Beast were working through issues raised in a previous conversation, and from the sound of it to the benefit of the general. Still, Jack had the distinct feeling that the other shoe was about to drop.
"Then my men and I are free to leave," the general stated rather than asked.
"I have already been discussing the details of your departure with Colonel O'Neill."
"Daniyal says we can leave ASAP, but he suggested that we might want to have a look at the remains of the force that attacked the caravan, sir. I think it would be a good idea for at least some of us to stay here until daylight and go have a look."
"Actually, General, there was still one detail I wished to discuss with you directly. I have a certain reputation to maintain and we still must resolve the issue of safe passage on my roads," the Beast replied, with what sounded like genuine regret in his voice.
"I have been thinking about your request for a liaison," General West said. "And coincidentally, we have here the very officer I would select for that job. Colonel O'Neill is one of my most trusted officers and quite capable of acting as an intermediary. He also has the rank and the authority to handle any day-to-day problems that might arise though use of the roads."
See? The other shoe. There was always another shoe.
The Beast nodded.
"The assignment of Colonel O'Neill will set an excellent foundation for a productive relationship," the Beast agreed graciously.
"I will expect you to provide for his safety and comfort while he is assigned to this post," General West said. Jack recognized a note of menace in his CO's voice.
"It will be exactly as we discussed yesterday," the Beast said mildly. "Come, before you leave we should set the terms of military travel on my roads in writing."
Before the general and the Beast could step out into the passageway, boys began arriving carrying trays and bowls of food and pitchers of clear water and fruit juice. The Beast turned to Jack and his team.
"Please refresh yourselves. The general and I will return shortly."
Jack reviewed the bodies of the General's escort before he ate. They had been carefully and respectfully laid out on the floor of a small outbuilding of traditional architecture that was probably usually a tractor shop, but had been cleared out and apparently swept in preparation for its current duty.
Gunshot wounds, burns, typical battlefield injuries. The kind of thing Jack expected to see in light of the condition of the vehicles. The body count added up. Everybody was here, and apparently the general was the only survivor. West was one lucky bastard, was all that Jack let himself think about that.
Jack's blue-turbaned escort was quiet and solemn. He turned to the nearest.
"Okay," he said and the guards nodded, leading him quietly back to the main building.
Jack and his men bunked down in a small room that had been set up with four cots and plenty of blankets and pillows. Their equipment had been set against the wall, under the two large windows. Jack opted to roll out his sleeping bag on a cot. Boucher and Farris followed his lead. Arroyo snorted at them and made up a bed with the offered bedding.
"You can't sleep in your sleeping bag the whole time you're posted here, Colonel," he commented to Jack.
"Oh, why not? It would be like a camp-out every night," Jack said tiredly. "You know how I love a good fire and sing-along. You guys will have to be sure to send me marshmallows."
"You think he's serious about that, sir? I bet that Daniyal guy is the Beast and I bet he hit our flight."
"All the better reason to leave me here, then," Jack replied grimly. "If he did it, I'll figure it out."
It wasn't the place of an officer to make comments about further actions that might occur after he figured something like that out. There would, of course, be command structures to follow, orders given. And sometimes, the good of the mission was more important than avenging the dead. It was modern American warfare after all.
Jack slept with one eye open.
The next day was taken up with the excursion back to the battlefield, this time escorted by the Beast's troops. First, Jack and Farris, the real tracking specialist, got a look at the scene in daylight. The Beast's men stood off and let the two professionals do their job. They easily tracked the departing forces, who ran in different directions away from the encounter, but who quickly circled around to meet at what must have been a planned rendezvous point. And that was where the Beast had seen fit to leave their bodies.
They had been slaughtered, absolutely and completely. Most had been shot first, then had their throats slit.
"Wow," breathed Farris. He tipped his head in the direction of their escort, which was standing well back, almost as if to give them privacy. "You think those guys did that?"
"I don't see anybody else taking credit for it. And it fits the Beast's reputation."
Jack put together the scenario in his head. Daniyal was an American. He had treated the American dead with care and respect. He had a local reputation to maintain for brutal action against people who disrespected him, and then there were American casualties that other people hoped to blame him for. If it was all tied up in some sort of tribal or family blood feud, well...
"I think it was them," Jack said.
"Glad they're on our side, then," Farris said appreciatively. "I guess he wasn't too happy when they started fucking around in his back yard," he toed one of the dead guys with his boot.
"Yeah. I guess not," Jack replied.
The Beast made every provision for his guest's comfort, but Jack was not permitted to leave the castle. Jack lived in luxury, but saw and spoke to no one but the Beast. The general's orders were very clear. The Beast's cooperation was necessary, and so Jack must be a good little hostage and sit tight a while. It should be an easy job. Jack was getting off light compared to a lot of guys in a war zone. But it was lonesome. Jack missed his real life.
After the general and his team were sent on their way, Jack was escorted from the main compound building to a large house. He spent the rest of the day alone.
"You will stay here," he was instructed. "Please do not leave this building. Daniyal forbids you to leave un-escorted."
Jack spent the day exploring the house. It was very large by the standards of rural Iraq. The walls of the rooms of the first level were entirely lined with books. They were in many different languages and covered a range of topics – linguistics, anthropology, archaeology, history. An American scholar? Jack wondered for the hundredth time what this guy Daniyal was doing here in BFE Nowhere, Iraq.
The upstairs hallway had several doors from it, all but two of which were locked. One unlocked one was a bathroom, and the other was a large bedroom at one end of the hall, leading Jack to suppose, based on his mental visualization of the area of the first level, that there was a second bedroom of similar size at the opposite end of the hall. He assumed the open bedroom must be for himself.
It had a large custom made bed, much larger even than a king, a dresser and desk, bedside tables, a small sitting area with a couch, armchair and an entertainment system to make Homer Simpson drool. There was an en suite bathroom, with a walk-in shower, a double sink, and a soaking tub with a huge window overlooking a beautiful garden behind the house. Windows on either side revealed views of the surrounding date orchard and the windows out the back looked out over the garden. The warm air through the windows was redolent with the scent of ripening dates and roses.
Returning to the room and trying the doors in the hallway again, he found that the one closest to his room was unlocked after all, and inside was a library of video cassettes, records and CDs to match the equipment in the bedroom.
He wandered back to the downstairs, toward the back of the house, thinking he would go out into the garden, and found his way to the well-stocked kitchen. Not much junk food, aside from lots and lots of brown sugar pop tarts. However, in the back of the pantry, he found a door leading down to the basement.
The house sat on an underground complex. Again, most of the rooms were locked, but side-by-side Jack found a games room with pool table, fooz ball, and pinball machines; and, even better, the next room was a state-of-the-art firing range.
From the way he had been left and the orders to remain in the house, Jack had assumed that he was a prisoner – exchanged by General West for the safe release of the general and the rest of his men – to be extracted at a later date by diplomacy or special tactics. But this room was full of weapons, ammunition, and explosives. Handguns, shotguns, rifles; automatic and semi-automatic. Every small arm Jack could imagine wanting was just sitting here, properly stored, waiting for him to use them for whatever purpose he wished.
So he picked up a brand spankin' new Glock 22, put on some ear protection, and took it for a spin to find out what all the hype was about.
Jack's only companion was the Beast, who came to dine with him every evening. Although the table was laid with a delicious feast every night, the Beast never ate. He sat with Jack, and they talked a while. Jack found that the Beast was a gentle creature, for the most part. He liked him.
Jack examined his target after testing out the Jericho 941. He liked the gun. It was a little heavy compared to the CZ-75, but it was a slim design for the amount of punch it packed, and the grip angle made for natural sighting. It was a joy to shoot, and his target reflected it – ten kill-shots. He turned around to place the handgun back on the table only to find the Beast standing behind him, watching him with steel in his blue eyes, intense above the ever-present blue veil.
"Nice shooting range you have here," Jack said, in English. He wasn't going to cater to the fantasy that this man was anything but an American, turban, veil, and fluent Arabic notwithstanding. "I hope you don't mind I borrowed it."
"Of course not," the Beast answered in a warm, California accent. "You should feel free to spend as much time here as you like – and use up as much ammo as you want," he said. Jack got the impression he was smiling behind his veil. "I should really spend more time down here. I'm sure I can no longer hit the broad side of a barn."
He stepped forward, extending his hand as Jack pushed up the shooting goggles and laid the gun down.
"I'm Daniel," the Beast said, as Jack shook his hand. "Lovely to meet you, finally."
"Jack," he said.
"Come upstairs and let's get you something to eat," Daniel suggested, then without waiting for Jack's reaction, he turned and went back up toward the kitchen.
When Jack emerged from the pantry he could smell dinner, and it smelled good. There was roast beef with gravy and mashed potatoes, green beans, and dinner rolls. There was even a strawberry jello thing with whipped cream mixed in. It looked like somebody's idea of a perfect Sunday dinner. Not that Jack was complaining.
Daniel was staring out the back door into the garden. A large herb and vegetable patch was just outside the back door, and beyond that, there was a riot of roses blooming. There was a girl pulling weeds in the dirt. When she saw the men watching her she made a quick bow toward them and scampered away down the nearest path. She was so short they could hardly see her at all, following only the progress of her colorful head-scarf as it ran along behind the waist-high plants. They lost sight of her completely when she went into the okra patch.
"Habibah loves the garden," Daniel said fondly as he turned to face Jack.
"Somebody went all out on dinner. Are you having any?" Jack asked him. Daniel shook his head without any comment, so Jack found the cabinet with plates, grabbed one, and helped himself to everything.
"If you're going to feed me like this, I'm going to need some serious PT if I'm going to stay within regs," Jack said.
"There's equipment downstairs," Daniel replied.
"I usually run," Jack said, carrying his plate and following Daniel into the next room, where they settled onto the leather couches. Jack set his plate on the coffee table.
"You forgot a drink," Daniel realized at the same time Jack did. "Can I bring you a beer?" He was already on his feet, heading back toward the kitchen. In short order a beer clonked down on the table by his knee. In a glass.
"Is this draft?!" Jack asked in surprise.
The corners of Daniel's eyes crinkled.
"Are you gonna take that thing off or what?" Jack asked.
"No," Daniel replied mildly. "So. You would want to run in the morning, maybe even pre-dawn? Avoid the heat?"
"Want is a strong phrasing," Jack said.
"For the safety of yourself and of my people, and for the smooth running of my operations here, I need you to stay in the house," Daniel began slowly. "However, there's almost nothing happening around four or five in the morning. If you would be willing to stay to the front of the house, but inside the compound, I think that would not be a problem."
"Too bad there's no swimming pool," Jack said. He didn't want to comment on the way his movement was limited, or on his confinement to the house.
"In this environment, that's conspicuous consumption that even I can't afford," Daniel snorted. "However, you will find, down in the exercise room, an Endless Pool. They're a little tricky to get used to, but you might like it."
Jack just stared at him.
"What is up with this house? It's like – a five star hotel – if five star hotels came with university libraries in the lobby and small arms for pillow mints!"
"I built it for my wife," Daniel said shortly. He looked away.
House built for a wife that was not in it.
"I'm sorry," Jack said quietly.
"It's not important," Daniel said briskly. "I hope it will make your stay more pleasant. I realize this must be awkward for you."
"Hey, if you can do what you say you can do, then I'll gladly enjoy a little R&R in Hotel Abydos! How do you feel about me getting in on the gardening? I could haul water for little Miss Habibah out there."
"No!" Daniel said sharply. "The garden and rear part of the property are strictly off limits to all visitors."
"Okay," Jack drawled. "Just tell me one thing, Daniel. Tell me you're not some kind of stinkin' drug dealer or bastard child-slaver or something."
"Not a stinking drug dealer," Daniel said. His eyes were smiling again. "…or a bastard child-slaver or any other something that might be covered by 'or something.' I do not sell or eat babies. But my business is private, and there will be no interference with it."
Jack nodded and slurped up the last of his strawberry and cool whip jello.
"Compliments to the chef," he said.
"Want to go upstairs and watch a movie?" Daniel asked. "I've got a bunch of new stuff on tape. Terminator?" Daniel suggested. "Or would you prefer that Disney flick with the computerized animation? Oh. I forget which one. Abdul Halim brought it for his little girl."
"Beauty and the Beast," Jack filled in. At Daniel's surprised raised eyebrows, he added, "I have a five-year-old son. My ex keeps me up-to-date on all the kid's movies and stuff."
It could have been an awkward moment. Instead, Daniel asked, "Do you have any pictures?!"
"Not with me. General West said he would be sending me my footlocker."
"You have to show me when it gets here. So do you want to watch something?"
They went up to Jack's room. Terminator II was pretty good. A lot of stuff blew up, and the special effects were incredible. It did make a guy think, though, about whether humans were going to make it. On the other hand, Daniel drank the glass of beer Jack brought him when he went down to the kitchen for a second glass, and he had gotten pretty punchy.
"Chill out, dickwad," he muttered, giggling to himself.
Jack peered at Daniel.
"Did you steal the rest of my beer?" he asked.
"Nah. I always get like this when I drink beer. I think I'm allergic to hops or something," and he hiccupped, like a cartoon drunk.
"Or just a cheap date," Jack replied.
"I'll drink you under the table on my homemade moonshine any day," Daniel offered.
"No thanks, I enjoy having 20/20 vision," Jack laughed. "And you should probably have a glass of water or two before you go to bed." Jack started wrestling Daniel to his feet. The stupid blue veil had not come off all evening. Jack was tempted to "accidentally" unravel it now. He didn't. Daniel was slight, much thinner and lighter than Jack would have imagined. He hauled him to his feet, slinging his arm over Jack's shoulder. "Where do you want to sleep this off?"
"With you?" Daniel suggested.
"What?! No!" Jack said. "You're not puking on me in the night."
"Of course not," Daniel said, taking his weight on his own feet and drawing himself up to his full height. He was nearly as tall as Jack. "I'm an excellent lover," Daniel hiccupped again.
Jack scrubbed a hand over his face.
"The answer's even more 'no,' then, lover boy. Out you go." Jack shoved Daniel toward the door.
Daniel gathered his dignity, adjusting the fabric around his neck and face, made a wobbly turn and then walked unsteadily out the door, straight to the other end of the hall, fumbled, probably with keys, opened the door and disappeared behind it. It was too dark for Jack to get a glimpse of the room before the door closed.
Faintly, he heard the shower start.
He did not stand there at his open door imagining Mr. Blue Man of the Sahara, naked and wet. He did not feel at all turned on by the idea that his dick was featuring prominently in the masturbation fantasies of someone besides himself.
The first night sleeping in the strange house, Jack dreamed of the Beast. He was out in the desert, killing the men who had attacked General West's convoy, eyes red and ruthless below the blue turban. He dispatched them with savage efficiency, one bullet each, all headshots. Professional and cold and dispassionate.
Then the dream changed and the Beast unwound the turban, starting with the neck and face coverings, the indigo dyed cotton of the tagelmust dropping away until a slender young man stood before Jack. In the fluid nature of dreams, not only the veil was gone, but all of Daniel's clothing. He was strong and tall, slim-waisted, with a smile so blinding that all Jack could see were Daniel's eyes as blue as the sky and hair as golden as desert sand.
"I'm so glad you stayed with me," Daniel said, reaching out toward him, touching him with hands that sent sweet vibrations through Jack's body.
Jack jolted awake from the dream. He had slept badly. He would blame it on sleeping in a strange bed, except that Jack was an expert in sleeping in strange beds. No, he couldn't kid himself. Even with a marriage and a kid under his belt, he was still queer.
"It's not like you can cure that kind of thing, you know," Kowalski used to berate him, when he came slinking back, reeking of some other guy's cheap aftershave and sex. "You're not sick. You were born that way."
"Yeah, when the fuck did you get so progressive, Mr. Rainbow?" Jack had growled back at him.
"Hey," Kowalski had objected,"Who are you calling Mr. Rainbow? I'm not the fairy here, I notice. And, if you must know, both my brothers are gay." Kowalski shrugged. "They're great guys, even if Joe did go for the Marines, bonehead."
Kowalski was right, of course. At least about the cure part.
So now Jack was sitting in the lap of luxury with a mysterious guy who wanted have sex with him, and apparently his subconscious thought the guy was imminently fuckable.
He doubted he would have a full night's sleep for a while.
After three or four hours of tossing and turning, Jack decided on an early run, and possibly a better sleep afterwards.
He had found sweats, tees, and fresh underwear in drawers in his room. He just had his boots to run in, but that was actually something he tried to do periodically, anyway. There was a full moon gliding down the sky toward the horizon, giving him light for the night run.
He did a light jog around the perimeter twice, then paused by the front gate to stretch. The air was perfumed by the ripening dates in the orchard.He looked up at the front of the house, and got a little adrenaline rush. He was being watched. There was a figure in the window, backlit by a very faint, flickering light in the room – Jack guessed a single candle. The figure was limned by the moonlight, but too far away and too high up for Jack to be able to distinguish any features.
He took off at a run to burn off the flight reaction, then set himself a fast jogging pace and settled in for the long haul. An hour's run was about thirty laps. He already wished he could just go for a long run on the roads nearby, but - take what you can get. He slowed to a walk for a couple of laps, strolling around the yard more randomly, looking at the vehicles parked there, checking out the outside of the main building. Guards greeted him politely. The figure was gone from the window.
On the steps of his new home, he stopped again to stretch, then went inside to hit the shower.
To his surprise, he smelled breakfast as he walked in. Following his nose to the kitchen, he found eggs, bacon, and French toast, served on a plate waiting for him. There was warm maple syrup on the table, and shredded cheddar cheese for the eggs. There was freshly-squeezed orange juice in a large pitcher, and a bowl of pomegranate seeds, already husked.
Jack shook his head. Whatever the Beast's motives, he was a damned good short-order cook.
Around noon, Jack heard yells and running in the front yard. He stepped out into the heat of the day, standing on the porch to see the front gate being opened and a US military vehicle being allowed to enter. Guards led them around to the porch steps.
"Nice of you guys to come by!" Jack greeted them, as Cromwell stepped down out of the truck.
"Please wait for Daniyal inside," instructed one of the guards.
"No problem," Cromwell replied. Jack held the door for him. Cromwell gave low whistle.
"Nice digs," he commented.
"It's not going to be the worst posting I've ever had," Jack agreed. But he felt oddly ill-at-ease with the man there, filling up space in Daniel's library. "All the comforts of home. We had draft beer with dinner last night."
"Wow! No fruit juice for you!" Cromwell exclaimed with a grin.
Jack heard the back door slam. A moment later, Daniel came in from the kitchen. Still with the turban, still with the veil. Jack caught the surprised flicker of eyes as Cromwell took it in.
" Marhaban[1]," Daniel greeted him. Like his men, he addressed Cromwell in Arabic. "I am Daniyal."
"Lt. Col. Frank Cromwell," Cromwell replied, coming to his feet. "I've brought equipment and supplies for Colonel O'Neill."
"Thank you, that was quite thoughtful. Though as you can see, he is being provided for, I am sure he will be pleased to have his personal items during his visit here. I trust you had a safe journey?"
"Yes, sir. We just passed a few folks in trucks. Not a sign of any hostiles."
"Excellent," Daniel replied. "Though that is certainly what I would have expected so soon after the unpleasantness a few days ago. The more important thing will be the long-term peace on the roads."
Daniel turned to Jack.
"Please spend as much time as you would like with your comrade. When it is time for him to depart, please call Abdul Halim. He is at the front door."
Daniel made a shallow bow to Cromwell.
"And now, I will return to my work. Colonel O'Neill can provide you with refreshments."
And with that, Daniel turned on his heel and left though the kitchen.
"Friendly guy," Cromwell said. "I can see why he needs a liaison."
"I think he likes his privacy," Jack commented. "He's got enough guns in the basement for a small army, and his people are loyal. But he seems completely uninterested in politics. My impression so far is that he's a rich guy who doesn't like people messing with him." Jack shrugged.
"Well, we'll see if he can do what he says he can do," Cromwell said. Cromwell lowered his voice. "You know the general wants the scoop on this guy, right?"
Jack sighed. Cromwell was a pilot turned General's errand boy. He had no intelligence background and, apparently, less actual intelligence than Jack had ever realized. He looked at Cromwell, raising an eyebrow meaningfully and doing a little twirly circle with his finger. He tapped his ear.
"Oh, right. Like 'The Beast,'" Cromwell made the air quotes with his fingers, "doesn't know we're going to be collecting intel on him. So! What about these refreshments he mentioned?"
Shaking his head, Jack lead Cromwell through to the kitchen. The mysterious food fairies had delivered roast chicken and fresh bread, tart cucumber and yogurt salad and a bowl of what must be the earliest khalal dates, as it was still the very end of July. They were crunchy crisp and apple-like, tart-sour, almost bitter, full of tannin. In September they would melt in his mouth, still crisp, but honey-sweet. It was funny, every place he went, no matter how objectively horrible the mission or the deployment, no matter how much he wished to be anywhere but there, there was always something he missed when he went home. The Barhi dates of Iraq, khalal stage, were one thing he knew he would miss when he went home from the desert.
"I don't know how you eat those things," Cromwell commented, twisting off a chicken leg as Jack took a juicy bite of fruit.
"Acquired taste," Jack mumbled.
"I guess," Cromwell said. "So what's he up to here, this Daniyal guy? He's got a lot of books, and he doesn't sound like a local."
Jack shrugged.
"No idea," Jack said. "He's got me on lock-down. Most of the compound is off-limits."
Cromwell raised an eyebrow.
"On the flip side, there's a first-class firing range in the basement," Jack said airly. "Don't you worry, if things get hairy, there's enough firepower down there for me to kick most of the rest of Hussein's armor out of Kuwait."
Cromwell snorted.
"Well, with food like this, and the AC turned up full-blast in here, I don't guess you're hurting much," he agreed.
Jack crunched into a second date and found himself hoping Cromwell would shove off sooner rather than later.
Jack's personal locker went upstairs, but he asked Daniel's men to leave the other crates there in the large downstairs room. He opened the lids. Communications equipment was the main thing. A bunch of other stuff he would want as a liaison. He left the crates open and went up to his room. He found swim trunks in the drawers of the dresser and went down to try out the Endless Pool.
He finally put his feet down on the bottom of the pool again. It was a trick, alright, but once he got the hang of it, it was a nice swim. He climbed out and grabbed a towel from the stack by the pool. He turned around to find Daniel sitting comfortably on the exercise bike, watching him.
"Do you ever get tired of sneaking up on a guy!" Jack complained.
Daniel smiled smugly. Jack wished he could pretend to be uncomfortable and offended by Daniel's lingering review of his wet, mostly naked body. It would make his life so much easier if he wasn't more than a little turned on by the fact that Daniel was obviously pleased with the the view. He toweled off briskly, deliberately not giving into the temptation to turn around and give Daniel a good view of his… assets.
And Daniel, rather than give in to the obvious temptation to make a provocative comment, took the high road.
"I saw the crates and that there was nothing in them to be concerned about," Daniel said as Jack toweled off. "I appreciate you leaving them open for me. I had them moved to a room in the main building. I'll show you where after we eat."
"You're eating this time?" Jack asked, heading though the hallway to the stairs to the pantry.
"Nah. I had something already," Daniel said. Daniel stopped in the library as Jack went all the way upstairs to change.
He came back down in clean BDUs.
"I think Daania likes you," Daniel laughed, watching Jack help his plate. Cheeseburgers with all the fixings, hotdogs with chili on the side, delicious looking potato salad and cole slaw.
"I think Daania is my new favorite person," Jack answered, heading out to eat in the front room again, with Daniel on his heels.
"Lucky for the guys, halal is not the same as kosher, because I think she's feeding them everything she cooks for you."
"Cheeseburgers with potato salad are still on the menu," Jack agreed. "And boy, does she know how to do them right."
He thought Daniel was smiling behind his veil.
"I apologize for the drunken pass last night," Daniel said, as Jack enjoyed a plate of crispy Toll House cookies.
"I don't remember that," Jack replied. "I will be keeping you away from the beer in the future, however."
Daniel snorted.
"I still want to sleep with you."
"Great, so all I get for company is a horny warlord who won't take off his stupid head diaper."
Daniel's back went rigid. He left through the kitchen door. Jack didn't apologize.
Another morning run. Another morning being watched by a shadowy figure above him.
He hated that the pool and the shooting range allowed someone to sneak up on him, and there wasn't any better way to use them.
But Daniel didn't show for breakfast, which was fresh bread, soft butter, honey and another bowl of crisp dates.
Daniel didn't show for dinner either. Jack served himself a plate of a delicious beef dish with dried fruits and sweet spices over rice and carried it up to his room. The door to the little video room was locked and the only one left out was that stupid animated Disney thing, so he went back downstairs and found a book instead.
No Daniel again at breakfast the next morning, and Jack started to worry that maybe he should not have been quite so rude to his "host."
His days were already taking on a rhythm. Run, swim, breakfast, shooting range, shower, radio in to home base, nap, lunch, and then an afternoon to fill. This morning, as he came out of the shower, he found a note on his bed.
"Please remain in this room for the next hour," the note requested. It was signed "Daniel."
Jack could here feet shuffling outside his room, and doors on the hallway opening and closing. He tested the door. It was locked, but it was just a flimsy privacy lock. The door was solid wood, but Jack was confident he could get out if he set his mind to it. Daniel probably knew that, too. The lock was just a reminder the follow the polite request of the letter.
Toweling his hair, Jack went to the windows of the room. He had good views from three sides, including back down over the garden, where in the remote distance he was able to see tents that sheltered something under them from the sun and heat. He couldn’t tell anything more, though, even when he had used his field glasses earlier. But now, coming up though the garden, were six men carrying a heavy crate, about half the size of a coffin, Jack thought morbidly. Jack assumed it was heavy if six men had to carry it. They went in through the kitchen, and soon Jack heard them on the stairs.
No other boxes were brought up the garden path. There was continued movement, with quietly muttered comments that Jack couldn't make out through the door. He tried putting his ear to the bathroom wall, but there must be an intervening closet or room between him and the activity. Nothing.
After much less than an hour, the activity died down. Jack heard feet going down the stairs. He crossed his own room in a few strides and lay down on the bed, feigning his usual nap.
He heard the privacy lock on the door click, but the person made no attempt to wake him or draw his attention to his restored freedom. He lay in the bed until about the usual time he would get up to dress for lunch, then went downstairs as if nothing had happened and headed over to his radio room.
"This is House 1 to Command, do you copy?"
"This is Command 2. Go ahead."
Command 2 was Cromwell.
"Standing by for today's forecast," Jack said.
Cromwell then reeled off, rapidfire, a long string of letters and numbers. Jack copied down the encoded message.
"…7345092 break alpha kilo kilo whiskey 09," Cromwell finished. "Do you need me to say again?"
"Negative," Jack said.
"CinCCommand requests report on CinCHouse," Cromwell said. Jack could hear the chuckle in his voice.
"Nothing of note to report," Jack replied. Except there was. He sighed to himself before keying the radio again. "No direct communication with CinCHouse for thirty-six hours."
"That was fast," Cromwell replied, "In the doghouse already. Well, at least it's a nice doghouse."
"Very funny, Command 2. Standing by for further communication."
"That's it, House 1."
"Roger, Command 2. Clear."
Jack shut down his radio and glowered at it. General West, Commander in Chief Command, had not asked about The Beast, Commander in Chief House. They had assigned Daniel the code name Angel for radio traffic, not CinCHouse. It was a stupid joke, but it made Jack uneasy, Cromwell's suggestion that Daniel was Jack's spouse.
Jack was relieved to have Daniel join him again for dinner, which was, of all bizarre things, lasagna and garlic bread, with a tossed spinach salad.
Daniel laughed when he saw it.
"Daania's been dying to make a lasagna for as long as I've known her," he chuckled. To Jack's surprise, he actually grabbed a fork from the drawer and dug into the casserole, discreetly lifting the veil to bring the bite to his still hidden lips, just as he did when he drank in Jack's presence.
"Wow," he said. "That is surprisingly good."
"Please tell her from me that everything has been fantastic, including the beef and fruit dish from last night. Amazing." Jack winced inwardly, as he realized that his sincere compliment might have an undertone of accusation. Daniel was apparently not in the mood to be offended. The crinkle around his eyes suggested he was smiling broadly.
"She'll be delighted to hear that! Honestly, I keep telling her I'm going to ship her off to the CIA. For a 70-year-old Iraqi grandmother who's never been farther than three villages over in her life, she has the best instincts for flavor and seasonings. I've also told her I'm sending her to the American school over in Dubai so I don't have to translate her cookbooks anymore, which gets me kicked out her kitchen."
As Jack was heading out to the library with his plate, Daniel stuck his finger in the casserole again.
"I saw that," Jack called back to him. "You should just eat. I know that's how the other Blue Men do it."
He turned, walking backwards, watching Daniel. The other man shrugged.
"Not part of my background, eating around a veil. I can just watch you eat. I'll snag some later."
"It's warm now…" Jack said, holding out his fork temptingly.
"Why are you so obsessed with this?" Daniel said, in exasperation tinged with just a hint of anger. "You must know that I prefer not to show my face. Is that so hard to understand?"
"So, what would you do if I took you up on that 'fuck me' offer you keep making, then?" Jack asked, as he settled onto the couch, surprised at his own inability to stick to the script.
"Maybe I'll get naked, but leave the head diaper on?" Daniel suggested. "What a vision that would be! You're right. I should get some of the lasagna while it's hot. Tosbeho[2]," Daniel said, and stalked away into the kitchen and directly out the back door.
Jack let his head fall back on the couch. Why had he done that? He had really only been suggesting that Daniel not miss a meal that he obviously wanted to eat. It was weird, sitting there eating when Daniel didn't. But Daniel got that pissy tone in his voice and Jack just forgot that this person had power over him, and he pissed right back.
He hoped tomorrow's breakfast would be bread and honey, not bread and water.
After eating, he went up early. The video room was unlocked again, so he picked out Die Hard 2: Die Harder which he had missed last year. He clicked it off halfway through and put in Ghost instead. Whoopi Goldberg was pretty funny, though he could have done without the phallic pottery scene. Jack had been alone for a while, and quite frankly, watching Swayze stroke that lump of clay was giving Jack feelings he would rather not acknowledge (especially when they were caused by a stupid romantic comedy), when he heard one of the doors in the hallway open and shut.
He was torn. He knew he should respect Daniel's request for privacy, but he also wanted to know what was going on in this place for more than just the satisfaction of his personal curiosity. The General wanted to know what Daniel was up to and who he was. Jack disregarded the fact that he was already holding out on the General by not immediately letting him know that Daniel was an American. He still couldn't let slide the chance to find out what Daniel was up to, here in his little fort.
Jack moved silently to the door. The house was well built, and there wasn't a creaky floorboard in the place. This room was heavily carpeted. Jack could probably do his jumping jacks stealthily in this place.
He carefully turned the knob on his door, opening it just the slightest crack. There was light coming from underneath the second door down on the left – the door closest to Daniel's room. Jack was fairly confident that was where they had been putting the box yesterday. There was no noise coming from behind the door now.
There was no rule of this house stating that Jack couldn't move freely about any time day or night, so he ducked out the door, shutting it softly behind him. He moved down the hall, the runner still disguising any noise his bare feet might make on the wood floor. He put his ear to Daniel's door. All he could hear was the tapping of fingers on a keyboard. There would be long pauses, then rapid typing.
Jack jumped when he heard the front door open suddenly. He quickly dodged down the hall and back into his room. The footsteps remained downstairs. Jack sat in his chair, gazing thoughtfully at Demi Moore, as he pondered what a warlord might be writing.
Jack picked up the envelope from the kitchen counter and scanned the contents. He grabbed a date, and went back out the front door, trotting across the yard to his radio room.
"House 1 to Command, do you copy?" Jack radioed.
"Read you House 1. Standby," came the reply. Jack waited briefly.
"House 1, this is Command 2, send your traffic," said Cromwell.
"Message from Angel," Jack stated, then began the encrypted message without the aid of the key. He had a knack for it. Daniel said there was a report of a recent sale of a surface to air missile launcher to someone in the area and he wanted the Air Force to avoid Sectors F and G until he tracked it down.
"Roger," Cromwell said when Jack finished he long rattling string of letters and numbers. "Standby."
Cromwell could not decrypt in his head.
Jack waited slightly longer.
"House 1, this is Command 2, copy that. Will inform CinCCommand. Any further report?"
Jack considered the heavy box, the late-night tapping at the keyboard, the temper tantrums.
"Nothing to report."
"Roger. Command 2 out."
"So how does a nice California boy end up a feared and influential warlord?" Jack asked over a dinner of chicken grilled with pineapple, onions, and peppers over rice. And Jack had seen pie in the kitchen. He thought it was apple.
"I can pay that," Daniel said. He didn't know what to feel. He was terrified. And furious. But mostly terrified that even if he paid the ransom, he would never get her back.
"No, you must not," Kasuf disagreed sternly. "Our position here will become completely untenable."
"I don't care," Daniel yelled, angry at the Good Father's calm acceptance of his daughter's fate. "This is my fault. I should have been more discreet when we got here. They found out she was a married to a 'rich American…'"
"Enough," Abdul Halim cut them both off. "This is not the fault of any person. Everyone knows the Juhi family and what they do. They extort anyone who might be able to pay a ransom."
"I'll leave here. All I want is Sha'uri back safely. I don't care about the dig, or anything else."
"Sha'uri cares!" Kasuf growled. "She will not expect to be ransomed. She will expect to be rescued and avenged. This attack on the family's honor cannot go unanswered."
"That's crazy!" Daniel said, staring at his father-in-law in shock. "You can't be serious!"
"I have never been more serious about anything. We will go to where they have taken her, kill the Juhis who touched her, and bring her back here."
Daniel screamed wordlessly and stalked out of the room. They were crazy. This was a nightmare. What was that supposed to mean, Sha'uri expected?! He couldn't believe the Good Father was actually thinking about the dig! Who cared about the dig?! His body was rebelling. He barely made it to the door before he heaved the sparse contents of his stomach. He found himself on his knees, staring down at the puddle of vaguely yellowish liquid, pooled and swirling in the dust.
Staring at the vomit, his anthropologist's mind wound out all the reasons Kasuf was right. Once a woman was kidnapped, the laws of honor said she had been raped. Once a woman was raped, the only way to remove the stain on the family was to kill her. The only out was if the wife's husband could prove that the rape had indeed not been the fault of the woman. The only way to prove the woman was innocent was for her family to kill the ones who had forcefully taken her honor. The deaths of the criminals rehabilitated the woman and the family. Of course, for most families, it was just as well to pay the ransom to get their property back, then remove the stain on the family by killing the woman - a logic that no anthropological background could ever rationalize.
So, Anthropologist Daniel knew, The Good Father was actually much different than most victims of honor crimes. He preferred to cleanse his daughter though vengeance, rather than buy her back and murder her himself. In fact, Daniel's willingness to pay the ransom must seem cruel to The Good Father, even if the man logically knew that Daniel would never kill his wife, even if he logically knew that Daniel wouldn't even understand the taint. The Good Father was trying to show Daniel what he knew Sha'uri would want.
She would want the horror removed, not left to fester as part of her, forever inseparable from who she was in the eyes of her family and culture. She might rather die at her own hand than live like that.
Staring into the putrescent yellow swirls, Daniel made a decision.
He stood and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, then his hand on the hip of his pants. He walked slowly and thoughtfully back into the room, crossed to the wall safe and opened it. He took out stacks of cash and handed them to Ahsan.
"Go. Buy guns. Be back in twelve hours."
Ahsan's eyes widened, rising from the fistfuls of money to Daniel's hard stare.
"I know where, Ustath, [3]" he said.
Daniel spent the next several hours deep in consultation with Abdul Halim and the Good Father. When Ahsan returned, they went out to look into the back of the battered old pickup. Kasuf pulled aside the heavy tarp thrown over the contents.
"AR-15's. Excellent," Kasuf said, gripping Ahsan's shoulder as the man came around the truck bed. "Daniyal, do you know how these are used?"
"Ghalib can show me, but I'll probably stick with my Beretta."
Ahsan climbed into the back of the truck, reaching into a box near the cab. He took out two more of the handguns, presenting them to Daniel grip-first.
"Very good, Ahsan," Kasuf congratulated him. "Still, Ghalib, show Daniyal how to use the rifle. Ahsan, come inside."
He accepted his fate, though he knew that he would become The Beast. He was following a dark path from which he could not and would not turn aside. He was changing himself forever. For the crimes he knew he was going to commit, he already wished to hide his face from the world in his shame.
Daniel went into the room Sha'uri called her workroom. Sha'uri had bolts of dark, indigo blue fabric that had been given to her upon their wedding. Now Daniel rolled out the bolts on the work table, first measuring, then dividing it equally to share among the men who would go with them. It still wouldn't be enough for a proper tagelmust[4] for each man. But it was enough for what he wanted - a distinctive head covering to help identify his men in the heat of any battle, to provide a sense of a uniform for his soldiers, and to disguise their identities.
He folded the cloth carefully and carried it downstairs to the dining room, where Kasuf had assembled the men. They wore stern, resolved looks. Wordlessly, Daniel lay the cloth in the middle of the long table. He took the top piece and began the elaborate ritual process of winding the turban around his head, folding and manipulating the fabric from his forehead and crown, around his ears and the back of his head, down around his neck, then arranging the veil from the ends of the fabric.
His men followed him – first Mahaz, who had come with them from Egypt and whose family came from Berber immigrants. Kasuf, Abdul Halim, Omar, Gahlib, Yasir, Nu'man, all of them, until the room was full of fierce-eyed warriors, hardly distinguishable from one another, in their non-descript khakis and jeans and work shirts.
The Juhi family was holding Sha'uri at their estate, the largest house in a village about sixty miles away. There was no way to hide their approach, but of course, since they were expected, they didn't need to hide. Four trucks to escort that much money and retrieve the American's Egyptian wife wouldn’t seem excessive.
As Daniel and Kasuf got out of the cab of the first truck, the two guards at the door came down the front steps, and the heavy front door of the house swung open.
Kasuf raised the rifle that had been blocked from sight behind his door and the four men fell to single shots.
Daniel strode toward the door, focused on getting into the house and finding his wife as quickly as possible. He met two men in the narrow hall. He shot them both with his Beretta, leaving his rifle hanging over his shoulder. He felt no qualm or guilt as he killed the two men. They stood between him and his wife, who might be beaten, or raped, or dead. He was there for her, and under the influence of the adrenaline, he had no doubts.
When Daniel found the stairs, he went up. He flinched and twisted when the bullet grazed his temple and ear, but after he fired instinctively, and there was not a second shot. The man above him crumpled forward, falling to the side of Daniel, who dodged around him and into the open space above.
Sha'uri and a young woman sat together, huddled in the back of the room. They both shrieked when Daniel emerged. He ripped the folds of blue away from his face.
"Daniyal!" Sha'uri exclaimed, running across the room toward him. He caught her in his arms and held her tightly, barely hearing the continuing gunfire from elsewhere in the house, or her dismayed comments.
"Daniyal, you are bleeding! You are covered in blood! Where are you hurt?"
He pushed her away, holding her worried face in his hands, noting that his blood was in her hair, then kissing her, his beloved wife. She was fine! Clean and unhurt, not raped and dead, as Daniel had feared. He crushed her against him again, and heard himself laughing wildly.
"Daniyal, stop this!" she protested, but she was laughing as well.
"Come on!" he urged her, grabbing her hand, tugging her back toward the stairs again. She spat on the dead body as they went by. Daniel wasn't ready to feel the guilt yet, that he had killed these people who had not, in fact, hurt Sha'uri in any way. He knew he would feel it. But that was for another day.
They ran down the stairs, only to be confronted by a middle-aged woman, with graying hair. Her face was streaked with tears, and her hands were bloody.
"You!" she shouted at Sha'uri. "You!" And before Daniel understood what was happening, the woman shoved a kitchen knife into his wife's side.
Whether by luck or training, the woman must have found exactly the right pair of ribs. Sha'uri gasped and immediately began choking on blood. She collapsed to her knees and died almost instantly. Stabbed through the heart.
Daniel found himself on his knees beside her, kneeling in a pool of her blood. The woman stood above them, staring, shock written on her face, and Daniel didn't care.
He stood and pointed his gun at her. Lined it up between her eyes. She knew she was going to die. He saw he horror in her expression.
Slowly, he lowered the weapon again.
"Now that Sha'uri is dead," he said to her conversationally, "I think I will burn this place in her memory. I give you a quarter of an hour to be sure all the innocents are out of this house. Then it burns."
Her hands flew to cover her mouth, then she turned and ran, screaming for her sisters and her maids and her children.
Daniel stooped again to lift Sha'uri's dead weight from the floor and carry her to the trucks outside. Kasuf saw them and began to scream and tear his clothes, but others among the men eyed Daniel uncertainly and he knew that some of them, maybe even most of them, thought Daniel had punished this honor crime by killing his tainted wife. It didn't matter to him what they thought. She was dead. He laid her gently in the back of his own truck. He brushed her hair back from her face, touching the smooth skin. She was so still. She didn't look like she was sleeping at all. She looked like a piece of art. A sculpture representing the hopeless depravity of human existence – the death of an angel, with blood in her hair.
He looked away from her and went around to the cab of the truck. He sat in the front seat, then picked up his radio, which he had forgotten to carry inside with him.
"Ahsan," he said into it, "are you watching the back of the house?"
"Yes," came the crackling, staticy reply.
"Ask them if they are all out of the building. Do you see children?"
Though the radio remained dead, he could hear Ahsan shouting, asking them if they had all of the children out of the house. No, no! he heard them reply.
"They say not," Ahsan reported over the radio.
"Tell them they have three more minutes," Daniel said. "Make them tell you who still has to come out. When you see them, tell me. We're burning this place to the ground."
He laid the radio back on the seat. He didn't really check the clock. Even in his grief, he would not set fire to that place if he thought children might be inside it. But quickly enough, Ahsan's voice crackled through again.
"I see all of them," he said.
Daniel stood outside the truck again. He took a grenade from the supply of weapons in the back. He had never used one before. He wondered if it was just like the movies. He held the handle, he pulled the pin, and he threw it into the open front door of the house.
The explosion was surprisingly large.
He turned to Abdul Halim and Galib.
"Take gasoline inside. Set the whole place on fire. But if you find any person there, let them leave."
He stooped to look inside the truck again. From behind the driver's seat, he took an old, beaten up suitcase. It wasn't even that heavy. He walked around the house with it. The children stood hiding behind their mothers, crying and screaming. When they saw him, some of them ran away. None of them, thankfully, back towards their home. He went up to the gathered women and deliberately placed the suitcase on the ground before them. He offered a polite bow, his hands spread in a gesture of peace.
"As my wife is dead and I can no longer ransom her, please accept this price demanded for her life. Do not let it be said that I did not provide for the widows and orphans of the criminals who stole my Sha'uri."
Then he turned his back on them, as they broke out in wails and screams. He expected a knife in his back. In some ways the thought was soothing and the anticipation almost a hope. But no, they did not dare to attack him, and he walked back around to his convoy of trucks as the first roar of flames came through the windows of the doomed house.
They got back into their trucks and carried Sha'uri home.
So, he turned his face away from the world, rarely leaving Abydos unless it was in the role of the Beast ruling his domain. The world knew he had killed and burned and avenged, and the world believed he had slaughtered even his own beloved wife. The Good Father returned to Egypt in his grief. Though many of his household stayed and remained loyal, the Beast was always alone, and always haunted by the memory of the children that screamed upon the sight of him and ran to get away from him. The Beast was unable to forget the sounds of their weeping mothers or the roar of the flames devouring their home.
"So how does a nice California boy end up a feared and influential warlord?" Jack asked.
"You like the accent?" Daniel responded. "I decided I needed to pick an American one, so I would sound like less of a linguistic Frankenstein."
"Well, you did a great job. And you totally ignored my question. And don't just stalk off again. I was perfectly civil."
"By accident," Daniel said shortly.
Jack gave him his best don't-shit-me look.
"Surely they briefed you," Daniel sighed.
"Of course! A general was missing and they had a retrieval team in the neighborhood ready to roll. They briefed us! They said, 'Watch out for this guy, he's a killer.'"
"That sounds like a crappy briefing."
"Look where it got me," Jack agreed, gesturing broadly to the room around them.
"My wife died," Daniel began. "Actually, it was a kidnapping, and her father convinced me that I should handle things the local way. And the result was that she died. Along with a lot of other people. I personally killed five men that day."
Jack felt for the guy.
"You're thinking I should have let the police handle it," Daniel said.
"No, I was actually thinking a guy like you should have paid the ransom. That's how it's done in this part of the world," Jack replied frankly.
"Yeah. That's what I should have done. That's what I wanted to do. But Kasuf convinced me that Sha'uri would want me to deal with the crime against her honor in a way that would socially exculpate her of guilt. That meant holding her kidnappers responsible and punishing them. Looking back on it, I wish I could say I would have done things differently. But I don't know…"
"You might still have her," Jack said.
"But if the family felt like that, I might also have lost her anyway. If I hadn't killed her, her father or brothers might have, or if they didn't, we might have been ostracized from the family. Kasuf made me think she might even kill herself."
"Was it worth killing five people?"
"Twelve, actually," Daniel replied. "Every adult male in the house when we got there. I was only personally responsible for five of them. And we burned the place down."
"Wow," Jack said, with a low whistle.
"So, anyway, I made all our guys dress with the tagelmust…"
"Uniforms create a psychological advantage," Jack murmured approvingly.
"And what with killing every adult male in the compound…"
"And the burning it down," Jack agreed. "Yeah, I can see how that would get a guy a reputation with the locals."
"It would have been perfect, if Sha'uri hadn't died. In a way. Nobody trespasses in our orchard anymore, and we've got tons of respect in the community. Apparently that family had been running that kidnapping ring for years. Most families ransomed their women…"
"Then killed them?" Jack guessed.
"Gotta love honor killings," Daniel said.
Daniel was quiet for a while. Jack had lost his appetite for pie.
"Anyway, with the reputation, comes the demand to maintain the reputation," Daniel said. "So when General West's convoy was attacked, we had to make sure it didn't happen again in our neighborhood."
Jack just nodded. He went to the kitchen and brought back two beers. He put one in front of Daniel, then sat back and sipped his own.
"So I became the Beast," Daniel said. "Meskh[5]. But Belle isn't coming to save me. She's already dead."
"You don't have to stay here," Jack said. "Just go home."
"But what's the point, if I don't stay?" Daniel asked. "At least here, I can give it all some kind of meaning."
"What kind of meaning?" Jack asked.
Daniel snorted. "Trying to get me drunk while emotionally vulnerable so that I'll spill the beans? Not gonna work," Daniel said.
"Can't blame a guy for trying," Jack said.
"If that's the case…" Daniel began.
"No," Jack said, preemptively.
"I don't want to sleep alone now," Daniel pleaded. There was genuine misery in his eyes. Jack wanted so badly to say yes.
"No," Jack said again.
"Not for sex?" Daniel begged. "Just for sleep?"
"Seriously. You know there would be sex," Jack scowled.
"Really!" Daniel said. "Then I definitely think we should sleep together!" It sounded forced to Jack, like Daniel was trying to change the mood.
"Absolutely not," Jack worked hard to maintain the scowl when what he really wanted to do was give the guy a big hug.
"I suppose not," Daniel sighed. "Well, in that case, I'll say goodnight."
After he left, Jack thoughtfully drank Daniel's untouched beer.
Another night, another dinner.
"Hot dogs are so not halal," Jack commented, loading his first one up with chili and mustard. He'd come back for onions, and cheese next.
"Turkey dogs," Daniel said.
"You have to tell me what the guys think of them," Jack said.
"Probably that they are the most disgusting thing Daania has come up with to cook for you yet," Daniel grumbled.
"Not a fan of hot dogs, eh? Some kind of Californian vegetarian Commie, are ya?"
"No!" Daniel protested. "I am not!"
"Though I have to say, I like the way you eat those things," Daniel said, timing his comment for just the moment Jack wrapped his lips around his second bite.
"Oh, my God, do not do this, Daniel. I'm tryin' to eat here."
"Once you sucked me off, you could do whatever you wanted with me."
"Shut up, shut up!" Jack said around his mouth full of what should be delicious, non-erotic, junky goodness.
"I like it rough. Or sweet. Or tied up. You know, whatever way you like it," Daniel purred.
And he was totally not getting hard thinking about sucking Daniel off, while Daniel was helplessly tied to a dildo stuck up his ass.
Daniel reached up to touch his veil.
"Don't you dare!" Jack said, jumping up and turning his back on Daniel, practically running for the kitchen. "I'll lock myself in the armory," he threatened.
He heard Daniel laughing behind him.
"You know you want me," Daniel said. "I saw how much!"
"You saw no such thing!" Jack shouted from the kitchen.
"You like it when I talk dirty," Daniel howled in delight.
Jack grabbed a hot dog from the plate and stalked out of the kitchen again, prowling across the room toward Daniel menacingly. Daniel's eyes widened.
"Yes. Let's take that veil and turban off. I'd like to see what you look like with a wiener in your mouth."
Daniel dodged around the back of his chair, then beat a hasty retreat up the stairs.
"You just think about that!" Jack yelled after him.
He happened to glance out the open window to see one of the guys peering over curiously. Maybe Ahsan. He waved the hotdog at the man cheerfully, and went back to the kitchen. He wasn't going to give Daniel the satisfaction of going up to his room to wank off now. He was going to finish his dinner. He could always wank off later.
The morning he came in from his run and found Daniel already downstairs shooting the Glock, Jack knew he was in serious trouble. Not only did he not eroticize hot dogs in his usual life, he also never popped a woody watching another guy unload his weapon down the range. But seeing Daniel there, handling that gun so deftly, his stance a little short, but his shots all in the chest, Jack was hard enough to pound nails. And certainly would have loved to combine some of his body parts with some of Daniel's.
Also, Daniel wasn't wearing his turban.
Jack only saw him from behind. The strap of the shooting goggles wrapped firmly over sun streaked honey-blond hair held back in a rubber band. It probably fell to Daniel's shoulders when it was loose.
Jack wanted to see it loose. He wanted to touch it. It looked like silk, sticking to Daniel's sweaty neck.
Jack practically ran back up the stairs to his room, skipping his swim, skipping his shooting. All Daniel had to do now was cross the line, and Jack would follow him right over it. But Jack couldn't do that, so Daniel couldn't find out how easy it would be.
"Patrols go out every four hours," Jack reported, in response to Cromwell's direct question. "But otherwise, I don't see any sign of training or drilling in the compound."
"Ariel photography shows Angel's got something going on in the field behind the kitchen garden," replied Cromwell. "It's under tents. CinC wants to know what it is."
"Let the General know Angel has explicitly stated that area is off limits to all visitors. As an official representative and liaison, I've been minding my Ps and Qs, and staying within Angel's reasonable demands. Please confirm that CinC wants me to change my SOP."
"Will do," Cromwell responded. "Command 2 out."
Jack frowned at the radio.
The General was going to order him to find out what Daniel was doing here. Once he received the direct order, Jack would carry it out.
He stared at his plate on the table. He didn't usually feel conflicted about his orders. This was why you didn't get too friendly with – well, anybody – in his line of work. Daniel wasn't exactly the enemy, after all.
"Problem?" Daniel asked, returning from the kitchen. He had been so tempted by the mocha chocolate concoction that Daania has sent for their dessert that he had shooed Jack out of the kitchen so he could try it. Now he noticed that Jack wasn't eating.
Jack looked at him, standing there in his ridiculous disguise. They all wore them to protect themselves from Jack and what he represented. They were smart to do that. They should protect themselves from him. Especially Daniel. Daniel, the American, fucking around in the enemy's back yard, playing with fire and the US Air Force and thinking he was going to sit in his stupid little date grove and his rose garden and his dirt and come away clean.
"Why do you stay here, Daniel? What gives it meaning?"
Daniel blinked at the unexpected question, asked so frankly.
"Just tell me the parts you want to tell. Keep your secrets."
Daniel's eyes took on a thoughtful expression.
"Well," he began. "Kasuf bought this date grove as a gift to Sha'uri. The family is in the date business back in Egypt, and he has had an interest in expanding into Barhi date production, as well as getting into the Iraqi market. This grove was recently abandoned. By continuing to grow dates here, and by processing them in the town, I am making a major positive impact on the local economy that would stagnate if this grove died."
He paused.
"I also built the girl's school in Ar Raga'i. I pay the teachers, provide the security, and the school is free. The Sha'uri bint-Kasuf Jackson al-Mishri School for Girls. You know, in case anybody doesn't get it."
Jack stiffened at the slip. Daniel paused too, as if he had suddenly realized what he had done.
Jackson.
Daniel shut his eyes and sighed deeply. He stood up.
"I'm sorry. I think it's time I went upstairs." He turned on his heel to do just that.
Jack bolted to his feet, catching Daniel's wrist before he could go. Daniel turned wide eyes on him as Jack raised his hand and tugged the veil away from Daniel's face.
He was shockingly young, almost a boy to Jack's eyes. Couldn't be much more than 25, and maybe he was even younger. His eyes were so, so blue, but Jack knew that already. He drowned in those eyes every night. His strong handsome nose and his sweet, full mouth, would look perfect framed by his sun-blond hair. Jack let go of Daniel's wrist and pulled the whole winding cotton mess off Daniel's head and buried his fingers in sweat-damp hair, knocking the rubber band out of it, feeling it play between his fingers. He found a chipped tooth with his tongue. Daniel tasted like chocolate and coffee and was surprisingly strong as he recovered from his surprise and wrapped his arms around Jack, bringing his wiry frame hard against Jack's body, throwing himself into the increasingly desperate kiss without regard for who might be walking by to see them today.
"Windows," Daniel gasped, eventually. OK, not total disregard. Even friends as loyal as Abdul Halim and Ahsan might have problems with their leader being gay.
"Hurry up," Jack growled, allowing Daniel to break away from him and pull him by the hand toward the stairs. Daniel started toward Jack's bed, but Jack redirected him, so that he had to fumble for his key and unlock the door. Jack got a vague impression of lots of color and lots of stuff before he was pulling at Daniel's clothes, letting Daniel strip Jack's own uniform away. He was completely naked when the dog tags hit the floor.
Daniel was eyeing Jack's monster hard on with equal parts lust and apprehension.
"You have about thirty seconds left to shut this down," Jack said trying not to sound menacing.
"No, no!" Daniel said. "Not shutting this down. Just wondering if you've ever done it this way before."
"You've got nothing to worry about," Jack replied, advancing on Daniel again. The young man flopped back into his bed – more of a nest of disarranged blankets and pillows, really. "You can never use too much lube, right?"
Daniel snorted and waved vaguely in the direction of a largish basket next to his nest. Jack dropped onto the blankets, knees to either side of Daniel's, and hovered over him, staring down at him, then deliberately leaned down to kiss him again. It was so easy, and not strange at all, kissing. He kissed him thoroughly, exploring, finding the chipped tooth again, and an agile, responsive tongue, though Daniel lay still and otherwise passive, just letting their kiss go on. Slowly, Jack brought his naked body down against Daniel's.
All Jack's limited experience with men had been hard and fast, one bent over, the other fucking. Slightly more often a quick blow job, usually not even mutual. Nothing like stretching out alongside a lover to kiss and feel.
They were so close to the same height, everything matched almost perfectly. Definitely weird, feeling Daniel's erection pressing against his, prodding into his belly, precum making things moist and slidey. The hard chest flat chest was different, too, though Daniel was so smooth, Jack was going to have to touch and explore his body, too. He had had never stopped being surprised when he found a man's angular planes sexy, in the way that a woman's curves were, but Jack made a living evaluating and understanding reality and dealing with it, and there was no doubt that he was reacting to Daniel as strongly as he had ever reacted to a woman.
He broke off the kiss and knelt up, giving himself space to look and touch. Daniel was watching him with hooded eyes, but the spark of curiosity and interest that had been there since Jack first met him was there now, fully focused on Jack, the questions behind there were probably half predictable, half pure-Daniel. Jack decided to head them off with a question of his own.
"What's your favorite thing to do in bed?" he asked.
Daniel blinked at him, clearly taken off guard. Then he smiled slowly. He twisted his upper body and reached into the basket, placing the tube into Jack's hand.
"I would love a long, slow screw," he murmured, watching Jack's face, "on our sides, with your arms around me…"
Something about the image that created was like a punch to Jack's gut.
"We won't need a lot of prep to do it that way, if you go slow at the beginning," Daniel continued. He was rolling on his side, and Jack shifted his stance to let him. Daniel drew a knee up, toward his chest, and pressed his face into a pillow for a moment, maybe in embarrassment to be offering so much so quickly. Jack fumbled with the lid, thanking his years of training to handle adrenaline that his hands were steady and sure as he took gel onto his fingers and shifted his body so that he lay behind Daniel, matching the position of his body, draping his own leg just below Daniel's bent one.
As their bodies came into alignment again, Daniel gave a full-body shiver.
"Yeah," he breathed, so low that Jack could hardly hear him.
Jack's hand was busy between them. He rubbed against Daniel's hole, using all his discipline to hold his own hips still and not rock their bodies together. Rocking was what he wanted to do, and it would feel so good, but if Daniel wanted a long, slow screw, then Jack needed control, not to let his own arousal outpace his current needs.
Daniel's body was so hot and tight there. Jack hadn't done much of this, either, the studious preparation of a lover for this kind of pleasure. Sara had never really been into it, and frankly, considering how hot their love-life had been, Jack had never felt any lack during his married years, when he was completely loyal to her. It was messy and made her uncomfortable and there were other things to do. Jack's inexperience made him want to be slow and cautious, but Daniel was definitely loving everything Jack did, rocking back onto Jack's fingers now. Jack could feel more than hear Daniel moaning, a low rumble in Daniel's chest that might be better described as growling.
Suddenly, Daniel was reaching around, tugging Jack's hand away, and reaching for Jack's dick. It was a shock to feel someone else's hand on him, after the agony of the divorce and the personal isolation of deployment, and Daniel wasn't stopping. He was bringing Jack into line to penetrate him.
"This is not going to be a long slow screw," Jack gasped, rolling his body forward a bit, using his leverage to crush Daniel still beneath him. "Especially not if you are doing that."
"What? Touching you?" Daniel laughed breathlessly.
"Ask me later how long it's been since I had a lover," Jack replied. His heart felt like it was trying to pound its way out into Daniel's chest. Jack slowly and carefully pressed his hips forward. He missed the target, but still got a groan from Daniel, as his dick dragged across the other man's perineum and sensitized anus. There was enough lubrication that Jack could easily just do this, rubbing into the channel created by Daniel's ass cheeks and Jack's belly. It felt so sweet, Jack had to shut his eyes and grit his teeth as he exerted the willpower to make himself stop again.
He wanted what Daniel wanted, to make it good and make it last.
He guided himself back to the target, and on the way gave his balls a tight, rough squeeze to bring himself back from the brink. He gripped himself so hard tears stung his eyes. Yeah, that worked. He lined himself up and held lightly as he pressed with his hips. Daniel gave a little wiggle and suddenly Jack popped in. It was too much too fast, he could tell from Daniel's answering gasp, which was more of a pain response than a gasp of ecstasy.
"Sorry," Jack whispered. "Sorry." He stopped completely and wrapped his arms around Daniel, listening carefully to his breathing, waiting for it to even out, waiting for Daniel to move. He did, clamping down on Jack's dick and pushing back at the same time.
"Oh," was all Jack could say, his breath rushing out of him and Daniel pulled him in.
They rocked together until Jack was buried deep in the body in his arms. His head was swimming with the pleasure of sex and touch. Even the sweltering heat of Daniel's strangely un-air-conditioned bedroom – even their sweat – felt luxurious, not oppressive. Daniel's arms were twined around Jack's. Daniel was a bundle of muscle and sinew, relaxed and heavy against him. He pressed his nose into Daniel's hair, inhaling the scents of Daniel's musk and sweat, combined with the lightly citrus perfume of Daniel's shampoo, and the patchouli of his soap.
Now that they were locked together, wound around each other, it was easier than Jack had expected to bank the flames and just enjoy being this close to someone else. He nuzzled deeper into Daniel's hair and nibbled at his neck and ear, enjoying Daniel's ticklish squirms as Jack's breath passed across his dampened ear lobe.
Daniel rotated and shifted his hips. It was Jack's turn to shudder. Daniel's shift felt fantastic, and apparently Daniel agreed. He groaned and began pressing his ass back against Jack's crotch.
"Perfect," Daniel breathed. "Just a little faster," he said.
"Here goes," Jack said agreeably. Their rhythm sped up, and suddenly the long slow screw seemed in jeopardy.
"I'm not going to hold out long," he ground out. He was trying to tamp it down, but instead of slowing things down, Daniel was speeding them up.
"I don't care," Daniel replied. "Just do it."
So Jack let go. He rolled Daniel forward again, which got a responding moan that was the loudest noise Daniel had made so far. He just fucked now, almost blindly, his face buried in the damp strands of Daniel's hair, his body soaked in Daniel's sweat, his dick buried in Daniel's ass. The explosion of his orgasm took him by complete surprise.
He woke up flat on his back, intensely aware of his nudity. He was particularly aware of his damp, used package, his spent cock feeling raw and perfectly abused. Daniel was sitting naked and cross-legged in the blankets next to him. There was a book open in his hands, but he was staring at Jack thoughtfully. He had a serious, contemplative look on his face that didn't change as Jack gazed back at him.
"What happened?" Daniel asked softly.
"I don't know," Jack said, mostly honestly. "I think General West is about to order me to find out what you do down there in the tents below your garden."
"So suddenly you had to sleep with me?"
Jack didn't have any response that made sense, so he just lay there and looked back into Daniel's serious eyes.
"What should I do?" Daniel asked.
"Don't tell me anything," Jack said. "If he orders me to find out information, and I find it out, then I will tell him."
"Your first loyalty is to him," Daniel said. "And yet, you fucked me."
"It doesn't make sense," Jack agreed. "I knew what I signed on for when I joined up. I have responsibilities and I live up to them."
"I thought you had a law about what we just did," Daniel said flatly.
"Yeah," Jack agreed. "It doesn't make sense."
"Yes, it does," Daniel said. He sounded positively angry now. "Alewhesh. Meskh,[5]" he muttered. Jack didn't know if Daniel was referring to himself or Jack. Jack somehow suspected Daniel meant him.
"What did you expect me to say?" Jack asked.
"I don't know," Daniel replied. "But not this." His expression was closed. Jack wasn't even used to seeing Daniel's face yet, and already he was not happy to see Daniel with that set to his mouth to match the hard glint in his eyes.
"I'm going to have a shower," Daniel said.
Jack lay staring at the decorated ceiling of Daniel's bedroom. It was painted as if it were tiled. The detail was fantastic, and Jack felt a twinge, thinking that this must have been the bedroom Daniel shared with his wife, designed for her. Sha'uri bint-Kasuf Jackson al-Mishri – Sha'uri, daughter of Kasuf, wife of Jackson, the Egyptian.
She had taken her husband's name, in the Egyptian fashion.
He listened to the water start, then got up and followed Daniel.
The bathroom was a mirror image of Jack's, but rather than simple clean white and blue tile, this one was as intricately tiled as the bedroom ceiling was painted. The breeze through the open window carried the ever-present aroma of the ripening dates. The cloud of steam from the shower smelled of lemongrass and grapefruit. He stepped in. Daniel was facing him under the spray, his hair full of soap, his eyes closed. Jack reached out and helped him to work the water into his hair, rinsing the later away. Daniel's eyes shot open. He hadn't heard Jack come into the room over the sound of the water.
"Don't tell me anything," Jack said. "Don't expect anything."
"But I already told you everything," Daniel protested. "And I already know exactly what to expect."
He pressed his body against Daniel's letting the spray wash over both of them. He would smell of Daniel's rich patchouli soap when they were done. He kissed Daniel's full lips, tasting the slightly metallic flavor of the water and the bitterness of shampoo.
Daniel didn't push him away, but the kiss was angry and aggressive, not warm and gentle like their lovemaking had been. His arms came up around Jack tightly, gripping him. He shoved his knee between Jack's legs, pressing his thigh into Jack's groin. Jack let himself be shoved into the back wall of the shower stall, then out of the running water into the room. The back of his calves hit the cold tile on the platform of the soaking tub, and Daniel pushed him to sit on the hard surface, then reached down and caught him behind the knees and tipped him back. Jack caught himself on his elbows, then eased himself onto his back. Daniel's purpose was clear, and Jack clamped down of the impulse to fight him. It wasn't hard to surrender. His cock was already filling at the thought of being taken this way.
He watched as Daniel cast his eyes about the room for a lubricant, Jack's feet already propped on his shoulders. He leaned over to snatch a bottle from behind Jack's head. The Arabic label said it was rose oil, and the floral scent was strong as Daniel poured it out into his hand, then drizzled it over Jack's cock and crotch. He massaged it quickly and efficiently into Jack's anus, not being particularly gentle, but definitely being thorough. One finger then two entered him in rapid succession. Daniel's face was grim. Jack's back arched in surprise when Daniel touched something inside him. Rough fast fucks didn't always mean prostate stimulation. Daniel caught Jack's lifted hips and Jack felt the hot blunt tip of Daniel's penis sliding against his ass.
He tried to reach around to help show him where to put it, but Daniel had lifted him to an awkward angle, resting on his shoulders, and Jack was off balance, unprepared to be handled in quite this way. Daniel practically dragged Jack's body onto his cock, or that was how it seemed to Jack. The muscles in his arms were flexing. His neck and face showed the effort. But he moved with control that Jack could distantly respect as he was pushed open. Daniel was stretching him. Jack felt the sting and burn of the stretch and Daniel didn't give him time to adjust to it, just kept pushing and Jack didn't tell him no or ask him to stop, just tried to relax his body and let Daniel be in control.
Then Daniel's cock found that place he'd hit with his fingers and suddenly all Jack wanted to do was shove more of Daniel's fat cock inside his ass.
Daniel made a choked sound and then it was clear that Daniel must have been being slow and gentle after all, because he snapped his hips forward with force and knocked all of the air out of Jack's lungs.
It felt like forever before Jack could breathe again, and frankly, he couldn't care less. Daniel was pounding him now, hitting that place. Jack's dick had never been harder in his life, bouncing off his belly, dancing free in the cool air. Jack found the pool of wasted rose oil under him and wrapped a slick hand around his cock. He unloaded in a blinding flash, but Daniel wasn't done. He kept pounding into Jack's spent body and it was a combination of agony and pleasure unlike anything Jack had experienced before.
Finally Daniel growled and his hips jerked forward and stilled. Jack saw the expression on his face and knew that Daniel was coming, flooding into Jack's body. All he felt was a flutter, or maybe he imagined it. He wished suddenly that he could actually feel and taste Daniel's cock in his throat and hoped that this wasn't the end of it – that this wasn't Daniel's revenge fuck before he threw Jack away.
Slowly, everything about Daniel's body relaxed. He eased himself out and then carefully set Jack down, first so that his back rested on the tile platform, then letting his legs down toward the floor. He followed them down, kneeling on the bath mat and resting his head on Jack's thigh. He was breathing hard. Jack lay there on the cool surface, staring up at the ceiling again.
"I kept expecting you to stop me," Daniel panted. "I can't believe you didn't stop me."
"Why would I stop you?" Jack asked. "That felt fantastic." Though now he was going to have a sore ass tomorrow as well as a raw dick. Note to self: Next time, more lube.
Daniel lifted his head to stare up at him.
"There is no way you've ever done that before," Daniel said accusatorily.
Jack made a dismissive sound, waving his hand vaguely, though he supposed that was a wasted effort, as Daniel wasn't looking at him anymore, but had gone back to using Jack's leg for a pillow.
"Why did you do this, today?" Daniel asked. Jack got the impression Daniel was the one making the vague hand gestures now.
"Why are we talking after sex?" Jack asked.
"That's what happens when you have sex in really uncomfortable places," Daniel explained. "You can't just pass out afterwards."
"I could pass out," Jack disagreed.
"Well, don't," Daniel ordered. "You still need a shower. And sleeping like that would be hell on your back."
"What are you trying to say," Jack demanded. "Are you trying to say I'm old?"
"Older than me, anyway," Daniel agreed. He stood up – none too gracefully at least, Jack took perverse pleasure in noting. He offered Jack a hand.
"You have to explain," Daniel said. His face was serious. He wasn't going to just let it go.
"I don't know," Jack admitted. "Something just snapped today. I didn't want to say no to you anymore. If I might have to say yes to something I hate, why should I keep saying no to something I – don't hate." He stumbled over the last few words, because they weren't the words he wanted to say, and those words would have felt so natural and he knew he couldn't possibly say them.
Jack put on the headset and checked in right on schedule. "House 1 to Command, do you copy?"
"Reading you loud and clear, House 1," replied the duty sergeant. "Standby for Command 2."
"Standing by," Jack replied.
"Jack, this is Frank." Oh, this couldn't be good. First names, what the hell? "We got a communication from the Red Cross this morning. Your ex and your son were in an accident. They're both in pretty bad shape. Charlie has a busted leg and is going to have some pretty major surgery. They think he's going to be OK, but the docs don't think Sara is going to make it. We're planning to send in a whirly bird this afternoon to extract you. What we need to know is does CinC need to come out to meet with Angel and renegotiate the relationship?"
Jack couldn't answer. All the air had gone out of his lungs. He shut his eyes against the dizzy feeling.
He took a deep breath and opened his eyes again.
He must have paused too long.
"House 1, do you need me to say again?"
"Negative. Reading you five," Jack replied. Steady and professional. Well trained. Compartmentalized. "Expect a reply within the hour. House 1 out."
Jack got to his feet and secured his equipment, then went out into the hall. No one was around the main building, which wasn't unusual. Jack knew Daniel's men made space for Jack to move during the day, according to Daniel's orders. And these days, if they weren't all out working on Daniel's project they were working in the date groves. Jack had been feasting on khalal dates since he'd arrived. They had been getting sweeter and sweeter, and now it was the end of September and the Medjool fruit was coming in and it was all hands on deck – or all climbing guys up the tall trees, as it were. Trucks were in and out, too, taking Daniel's dates down to the processing warehouse in the town.
The question was, where would he find Daniel himself? It was a big agricultural operation, and although Jack suspected Daniel wasn't here for the dates, it was, in fact, his orchard.
Jack went searching for the one person he was certain was still in the house.
He followed his nose to the kitchen. There he found two cooks. A thin, elderly woman, draped in black from head to toe, moving purposefully back and forth between modern kitchen appliances. A second woman crouched by a more traditional hearth, built into the wall. His appearance brought a startled cry from the woman by the cookfire. The old woman whirled around, then smiled broadly and welcomingly.
"Colonel O'Neill," she exclaimed. "We are honored and humbled!"
Jack bowed and touched his fingers to his forehead.
"Daania," he said, "I cannot thank you enough. You have sustained me all these weeks. Sadly, I have received terrible news from my family and I need to find Daniel right away. Do you know where he is?"
"I believe he is below the garden today," she said in dismay. "But you are not to…"
Jack bowed again.
"Please don't worry," Jack said, turning and practically running from the room. He stopped in the hall and got himself under control, then started out again, striding purposefully out the backdoor and around the house.
Habibah was weeding in the tomato patch. She jumped up to follow him as he walked by.
"No, sir. Daniyal will not approve," she protested, catching his hand. Jack knelt down to speak to her eye-to-eye.
"Don't worry, it will be OK," he reassured her. "You can go back to your garden."
She adopted a stubborn frown and held his hand tighter. Jack sighed and stood up again. He continued down the gradual slope.
The scent of the roses in the midday heat lay heavy over the garden. A sharp thorn caught Jack's hand.
Jack could see clearly into the tents now. A handful of men, some dressed in dishdashas and others just in jeans and white shirts, were working in the carefully denoted plots.
Habibah dashed forward.
"Ustath! Ustath!" she called to Daniel. He was leaning over a sawhorse and plywood table set up next to one of the excavations, scribbling as he peered closely at something very small he held in his left hand.
Daniel turned to Habibah, and it was a unexpected jolt, seeing Daniel as himself, not The Beast, his young, soft features, his hair, his ears for cryinoutloud. The only thing Daniel and The Beast shared were the eyes. Daniel had looked past Habibah and caught sight of Jack, and those sea-changing eyes hardened from liquid concern to cold blue ice in seconds.
"Habibah, run back up to the garden. Your father says you must get the weeds out of the tomatoes."
"Yes, Ustath, but…"
"I see him. You run back up to the house."
The little girl turned around and ran away again, glaring at Jack as she ran back.
Daniel strode after her and took Jack forcibly by the elbow, turning him back toward the house as well.
"What's going on, Jack? I thought you were the one who said you should see nothing and I should say nothing?" his voice was low and urgent, adding to Jack's impression that they certainly were not the only two people in the compound who spoke English.
"I'm sorry. It's an emergency. The general is on his way here. Daniel, I have to leave."
"No," Daniel said flatly.
Jack shook his head.
"I wouldn't go. I don't want to go. But it's Charlie. There's been an accident. I don't have all the details yet, but if the Red Cross is sending telegrams and a general is coming to pick me up, I know it has to be bad.
"No," Daniel said again, his voice rising and cracking. "You can't go. It's a violation of my agreement with the general."
"What are you talking about, Daniel?" Jack nearly shouted back. "This is Charlie!"
"No, you can't leave," Daniel said. Jack could see that he was shaking. He wrapped his arms around himself, a defensive move that The Beast would never have made. It made him look even younger. "I want you here. Tell West if you go, our deal is off. He'll find the roads impassible."
"Listen to yourself, Daniel. This is crazy. You can't threaten these people. You made a deal with an individual negotiating for his own life, but it's been weeks now. They don't need you anymore to secure safety for our vehicles and personnel. Do you know what is happening to the date groves of Iraq? If you get in their way, they'll bomb your beautiful trees back into the desert."
Daniel stalked away from him.
"The deal was you stay. If you go, West and the US Air Force can go to Hell," Daniel called back over his shoulder. He went back to his work, bending back over his notes as if Jack had never come down from the house.
Jack stared in disbelief, then slowly turned and walked back up toward the house.
He went back to his operations room to find Daania there, waiting for him, with a glass of ayran[6]. He accepted it gladly. He drank it in one long draught, then held the refrigerator chilled glass to first one eye, then the other. The old woman clicked her tongue and took the tumbler away from him.
"Go back to the house and lie down," she scolded him, like his own mother would.
"Thank you, Daania, but I must speak with my general again," he said.
"Well, then, I will not get in the way of a man's work," she said, in a tone that suggested that some people should listen to their elders. She went back toward the kitchen and Jack went into his room and opened up the radio box again.
"This is House 1 to Command, do you copy."
"Copy, House 1, go ahead."
"Request that General West arrive 0500 tomorrow by whirlybird. Extraction team will not be necessary."
"Copy that, House. What's the delay? They've got a bird on standby for you right now."
"The Beast had some concerns about the change in the relationship. We are working out the details of my withdrawal."
Jack winced at his accidental multiple double entendres.
"House 1, this is CinCCommand, actual," Jack winced at the sudden intrusion. This could get bad.
"Go ahead, sir," Jack replied.
"Tell that jackass that a delay is not acceptable. I want you out of there now."
"He's a civilian, sir, and I don't think he's going to respond well to orders," Jack replied frankly. "He's in a position of responsibility here. He provides employment that supports the entire economy of a whole town. He sees his relationship with you as facilitated and supported by the ties he has developed with me. You know how locals can start to see what should be professional, structural relationships as personal ones."
"If he needs another liaison, I'll be more likely to agree to that if he holds up his end of the bargain and lets you leave without obstruction."
"That's not the problem, sir. I need another twelve hours to wrap things up here and get the Beast on the same page. Regardless, I'm leaving at 0500 if you'll send the transport. That's all the time I'm willing to give him."
There was a pause long enough that the operator came back on.
"Stand by, House 1."
"Standing by," Jack replied.
The radio crackled to life again.
"I'll trust your judgment on this, House 1. Transport will arrive at 0500. The Red Cross is moving you out on a commercial flight leaving from Dubai tomorrow afternoon. It's the fastest way to get you home, believe it or not. We'll have to move you straight from House to the Dubai International Airport."
"Copy that, general. I appreciate that. And I appreciate the opportunity to get things resolved here before I go."
"Command, out," the general replied.
Jack sat and stared at the dead radio. He slowly locked everything up and went out the side door into the yard. A few of Daniel's men were there, in their blue turbans. He saluted casually in their general direction and went straight to the house. One more dinner with the Beast, to convince him not to do anything everyone he loved would regret. He needed to focus on that, get in the mindset for that negotiation, but he couldn't get Charlie out of his head.
Jack needed Daniel to come to him, but that meant waiting, and with a head full of Charlie's busted up leg, waiting was going to make him crazy. They had said Sara probably wasn't going to make it. He didn't really want to think about that, either. There was nothing he could read or watch in the house that was going to be able to hold his attention, he knew that from long years of experience dealing with pre-mission jitters. Instead, he went down to the pool in the basement. He shucked his clothes at the door and started the propulsion system.
He got into the cool water and swam. It took some of the heat out of his eyes, and brought his concentration to the tricky balance of swimming on a treadmill, attending to his strokes and his breath. And swimming naked had a strange freedom to it, even if it was in the privacy of an indoor pool.
He swam a while, not sure how long, as he deliberately let go of thinking. When he finished he put his feet down and sat on the bench opposite the water jets, catching his breath and letting his head fall back on the edge of the pool, just resting.
"I'm sorry," Daniel said. Jack wasn't startled. He had been half-expecting and half-hoping that Daniel would find him here. "I reacted badly. Of course you have to go and of course I was being completely irrational. You're right. The strongest military in the world doesn't need my cooperation. So I will give it freely in exchange for being left to toil in safety and relative anonymity."
"Thank you," Jack said. He felt it, too. Gratitude that Daniel could see reason.
"I don't want to be alone," Daniel said. "I've been alone for a long time. Having you here helped me hold that feeling away."
"I'll come back," Jack said impulsively.
"No, you won't. I don't have the leverage to make that happen, and without a good reason, West won't waste a resource like you."
Jack didn't have a good argument against that. His own view of his future was confused at the moment. He didn't know what he was going to learn in the next few days about his family or how his responsibilities were going to change. He did know that he didn't want to leave this strange place, but he felt out of the world here, like reality didn't exist beyond the edges of Daniel's date plantation. A man like Jack could only live for so long before he had to return to reality. Too many things about his life and his personality tied him to the real world.
"When do you leave?" Daniel asked.
Jack stood and climbed over the edge of the pool.
"Tomorrow morning," he said, reaching for a towel.
"Can you leave earlier? Did my temper tantrum change your plans? I don't want to stop you from getting to Charlie as fast as possible."
"No," Jack said. "I'm on a little tighter schedule to make my flight home, but I'd rather be here, honestly, than getting shitfaced in Dubai waiting for my flight out."
Daniel was quiet, carefully not watching Jack as he dried off.
"I will come back, Daniel."
Daniel shook his head.
"I will," Jack said emphatically. "Sleep in my bed tonight."
Daniel looked at him sharply. Jack shrugged.
"I'm not sure I'm interested in any more intimacy with yet another person who is leaving."
"I'll come back," Jack almost snarled, snatching up his discarded pants from the floor and yanking them on over his damp, naked legs.
"Why would you do that?" Daniel asked, turning and walking out into the corridor. Jack scooped up the rest of his discarded clothes and followed him up the stairs.
Two blue turbans were in the kitchen, laying out Daania's dinner. Eyebrows were raised as Daniel and Jack emerged from the basement. Jack wondered if they were in response to Daniel's lack of headgear or Jack's lack of – well, zipped pants, for one thing. He caught a belt loop before they slid down completely. The delivery service made a hasty retreat into the garden, door slamming closed behind them.
"Why would I do that?" Jack asked thoughtfully.
Daniel turned to look at him. Jack was so used to having only Daniel's eyes to read, not seeing confusion written across Daniel's entire face, or seeing the look of hope there in the shape of his mouth, or the defiance in the set of his jaw.
"There's nothing here that can't wait," Jack said, gesturing to the food. He stepped toward Daniel, dropping his clothes on the tile floor. When he reached out to catch Daniel in his arms, the other man didn't stop him. "Let's go up."
"Why?" Daniel asked again.
"Because I want you?" Jack replied. "Because I don't want to leave here, but I can't stay. Because you want…"
Daniel's desperate mouth and aggressive tongue cut him off.
Jack melted into the kiss, feeling Daniel's arms as tight around him as his were around Daniel.
"I can't come with you," Daniel was saying.
"You don't have to," Jack replied.
Daniel was walking them toward the front of the house – toward the stairs – toward a bed somewhere. Daniel finally stopped kissing him when they couldn't negotiate the stairs. He took Jack's hand and Jack went up behind him, then let himself be pulled to Daniel's bed again.
They fell together, kissing and touching. It could have been heaven. Jack loved this, just enjoying the feel of his lover in his arms, and being so close to someone else. But it was goodbye, and there were other things he wanted to accomplish before he had to leave.
He rolled Daniel onto his back. He went easily enough, though he protested with grunts and tight fingers on Jack's skin as he tried to lever himself up. Jack laughed and pushed. Daniel glared up at him, already looking thoroughly ravished. Jack wanted to see that again and again, the red wet lips, the blue eyes nearly completely black with lust.
"You need to be more naked," Jack said firmly, and started on working Daniel's pants off. Daniel seemed to agree with this plan, because he was suddenly very cooperative, lifting his hips, and squirming to get free of his shirt even as Jack was pulling his khaki pants down his long, long legs, and his boxers along with them.
Jack went down on him while he was still tangled up in his shirt. That was what Jack wanted. He put his mouth on Daniel's erection, drawing a gasp and a sharp surprised yelp from Daniel. His hips bucked up, jamming his cock into the back of Jack's throat. Jack moved with him and managed not to choke, taking him hard by the hips to hold him still. He sucked him in whole three or four times, then backed off to check him out, up close, looking and licking, touching only with his tongue and eyes.
When he finally went back to sucking him in earnest, Daniel suddenly gasped, and flooded Jack's mouth with semen. Jack would have smiled at how easily Daniel came, but he didn't want to lose any of the liquid. He swallowed around the dick he still held between his lips, drinking the fluid down, wanting to experience that, too.
"Sorry, sorry," Daniel gasped. His hands were fluttering near Jack's head. Jack let his dick go with a pop, and crawled up Daniel's body, crushing their mouths together. A residual tremor swept through Daniel, rocking them both. Daniel's arms came weakly around his back as he let Jack ravage his mouth, making whimpering, groaning noises back to him.
Jack pulled Daniel's legs up, folding his pliant body, then realized he had skipped an important step. He put the tip of his cock against Daniel's hole, smearing precum there, applying gentle, controlled pressure. He propped Daniel's leg on his shoulder and replaced his cock with a thumb, pressing firmly, testing. Daniel took him in easily.
Jack took the fact that Daniel was repeating "Yes, yes, yes" over and over as an indication that it was okay to go ahead.
He rocked in slowly and carefully. Daniel helped, pressing against him and bearing down. When they were locked together, Daniel opened his eyes and looked up at him. Jack was drowning in the blue.
"Don't say you love me," Daniel warned him, just as he was opening his mouth to say it. "If you ever actually come back, you can tell me the reason then."
Jack carefully pulled back and pushed back in. Daniel stayed with him, eyes on him. He pulled out again, spit in his palm, lubed things up a little and pushed in again, a little easier this time. The whole time, Daniel watched him. It was difficult to hold his gaze so long – more intimate even than the sex.
Sex was just the animal act of fucking.
Daniel's eyes were the blue sky, and Jack was lost there.
At 0500, Jack was standing at the end of Daniel's road. He had three cases of equipment, neatly stacked. Daniel drove him down the half mile or so with the heavy boxes in the back of one of his trucks, along with Abdul Halim, Ahsan and Galib. His breakfast had been the meal Daania had sent for them the night before - minced spiced lamb, with a cool and yogurty cucumber sauce, bowls of the last fresh khalal and the earliest Medjool dates. The taboon[7] was soft and cool under a protective cover of several tea towels.
Jack had been reluctant to eat, despite his stomach's demands. He wanted to pretend he could still taste Daniel for just a little longer.
The bird arrived right on schedule. He fought down the smile that came when he saw that the men who piled out to efficiently load up his gear were Boucher, Farris, Rouse, and Arroyo. Jack knew what he would have felt, leaving one of them behind in the hands of the enemy, and he knew he would have wanted to be the first one on the team that brought that guy home.
He was surprised to see General West walk around from the other side of the helicopter, though.
West came around, looking first to Jack, who saluted smartly while still giving a discreet tilt of his head toward Daniel, who was in his turban again. The General returned his salute, then approached The Beast and offered his hand. Jack couldn't hear what was said over the bird's engines. There was nodding and more handshaking, then Daniel walked over to Jack. His eyes were hard. There was stress in the lines around them. Jack put out a comforting hand on Daniel's shoulder, as Daniel stood close to him, closing the envelope of personal space. It was very culturally correct for Iraq, but Jack had been skin to skin with Daniel in the shower less than 75 minutes ago, and he felt a very American discomfort, standing so close to Daniel with so many people watching. Touching him. He dropped his hand away. Daniel felt what he did and the line between his eyes deepened.
"I will," Jack said. No one would hear them, and no one would see, they stood so close together.
"Goodbye, Jack," Daniel said. "Take good care of Charlie."
Then Daniel turned away and walked back to his men, climbed into his truck and drove away.
Jack had never felt more alone.
He shook it off and turned to West.
"Are you ready, Colonel?" West asked crisply.
"Yes, sir!" Jack responded.
They loaded up and took off.
"I'm sorry we don't have any more information for you about your boy," West said. "There was a car accident, and that's all they told us. You will meet with a Red Cross representative in Dubai, so they may have more information for you later today. Also, there will be phones available on the plane."
"Thank you, sir," Jack replied.
West's eyes were on him, in the dim dawn light. Jack had the feeling that the general knew exactly why Jack had stayed longer, and exactly what Jack's hand on Daniel's shoulder had meant.
He told himself he was just being paranoid.
But he couldn't shake the feeling.
Although it broke his heart, Daniel knew that he had to let Jack go. He felt in his heart that he would never see Jack again, and he knew that he would never love anyone again. Not the way he had loved his wife, and not the way he had loved Jack. Everyone left him, or was taken from him. He knew it was unfair to feel they had all abandoned him, but whether they had chosen to leave him or not, the fact remained that they went away, and he stayed behind.
And now with Jack gone, and his special relationship with the Americans ended, he knew nothing would hold the Juhi's at bay anymore.
"Goodbye, Jack," he whispered to himself. "Maybe if you come back you will find that The Beast is already dead."
Then he turned and walked back up to Abydos, listening to the fading sound of the helicopter flying off into the dawn.
He arrived at Petersen at 0900 local time. Though Jack felt crumpled and used from fourteen hours in the air, he didn't even stop to change clothes and shower on his way through the base, just kept moving to the hospital.
He found his mother standing in the hallway outside Charlie's hospital room.
Beth O'Neill gave him a watery smile that released more tension in Jack than any words of reassurance could have.
"Charlie's going to be fine," she said into his chest as he hugged her.
"They said at the front desk that they're both in surgery?"
She nodded.
"They're working some more on Charlie's foot and ankle. Um…" Beth paused, looking tired as she tried to sort out the best order of the story for him. "He had knee surgery yesterday. The biggest job for him will be getting his leg sorted out. Otherwise, he had a clean break on the arm, and thank God, no head injury. She still had him in that BriTax seat you bought him."
"Well, I've always said they should build car compartments with five-point harnesses for everybody."
She snorted.
"Like any woman is going to reach between her legs for a crotch strap. All those g-forces have scrambled your brain."
More tension left Jack's chest when his mother chuckled to herself.
"What about Sara?" Jack asked.
Beth sighed and looked tired again.
"When they brought her in, they weren't sure she was going to make it. They basically told Marshall to expect the worst. Her heart stopped twice in the ambulance. She had two collapsed lungs, she's lost a kidney. The surgery today is to take her right leg. She's a mess, Jack. But she's a fighter. When they went out this morning, the doctor actually said for the first time that he thought she would probably pull through."
Jack looked around the nurse's station. He peered back into what was Charlie's now empty room.
"When did Charlie go in?" he asked.
"About an hour ago. They expect it to be a four or five hour surgery."
"Did Dad go out for food or something?" Jack asked.
"No, he's sitting with Marshall in the surgical waiting room."
Jack waved across the room to one of the nurses at the other end of the desk. She walked over.
"I'm assuming this lady's been here since Charlie came in?" he asked her.
"They all have," she confirmed. "We keep trying to chase them home so they can sleep, but they won't go." She gave Beth a stern look. His mother just made a dismissive noise.
"What's the procedure, if we want to bring in something to eat?"
The nurse smiled and walked down the long desk, returning with a well-worn Xeroxed sheet. "These are the places that deliver," she said. "The diner across the street," she pointed to the number on the list, "is pretty good, and really fast. I've got their menu right here." She opened a file drawer and pulled a worn glossy folded take-out menu from a hanging file.
"Can we borrow this?" Jack asked, taking it from her.
She smiled and nodded. Jack turned to his mother.
"Lead the way, Ma," he said.
He followed her though the maze of hallways to a large carpeted area with lots of chairs. Hank O'Neill and Marshall Owen were sitting together near a window. Both looked exhausted.
The two men stood to greet them. Jack put out his hand to his former father-in-law.
"Marshall," he said quietly. Marshall's handshake was firm as always. But his face was ashen.
"I hate to say it, but you both look like shit," Jack said bluntly. He presented them with the menu. "Let's get some food."
They had to leave the surgical waiting room to eat. They camped out in Charlie's empty hospital room, sitting in the uncomfortable guest chairs, renegades from the 1960's, with vinyl seats that tipped back awkwardly and hard wooden arms. They ate from the rolling tables designed for patients sitting in bed.
"So how was your trip back?" Hank asked him, trying to fill the empty quiet that had fallen over the group.
"Not bad. The Red Cross flew me over in style. Direct commercial flight from Dubai to New York. Of course, I think the trip from ERW to Stapleton took longer than the transoceanic flight. You just can't get here from there."
He rotated his head, cracking his neck. Talking about the trip made him suddenly feel every sore, tired muscle. He could only imagine how the rest of them were feeling after days in the hospital waiting for the worst.
The food seemed to have been exactly what they all needed. He watched his parents reviving before his eyes. Even Marshall had regained some color as he ate.
"I don't know what I'll do if she dies," Marshall said quietly, staring at the empty paper plate on the tray in front of him. "I don’t' know what I'll do. But the docs think she's going to make it now…"
"Listen to them, Marshall. They usually know what they're talking about," Jack said. Beth reached out and put her hand on Marshall's arm. He nodded.
"Charlie's in bad shape," Marshall continued. "But he's been awake and talked to us."
"You know kids," Hank said. "They're tough. We didn't tell him much about Sara. No sense worrying him while he's still got so many of his own battles to fight."
Jack saw Marshall's face crumple for a moment as he fought back tears.
"Maybe we should go back over there," Marshall suggested.
"You boys go back," Beth said. "I'll clean up this mess and be there shortly."
So the three of them walked back through the maze. And then they waited.
Dr. Asher, Charlie's surgeon, appeared in about an hour.
"Colonel O'Neill?" the doctor said.
"That was fast," Jack remarked, shaking the doctor's hand.
"Yes, it was," the surgeon said, smiling. "It went very well. Charlie's got a few pins in him, but the ankle was very cooperative. It came together like a charm. He'll be off it for a full six weeks, of course, and there will be physical therapy after that, but once it's healed he should walk normally and pain free!"
"Wow! I don't know how to thank you, doctor."
"He's a great kid. I'm just happy we were able to do so much for him."
Another doctor put his head out the surgical suite door and beckoned Dr. Asher.
"Well, it never stops," he said. "I just wanted to come out and let you know personally."
He went back thought the door.
Jack was smiling. They all were, even Marshall.
"Okay, men, that's one down, one to go," he said. He suddenly felt the strong urge to call Daniel, but that would have to wait until he got home.
One of the nurses from the desk came over.
"Charlie will be in recovery for an hour or so," she informed them. "Then they'll move him back to his room."
Jack nodded and resettled with his folks for more waiting.
An hour went by. They chatted a little about Jack's latest deployment. He commented that he had spent a lot of time near a date orchard, which he knew would catch Marshall's interest. The Owens had a small apple orchard down their property.
Finally, the nurse let them know that Charlie was back in his room.
"We'll stay with Marshall, Jack, you go see that boy," his mother ordered him.
Charlie looked pretty good actually, for a kid that had been in a nearly fatal accident just days ago. No facial bruising or neck brace. His arm lay in a cast on top of the blanket. The cast did immobilize the elbow, so it could be a pretty serious break. Jack would talk to Charlie's doctors tonight.
He was still looking a little spacey, but he was awake. When he saw Jack, he broke into a huge grin
"Daddy!"
"Hey, shhh!" Jack said, pointing back over his shoulder with his thumb. "Hospital!" But he was grinning back in response, and went over to carefully hug the boy.
"Grandma said you would be here today! Look! You can sign my cast!" he said, showing his father the cast that was already well on its way to being covered in hearts and drawings of cars.
"I see that! So how you doin' kiddo? Pretty banged up?"
"Yes, sir," he said, but he didn't stop smiling. "I got a broken leg and a broken arm, but the nurse just told me the doctor is really proud of me because the operation was really good today!" He pointed to a star on his cast, signed by Dr. Asher.
"Guess what?!" he said excitedly, not giving Jack space to get a word in edgewise.
"What?!" Jack asked.
"Grandad got me a model A 129 Mangusta and a Northrop Grumman YF-23 Black Widow II and he said we were gonna build 'em when you got here!"
"I don't think the nurses are gonna let us bust out the airplane glue in this place, buddy," Jack said making a mournful face. "I think you have to get better first."
Charlie scowled.
"What about hot dogs? Grandad said when you came he would go out and bring me a hot dog."
"That can be arranged, I bet," Jack said, leaning down to hug his son again. Charlie was already looking ready for a nap.
"You tired?" he asked.
"No," Charlie said defiantly.
"Tell you what," Jack proposed. "You get your rest now so that you can get out of this place sooner. And when you wake up, I'll track down those model boxes, and we can look at all the specs on the back."
Charlie smiled happily.
"Okay, Daddy," he said. He was already fading off to sleep.
Jack sat watching his boy for a long time. Charlie was growing so fast, and Jack had been gone so much. Jack still thought of him as a stumbling, barely talking toddler, and here he was, raring to go on plane models. Of course, Jack or Hank would be doing all the work. Jack could line up the snapshots in his mind of the sleeping infant, the inquisitive creeper, the food-covered toddler, and this little boy, sleeping peacefully, the newest picture.
It only seemed like moments before his mother was standing at the door, her face covered in tears.
Jack held the line for what seemed like forever, especially since he was making an overseas call.
"'Allo?" came Daniel's voice at last. He sounded breathless, like maybe he had run up the hill.
"Daniel?" Jack asked needlessly, just to say his name.
"Jack," Daniel said. "What happened?"
"Charlie's fine. He was in pretty bad shape, but he came through all his surgeries with flying colors."
"And Sara?" Daniel prompted, when Jack paused too long.
Jack couldn't say it. He had spent the night being strong for Charlie. He had taken his turn sitting with Marshall. He wasn't even married to the woman anymore.
"Oh, Jack," Daniel said, with his voice full of sympathy. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could be there."
"I'm going to be here a while," Jack said. He was surprised to hear his own voice, suddenly rough as he held back tears. "There's a lot I'm going to have to do. Charlie…"
"I know, Jack," Daniel said softly. "It's alright."
"No, it's not like that," Jack protested. He could hear in Daniel's voice that Daniel had already accepted that Jack was not going to come back.
"I know," Daniel said. "Just take care of Charlie."
Jack could hear Daniel's unspoken forgiveness and acceptance that he was not part of Jack's real life and that he did not have any expectations for Jack's promise to him.
It was a relief, in a way.
Jack sat in the car holding his son in his lap. It was a little awkward, with the big cast on Charlie's leg and the stupid ribbons on Jack's chest all getting in the way of Jack really holding him. Jack was proud of his son, who had done his crying in the hospital, then stood bravely by his mother's grave.
As if to prove that life wasn't fair and doctors weren't gods, Sara had come through the amputation fine, only to die when a fat embolism reached her lung in the recovery room.
Charlie had been sniffling against his chest a little, but now seemed to be asleep. Poor guy.
"Hey, kiddo," Jack whispered in his ear. "Time to head home."
"OK," Charlie said back sleepily. Jack helped him to slide down off Jack's lap. Beth rushed over and knealt by him so he could lean on her and keep his weight off his leg. Together, he and Beth helped Charlie into the car. Charlie picked up the model Black Widow II box and held it in his lap, but he didn't look at it, staring out the window toward the gravesite.
"Will Mommy be underground, Daddy?" Charlie asked him the night before. They were snuggled up together in the big bed in the master bedroom. The house was in Sara's name now. Charlie had inherited it. Jack would buy it as soon as he could. The existing equity would go into Charlie's college fund.
"No," Jack said, shaking his head. "Mommy's in Heaven. Only her body is down there. She's not there anymore." He knew it was a complicated idea for a three-year-old, but on the other hand, Charlie didn't have any doubt that Jack knew what he was talking about.
"I'm glad they didn't burn her up," Charlie said now, staring at the grave. "We can visit her, right?"
"Right," Jack said softly. "But now it's time to go home." Charlie nodded, and Jack shut the passenger side door.
He stood leaning on the car, and looked over again at the grave, where the florist had left Daniel's urn of red and white roses by the head of the grave, as Jack had asked.
"The flowers were beautiful," Jack said. "The family really appreciated them. But you didn't have to do that."
"There weren't any flowers at Sha'uri's funeral," Daniel's voice sounded far away and dim. "She's buried in an unmarked grave. A good, proper Muslim burial. I hate it. It's like she never existed."
"You'll have to show me," Jack said. "Maybe next summer we can take a bowl of dates and sit by her a while."
Jack had to take Cascade Avenue anyway to get from the grocery store to the plumbing supply place where he needed to pick up a new mechanism for the master bath toilet, so he stopped in at the Penrose branch of the library. Charlie was going a little stir crazy, and Jack needed some fresh bedtime reading.
Jack wasn't stopping in at all just to review Penrose's excellent selection of academic periodicals. Winter would protect the ice cream and frozen fish sticks in the back of the truck.
Thirty minutes later, Jack emerged with a bag full of Berenstein Bears, and a sheaf of photocopies of extremely interesting articles by a controversial young archaeologist and linguist. A little bedtime reading for everyone.
"What are your plans?" General Cogdill asked.
"I was thinking about applying for an extended leave," Jack replied. "Charlie's going to need intensive physical therapy for another few months…"
"Have you considered that maybe as a single parent it's time for you to retire? With your areas of specialty, I'm sure you will find it difficult to avoid deployment in harm's way. You've got twenty-two years in. Your pension is waiting for you."
"Actually, sir, there are instructor openings at the SERE School at Fairchild and the Academy at the moment."
"Let me cut to the chase, Colonel," Cogdill interrupted abruptly. "General West has had The Beast under close surveillance since you left."
Jack's stomach plunged.
"He's got good reason to believe you fraternized with this individual."
Cogdill said "fraternized" like it was a filthy word.
"His surveillance reports that The Beast has been receiving telephone communication from you. General West is concerned about what your relationship might have been with this Beast character. Frankly, with the information West has, I would run you out on a rail, but West still considers you one of the best officers he ever worked with, and he has the utmost respect for your abilities and professionalism. He says you always got results when he needed them. Because of that, he doesn't want to have to initiate an investigation. So, for the sake of your boy, I'm suggesting that maybe it's time to consider the private sector. There are a lot of consulting firms that would pay plenty of money to a professional like you – experienced, security clearance intact. A dishonorable discharge would end that."
Jack knew the fight was already lost. He didn't even try to argue.
"My retirement paperwork will be on your desk this afternoon," he replied crisply.
"I thought you would see it that way," Cogdill said. He took a manila envelope out of his inbox and slid it across the desk to Jack. "My secretary already did the forms. All you need to do is review and sign them."
Jack accepted the forms with a blank face.
"Good. That unpleasant business out of the way, I have this for you." He now put a slim briefing file in front of Jack. "General West said that you should review this brief before you get your separation. Which I can assure you will be within the week. I needn't remind you that after you are discharged, official files and materials will no longer be your concern."
The general stood.
"It's always a disappointment to lose a good command candidate. West thinks you could have been a general."
He expressed the sentiment like the empty platitude it was.
"I appreciate that he thinks so, sir," Jack said, not trying to hide the insubordinate, sarcastic tone at all.
"You're dismissed, Colonel," the general said curtly.
Jack turned on his heel and stalked back to the office he had been temporarily assigned.
Rather than open General West's personal message to him, Jack ripped open the retirement paperwork and read it through. The reason given: retirement to care for the son after the mother's death. Good enough. Jack initialed the right places, signed by all the x's.
And that was it for what he had assumed would be a lifetime's career.
Cogdill was right, of course. There was big money to make as a contractor. Jack just never thought of himself as a mercenary. He scowled at his final signature, then took the whole stack and put it back in the envelope.
Now for West's brief. Jack flipped it open and leaned back in his chair.
It opened with a summary of the surveillance on 'The Beast's compound' over the three months since Jack had left.
He read with rapt attention. It looked bad. Daniel's feud with the Juhi family was getting hot again. The file listed a half dozen skirmishes. Daniel had apparently gone to the local sheikh for a decision. As an 'impure foreigner,' he hadn't been able to gain even a hearing.
When Jack flipped the page and saw that Daniel had disappeared two days ago, he grabbed the phone to call his mother.
Jack was so terrified by this vision that he announced his intention to go back to Abydos at once, and that very night said goodbye to Charlie, leaving him in the care of his grandmother, shook hands with Hank, and set out on the long journey that would return him to The Beast.
Forty-eight hours later, Jack stood at the foot of Daniel's road. He went up toward the house in the broad daylight alone. The surveillance reports said that Daniel's people were still in control of Abydos, and that over the last few months it appeared that they had increased security measures. Apparently Daniel had actually been ambushed while in the town.
A shout went up from the trees. One of the orchard workers had seen him. More answering shouts, passing the news up the road ahead of him.
Abdul Halim met him at the gate. The blue turban was gone. He was just a worried, middle-aged man, greeting a friend with little hope.
"Thank Allah that you have come," he said in his rapid, Egyptian Arabic. "But I fear you are much too late."
"Tell me everything that happened," Jack said. "We'll get him back."
"We are certain the Juhi family took him. Daniyal went down to village. They said there was a problem at the warehouse with the dates shipping out. When he got there, the people in the warehouse heard shots fired and yelling and they saw cars driving away. No one could follow them. All the vehicles near the warehouse had been sabotaged. By the time someone ran up the road for a truck, the Juhis and Daniyal were long gone."
"How many days ago?" Jack asked.
"It has been five days now."
"We have to find someone who knows what the Juhis are up to," Jack said. "Daniel may still be alive, and until I see a body, I'm treating him as MIA."
Abdul Halim nodded gravely.
It was a two hour drive to the Juhi village.
"Do you have any men out looking for him?" Jack asked.
"Of course, Colonel O'Neill!" Abdul Halim said.
"Call them back as soon as you can," Jack said. "I've got a plan."
Abdul Halim nodded again.
"We can trust you to bring him to us?" he said.
"I'll bring him home," Jack said grimly.
Jack hid the truck under netting, and proceeded on foot.
Ghalib had loaned him a dishdasha and kaffiyeh, and one of the orchard workers had been willing to sell him his sandals. He carried his boots and socks in a bag over his shoulder. He set out on the walk into town.
He kept his face covered as he entered the outskirts of the large village. On the advice of Ghalib and Abdul Halim, he headed straight for the main town plaza and the fruit juice bar that opened out onto the main communal area.
In the cool darkness of the establishment, he went up to the counter.
"Ahlan wa-Sahlan," the proprietor greeted him.
"Ahlan Bik, [8]" Jack replied. The man heard his accent and looked at him more closely. Jack let his face covering fall away. "Do you have carrot juice?"
The man was flustered.
"Of course," he replied, as if he would rather have said no. "We do not get many foreigners in this small town," he said nervously.
"You wouldn't," Jack agreed. "Which means you can guess I'm here for a reason."
The man shook his head.
"What possible reason could you have?" He tried to make the question sound casual.
"You know exactly why I'm here," Jack said, fixing the man with an intense stare. "You also know exactly why I have a large extraction team about five miles down the main road. And I think that you are the kind of guy who knows just exactly how bad a ground invasion of a tiny town like this could be."
Jack accepted the glass of carrot juice from the man's shaking fingers, placing a few dinars on the counter. He followed it with a handful of worn ten dollar bills.
"If I could get the right kind of information, then I could take care of this cleanly and simply. Just one guy. Nobody's business or family would be in danger."
He held the other man's gaze and was surprised to find him able to meet Jack's eyes steadily. The money on the counter was carefully pushed back toward Jack.
"I cannot accept any bribe or go against the Juhi family, no matter what your threats," he said firmly. "When you are gone, they will still be here."
"Maybe when I am gone you will be dead," Jack said.
The man shook his head and walked away.
Jack turned, leaning against the counter, to survey the other patrons. He kept the bar owner in the corner of his eye, but the man only continued preparing vegetables and fruits.
What now? Was this guy an anomaly, or would every well-placed potential informant in this town have the same loyalty to the Juhi clan? He stared out into the bright light of the street and realized what a fool he had been.
Sitting in the shade across the road was a row of street urchins. Shoeless, unsupervised, and probably…
Jack left the shade of the juice bar and went out into the plaza. He bought a pile of shawarma[9] and taboon, and then went to another vendor and bought a big plastic bucket full of lablaby[10] and the plastic spoons to go with it.
Then he went to talk to his informants.
He stared at the burnt out shell of the house. The children said that The Beast had been brought here.
Jack immediately saw that vehicles had been parked here recently. He circled the area where they had been and saw the sign of people leaving the trucks. More importantly, he saw the indications that something heavy had been dragged. Something, or someone. The children also reported that The Beast had been quite horribly beaten in the square when he had been delivered there in the night. The Juhi family wanted everyone to see their enemy brought down and broken.
"The town needs to know who is in charge again," said a five-year-old girl named Mais. She sounded like she was parroting some adult. "Just because he gives to the poor and builds schools doesn't mean that he's in charge," she opined around her chickpeas and bread.
"Of course not," Jack agreed.
"So they showed everybody he's not in charge anymore. They are," said her sister, Walihah. "But I think it's sad, because maybe I could go to the school," she sounded wistful. The boys laughed and spat. Her sister shushed her. Walihah punched the nearest boy.
"Hey!" Jack interceded. "We're all friends here, just eating some dinner."
The boy rubbed his arm and glared at them. But he went back to his meat and bread.
"So what happened after that," Jack asked.
"They buried him alive," one of the other boys whispered. "In the old house."
Jack gave a low whistle.
"What house? Do you know which one?"
"Yeah, we know. The old Juhi house. The one he burned down. The family's pretty mad about that. It was a nice place."
Jack stood up and offered the children a bow with a touch to his forehead. This brought a collective round of giggles.
"If I find him, I'll come back and bring you some more treats," Jack said. This got him big grins. Jack held his fingers to the corner of his mouth and drew them across in the universal sign for zipped lips. The children zipped up their smiles, and Jack turned away from them, drawing his kaffiyeh over his face again as he passed through the square in the direction they indicated.
He peered up at the structure, wondering how dangerous it was to go in. He followed the sign as it led around the house.
They sign ended at a door to an underground cellar. Not that surprising. He examined the door carefully. When he didn't see any indication of a booby trap, he turned to the task of actually getting the door open. In his head he started running numbers that he had thus far refused to consider. Five days since Daniel had been kidnapped. Even if it had taken them a full day to put him down in this cellar, Jack would bet good money that they hadn't taken particularly good care of him before they dumped him in there. That could mean five days without water. The kind of beating the children had described would probably mean serious injuries and bleeding.
Jack took the horrible realization that Daniel had to be dead, acknowledged it, and put it aside in its own box. First, he had to open the door.
It was padlocked closed with a strong bar across it, but the door itself was weak. Jack found a solid piece of two-by-four in the rubble of the house, singed but relatively undamaged. He took it back to the cellar door and stood it on its end, then raised it and brought it down like a battering ram with all his strength on what he judged to be the weakest spot in the plywood door. It shattered through so easily Jack almost fell over.
He worked the edges of the hole, tearing the door apart, but he discovered the plywood was reinforced on the inside. Jack was starting to think the door was reconstructed using a piece of floor, complete with joists.
He looked at the problem again. The next weakest spot was probably the hinges, which were lightweight and flimsy. He went in search of a fulcrum to turn his two-by-four into a lever. He found a pile of cinderblock. He hauled four over and stacked them together, put the end of his lever through the hole he had made in the door and put all his weight on the opposite end. There was a loud crack as one of the hinges gave way and another as the plywood gave under the force. Jack tumbled backwards.
No sound came from inside the dark hole.
Jack repositioned his cinderblocks and this time set the lever under the frame of the door where the hinge had given way. Another couple of loud cracks and both the other hinge and the end of the locking bar gave way. Jack pulled the wreck of the door out of the way and opened the bag over his shoulder to pull out a flashlight.
Steep, ladder-like stairs led down into the ground. Jack found Daniel's still body very near the bottom of the steps. His hands and elbows were tied cruelly behind his back, and it was clear that Daniel had fought the knots. His wrists were a mess of dried blood. Jack circled around him so that he could see his still, pale face. Both eyes swollen shut, face covered with bruises – he had probably taken kicks to the head. Jack reached for his neck and felt the faintest flutter of a pulse.
It was a goddam miracle.
Daniel was alive.
Hands shaking, Jack reached into his pack and took out his water bottle, opening the lid and letting a trickle of water run over Daniel's dry, swollen lips.
From The Blue Fairy Book: "He is dead; and it is all my fault," said Beauty, crying bitterly. But then Beauty fancied The Beast still breathed, and, hastily fetching some water from the nearest fountain, sprinkled it over his face. To Beauty's great delight, The Beast began to revive. [11]
Daniel stirred in the bed. Jack looked up from the comfortable chair in the corner, where he was working his way through a book of crosswords he had bought at the airport in Dubai. Daniel was watching him.
"Hey," he said softly. "How are you feeling?"
"Like crap," Daniel said. "Which is reassuring, because I am thinking this is not the afterlife. I figure if it were, I'd either feel a lot better or a lot worse."
Jack grinned.
"That's the spirit! It was touch and go there for a while, but you are one tough bastard, I've got to hand it to you."
"Thanks, I think," Daniel replied. He tried to sit up and immediately groaned and lay back down again.
"Broken ribs," Jack said helpfully.
"You don't say," Daniel wheezed.
Jack couldn't stop grinning like a loon. Yeah. A goddam miracle.
"I have a plan," Jack said. Daniel had been getting in and out of bed on his own for about three days now. He was moving better and more each day. Jack was starting to feel that it was time for next steps.
"What plan is that?" Daniel asked. They were walking down the garden toward the dig site.
"Come back with me," Jack said softly.
Daniel stopped and stared at him.
"Come back where?" Daniel asked. He looked confused.
"Come back to my house. Live with me. I want you there. So much."
"But…" Daniel seemed to be at a loss for words.
"I have another plan," Jack continued.
"Plan B?" Daniel asked.
"You've already set up the girl's school down the road. Leave this place as a boy's school, and I know a bunch of little kids to bring here. Not to mention some girls I want the headmistress at Sha'uri's school to meet."
"So Plan A is come live with you and Plan B is I turn this place into a residential boy's school for street kids?"
"Exactly," Jack said. "I like it."
"What would happen to me in Colorado Springs?" Daniel asked.
"Well, I could keep you in reasonably good style, if that's what you'd like," Jack said with a leer and a rakish grin that had Daniel eyeing his staff uneasily. "But I am thinking of doing some consulting work, and I figure with you on my staff, we could offer some really interesting specializations."
Daniel laughed and turned to begin slowly walking down the path again.
"Military contracting? Me? That's insane."
Jack smiled to himself. It wasn't a "no."
And so, rescued by Jack, Daniel left The Beast behind, making space for Daniel Jackson to become the prince he was always destined to be.
Catherine Langford stood at the foot of the driveway of the little house tucked away at the end of a woodsy drive on the outskirts of Colorado Springs. As she and her escort walked up the drive, they could hear shrieks of laughter coming from behind the house. A little boy came dashing around the side of the house with a little girl hot on his heels. They both stopped short when they saw people in their driveway. The girl screeched and ran back shouting "Daddy! Abouya! [12] Walihah!" The boy stayed and watched them curiously.
Jack O'Neill came around the corner from the backyard, the little girl holding his pants leg and hiding behind him. Catherine recognized him from the file. She saw him draw up short at the sight of the uniformed men with her, before he strode down the drive to meet them.
"Colonel O'Neill?" she asked.
"Retired," he said tersely.
"My name is Dr. Catherine Langford," she said, reaching out to shake his hand. "I was wondering if Dr. Jackson is be available? I have an extremely interesting artifact about which I would very much value his insight…"
And Daniel and Jack shared all their adventures together, the good ones and the bad, and lived happily ever after to the end of their days.
Author:
muck_a_luck, posting in brainofckArtist:
sam_gardenerFanmix:
melayneseahawkBeta:
zats_clearGenre: AU, action/adventure, romance
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill
Content/warnings: Violence. Character death (of secondary characters).
Summary: During combat operations somewhere in Northern Kuwait or Southern Iraq, Jack O'Neill becomes the Air Force "liaison" to a local warlord known as The Beast. An AU loosely based on Beauty and the Beast.
Words: 28,000 (or so)
Disclaimer: If anybody is planning a script like this for SG-1, I'm certainly not going to claim any rights to it. However, I'd be delighted to work in a co-writing/consulting/first-reader/advisory-type capacity, with my fee to be negotiated at that time. :D
Awesome fanmix by Mel located here.
Amazing art by Sam_Gardener located here. I will take a stab at incorporating it into the story over the next couple of mornings.
Once upon a time there was a US Air Force Special Tactics general named West. General West had been a moderately successful general in the Persian Gulf conflict in 1991. In fact, he had been so successful that he had drawn the jealous eye of other, more ambitious generals, who thought it would be better if General West were less successful. So General West was given more and more difficult and pointless assignments to accomplish, and his teams were placed in more and more danger and peril.
One day, General West received orders that he should send a team to contact the most notorious warlord in the region, a brutal holy warrior known locally as the Beast. Oddly, he was rumored to be an Egyptian, though the intel on that wasn't confirmed or from a reliable source. The Beast was known to refer to his compound as Abydos. A constructive relationship with the Beast was critical to the current strategy, as the Beast controlled several key roads through the region vital to establishing supply routes. General West also strongly suspected that the Beast had influence well beyond his own territorial boundaries. General West hoped that the Beast could be persuaded to use his connections to smooth the way for the general's teams when they needed to be inserted into dangerous locals in the future.
Generals do not become separated from their troops in battle, General West thought to himself for the hundredth time as he plodded on through the brain-frying summer heat. It must be 102, and there was no shade. He stopped to take another careful sip from his nearly empty canteen and do another survey of the valley below him.
The corporal driving his transport – Charlie Marsh, said the tags now around his CO's neck – had taken a bad hit. The kid had gotten him through the blast zone that had taken out the vehicle behind them and severely damaged the one behind that, but he died slumped over the wheel minutes later.
The IEDs had just been the beginning of the ambush, which had become an all-out bombardment. They were completely surrounded. General West didn't know how many of his other men had survived it. He had barely dragged himself out of his stalled out vehicle when it was blasted apart. The explosion rung his bell real good, and he woke up groggy, disoriented and alone.
He had no map, no working radio, no idea where his escort was, and only the sun in the sky to show him which way was up.
It had been years since he did this in the field, but the training was in his bones, and now he was just special tactics on a mission again. Just like the old days.
He pushed on to the top of the low hill he was hoping to use to gain a small vantage point for observation of the surrounding territory. As he came to the top, he saw that it hid a small village – just a complex of buildings, really, surrounding what appeared to be a well. Beyond that he could see there was a large, irrigated, well-tended date orchard. He approached carefully, sidearm in hand, but there was no movement or sound from the compound. He did a circuit of the buildings, checking through windows and open doors for any inhabitants. Cookfires were still burning smokily in a couple of the kitchens, but it was clear that the compound was empty. Or vacated. Either way, water was his first priority. He filled his canteen from the full water bucket in the corner of one of the kitchens.
Communication was his second priority, but he hadn't seen so much as a ham radio with a dead battery as he moved around the houses. Next up, then – transportation. He really would have asked, but as there was no one to ask, he took. It was easy to connect the right two wires under the dash of one of the beaten-up Jeeps parked at the edge of the town.He steered the truck slowly down the dirt track leading back toward the main road, dodging potholes and broken ground. The vehicle had no mirrors. He tried to divide his attention between the road immediately in front of him, and the countryside around him, but he was still startled when two mounted horsemen rode up to either side of his vehicle. They paced him easily, as three… four… five more caught and passed them to block his path. A quick glance behind showed he was fully encircled. Weighing his options, General West stopped the jeep and stepped out onto the dirt shoulder of the track.
The men were dressed in local garb, with the addition of turbans that covered their heads, and blue veils over their faces. General West's heart skipped a beat, as he realized that he had just given himself up to the troops of the Beast. He had either wandered a lot farther from the convoy's planned path than he had realized, or he should never have relied on stale intel. He had no idea the Beast had extended his reach so far. This was not an auspicious way to achieve first contact with the warlord.
"Please come with us," said one of the men in polite, respectful Arabic, but in a tone that brooked no argument.
"That will not be possible," West replied, in their language. "As you can see, I am on United States Air Force business."
"You have trespassed on private property, and stolen the only vehicle of a family that has done you and your United States Air Force no harm. You must come to meet with our village leader to discuss payment."
General West knew a threat when he heard one. His hand twitched toward his sidearm. Four horsemen raised automatic rifles.
"There is no need to resort to violence," their leader stated firmly. "Ahsan, please drive the jeep back to the house."
One of the men dismounted and approached the jeep, climbing in from the passenger side.
"If you would, please take Ahsan's horse and follow us," their leader ordered.
The Beast – or Daniyal, as he had introduced himself in an Arabic much more Egyptian than Iraqi – poured out the tea, which General West accepted with a courteous inclination of his head. The Beast wore the same blue alasho as his men. The Beast had always been a conundrum for the analysts – possibly Egyptian, possibly Taureg, a non-Iraqi with extensive influence. Seeing the blue, blue eyes, above the veil, West understood immediately what the Beast was hiding. A European warlord who had learned his Arabic in Egypt. Somehow the general felt that wasn't going to make his mission with regard to the Beast any easier."If I am to allow you to pass to and fro through my territories," the Beast said in thoughtful response to General West's proposal, "I will require something in return. You have caused me a lot of trouble and worry today alone."
"Of course," the general agreed. That was how these things always went. Warlords bartered their power into more wealth, and possibly more power.
"It is the custom among the tribes to keep a… guest… of the other party, as insurance of continued good intentions."
West's eyes narrowed. The Beast continued.
"Of course, usually we foster out sons, but in your case, I'm sure your unmarried children remain in America, so that is not the solution to this problem."
"I cannot give you a hostage. We don't own our people or traffic them like slaves," the general did not try to keep the bite out of his voice.
"Naturally not! And this individual would not be a prisoner here!. He would be perfectly free to leave whenever he should desire."
The Beast paused. He was not partaking of the tea, as he had not removed his face covering, but he held the cup in his long, work-roughened fingers contemplatively, his eyes focused on the amber liquid.
"However, should he choose to leave my compound, for any reason, then my relationship with the United States Air Force would be at an end, and passage would no longer be allowed." Those piercing blue eyes lifted from the tea to search General West's face with an intensity that suggested the Beast was trying to search the general's very soul. "And make no mistake, the welfare of my guest would be dependent upon my people remaining unmolested, your people remaining in their trucks and passing through without stopping, and most of all, Abydos and the surrounding villages remaining completely undisturbed. I value my privacy and I protect the safety of those who have trusted me to lead them."
One of the veiled warriors rushed into the room. He bent to whisper into the Beast's ear. Daniyal nodded shortly and dismissed the messenger, who left just as hurriedly.
The Beast turned his attention back to General West, but now there was obvious impatience in his tone.
"You could assign a liaison here," the Beast suggested.
"Not under the terms you have just so clearly described," West stated with finality.
"Then I will consider the matter closed," the Beast replied cordially. "However, now we must move on to the issue of your breaking and entering into the homes of three families, and your theft from the kitchen of one, in addition, of course, to the theft of the jeep."
"I apologize for not approaching your people for assistance. My entire squad was attacked and destroyed not very far from here. I'm sure you can understand that I thought I might not be in the best neighborhood."
"That is an unfortunate choice of words, General West. I like this neighborhood very much," the Beast said sharply. "Until we decide how to handle the issue of your behavior, you will be a guest here. If you were just an errant criminal passing through our town, the consequences will be very different than they would be for an ally and a friend."
The Beast rose abruptly. Two of his men entered.
"Ghalib and Mahaz will escort you to your room. Bathe and rest. Dinner will be served shortly. I regret that I will not be able to join you until the morning, at which time we may determine whether we are friends, or you are a mere thief in a very bad neighborhood."
The Beast left with a brisk step.
The general considered long and hard about what team to send to establish contact with the Beast. He had the best of the best, the cream of special operations warriors at his command. But he had one team that was particularly reliable and effective, and because of this particularly dear to the general's heart. For this delicate assignment he planned to choose Lt Col Jonathan J. O'Neill's team. Despite his gruff, blunt, and undiplomatic approach, Colonel O'Neill seemed to have a special ability to win over indigenous populations, from the peasant farmer to the holy warrior to the highest local government leaders. If anyone would achieve the kind of access that General West hoped to establish with the Beast, he felt certain that individual would be Colonel O'Neill.
Jack O'Neill reviewed the slender briefing file on the folding table in the middle of the tent. It was a makeshift command center for the retrieval of General West. This was what Jack did, and he liked the work. Still, as he sat down and started flipping through the few pages in the folder, he had a bad feeling about this one. That ambush had demolished a whole convoy escorting a General. That was a bad sign about the level of organization and strategic capability of the enemy. The alternative theory was that it was a really strong indicator that they were not prepared to enter this territory at all to have fallen into a simple trap and lost a vital asset. Either way, it meant that retrieval was not going to be as easy as one, two, three. And not that Jack was looking for easy. Easy was kind of boring, actually, and didn't require as much C-4. But he wasn't looking for a suicide mission either.
Colonel Schonberger led the briefing.
"At 0650 yesterday, General West's escort radioed that they were under attack. They were taking mortar and small arms fire, and had already lost one truck. We haven't had any contact since then. We need a team to go in, assess the situation. Based on your intel, we will decide whether to proceed with an immediate extraction using our team, or to send in a larger force."
"I thought this area was supposed to be low on hostiles, Colonel?"
"We suspect it was an external group that came into the area specifically for this attack. There is one local warlord who would be a candidate to pull an action like this off. He's locally known as The Beast, and has a reputation for taking no prisoners. But our intel in this area is so poor, we aren't even sure if he actually exists, or is just a local legend. There also seems to be a long-running local family feud in this area, and it is possible that our people somehow ran afoul of that. I'm relying on you to get the real story so that we can move appropriately."
There was a nice, short Q&A and technical discussion that followed, that didn't help Jack's bad feeling at all.
The team dropped in just after sundown, bundling up their 'chutes and hiding them in the brush and moving forward in a standard formation. Jack took point. They confirmed the intel from the aerial recon. There were no survivors on the scene.
"Looks like they were completely blown away," Farris commented over the headset. "But I don't see any bodies."
The trucks were twisted wrecks. However, they had been removed from the main road and were no longer obstructing passage. And someone had cleaned up the human remains. It wasn't that busy a road, but still, even the few local travellers might not like having to walk by rotting corpses on their way to the nearest market town. Jack wanted to know who had dealt with the bodies and what they had done with the dead. He also wanted to know where the survivors, if any, had been taken. The situation on the ground looked bad. Nobody who had been in one of those trucks had survived the hit, he felt sure. Still, Jack was nothing if not thorough.
He had to circle far out from the main road to find clear sign to follow from the confused trampling of the battle zone. Small groups had broken away from the area. He signed to Rouse to follow a second trail. Rouse gave him the thumbs up. Jack liked working with Rouse. The man knew how to keep his eyes open and his mouth shut.
As best Jack could tell, it might have been two distinct forces, one probably in pursuit of the other. One large group had left going northwest. That had been the most interesting feature from the aerial photos, and that was where Jack wanted to go. He felt certain that if there were any prisoners, they would have been taken away by the large retreating force.
Rouse emerged from the foliage. Though his infrared goggles Jack saw the sergeant smirk as Jack nearly slit his throat before he realized who he was.
"Don't sneak up on a guy," Jack muttered.
Rouse gestured back to where he had picked up the trail.
"Five guys, went about a mile that way, then started breaking off. Two got into a vehicle, I'd say a Ford F-150, the other three went three separate directions on foot. I don't think they were carrying much. Definitely no prisoners." Rouse gestured to the tracks of the larger group. "Those are the guys we need to follow," he concluded.
"F-150? You are so full of shit, Rouse," he said. Rouse chuckled. Jack keyed his radio.
"Lightening Two, you find anything?" Jack asked.
"Negative," came Boucher's response.
"Lightening Three?" Jack asked.
"Nothing," Arroyo replied.
"Regroup, up the northwest trail," Jack ordered.
He didn't have to wait long. Both men hauled ass, following the trail of the large group across rough terrain until the trail took a turn onto a well-maintained narrow side track. Jack and his team flanked the road, moving quietly through the edges of a large date orchard. Irrigation ditches broke up the flat ground. After what Jack estimated to be about a half mile, they came to a break in the foliage.
"Looks like the perimeter of a large compound," Boucher said over the radio.
"Cut the chatter," Jack growled. He signaled Farris and Boucher to stay put, and began his own advance over the open space. The compound seemed quiet, but his night-vision goggles picked out at least one guard on the front door of the large main building. There could be more.
Suddenly, large, intense lights started coming on. Jack pulled off his goggles and hit the ground, but temporarily blinded by the flood lights, there wasn't much else he could do.
He heard running feet coming from the date grove behind them. That was bad. Commands barked in Arabic for his men to drop their weapons, kneel, put their hands on their heads. A foot nudged his hip.
"That goes for you, too," the man ordered. Jack did as instructed. Blinking against the light as he sat up on his knees, he blinked again, this time in disbelief. No way. They were being captured by Blue Men of the Sahara. Jack wondered if he had taken a blow to the head without realizing it.
Efficient hands removed his pack and patted him down. His sidearm was taken immediately. They realized the danger of his field vest and took it, too, but they didn't find his ankle knife. Amateurs.
As his eyes adapted to the bright light he identified their leader. He stood a little away from Jack, and unlike his men, who all carried rifles, he seemed to be armed simply with a nine mil that he held lightly in his right hand. Jack didn't see any sign of a holster. Amateurs. Seriously.
If this guy was The Beast, Jack was unimpressed.
The blue turbans herded his men toward him.
"Welcome, friends," said their leader. "I apologize for treating you in this disrespectful way, but considering the unusual circumstances, I felt it was best to take no chances of a deadly misunderstanding."
Great, Jack thought. Super-villain speeches. And the guy's Arabic was clearly not local. The Egyptian accent was clear, and the underlying intonations sounded like the guy was probably American. Well, he sounded like lots of the guys Jack went to language school with, anyway. What the hell?!
"Would you like to come in and join us for dinner?" the man offered. "My name is Daniyal."
"Colonel Jack O'Neill, United States Air Force. I'm here to pick up my general, if you don't mind," he replied, in English.
"Of course!" Daniyal agreed, though he was not lured into switching languages. "Thankfully, we were able to help him after he was attacked. There were no other survivors, sadly, but I can assure you that the attackers were punished. You will not have any more problems travelling on the nearby roads. Come inside. Let's continue this discussion over supper."
"What's up with this guy, Colonel?" Arroyo muttered. ”Dining with the Enemy? Is this some kind of B movie?”
"You are not prisoners," Daniyal replied, still in Arabic, despite the fact Arroyo spoke to Jack in English. "You may leave right now if you like and report back to your command. I will gladly return all your equipment, though if you want to take your weapons away with you, I will send my men along to carry them to your pick-up or rendezvous or however you refer to it. But if you come inside, you can eat and rest and meet with your general immediately, then you can all leave together."
"Then we will accept you generous hospitality," Jack replied politely, this time sticking to Arabic, as this Daniyal character seemed to want to do. It wasn't that he had no doubts. But although they had been stopped and disarmed by another armed force, none of his men had been injured and they were not restrained at the moment. He felt Daniyal was making a sincere offer.
As Daniyal turned to lead the way to the house, Jack fell in step beside him.
"So who attacked our convoy? Do you know why?" he asked Daniyal. They passed through the front gate into the fenced-in area around the buildings. Jack felt soft grass under his feet. An irrigated lawn. Nice. Just what you would expect from an American in Iraq.
"I am afraid it may have been a personal attack against me," Daniyal said quietly. "I am embarrassed to say that I offended some neighbors in the recent past. I thought the problem was resolved, but I believe the unprovoked attack of US military forces so close to my property in an area I am rumored to control, was intended to bring outside attention and hostility against me and my interests."
Jack sighed inwardly. Maybe the guy was right. And maybe the guy was an American ex pat who had become a local big shot and developed megalomania and delusions of grandeur.
"Once we get inside, you can radio for a pickup for your men and General West at the gates of my property, down at the road. However, if you are willing to wait until morning, we can show you the remains of the force that attacked your convoy so that you can learn whatever you can for your usual professional evaluation. Also, the bodies of your comrades have not yet been laid to rest. You will need to make arrangements to have them brought home, as well."
Daniyal opened the front door of the large building. Jack followed him inside. They were in an open room with a long table and lots of chairs. The general was standing at one end of the table, pouring over detailed local maps with the help of one of the blue-turbaned men.
Jack was relieved to see the general was in good condition. He saw his CO appraise his team, then turn to the Beast.
"Your men must be very skilled warriors, to have captured my best team without harming a single one of them," West said.
The Beast nodded.
"They treated us respectfully, as you yourself did, and did not use force or resist capture when they were discovered trespassing by my people."
"We have no wish to harm civilians," General West commented.
"So your actions seem to indicate," the Beast agreed. "Because of this, I am inclined to overlook that you borrowed a vehicle without permission. And in the desert, it is only understandable that a person on foot must have water. You were in an emergency situation. I'm sure you would have asked for water if anyone had been in town, rather than taking it without asking."
Jack knew he should feel relief at the tone of the negotiations. It sounded as if the general and the Beast were working through issues raised in a previous conversation, and from the sound of it to the benefit of the general. Still, Jack had the distinct feeling that the other shoe was about to drop.
"Then my men and I are free to leave," the general stated rather than asked.
"I have already been discussing the details of your departure with Colonel O'Neill."
"Daniyal says we can leave ASAP, but he suggested that we might want to have a look at the remains of the force that attacked the caravan, sir. I think it would be a good idea for at least some of us to stay here until daylight and go have a look."
"Actually, General, there was still one detail I wished to discuss with you directly. I have a certain reputation to maintain and we still must resolve the issue of safe passage on my roads," the Beast replied, with what sounded like genuine regret in his voice.
"I have been thinking about your request for a liaison," General West said. "And coincidentally, we have here the very officer I would select for that job. Colonel O'Neill is one of my most trusted officers and quite capable of acting as an intermediary. He also has the rank and the authority to handle any day-to-day problems that might arise though use of the roads."
See? The other shoe. There was always another shoe.
The Beast nodded.
"The assignment of Colonel O'Neill will set an excellent foundation for a productive relationship," the Beast agreed graciously.
"I will expect you to provide for his safety and comfort while he is assigned to this post," General West said. Jack recognized a note of menace in his CO's voice.
"It will be exactly as we discussed yesterday," the Beast said mildly. "Come, before you leave we should set the terms of military travel on my roads in writing."
Before the general and the Beast could step out into the passageway, boys began arriving carrying trays and bowls of food and pitchers of clear water and fruit juice. The Beast turned to Jack and his team.
"Please refresh yourselves. The general and I will return shortly."
Jack reviewed the bodies of the General's escort before he ate. They had been carefully and respectfully laid out on the floor of a small outbuilding of traditional architecture that was probably usually a tractor shop, but had been cleared out and apparently swept in preparation for its current duty.
Gunshot wounds, burns, typical battlefield injuries. The kind of thing Jack expected to see in light of the condition of the vehicles. The body count added up. Everybody was here, and apparently the general was the only survivor. West was one lucky bastard, was all that Jack let himself think about that.
Jack's blue-turbaned escort was quiet and solemn. He turned to the nearest.
"Okay," he said and the guards nodded, leading him quietly back to the main building.
Jack and his men bunked down in a small room that had been set up with four cots and plenty of blankets and pillows. Their equipment had been set against the wall, under the two large windows. Jack opted to roll out his sleeping bag on a cot. Boucher and Farris followed his lead. Arroyo snorted at them and made up a bed with the offered bedding.
"You can't sleep in your sleeping bag the whole time you're posted here, Colonel," he commented to Jack.
"Oh, why not? It would be like a camp-out every night," Jack said tiredly. "You know how I love a good fire and sing-along. You guys will have to be sure to send me marshmallows."
"You think he's serious about that, sir? I bet that Daniyal guy is the Beast and I bet he hit our flight."
"All the better reason to leave me here, then," Jack replied grimly. "If he did it, I'll figure it out."
It wasn't the place of an officer to make comments about further actions that might occur after he figured something like that out. There would, of course, be command structures to follow, orders given. And sometimes, the good of the mission was more important than avenging the dead. It was modern American warfare after all.
Jack slept with one eye open.
The next day was taken up with the excursion back to the battlefield, this time escorted by the Beast's troops. First, Jack and Farris, the real tracking specialist, got a look at the scene in daylight. The Beast's men stood off and let the two professionals do their job. They easily tracked the departing forces, who ran in different directions away from the encounter, but who quickly circled around to meet at what must have been a planned rendezvous point. And that was where the Beast had seen fit to leave their bodies.
They had been slaughtered, absolutely and completely. Most had been shot first, then had their throats slit.
"Wow," breathed Farris. He tipped his head in the direction of their escort, which was standing well back, almost as if to give them privacy. "You think those guys did that?"
"I don't see anybody else taking credit for it. And it fits the Beast's reputation."
Jack put together the scenario in his head. Daniyal was an American. He had treated the American dead with care and respect. He had a local reputation to maintain for brutal action against people who disrespected him, and then there were American casualties that other people hoped to blame him for. If it was all tied up in some sort of tribal or family blood feud, well...
"I think it was them," Jack said.
"Glad they're on our side, then," Farris said appreciatively. "I guess he wasn't too happy when they started fucking around in his back yard," he toed one of the dead guys with his boot.
"Yeah. I guess not," Jack replied.
The Beast made every provision for his guest's comfort, but Jack was not permitted to leave the castle. Jack lived in luxury, but saw and spoke to no one but the Beast. The general's orders were very clear. The Beast's cooperation was necessary, and so Jack must be a good little hostage and sit tight a while. It should be an easy job. Jack was getting off light compared to a lot of guys in a war zone. But it was lonesome. Jack missed his real life.
After the general and his team were sent on their way, Jack was escorted from the main compound building to a large house. He spent the rest of the day alone.
"You will stay here," he was instructed. "Please do not leave this building. Daniyal forbids you to leave un-escorted."
Jack spent the day exploring the house. It was very large by the standards of rural Iraq. The walls of the rooms of the first level were entirely lined with books. They were in many different languages and covered a range of topics – linguistics, anthropology, archaeology, history. An American scholar? Jack wondered for the hundredth time what this guy Daniyal was doing here in BFE Nowhere, Iraq.
The upstairs hallway had several doors from it, all but two of which were locked. One unlocked one was a bathroom, and the other was a large bedroom at one end of the hall, leading Jack to suppose, based on his mental visualization of the area of the first level, that there was a second bedroom of similar size at the opposite end of the hall. He assumed the open bedroom must be for himself.
It had a large custom made bed, much larger even than a king, a dresser and desk, bedside tables, a small sitting area with a couch, armchair and an entertainment system to make Homer Simpson drool. There was an en suite bathroom, with a walk-in shower, a double sink, and a soaking tub with a huge window overlooking a beautiful garden behind the house. Windows on either side revealed views of the surrounding date orchard and the windows out the back looked out over the garden. The warm air through the windows was redolent with the scent of ripening dates and roses.
Returning to the room and trying the doors in the hallway again, he found that the one closest to his room was unlocked after all, and inside was a library of video cassettes, records and CDs to match the equipment in the bedroom.
He wandered back to the downstairs, toward the back of the house, thinking he would go out into the garden, and found his way to the well-stocked kitchen. Not much junk food, aside from lots and lots of brown sugar pop tarts. However, in the back of the pantry, he found a door leading down to the basement.
The house sat on an underground complex. Again, most of the rooms were locked, but side-by-side Jack found a games room with pool table, fooz ball, and pinball machines; and, even better, the next room was a state-of-the-art firing range.
From the way he had been left and the orders to remain in the house, Jack had assumed that he was a prisoner – exchanged by General West for the safe release of the general and the rest of his men – to be extracted at a later date by diplomacy or special tactics. But this room was full of weapons, ammunition, and explosives. Handguns, shotguns, rifles; automatic and semi-automatic. Every small arm Jack could imagine wanting was just sitting here, properly stored, waiting for him to use them for whatever purpose he wished.
So he picked up a brand spankin' new Glock 22, put on some ear protection, and took it for a spin to find out what all the hype was about.
Jack's only companion was the Beast, who came to dine with him every evening. Although the table was laid with a delicious feast every night, the Beast never ate. He sat with Jack, and they talked a while. Jack found that the Beast was a gentle creature, for the most part. He liked him.
Jack examined his target after testing out the Jericho 941. He liked the gun. It was a little heavy compared to the CZ-75, but it was a slim design for the amount of punch it packed, and the grip angle made for natural sighting. It was a joy to shoot, and his target reflected it – ten kill-shots. He turned around to place the handgun back on the table only to find the Beast standing behind him, watching him with steel in his blue eyes, intense above the ever-present blue veil."Nice shooting range you have here," Jack said, in English. He wasn't going to cater to the fantasy that this man was anything but an American, turban, veil, and fluent Arabic notwithstanding. "I hope you don't mind I borrowed it."
"Of course not," the Beast answered in a warm, California accent. "You should feel free to spend as much time here as you like – and use up as much ammo as you want," he said. Jack got the impression he was smiling behind his veil. "I should really spend more time down here. I'm sure I can no longer hit the broad side of a barn."
He stepped forward, extending his hand as Jack pushed up the shooting goggles and laid the gun down.
"I'm Daniel," the Beast said, as Jack shook his hand. "Lovely to meet you, finally."
"Jack," he said.
"Come upstairs and let's get you something to eat," Daniel suggested, then without waiting for Jack's reaction, he turned and went back up toward the kitchen.
When Jack emerged from the pantry he could smell dinner, and it smelled good. There was roast beef with gravy and mashed potatoes, green beans, and dinner rolls. There was even a strawberry jello thing with whipped cream mixed in. It looked like somebody's idea of a perfect Sunday dinner. Not that Jack was complaining.
Daniel was staring out the back door into the garden. A large herb and vegetable patch was just outside the back door, and beyond that, there was a riot of roses blooming. There was a girl pulling weeds in the dirt. When she saw the men watching her she made a quick bow toward them and scampered away down the nearest path. She was so short they could hardly see her at all, following only the progress of her colorful head-scarf as it ran along behind the waist-high plants. They lost sight of her completely when she went into the okra patch.
"Habibah loves the garden," Daniel said fondly as he turned to face Jack.
"Somebody went all out on dinner. Are you having any?" Jack asked him. Daniel shook his head without any comment, so Jack found the cabinet with plates, grabbed one, and helped himself to everything.
"If you're going to feed me like this, I'm going to need some serious PT if I'm going to stay within regs," Jack said.
"There's equipment downstairs," Daniel replied.
"I usually run," Jack said, carrying his plate and following Daniel into the next room, where they settled onto the leather couches. Jack set his plate on the coffee table.
"You forgot a drink," Daniel realized at the same time Jack did. "Can I bring you a beer?" He was already on his feet, heading back toward the kitchen. In short order a beer clonked down on the table by his knee. In a glass.
"Is this draft?!" Jack asked in surprise.
The corners of Daniel's eyes crinkled.
"Are you gonna take that thing off or what?" Jack asked.
"No," Daniel replied mildly. "So. You would want to run in the morning, maybe even pre-dawn? Avoid the heat?"
"Want is a strong phrasing," Jack said.
"For the safety of yourself and of my people, and for the smooth running of my operations here, I need you to stay in the house," Daniel began slowly. "However, there's almost nothing happening around four or five in the morning. If you would be willing to stay to the front of the house, but inside the compound, I think that would not be a problem."
"Too bad there's no swimming pool," Jack said. He didn't want to comment on the way his movement was limited, or on his confinement to the house.
"In this environment, that's conspicuous consumption that even I can't afford," Daniel snorted. "However, you will find, down in the exercise room, an Endless Pool. They're a little tricky to get used to, but you might like it."
Jack just stared at him.
"What is up with this house? It's like – a five star hotel – if five star hotels came with university libraries in the lobby and small arms for pillow mints!"
"I built it for my wife," Daniel said shortly. He looked away.
House built for a wife that was not in it.
"I'm sorry," Jack said quietly.
"It's not important," Daniel said briskly. "I hope it will make your stay more pleasant. I realize this must be awkward for you."
"Hey, if you can do what you say you can do, then I'll gladly enjoy a little R&R in Hotel Abydos! How do you feel about me getting in on the gardening? I could haul water for little Miss Habibah out there."
"No!" Daniel said sharply. "The garden and rear part of the property are strictly off limits to all visitors."
"Okay," Jack drawled. "Just tell me one thing, Daniel. Tell me you're not some kind of stinkin' drug dealer or bastard child-slaver or something."
"Not a stinking drug dealer," Daniel said. His eyes were smiling again. "…or a bastard child-slaver or any other something that might be covered by 'or something.' I do not sell or eat babies. But my business is private, and there will be no interference with it."
Jack nodded and slurped up the last of his strawberry and cool whip jello.
"Compliments to the chef," he said.
"Want to go upstairs and watch a movie?" Daniel asked. "I've got a bunch of new stuff on tape. Terminator?" Daniel suggested. "Or would you prefer that Disney flick with the computerized animation? Oh. I forget which one. Abdul Halim brought it for his little girl."
"Beauty and the Beast," Jack filled in. At Daniel's surprised raised eyebrows, he added, "I have a five-year-old son. My ex keeps me up-to-date on all the kid's movies and stuff."
It could have been an awkward moment. Instead, Daniel asked, "Do you have any pictures?!"
"Not with me. General West said he would be sending me my footlocker."
"You have to show me when it gets here. So do you want to watch something?"
They went up to Jack's room. Terminator II was pretty good. A lot of stuff blew up, and the special effects were incredible. It did make a guy think, though, about whether humans were going to make it. On the other hand, Daniel drank the glass of beer Jack brought him when he went down to the kitchen for a second glass, and he had gotten pretty punchy.
"Chill out, dickwad," he muttered, giggling to himself.
Jack peered at Daniel.
"Did you steal the rest of my beer?" he asked.
"Nah. I always get like this when I drink beer. I think I'm allergic to hops or something," and he hiccupped, like a cartoon drunk.
"Or just a cheap date," Jack replied.
"I'll drink you under the table on my homemade moonshine any day," Daniel offered.
"No thanks, I enjoy having 20/20 vision," Jack laughed. "And you should probably have a glass of water or two before you go to bed." Jack started wrestling Daniel to his feet. The stupid blue veil had not come off all evening. Jack was tempted to "accidentally" unravel it now. He didn't. Daniel was slight, much thinner and lighter than Jack would have imagined. He hauled him to his feet, slinging his arm over Jack's shoulder. "Where do you want to sleep this off?"
"With you?" Daniel suggested.
"What?! No!" Jack said. "You're not puking on me in the night."
"Of course not," Daniel said, taking his weight on his own feet and drawing himself up to his full height. He was nearly as tall as Jack. "I'm an excellent lover," Daniel hiccupped again.
Jack scrubbed a hand over his face.
"The answer's even more 'no,' then, lover boy. Out you go." Jack shoved Daniel toward the door.
Daniel gathered his dignity, adjusting the fabric around his neck and face, made a wobbly turn and then walked unsteadily out the door, straight to the other end of the hall, fumbled, probably with keys, opened the door and disappeared behind it. It was too dark for Jack to get a glimpse of the room before the door closed.
Faintly, he heard the shower start.
He did not stand there at his open door imagining Mr. Blue Man of the Sahara, naked and wet. He did not feel at all turned on by the idea that his dick was featuring prominently in the masturbation fantasies of someone besides himself.
The first night sleeping in the strange house, Jack dreamed of the Beast. He was out in the desert, killing the men who had attacked General West's convoy, eyes red and ruthless below the blue turban. He dispatched them with savage efficiency, one bullet each, all headshots. Professional and cold and dispassionate.Then the dream changed and the Beast unwound the turban, starting with the neck and face coverings, the indigo dyed cotton of the tagelmust dropping away until a slender young man stood before Jack. In the fluid nature of dreams, not only the veil was gone, but all of Daniel's clothing. He was strong and tall, slim-waisted, with a smile so blinding that all Jack could see were Daniel's eyes as blue as the sky and hair as golden as desert sand.
"I'm so glad you stayed with me," Daniel said, reaching out toward him, touching him with hands that sent sweet vibrations through Jack's body.
Jack jolted awake from the dream. He had slept badly. He would blame it on sleeping in a strange bed, except that Jack was an expert in sleeping in strange beds. No, he couldn't kid himself. Even with a marriage and a kid under his belt, he was still queer.
"It's not like you can cure that kind of thing, you know," Kowalski used to berate him, when he came slinking back, reeking of some other guy's cheap aftershave and sex. "You're not sick. You were born that way."
"Yeah, when the fuck did you get so progressive, Mr. Rainbow?" Jack had growled back at him.
"Hey," Kowalski had objected,"Who are you calling Mr. Rainbow? I'm not the fairy here, I notice. And, if you must know, both my brothers are gay." Kowalski shrugged. "They're great guys, even if Joe did go for the Marines, bonehead."
Kowalski was right, of course. At least about the cure part.
So now Jack was sitting in the lap of luxury with a mysterious guy who wanted have sex with him, and apparently his subconscious thought the guy was imminently fuckable.
He doubted he would have a full night's sleep for a while.
After three or four hours of tossing and turning, Jack decided on an early run, and possibly a better sleep afterwards.
He had found sweats, tees, and fresh underwear in drawers in his room. He just had his boots to run in, but that was actually something he tried to do periodically, anyway. There was a full moon gliding down the sky toward the horizon, giving him light for the night run.
He did a light jog around the perimeter twice, then paused by the front gate to stretch. The air was perfumed by the ripening dates in the orchard.He looked up at the front of the house, and got a little adrenaline rush. He was being watched. There was a figure in the window, backlit by a very faint, flickering light in the room – Jack guessed a single candle. The figure was limned by the moonlight, but too far away and too high up for Jack to be able to distinguish any features.
He took off at a run to burn off the flight reaction, then set himself a fast jogging pace and settled in for the long haul. An hour's run was about thirty laps. He already wished he could just go for a long run on the roads nearby, but - take what you can get. He slowed to a walk for a couple of laps, strolling around the yard more randomly, looking at the vehicles parked there, checking out the outside of the main building. Guards greeted him politely. The figure was gone from the window.
On the steps of his new home, he stopped again to stretch, then went inside to hit the shower.
To his surprise, he smelled breakfast as he walked in. Following his nose to the kitchen, he found eggs, bacon, and French toast, served on a plate waiting for him. There was warm maple syrup on the table, and shredded cheddar cheese for the eggs. There was freshly-squeezed orange juice in a large pitcher, and a bowl of pomegranate seeds, already husked.
Jack shook his head. Whatever the Beast's motives, he was a damned good short-order cook.
Around noon, Jack heard yells and running in the front yard. He stepped out into the heat of the day, standing on the porch to see the front gate being opened and a US military vehicle being allowed to enter. Guards led them around to the porch steps.
"Nice of you guys to come by!" Jack greeted them, as Cromwell stepped down out of the truck.
"Please wait for Daniyal inside," instructed one of the guards.
"No problem," Cromwell replied. Jack held the door for him. Cromwell gave low whistle.
"Nice digs," he commented.
"It's not going to be the worst posting I've ever had," Jack agreed. But he felt oddly ill-at-ease with the man there, filling up space in Daniel's library. "All the comforts of home. We had draft beer with dinner last night."
"Wow! No fruit juice for you!" Cromwell exclaimed with a grin.
Jack heard the back door slam. A moment later, Daniel came in from the kitchen. Still with the turban, still with the veil. Jack caught the surprised flicker of eyes as Cromwell took it in.
" Marhaban[1]," Daniel greeted him. Like his men, he addressed Cromwell in Arabic. "I am Daniyal."
"Lt. Col. Frank Cromwell," Cromwell replied, coming to his feet. "I've brought equipment and supplies for Colonel O'Neill."
"Thank you, that was quite thoughtful. Though as you can see, he is being provided for, I am sure he will be pleased to have his personal items during his visit here. I trust you had a safe journey?"
"Yes, sir. We just passed a few folks in trucks. Not a sign of any hostiles."
"Excellent," Daniel replied. "Though that is certainly what I would have expected so soon after the unpleasantness a few days ago. The more important thing will be the long-term peace on the roads."
Daniel turned to Jack.
"Please spend as much time as you would like with your comrade. When it is time for him to depart, please call Abdul Halim. He is at the front door."
Daniel made a shallow bow to Cromwell.
"And now, I will return to my work. Colonel O'Neill can provide you with refreshments."
And with that, Daniel turned on his heel and left though the kitchen.
"Friendly guy," Cromwell said. "I can see why he needs a liaison."
"I think he likes his privacy," Jack commented. "He's got enough guns in the basement for a small army, and his people are loyal. But he seems completely uninterested in politics. My impression so far is that he's a rich guy who doesn't like people messing with him." Jack shrugged.
"Well, we'll see if he can do what he says he can do," Cromwell said. Cromwell lowered his voice. "You know the general wants the scoop on this guy, right?"
Jack sighed. Cromwell was a pilot turned General's errand boy. He had no intelligence background and, apparently, less actual intelligence than Jack had ever realized. He looked at Cromwell, raising an eyebrow meaningfully and doing a little twirly circle with his finger. He tapped his ear.
"Oh, right. Like 'The Beast,'" Cromwell made the air quotes with his fingers, "doesn't know we're going to be collecting intel on him. So! What about these refreshments he mentioned?"
Shaking his head, Jack lead Cromwell through to the kitchen. The mysterious food fairies had delivered roast chicken and fresh bread, tart cucumber and yogurt salad and a bowl of what must be the earliest khalal dates, as it was still the very end of July. They were crunchy crisp and apple-like, tart-sour, almost bitter, full of tannin. In September they would melt in his mouth, still crisp, but honey-sweet. It was funny, every place he went, no matter how objectively horrible the mission or the deployment, no matter how much he wished to be anywhere but there, there was always something he missed when he went home. The Barhi dates of Iraq, khalal stage, were one thing he knew he would miss when he went home from the desert.
"I don't know how you eat those things," Cromwell commented, twisting off a chicken leg as Jack took a juicy bite of fruit.
"Acquired taste," Jack mumbled.
"I guess," Cromwell said. "So what's he up to here, this Daniyal guy? He's got a lot of books, and he doesn't sound like a local."
Jack shrugged.
"No idea," Jack said. "He's got me on lock-down. Most of the compound is off-limits."
Cromwell raised an eyebrow.
"On the flip side, there's a first-class firing range in the basement," Jack said airly. "Don't you worry, if things get hairy, there's enough firepower down there for me to kick most of the rest of Hussein's armor out of Kuwait."
Cromwell snorted.
"Well, with food like this, and the AC turned up full-blast in here, I don't guess you're hurting much," he agreed.
Jack crunched into a second date and found himself hoping Cromwell would shove off sooner rather than later.
Jack's personal locker went upstairs, but he asked Daniel's men to leave the other crates there in the large downstairs room. He opened the lids. Communications equipment was the main thing. A bunch of other stuff he would want as a liaison. He left the crates open and went up to his room. He found swim trunks in the drawers of the dresser and went down to try out the Endless Pool.
He finally put his feet down on the bottom of the pool again. It was a trick, alright, but once he got the hang of it, it was a nice swim. He climbed out and grabbed a towel from the stack by the pool. He turned around to find Daniel sitting comfortably on the exercise bike, watching him."Do you ever get tired of sneaking up on a guy!" Jack complained.
Daniel smiled smugly. Jack wished he could pretend to be uncomfortable and offended by Daniel's lingering review of his wet, mostly naked body. It would make his life so much easier if he wasn't more than a little turned on by the fact that Daniel was obviously pleased with the the view. He toweled off briskly, deliberately not giving into the temptation to turn around and give Daniel a good view of his… assets.
And Daniel, rather than give in to the obvious temptation to make a provocative comment, took the high road.
"I saw the crates and that there was nothing in them to be concerned about," Daniel said as Jack toweled off. "I appreciate you leaving them open for me. I had them moved to a room in the main building. I'll show you where after we eat."
"You're eating this time?" Jack asked, heading though the hallway to the stairs to the pantry.
"Nah. I had something already," Daniel said. Daniel stopped in the library as Jack went all the way upstairs to change.
He came back down in clean BDUs.
"I think Daania likes you," Daniel laughed, watching Jack help his plate. Cheeseburgers with all the fixings, hotdogs with chili on the side, delicious looking potato salad and cole slaw.
"I think Daania is my new favorite person," Jack answered, heading out to eat in the front room again, with Daniel on his heels.
"Lucky for the guys, halal is not the same as kosher, because I think she's feeding them everything she cooks for you."
"Cheeseburgers with potato salad are still on the menu," Jack agreed. "And boy, does she know how to do them right."
He thought Daniel was smiling behind his veil.
"I apologize for the drunken pass last night," Daniel said, as Jack enjoyed a plate of crispy Toll House cookies.
"I don't remember that," Jack replied. "I will be keeping you away from the beer in the future, however."
Daniel snorted.
"I still want to sleep with you."
"Great, so all I get for company is a horny warlord who won't take off his stupid head diaper."
Daniel's back went rigid. He left through the kitchen door. Jack didn't apologize.
Another morning run. Another morning being watched by a shadowy figure above him.
He hated that the pool and the shooting range allowed someone to sneak up on him, and there wasn't any better way to use them.
But Daniel didn't show for breakfast, which was fresh bread, soft butter, honey and another bowl of crisp dates.
Daniel didn't show for dinner either. Jack served himself a plate of a delicious beef dish with dried fruits and sweet spices over rice and carried it up to his room. The door to the little video room was locked and the only one left out was that stupid animated Disney thing, so he went back downstairs and found a book instead.
No Daniel again at breakfast the next morning, and Jack started to worry that maybe he should not have been quite so rude to his "host."
His days were already taking on a rhythm. Run, swim, breakfast, shooting range, shower, radio in to home base, nap, lunch, and then an afternoon to fill. This morning, as he came out of the shower, he found a note on his bed.
"Please remain in this room for the next hour," the note requested. It was signed "Daniel."
Jack could here feet shuffling outside his room, and doors on the hallway opening and closing. He tested the door. It was locked, but it was just a flimsy privacy lock. The door was solid wood, but Jack was confident he could get out if he set his mind to it. Daniel probably knew that, too. The lock was just a reminder the follow the polite request of the letter.
Toweling his hair, Jack went to the windows of the room. He had good views from three sides, including back down over the garden, where in the remote distance he was able to see tents that sheltered something under them from the sun and heat. He couldn’t tell anything more, though, even when he had used his field glasses earlier. But now, coming up though the garden, were six men carrying a heavy crate, about half the size of a coffin, Jack thought morbidly. Jack assumed it was heavy if six men had to carry it. They went in through the kitchen, and soon Jack heard them on the stairs.
No other boxes were brought up the garden path. There was continued movement, with quietly muttered comments that Jack couldn't make out through the door. He tried putting his ear to the bathroom wall, but there must be an intervening closet or room between him and the activity. Nothing.
After much less than an hour, the activity died down. Jack heard feet going down the stairs. He crossed his own room in a few strides and lay down on the bed, feigning his usual nap.
He heard the privacy lock on the door click, but the person made no attempt to wake him or draw his attention to his restored freedom. He lay in the bed until about the usual time he would get up to dress for lunch, then went downstairs as if nothing had happened and headed over to his radio room.
"This is House 1 to Command, do you copy?"
"This is Command 2. Go ahead."
Command 2 was Cromwell.
"Standing by for today's forecast," Jack said.
Cromwell then reeled off, rapidfire, a long string of letters and numbers. Jack copied down the encoded message.
"…7345092 break alpha kilo kilo whiskey 09," Cromwell finished. "Do you need me to say again?"
"Negative," Jack said.
"CinCCommand requests report on CinCHouse," Cromwell said. Jack could hear the chuckle in his voice.
"Nothing of note to report," Jack replied. Except there was. He sighed to himself before keying the radio again. "No direct communication with CinCHouse for thirty-six hours."
"That was fast," Cromwell replied, "In the doghouse already. Well, at least it's a nice doghouse."
"Very funny, Command 2. Standing by for further communication."
"That's it, House 1."
"Roger, Command 2. Clear."
Jack shut down his radio and glowered at it. General West, Commander in Chief Command, had not asked about The Beast, Commander in Chief House. They had assigned Daniel the code name Angel for radio traffic, not CinCHouse. It was a stupid joke, but it made Jack uneasy, Cromwell's suggestion that Daniel was Jack's spouse.
Jack was relieved to have Daniel join him again for dinner, which was, of all bizarre things, lasagna and garlic bread, with a tossed spinach salad.
Daniel laughed when he saw it.
"Daania's been dying to make a lasagna for as long as I've known her," he chuckled. To Jack's surprise, he actually grabbed a fork from the drawer and dug into the casserole, discreetly lifting the veil to bring the bite to his still hidden lips, just as he did when he drank in Jack's presence.
"Wow," he said. "That is surprisingly good."
"Please tell her from me that everything has been fantastic, including the beef and fruit dish from last night. Amazing." Jack winced inwardly, as he realized that his sincere compliment might have an undertone of accusation. Daniel was apparently not in the mood to be offended. The crinkle around his eyes suggested he was smiling broadly.
"She'll be delighted to hear that! Honestly, I keep telling her I'm going to ship her off to the CIA. For a 70-year-old Iraqi grandmother who's never been farther than three villages over in her life, she has the best instincts for flavor and seasonings. I've also told her I'm sending her to the American school over in Dubai so I don't have to translate her cookbooks anymore, which gets me kicked out her kitchen."
As Jack was heading out to the library with his plate, Daniel stuck his finger in the casserole again.
"I saw that," Jack called back to him. "You should just eat. I know that's how the other Blue Men do it."
He turned, walking backwards, watching Daniel. The other man shrugged.
"Not part of my background, eating around a veil. I can just watch you eat. I'll snag some later."
"It's warm now…" Jack said, holding out his fork temptingly.
"Why are you so obsessed with this?" Daniel said, in exasperation tinged with just a hint of anger. "You must know that I prefer not to show my face. Is that so hard to understand?"
"So, what would you do if I took you up on that 'fuck me' offer you keep making, then?" Jack asked, as he settled onto the couch, surprised at his own inability to stick to the script.
"Maybe I'll get naked, but leave the head diaper on?" Daniel suggested. "What a vision that would be! You're right. I should get some of the lasagna while it's hot. Tosbeho[2]," Daniel said, and stalked away into the kitchen and directly out the back door.
Jack let his head fall back on the couch. Why had he done that? He had really only been suggesting that Daniel not miss a meal that he obviously wanted to eat. It was weird, sitting there eating when Daniel didn't. But Daniel got that pissy tone in his voice and Jack just forgot that this person had power over him, and he pissed right back.
He hoped tomorrow's breakfast would be bread and honey, not bread and water.
After eating, he went up early. The video room was unlocked again, so he picked out Die Hard 2: Die Harder which he had missed last year. He clicked it off halfway through and put in Ghost instead. Whoopi Goldberg was pretty funny, though he could have done without the phallic pottery scene. Jack had been alone for a while, and quite frankly, watching Swayze stroke that lump of clay was giving Jack feelings he would rather not acknowledge (especially when they were caused by a stupid romantic comedy), when he heard one of the doors in the hallway open and shut.
He was torn. He knew he should respect Daniel's request for privacy, but he also wanted to know what was going on in this place for more than just the satisfaction of his personal curiosity. The General wanted to know what Daniel was up to and who he was. Jack disregarded the fact that he was already holding out on the General by not immediately letting him know that Daniel was an American. He still couldn't let slide the chance to find out what Daniel was up to, here in his little fort.
Jack moved silently to the door. The house was well built, and there wasn't a creaky floorboard in the place. This room was heavily carpeted. Jack could probably do his jumping jacks stealthily in this place.
He carefully turned the knob on his door, opening it just the slightest crack. There was light coming from underneath the second door down on the left – the door closest to Daniel's room. Jack was fairly confident that was where they had been putting the box yesterday. There was no noise coming from behind the door now.
There was no rule of this house stating that Jack couldn't move freely about any time day or night, so he ducked out the door, shutting it softly behind him. He moved down the hall, the runner still disguising any noise his bare feet might make on the wood floor. He put his ear to Daniel's door. All he could hear was the tapping of fingers on a keyboard. There would be long pauses, then rapid typing.
Jack jumped when he heard the front door open suddenly. He quickly dodged down the hall and back into his room. The footsteps remained downstairs. Jack sat in his chair, gazing thoughtfully at Demi Moore, as he pondered what a warlord might be writing.
Jack picked up the envelope from the kitchen counter and scanned the contents. He grabbed a date, and went back out the front door, trotting across the yard to his radio room.
"House 1 to Command, do you copy?" Jack radioed.
"Read you House 1. Standby," came the reply. Jack waited briefly.
"House 1, this is Command 2, send your traffic," said Cromwell.
"Message from Angel," Jack stated, then began the encrypted message without the aid of the key. He had a knack for it. Daniel said there was a report of a recent sale of a surface to air missile launcher to someone in the area and he wanted the Air Force to avoid Sectors F and G until he tracked it down.
"Roger," Cromwell said when Jack finished he long rattling string of letters and numbers. "Standby."
Cromwell could not decrypt in his head.
Jack waited slightly longer.
"House 1, this is Command 2, copy that. Will inform CinCCommand. Any further report?"
Jack considered the heavy box, the late-night tapping at the keyboard, the temper tantrums.
"Nothing to report."
"Roger. Command 2 out."
"So how does a nice California boy end up a feared and influential warlord?" Jack asked over a dinner of chicken grilled with pineapple, onions, and peppers over rice. And Jack had seen pie in the kitchen. He thought it was apple.
"I can pay that," Daniel said. He didn't know what to feel. He was terrified. And furious. But mostly terrified that even if he paid the ransom, he would never get her back.
"No, you must not," Kasuf disagreed sternly. "Our position here will become completely untenable."
"I don't care," Daniel yelled, angry at the Good Father's calm acceptance of his daughter's fate. "This is my fault. I should have been more discreet when we got here. They found out she was a married to a 'rich American…'"
"Enough," Abdul Halim cut them both off. "This is not the fault of any person. Everyone knows the Juhi family and what they do. They extort anyone who might be able to pay a ransom."
"I'll leave here. All I want is Sha'uri back safely. I don't care about the dig, or anything else."
"Sha'uri cares!" Kasuf growled. "She will not expect to be ransomed. She will expect to be rescued and avenged. This attack on the family's honor cannot go unanswered."
"That's crazy!" Daniel said, staring at his father-in-law in shock. "You can't be serious!"
"I have never been more serious about anything. We will go to where they have taken her, kill the Juhis who touched her, and bring her back here."
Daniel screamed wordlessly and stalked out of the room. They were crazy. This was a nightmare. What was that supposed to mean, Sha'uri expected?! He couldn't believe the Good Father was actually thinking about the dig! Who cared about the dig?! His body was rebelling. He barely made it to the door before he heaved the sparse contents of his stomach. He found himself on his knees, staring down at the puddle of vaguely yellowish liquid, pooled and swirling in the dust.
Staring at the vomit, his anthropologist's mind wound out all the reasons Kasuf was right. Once a woman was kidnapped, the laws of honor said she had been raped. Once a woman was raped, the only way to remove the stain on the family was to kill her. The only out was if the wife's husband could prove that the rape had indeed not been the fault of the woman. The only way to prove the woman was innocent was for her family to kill the ones who had forcefully taken her honor. The deaths of the criminals rehabilitated the woman and the family. Of course, for most families, it was just as well to pay the ransom to get their property back, then remove the stain on the family by killing the woman - a logic that no anthropological background could ever rationalize.
So, Anthropologist Daniel knew, The Good Father was actually much different than most victims of honor crimes. He preferred to cleanse his daughter though vengeance, rather than buy her back and murder her himself. In fact, Daniel's willingness to pay the ransom must seem cruel to The Good Father, even if the man logically knew that Daniel would never kill his wife, even if he logically knew that Daniel wouldn't even understand the taint. The Good Father was trying to show Daniel what he knew Sha'uri would want.
She would want the horror removed, not left to fester as part of her, forever inseparable from who she was in the eyes of her family and culture. She might rather die at her own hand than live like that.
Staring into the putrescent yellow swirls, Daniel made a decision.
He stood and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, then his hand on the hip of his pants. He walked slowly and thoughtfully back into the room, crossed to the wall safe and opened it. He took out stacks of cash and handed them to Ahsan.
"Go. Buy guns. Be back in twelve hours."
Ahsan's eyes widened, rising from the fistfuls of money to Daniel's hard stare.
"I know where, Ustath, [3]" he said.
Daniel spent the next several hours deep in consultation with Abdul Halim and the Good Father. When Ahsan returned, they went out to look into the back of the battered old pickup. Kasuf pulled aside the heavy tarp thrown over the contents.
"AR-15's. Excellent," Kasuf said, gripping Ahsan's shoulder as the man came around the truck bed. "Daniyal, do you know how these are used?"
"Ghalib can show me, but I'll probably stick with my Beretta."
Ahsan climbed into the back of the truck, reaching into a box near the cab. He took out two more of the handguns, presenting them to Daniel grip-first.
"Very good, Ahsan," Kasuf congratulated him. "Still, Ghalib, show Daniyal how to use the rifle. Ahsan, come inside."
He accepted his fate, though he knew that he would become The Beast. He was following a dark path from which he could not and would not turn aside. He was changing himself forever. For the crimes he knew he was going to commit, he already wished to hide his face from the world in his shame.
Daniel went into the room Sha'uri called her workroom. Sha'uri had bolts of dark, indigo blue fabric that had been given to her upon their wedding. Now Daniel rolled out the bolts on the work table, first measuring, then dividing it equally to share among the men who would go with them. It still wouldn't be enough for a proper tagelmust[4] for each man. But it was enough for what he wanted - a distinctive head covering to help identify his men in the heat of any battle, to provide a sense of a uniform for his soldiers, and to disguise their identities.
He folded the cloth carefully and carried it downstairs to the dining room, where Kasuf had assembled the men. They wore stern, resolved looks. Wordlessly, Daniel lay the cloth in the middle of the long table. He took the top piece and began the elaborate ritual process of winding the turban around his head, folding and manipulating the fabric from his forehead and crown, around his ears and the back of his head, down around his neck, then arranging the veil from the ends of the fabric.
His men followed him – first Mahaz, who had come with them from Egypt and whose family came from Berber immigrants. Kasuf, Abdul Halim, Omar, Gahlib, Yasir, Nu'man, all of them, until the room was full of fierce-eyed warriors, hardly distinguishable from one another, in their non-descript khakis and jeans and work shirts.
The Juhi family was holding Sha'uri at their estate, the largest house in a village about sixty miles away. There was no way to hide their approach, but of course, since they were expected, they didn't need to hide. Four trucks to escort that much money and retrieve the American's Egyptian wife wouldn’t seem excessive.
As Daniel and Kasuf got out of the cab of the first truck, the two guards at the door came down the front steps, and the heavy front door of the house swung open.
Kasuf raised the rifle that had been blocked from sight behind his door and the four men fell to single shots.
Daniel strode toward the door, focused on getting into the house and finding his wife as quickly as possible. He met two men in the narrow hall. He shot them both with his Beretta, leaving his rifle hanging over his shoulder. He felt no qualm or guilt as he killed the two men. They stood between him and his wife, who might be beaten, or raped, or dead. He was there for her, and under the influence of the adrenaline, he had no doubts.
When Daniel found the stairs, he went up. He flinched and twisted when the bullet grazed his temple and ear, but after he fired instinctively, and there was not a second shot. The man above him crumpled forward, falling to the side of Daniel, who dodged around him and into the open space above.
Sha'uri and a young woman sat together, huddled in the back of the room. They both shrieked when Daniel emerged. He ripped the folds of blue away from his face.
"Daniyal!" Sha'uri exclaimed, running across the room toward him. He caught her in his arms and held her tightly, barely hearing the continuing gunfire from elsewhere in the house, or her dismayed comments.
"Daniyal, you are bleeding! You are covered in blood! Where are you hurt?"
He pushed her away, holding her worried face in his hands, noting that his blood was in her hair, then kissing her, his beloved wife. She was fine! Clean and unhurt, not raped and dead, as Daniel had feared. He crushed her against him again, and heard himself laughing wildly.
"Daniyal, stop this!" she protested, but she was laughing as well.
"Come on!" he urged her, grabbing her hand, tugging her back toward the stairs again. She spat on the dead body as they went by. Daniel wasn't ready to feel the guilt yet, that he had killed these people who had not, in fact, hurt Sha'uri in any way. He knew he would feel it. But that was for another day.
They ran down the stairs, only to be confronted by a middle-aged woman, with graying hair. Her face was streaked with tears, and her hands were bloody.
"You!" she shouted at Sha'uri. "You!" And before Daniel understood what was happening, the woman shoved a kitchen knife into his wife's side.
Whether by luck or training, the woman must have found exactly the right pair of ribs. Sha'uri gasped and immediately began choking on blood. She collapsed to her knees and died almost instantly. Stabbed through the heart.
Daniel found himself on his knees beside her, kneeling in a pool of her blood. The woman stood above them, staring, shock written on her face, and Daniel didn't care.
He stood and pointed his gun at her. Lined it up between her eyes. She knew she was going to die. He saw he horror in her expression.
Slowly, he lowered the weapon again.
"Now that Sha'uri is dead," he said to her conversationally, "I think I will burn this place in her memory. I give you a quarter of an hour to be sure all the innocents are out of this house. Then it burns."
Her hands flew to cover her mouth, then she turned and ran, screaming for her sisters and her maids and her children.
Daniel stooped again to lift Sha'uri's dead weight from the floor and carry her to the trucks outside. Kasuf saw them and began to scream and tear his clothes, but others among the men eyed Daniel uncertainly and he knew that some of them, maybe even most of them, thought Daniel had punished this honor crime by killing his tainted wife. It didn't matter to him what they thought. She was dead. He laid her gently in the back of his own truck. He brushed her hair back from her face, touching the smooth skin. She was so still. She didn't look like she was sleeping at all. She looked like a piece of art. A sculpture representing the hopeless depravity of human existence – the death of an angel, with blood in her hair.
He looked away from her and went around to the cab of the truck. He sat in the front seat, then picked up his radio, which he had forgotten to carry inside with him.
"Ahsan," he said into it, "are you watching the back of the house?"
"Yes," came the crackling, staticy reply.
"Ask them if they are all out of the building. Do you see children?"
Though the radio remained dead, he could hear Ahsan shouting, asking them if they had all of the children out of the house. No, no! he heard them reply.
"They say not," Ahsan reported over the radio.
"Tell them they have three more minutes," Daniel said. "Make them tell you who still has to come out. When you see them, tell me. We're burning this place to the ground."
He laid the radio back on the seat. He didn't really check the clock. Even in his grief, he would not set fire to that place if he thought children might be inside it. But quickly enough, Ahsan's voice crackled through again.
"I see all of them," he said.
Daniel stood outside the truck again. He took a grenade from the supply of weapons in the back. He had never used one before. He wondered if it was just like the movies. He held the handle, he pulled the pin, and he threw it into the open front door of the house.
The explosion was surprisingly large.
He turned to Abdul Halim and Galib.
"Take gasoline inside. Set the whole place on fire. But if you find any person there, let them leave."
He stooped to look inside the truck again. From behind the driver's seat, he took an old, beaten up suitcase. It wasn't even that heavy. He walked around the house with it. The children stood hiding behind their mothers, crying and screaming. When they saw him, some of them ran away. None of them, thankfully, back towards their home. He went up to the gathered women and deliberately placed the suitcase on the ground before them. He offered a polite bow, his hands spread in a gesture of peace.
"As my wife is dead and I can no longer ransom her, please accept this price demanded for her life. Do not let it be said that I did not provide for the widows and orphans of the criminals who stole my Sha'uri."
Then he turned his back on them, as they broke out in wails and screams. He expected a knife in his back. In some ways the thought was soothing and the anticipation almost a hope. But no, they did not dare to attack him, and he walked back around to his convoy of trucks as the first roar of flames came through the windows of the doomed house.
They got back into their trucks and carried Sha'uri home.
So, he turned his face away from the world, rarely leaving Abydos unless it was in the role of the Beast ruling his domain. The world knew he had killed and burned and avenged, and the world believed he had slaughtered even his own beloved wife. The Good Father returned to Egypt in his grief. Though many of his household stayed and remained loyal, the Beast was always alone, and always haunted by the memory of the children that screamed upon the sight of him and ran to get away from him. The Beast was unable to forget the sounds of their weeping mothers or the roar of the flames devouring their home.
"So how does a nice California boy end up a feared and influential warlord?" Jack asked.
"You like the accent?" Daniel responded. "I decided I needed to pick an American one, so I would sound like less of a linguistic Frankenstein."
"Well, you did a great job. And you totally ignored my question. And don't just stalk off again. I was perfectly civil."
"By accident," Daniel said shortly.
Jack gave him his best don't-shit-me look.
"Surely they briefed you," Daniel sighed.
"Of course! A general was missing and they had a retrieval team in the neighborhood ready to roll. They briefed us! They said, 'Watch out for this guy, he's a killer.'"
"That sounds like a crappy briefing."
"Look where it got me," Jack agreed, gesturing broadly to the room around them.
"My wife died," Daniel began. "Actually, it was a kidnapping, and her father convinced me that I should handle things the local way. And the result was that she died. Along with a lot of other people. I personally killed five men that day."
Jack felt for the guy.
"You're thinking I should have let the police handle it," Daniel said.
"No, I was actually thinking a guy like you should have paid the ransom. That's how it's done in this part of the world," Jack replied frankly.
"Yeah. That's what I should have done. That's what I wanted to do. But Kasuf convinced me that Sha'uri would want me to deal with the crime against her honor in a way that would socially exculpate her of guilt. That meant holding her kidnappers responsible and punishing them. Looking back on it, I wish I could say I would have done things differently. But I don't know…"
"You might still have her," Jack said.
"But if the family felt like that, I might also have lost her anyway. If I hadn't killed her, her father or brothers might have, or if they didn't, we might have been ostracized from the family. Kasuf made me think she might even kill herself."
"Was it worth killing five people?"
"Twelve, actually," Daniel replied. "Every adult male in the house when we got there. I was only personally responsible for five of them. And we burned the place down."
"Wow," Jack said, with a low whistle.
"So, anyway, I made all our guys dress with the tagelmust…"
"Uniforms create a psychological advantage," Jack murmured approvingly.
"And what with killing every adult male in the compound…"
"And the burning it down," Jack agreed. "Yeah, I can see how that would get a guy a reputation with the locals."
"It would have been perfect, if Sha'uri hadn't died. In a way. Nobody trespasses in our orchard anymore, and we've got tons of respect in the community. Apparently that family had been running that kidnapping ring for years. Most families ransomed their women…"
"Then killed them?" Jack guessed.
"Gotta love honor killings," Daniel said.
Daniel was quiet for a while. Jack had lost his appetite for pie.
"Anyway, with the reputation, comes the demand to maintain the reputation," Daniel said. "So when General West's convoy was attacked, we had to make sure it didn't happen again in our neighborhood."
Jack just nodded. He went to the kitchen and brought back two beers. He put one in front of Daniel, then sat back and sipped his own.
"So I became the Beast," Daniel said. "Meskh[5]. But Belle isn't coming to save me. She's already dead."
"You don't have to stay here," Jack said. "Just go home."
"But what's the point, if I don't stay?" Daniel asked. "At least here, I can give it all some kind of meaning."
"What kind of meaning?" Jack asked.
Daniel snorted. "Trying to get me drunk while emotionally vulnerable so that I'll spill the beans? Not gonna work," Daniel said.
"Can't blame a guy for trying," Jack said.
"If that's the case…" Daniel began.
"No," Jack said, preemptively.
"I don't want to sleep alone now," Daniel pleaded. There was genuine misery in his eyes. Jack wanted so badly to say yes.
"No," Jack said again.
"Not for sex?" Daniel begged. "Just for sleep?"
"Seriously. You know there would be sex," Jack scowled.
"Really!" Daniel said. "Then I definitely think we should sleep together!" It sounded forced to Jack, like Daniel was trying to change the mood.
"Absolutely not," Jack worked hard to maintain the scowl when what he really wanted to do was give the guy a big hug.
"I suppose not," Daniel sighed. "Well, in that case, I'll say goodnight."
After he left, Jack thoughtfully drank Daniel's untouched beer.
Another night, another dinner.
"Hot dogs are so not halal," Jack commented, loading his first one up with chili and mustard. He'd come back for onions, and cheese next.
"Turkey dogs," Daniel said.
"You have to tell me what the guys think of them," Jack said.
"Probably that they are the most disgusting thing Daania has come up with to cook for you yet," Daniel grumbled.
"Not a fan of hot dogs, eh? Some kind of Californian vegetarian Commie, are ya?"
"No!" Daniel protested. "I am not!"
"Though I have to say, I like the way you eat those things," Daniel said, timing his comment for just the moment Jack wrapped his lips around his second bite.
"Oh, my God, do not do this, Daniel. I'm tryin' to eat here."
"Once you sucked me off, you could do whatever you wanted with me."
"Shut up, shut up!" Jack said around his mouth full of what should be delicious, non-erotic, junky goodness.
"I like it rough. Or sweet. Or tied up. You know, whatever way you like it," Daniel purred.
And he was totally not getting hard thinking about sucking Daniel off, while Daniel was helplessly tied to a dildo stuck up his ass.
Daniel reached up to touch his veil.
"Don't you dare!" Jack said, jumping up and turning his back on Daniel, practically running for the kitchen. "I'll lock myself in the armory," he threatened.
He heard Daniel laughing behind him.
"You know you want me," Daniel said. "I saw how much!"
"You saw no such thing!" Jack shouted from the kitchen.
"You like it when I talk dirty," Daniel howled in delight.
Jack grabbed a hot dog from the plate and stalked out of the kitchen again, prowling across the room toward Daniel menacingly. Daniel's eyes widened.
"Yes. Let's take that veil and turban off. I'd like to see what you look like with a wiener in your mouth."
Daniel dodged around the back of his chair, then beat a hasty retreat up the stairs.
"You just think about that!" Jack yelled after him.
He happened to glance out the open window to see one of the guys peering over curiously. Maybe Ahsan. He waved the hotdog at the man cheerfully, and went back to the kitchen. He wasn't going to give Daniel the satisfaction of going up to his room to wank off now. He was going to finish his dinner. He could always wank off later.
The morning he came in from his run and found Daniel already downstairs shooting the Glock, Jack knew he was in serious trouble. Not only did he not eroticize hot dogs in his usual life, he also never popped a woody watching another guy unload his weapon down the range. But seeing Daniel there, handling that gun so deftly, his stance a little short, but his shots all in the chest, Jack was hard enough to pound nails. And certainly would have loved to combine some of his body parts with some of Daniel's.
Also, Daniel wasn't wearing his turban.
Jack only saw him from behind. The strap of the shooting goggles wrapped firmly over sun streaked honey-blond hair held back in a rubber band. It probably fell to Daniel's shoulders when it was loose.
Jack wanted to see it loose. He wanted to touch it. It looked like silk, sticking to Daniel's sweaty neck.
Jack practically ran back up the stairs to his room, skipping his swim, skipping his shooting. All Daniel had to do now was cross the line, and Jack would follow him right over it. But Jack couldn't do that, so Daniel couldn't find out how easy it would be.
"Patrols go out every four hours," Jack reported, in response to Cromwell's direct question. "But otherwise, I don't see any sign of training or drilling in the compound."
"Ariel photography shows Angel's got something going on in the field behind the kitchen garden," replied Cromwell. "It's under tents. CinC wants to know what it is."
"Let the General know Angel has explicitly stated that area is off limits to all visitors. As an official representative and liaison, I've been minding my Ps and Qs, and staying within Angel's reasonable demands. Please confirm that CinC wants me to change my SOP."
"Will do," Cromwell responded. "Command 2 out."
Jack frowned at the radio.
The General was going to order him to find out what Daniel was doing here. Once he received the direct order, Jack would carry it out.
He stared at his plate on the table. He didn't usually feel conflicted about his orders. This was why you didn't get too friendly with – well, anybody – in his line of work. Daniel wasn't exactly the enemy, after all.
"Problem?" Daniel asked, returning from the kitchen. He had been so tempted by the mocha chocolate concoction that Daania has sent for their dessert that he had shooed Jack out of the kitchen so he could try it. Now he noticed that Jack wasn't eating.
Jack looked at him, standing there in his ridiculous disguise. They all wore them to protect themselves from Jack and what he represented. They were smart to do that. They should protect themselves from him. Especially Daniel. Daniel, the American, fucking around in the enemy's back yard, playing with fire and the US Air Force and thinking he was going to sit in his stupid little date grove and his rose garden and his dirt and come away clean.
"Why do you stay here, Daniel? What gives it meaning?"
Daniel blinked at the unexpected question, asked so frankly.
"Just tell me the parts you want to tell. Keep your secrets."
Daniel's eyes took on a thoughtful expression.
"Well," he began. "Kasuf bought this date grove as a gift to Sha'uri. The family is in the date business back in Egypt, and he has had an interest in expanding into Barhi date production, as well as getting into the Iraqi market. This grove was recently abandoned. By continuing to grow dates here, and by processing them in the town, I am making a major positive impact on the local economy that would stagnate if this grove died."
He paused.
"I also built the girl's school in Ar Raga'i. I pay the teachers, provide the security, and the school is free. The Sha'uri bint-Kasuf Jackson al-Mishri School for Girls. You know, in case anybody doesn't get it."
Jack stiffened at the slip. Daniel paused too, as if he had suddenly realized what he had done.
Jackson.
Daniel shut his eyes and sighed deeply. He stood up.
"I'm sorry. I think it's time I went upstairs." He turned on his heel to do just that.
Jack bolted to his feet, catching Daniel's wrist before he could go. Daniel turned wide eyes on him as Jack raised his hand and tugged the veil away from Daniel's face.
He was shockingly young, almost a boy to Jack's eyes. Couldn't be much more than 25, and maybe he was even younger. His eyes were so, so blue, but Jack knew that already. He drowned in those eyes every night. His strong handsome nose and his sweet, full mouth, would look perfect framed by his sun-blond hair. Jack let go of Daniel's wrist and pulled the whole winding cotton mess off Daniel's head and buried his fingers in sweat-damp hair, knocking the rubber band out of it, feeling it play between his fingers. He found a chipped tooth with his tongue. Daniel tasted like chocolate and coffee and was surprisingly strong as he recovered from his surprise and wrapped his arms around Jack, bringing his wiry frame hard against Jack's body, throwing himself into the increasingly desperate kiss without regard for who might be walking by to see them today."Windows," Daniel gasped, eventually. OK, not total disregard. Even friends as loyal as Abdul Halim and Ahsan might have problems with their leader being gay.
"Hurry up," Jack growled, allowing Daniel to break away from him and pull him by the hand toward the stairs. Daniel started toward Jack's bed, but Jack redirected him, so that he had to fumble for his key and unlock the door. Jack got a vague impression of lots of color and lots of stuff before he was pulling at Daniel's clothes, letting Daniel strip Jack's own uniform away. He was completely naked when the dog tags hit the floor.
Daniel was eyeing Jack's monster hard on with equal parts lust and apprehension.
"You have about thirty seconds left to shut this down," Jack said trying not to sound menacing.
"No, no!" Daniel said. "Not shutting this down. Just wondering if you've ever done it this way before."
"You've got nothing to worry about," Jack replied, advancing on Daniel again. The young man flopped back into his bed – more of a nest of disarranged blankets and pillows, really. "You can never use too much lube, right?"
Daniel snorted and waved vaguely in the direction of a largish basket next to his nest. Jack dropped onto the blankets, knees to either side of Daniel's, and hovered over him, staring down at him, then deliberately leaned down to kiss him again. It was so easy, and not strange at all, kissing. He kissed him thoroughly, exploring, finding the chipped tooth again, and an agile, responsive tongue, though Daniel lay still and otherwise passive, just letting their kiss go on. Slowly, Jack brought his naked body down against Daniel's.
All Jack's limited experience with men had been hard and fast, one bent over, the other fucking. Slightly more often a quick blow job, usually not even mutual. Nothing like stretching out alongside a lover to kiss and feel.
They were so close to the same height, everything matched almost perfectly. Definitely weird, feeling Daniel's erection pressing against his, prodding into his belly, precum making things moist and slidey. The hard chest flat chest was different, too, though Daniel was so smooth, Jack was going to have to touch and explore his body, too. He had had never stopped being surprised when he found a man's angular planes sexy, in the way that a woman's curves were, but Jack made a living evaluating and understanding reality and dealing with it, and there was no doubt that he was reacting to Daniel as strongly as he had ever reacted to a woman.
He broke off the kiss and knelt up, giving himself space to look and touch. Daniel was watching him with hooded eyes, but the spark of curiosity and interest that had been there since Jack first met him was there now, fully focused on Jack, the questions behind there were probably half predictable, half pure-Daniel. Jack decided to head them off with a question of his own.
"What's your favorite thing to do in bed?" he asked.
Daniel blinked at him, clearly taken off guard. Then he smiled slowly. He twisted his upper body and reached into the basket, placing the tube into Jack's hand.
"I would love a long, slow screw," he murmured, watching Jack's face, "on our sides, with your arms around me…"
Something about the image that created was like a punch to Jack's gut.
"We won't need a lot of prep to do it that way, if you go slow at the beginning," Daniel continued. He was rolling on his side, and Jack shifted his stance to let him. Daniel drew a knee up, toward his chest, and pressed his face into a pillow for a moment, maybe in embarrassment to be offering so much so quickly. Jack fumbled with the lid, thanking his years of training to handle adrenaline that his hands were steady and sure as he took gel onto his fingers and shifted his body so that he lay behind Daniel, matching the position of his body, draping his own leg just below Daniel's bent one.
As their bodies came into alignment again, Daniel gave a full-body shiver.
"Yeah," he breathed, so low that Jack could hardly hear him.
Jack's hand was busy between them. He rubbed against Daniel's hole, using all his discipline to hold his own hips still and not rock their bodies together. Rocking was what he wanted to do, and it would feel so good, but if Daniel wanted a long, slow screw, then Jack needed control, not to let his own arousal outpace his current needs.
Daniel's body was so hot and tight there. Jack hadn't done much of this, either, the studious preparation of a lover for this kind of pleasure. Sara had never really been into it, and frankly, considering how hot their love-life had been, Jack had never felt any lack during his married years, when he was completely loyal to her. It was messy and made her uncomfortable and there were other things to do. Jack's inexperience made him want to be slow and cautious, but Daniel was definitely loving everything Jack did, rocking back onto Jack's fingers now. Jack could feel more than hear Daniel moaning, a low rumble in Daniel's chest that might be better described as growling.
Suddenly, Daniel was reaching around, tugging Jack's hand away, and reaching for Jack's dick. It was a shock to feel someone else's hand on him, after the agony of the divorce and the personal isolation of deployment, and Daniel wasn't stopping. He was bringing Jack into line to penetrate him.
"This is not going to be a long slow screw," Jack gasped, rolling his body forward a bit, using his leverage to crush Daniel still beneath him. "Especially not if you are doing that."
"What? Touching you?" Daniel laughed breathlessly.
"Ask me later how long it's been since I had a lover," Jack replied. His heart felt like it was trying to pound its way out into Daniel's chest. Jack slowly and carefully pressed his hips forward. He missed the target, but still got a groan from Daniel, as his dick dragged across the other man's perineum and sensitized anus. There was enough lubrication that Jack could easily just do this, rubbing into the channel created by Daniel's ass cheeks and Jack's belly. It felt so sweet, Jack had to shut his eyes and grit his teeth as he exerted the willpower to make himself stop again.
He wanted what Daniel wanted, to make it good and make it last.
He guided himself back to the target, and on the way gave his balls a tight, rough squeeze to bring himself back from the brink. He gripped himself so hard tears stung his eyes. Yeah, that worked. He lined himself up and held lightly as he pressed with his hips. Daniel gave a little wiggle and suddenly Jack popped in. It was too much too fast, he could tell from Daniel's answering gasp, which was more of a pain response than a gasp of ecstasy.
"Sorry," Jack whispered. "Sorry." He stopped completely and wrapped his arms around Daniel, listening carefully to his breathing, waiting for it to even out, waiting for Daniel to move. He did, clamping down on Jack's dick and pushing back at the same time.
"Oh," was all Jack could say, his breath rushing out of him and Daniel pulled him in.
They rocked together until Jack was buried deep in the body in his arms. His head was swimming with the pleasure of sex and touch. Even the sweltering heat of Daniel's strangely un-air-conditioned bedroom – even their sweat – felt luxurious, not oppressive. Daniel's arms were twined around Jack's. Daniel was a bundle of muscle and sinew, relaxed and heavy against him. He pressed his nose into Daniel's hair, inhaling the scents of Daniel's musk and sweat, combined with the lightly citrus perfume of Daniel's shampoo, and the patchouli of his soap.
Now that they were locked together, wound around each other, it was easier than Jack had expected to bank the flames and just enjoy being this close to someone else. He nuzzled deeper into Daniel's hair and nibbled at his neck and ear, enjoying Daniel's ticklish squirms as Jack's breath passed across his dampened ear lobe.
Daniel rotated and shifted his hips. It was Jack's turn to shudder. Daniel's shift felt fantastic, and apparently Daniel agreed. He groaned and began pressing his ass back against Jack's crotch.
"Perfect," Daniel breathed. "Just a little faster," he said.
"Here goes," Jack said agreeably. Their rhythm sped up, and suddenly the long slow screw seemed in jeopardy.
"I'm not going to hold out long," he ground out. He was trying to tamp it down, but instead of slowing things down, Daniel was speeding them up.
"I don't care," Daniel replied. "Just do it."
So Jack let go. He rolled Daniel forward again, which got a responding moan that was the loudest noise Daniel had made so far. He just fucked now, almost blindly, his face buried in the damp strands of Daniel's hair, his body soaked in Daniel's sweat, his dick buried in Daniel's ass. The explosion of his orgasm took him by complete surprise.
He woke up flat on his back, intensely aware of his nudity. He was particularly aware of his damp, used package, his spent cock feeling raw and perfectly abused. Daniel was sitting naked and cross-legged in the blankets next to him. There was a book open in his hands, but he was staring at Jack thoughtfully. He had a serious, contemplative look on his face that didn't change as Jack gazed back at him.
"What happened?" Daniel asked softly.
"I don't know," Jack said, mostly honestly. "I think General West is about to order me to find out what you do down there in the tents below your garden."
"So suddenly you had to sleep with me?"
Jack didn't have any response that made sense, so he just lay there and looked back into Daniel's serious eyes.
"What should I do?" Daniel asked.
"Don't tell me anything," Jack said. "If he orders me to find out information, and I find it out, then I will tell him."
"Your first loyalty is to him," Daniel said. "And yet, you fucked me."
"It doesn't make sense," Jack agreed. "I knew what I signed on for when I joined up. I have responsibilities and I live up to them."
"I thought you had a law about what we just did," Daniel said flatly.
"Yeah," Jack agreed. "It doesn't make sense."
"Yes, it does," Daniel said. He sounded positively angry now. "Alewhesh. Meskh,[5]" he muttered. Jack didn't know if Daniel was referring to himself or Jack. Jack somehow suspected Daniel meant him.
"What did you expect me to say?" Jack asked.
"I don't know," Daniel replied. "But not this." His expression was closed. Jack wasn't even used to seeing Daniel's face yet, and already he was not happy to see Daniel with that set to his mouth to match the hard glint in his eyes.
"I'm going to have a shower," Daniel said.
Jack lay staring at the decorated ceiling of Daniel's bedroom. It was painted as if it were tiled. The detail was fantastic, and Jack felt a twinge, thinking that this must have been the bedroom Daniel shared with his wife, designed for her. Sha'uri bint-Kasuf Jackson al-Mishri – Sha'uri, daughter of Kasuf, wife of Jackson, the Egyptian.
She had taken her husband's name, in the Egyptian fashion.
He listened to the water start, then got up and followed Daniel.
The bathroom was a mirror image of Jack's, but rather than simple clean white and blue tile, this one was as intricately tiled as the bedroom ceiling was painted. The breeze through the open window carried the ever-present aroma of the ripening dates. The cloud of steam from the shower smelled of lemongrass and grapefruit. He stepped in. Daniel was facing him under the spray, his hair full of soap, his eyes closed. Jack reached out and helped him to work the water into his hair, rinsing the later away. Daniel's eyes shot open. He hadn't heard Jack come into the room over the sound of the water.
"Don't tell me anything," Jack said. "Don't expect anything."
"But I already told you everything," Daniel protested. "And I already know exactly what to expect."
He pressed his body against Daniel's letting the spray wash over both of them. He would smell of Daniel's rich patchouli soap when they were done. He kissed Daniel's full lips, tasting the slightly metallic flavor of the water and the bitterness of shampoo.
Daniel didn't push him away, but the kiss was angry and aggressive, not warm and gentle like their lovemaking had been. His arms came up around Jack tightly, gripping him. He shoved his knee between Jack's legs, pressing his thigh into Jack's groin. Jack let himself be shoved into the back wall of the shower stall, then out of the running water into the room. The back of his calves hit the cold tile on the platform of the soaking tub, and Daniel pushed him to sit on the hard surface, then reached down and caught him behind the knees and tipped him back. Jack caught himself on his elbows, then eased himself onto his back. Daniel's purpose was clear, and Jack clamped down of the impulse to fight him. It wasn't hard to surrender. His cock was already filling at the thought of being taken this way.
He watched as Daniel cast his eyes about the room for a lubricant, Jack's feet already propped on his shoulders. He leaned over to snatch a bottle from behind Jack's head. The Arabic label said it was rose oil, and the floral scent was strong as Daniel poured it out into his hand, then drizzled it over Jack's cock and crotch. He massaged it quickly and efficiently into Jack's anus, not being particularly gentle, but definitely being thorough. One finger then two entered him in rapid succession. Daniel's face was grim. Jack's back arched in surprise when Daniel touched something inside him. Rough fast fucks didn't always mean prostate stimulation. Daniel caught Jack's lifted hips and Jack felt the hot blunt tip of Daniel's penis sliding against his ass.He tried to reach around to help show him where to put it, but Daniel had lifted him to an awkward angle, resting on his shoulders, and Jack was off balance, unprepared to be handled in quite this way. Daniel practically dragged Jack's body onto his cock, or that was how it seemed to Jack. The muscles in his arms were flexing. His neck and face showed the effort. But he moved with control that Jack could distantly respect as he was pushed open. Daniel was stretching him. Jack felt the sting and burn of the stretch and Daniel didn't give him time to adjust to it, just kept pushing and Jack didn't tell him no or ask him to stop, just tried to relax his body and let Daniel be in control.
Then Daniel's cock found that place he'd hit with his fingers and suddenly all Jack wanted to do was shove more of Daniel's fat cock inside his ass.
Daniel made a choked sound and then it was clear that Daniel must have been being slow and gentle after all, because he snapped his hips forward with force and knocked all of the air out of Jack's lungs.
It felt like forever before Jack could breathe again, and frankly, he couldn't care less. Daniel was pounding him now, hitting that place. Jack's dick had never been harder in his life, bouncing off his belly, dancing free in the cool air. Jack found the pool of wasted rose oil under him and wrapped a slick hand around his cock. He unloaded in a blinding flash, but Daniel wasn't done. He kept pounding into Jack's spent body and it was a combination of agony and pleasure unlike anything Jack had experienced before.
Finally Daniel growled and his hips jerked forward and stilled. Jack saw the expression on his face and knew that Daniel was coming, flooding into Jack's body. All he felt was a flutter, or maybe he imagined it. He wished suddenly that he could actually feel and taste Daniel's cock in his throat and hoped that this wasn't the end of it – that this wasn't Daniel's revenge fuck before he threw Jack away.
Slowly, everything about Daniel's body relaxed. He eased himself out and then carefully set Jack down, first so that his back rested on the tile platform, then letting his legs down toward the floor. He followed them down, kneeling on the bath mat and resting his head on Jack's thigh. He was breathing hard. Jack lay there on the cool surface, staring up at the ceiling again.
"I kept expecting you to stop me," Daniel panted. "I can't believe you didn't stop me."
"Why would I stop you?" Jack asked. "That felt fantastic." Though now he was going to have a sore ass tomorrow as well as a raw dick. Note to self: Next time, more lube.
Daniel lifted his head to stare up at him.
"There is no way you've ever done that before," Daniel said accusatorily.
Jack made a dismissive sound, waving his hand vaguely, though he supposed that was a wasted effort, as Daniel wasn't looking at him anymore, but had gone back to using Jack's leg for a pillow.
"Why did you do this, today?" Daniel asked. Jack got the impression Daniel was the one making the vague hand gestures now.
"Why are we talking after sex?" Jack asked.
"That's what happens when you have sex in really uncomfortable places," Daniel explained. "You can't just pass out afterwards."
"I could pass out," Jack disagreed.
"Well, don't," Daniel ordered. "You still need a shower. And sleeping like that would be hell on your back."
"What are you trying to say," Jack demanded. "Are you trying to say I'm old?"
"Older than me, anyway," Daniel agreed. He stood up – none too gracefully at least, Jack took perverse pleasure in noting. He offered Jack a hand.
"You have to explain," Daniel said. His face was serious. He wasn't going to just let it go.
"I don't know," Jack admitted. "Something just snapped today. I didn't want to say no to you anymore. If I might have to say yes to something I hate, why should I keep saying no to something I – don't hate." He stumbled over the last few words, because they weren't the words he wanted to say, and those words would have felt so natural and he knew he couldn't possibly say them.
Jack put on the headset and checked in right on schedule. "House 1 to Command, do you copy?"
"Reading you loud and clear, House 1," replied the duty sergeant. "Standby for Command 2."
"Standing by," Jack replied.
"Jack, this is Frank." Oh, this couldn't be good. First names, what the hell? "We got a communication from the Red Cross this morning. Your ex and your son were in an accident. They're both in pretty bad shape. Charlie has a busted leg and is going to have some pretty major surgery. They think he's going to be OK, but the docs don't think Sara is going to make it. We're planning to send in a whirly bird this afternoon to extract you. What we need to know is does CinC need to come out to meet with Angel and renegotiate the relationship?"
Jack couldn't answer. All the air had gone out of his lungs. He shut his eyes against the dizzy feeling.
He took a deep breath and opened his eyes again.
He must have paused too long.
"House 1, do you need me to say again?"
"Negative. Reading you five," Jack replied. Steady and professional. Well trained. Compartmentalized. "Expect a reply within the hour. House 1 out."
Jack got to his feet and secured his equipment, then went out into the hall. No one was around the main building, which wasn't unusual. Jack knew Daniel's men made space for Jack to move during the day, according to Daniel's orders. And these days, if they weren't all out working on Daniel's project they were working in the date groves. Jack had been feasting on khalal dates since he'd arrived. They had been getting sweeter and sweeter, and now it was the end of September and the Medjool fruit was coming in and it was all hands on deck – or all climbing guys up the tall trees, as it were. Trucks were in and out, too, taking Daniel's dates down to the processing warehouse in the town.
The question was, where would he find Daniel himself? It was a big agricultural operation, and although Jack suspected Daniel wasn't here for the dates, it was, in fact, his orchard.
Jack went searching for the one person he was certain was still in the house.
He followed his nose to the kitchen. There he found two cooks. A thin, elderly woman, draped in black from head to toe, moving purposefully back and forth between modern kitchen appliances. A second woman crouched by a more traditional hearth, built into the wall. His appearance brought a startled cry from the woman by the cookfire. The old woman whirled around, then smiled broadly and welcomingly.
"Colonel O'Neill," she exclaimed. "We are honored and humbled!"
Jack bowed and touched his fingers to his forehead.
"Daania," he said, "I cannot thank you enough. You have sustained me all these weeks. Sadly, I have received terrible news from my family and I need to find Daniel right away. Do you know where he is?"
"I believe he is below the garden today," she said in dismay. "But you are not to…"
Jack bowed again.
"Please don't worry," Jack said, turning and practically running from the room. He stopped in the hall and got himself under control, then started out again, striding purposefully out the backdoor and around the house.
Habibah was weeding in the tomato patch. She jumped up to follow him as he walked by."No, sir. Daniyal will not approve," she protested, catching his hand. Jack knelt down to speak to her eye-to-eye.
"Don't worry, it will be OK," he reassured her. "You can go back to your garden."
She adopted a stubborn frown and held his hand tighter. Jack sighed and stood up again. He continued down the gradual slope.
The scent of the roses in the midday heat lay heavy over the garden. A sharp thorn caught Jack's hand.
Jack could see clearly into the tents now. A handful of men, some dressed in dishdashas and others just in jeans and white shirts, were working in the carefully denoted plots.
Habibah dashed forward.
"Ustath! Ustath!" she called to Daniel. He was leaning over a sawhorse and plywood table set up next to one of the excavations, scribbling as he peered closely at something very small he held in his left hand.
Daniel turned to Habibah, and it was a unexpected jolt, seeing Daniel as himself, not The Beast, his young, soft features, his hair, his ears for cryinoutloud. The only thing Daniel and The Beast shared were the eyes. Daniel had looked past Habibah and caught sight of Jack, and those sea-changing eyes hardened from liquid concern to cold blue ice in seconds.
"Habibah, run back up to the garden. Your father says you must get the weeds out of the tomatoes."
"Yes, Ustath, but…"
"I see him. You run back up to the house."
The little girl turned around and ran away again, glaring at Jack as she ran back.
Daniel strode after her and took Jack forcibly by the elbow, turning him back toward the house as well.
"What's going on, Jack? I thought you were the one who said you should see nothing and I should say nothing?" his voice was low and urgent, adding to Jack's impression that they certainly were not the only two people in the compound who spoke English.
"I'm sorry. It's an emergency. The general is on his way here. Daniel, I have to leave."
"No," Daniel said flatly.
Jack shook his head.
"I wouldn't go. I don't want to go. But it's Charlie. There's been an accident. I don't have all the details yet, but if the Red Cross is sending telegrams and a general is coming to pick me up, I know it has to be bad.
"No," Daniel said again, his voice rising and cracking. "You can't go. It's a violation of my agreement with the general."
"What are you talking about, Daniel?" Jack nearly shouted back. "This is Charlie!"
"No, you can't leave," Daniel said. Jack could see that he was shaking. He wrapped his arms around himself, a defensive move that The Beast would never have made. It made him look even younger. "I want you here. Tell West if you go, our deal is off. He'll find the roads impassible."
"Listen to yourself, Daniel. This is crazy. You can't threaten these people. You made a deal with an individual negotiating for his own life, but it's been weeks now. They don't need you anymore to secure safety for our vehicles and personnel. Do you know what is happening to the date groves of Iraq? If you get in their way, they'll bomb your beautiful trees back into the desert."
Daniel stalked away from him.
"The deal was you stay. If you go, West and the US Air Force can go to Hell," Daniel called back over his shoulder. He went back to his work, bending back over his notes as if Jack had never come down from the house.
Jack stared in disbelief, then slowly turned and walked back up toward the house.
He went back to his operations room to find Daania there, waiting for him, with a glass of ayran[6]. He accepted it gladly. He drank it in one long draught, then held the refrigerator chilled glass to first one eye, then the other. The old woman clicked her tongue and took the tumbler away from him.
"Go back to the house and lie down," she scolded him, like his own mother would.
"Thank you, Daania, but I must speak with my general again," he said.
"Well, then, I will not get in the way of a man's work," she said, in a tone that suggested that some people should listen to their elders. She went back toward the kitchen and Jack went into his room and opened up the radio box again.
"This is House 1 to Command, do you copy."
"Copy, House 1, go ahead."
"Request that General West arrive 0500 tomorrow by whirlybird. Extraction team will not be necessary."
"Copy that, House. What's the delay? They've got a bird on standby for you right now."
"The Beast had some concerns about the change in the relationship. We are working out the details of my withdrawal."
Jack winced at his accidental multiple double entendres.
"House 1, this is CinCCommand, actual," Jack winced at the sudden intrusion. This could get bad.
"Go ahead, sir," Jack replied.
"Tell that jackass that a delay is not acceptable. I want you out of there now."
"He's a civilian, sir, and I don't think he's going to respond well to orders," Jack replied frankly. "He's in a position of responsibility here. He provides employment that supports the entire economy of a whole town. He sees his relationship with you as facilitated and supported by the ties he has developed with me. You know how locals can start to see what should be professional, structural relationships as personal ones."
"If he needs another liaison, I'll be more likely to agree to that if he holds up his end of the bargain and lets you leave without obstruction."
"That's not the problem, sir. I need another twelve hours to wrap things up here and get the Beast on the same page. Regardless, I'm leaving at 0500 if you'll send the transport. That's all the time I'm willing to give him."
There was a pause long enough that the operator came back on.
"Stand by, House 1."
"Standing by," Jack replied.
The radio crackled to life again.
"I'll trust your judgment on this, House 1. Transport will arrive at 0500. The Red Cross is moving you out on a commercial flight leaving from Dubai tomorrow afternoon. It's the fastest way to get you home, believe it or not. We'll have to move you straight from House to the Dubai International Airport."
"Copy that, general. I appreciate that. And I appreciate the opportunity to get things resolved here before I go."
"Command, out," the general replied.
Jack sat and stared at the dead radio. He slowly locked everything up and went out the side door into the yard. A few of Daniel's men were there, in their blue turbans. He saluted casually in their general direction and went straight to the house. One more dinner with the Beast, to convince him not to do anything everyone he loved would regret. He needed to focus on that, get in the mindset for that negotiation, but he couldn't get Charlie out of his head.
Jack needed Daniel to come to him, but that meant waiting, and with a head full of Charlie's busted up leg, waiting was going to make him crazy. They had said Sara probably wasn't going to make it. He didn't really want to think about that, either. There was nothing he could read or watch in the house that was going to be able to hold his attention, he knew that from long years of experience dealing with pre-mission jitters. Instead, he went down to the pool in the basement. He shucked his clothes at the door and started the propulsion system.
He got into the cool water and swam. It took some of the heat out of his eyes, and brought his concentration to the tricky balance of swimming on a treadmill, attending to his strokes and his breath. And swimming naked had a strange freedom to it, even if it was in the privacy of an indoor pool.
He swam a while, not sure how long, as he deliberately let go of thinking. When he finished he put his feet down and sat on the bench opposite the water jets, catching his breath and letting his head fall back on the edge of the pool, just resting.
"I'm sorry," Daniel said. Jack wasn't startled. He had been half-expecting and half-hoping that Daniel would find him here. "I reacted badly. Of course you have to go and of course I was being completely irrational. You're right. The strongest military in the world doesn't need my cooperation. So I will give it freely in exchange for being left to toil in safety and relative anonymity."
"Thank you," Jack said. He felt it, too. Gratitude that Daniel could see reason.
"I don't want to be alone," Daniel said. "I've been alone for a long time. Having you here helped me hold that feeling away."
"I'll come back," Jack said impulsively.
"No, you won't. I don't have the leverage to make that happen, and without a good reason, West won't waste a resource like you."
Jack didn't have a good argument against that. His own view of his future was confused at the moment. He didn't know what he was going to learn in the next few days about his family or how his responsibilities were going to change. He did know that he didn't want to leave this strange place, but he felt out of the world here, like reality didn't exist beyond the edges of Daniel's date plantation. A man like Jack could only live for so long before he had to return to reality. Too many things about his life and his personality tied him to the real world.
"When do you leave?" Daniel asked.
Jack stood and climbed over the edge of the pool.
"Tomorrow morning," he said, reaching for a towel.
"Can you leave earlier? Did my temper tantrum change your plans? I don't want to stop you from getting to Charlie as fast as possible."
"No," Jack said. "I'm on a little tighter schedule to make my flight home, but I'd rather be here, honestly, than getting shitfaced in Dubai waiting for my flight out."
Daniel was quiet, carefully not watching Jack as he dried off.
"I will come back, Daniel."
Daniel shook his head.
"I will," Jack said emphatically. "Sleep in my bed tonight."
Daniel looked at him sharply. Jack shrugged.
"I'm not sure I'm interested in any more intimacy with yet another person who is leaving."
"I'll come back," Jack almost snarled, snatching up his discarded pants from the floor and yanking them on over his damp, naked legs.
"Why would you do that?" Daniel asked, turning and walking out into the corridor. Jack scooped up the rest of his discarded clothes and followed him up the stairs.
Two blue turbans were in the kitchen, laying out Daania's dinner. Eyebrows were raised as Daniel and Jack emerged from the basement. Jack wondered if they were in response to Daniel's lack of headgear or Jack's lack of – well, zipped pants, for one thing. He caught a belt loop before they slid down completely. The delivery service made a hasty retreat into the garden, door slamming closed behind them.
"Why would I do that?" Jack asked thoughtfully.
Daniel turned to look at him. Jack was so used to having only Daniel's eyes to read, not seeing confusion written across Daniel's entire face, or seeing the look of hope there in the shape of his mouth, or the defiance in the set of his jaw.
"There's nothing here that can't wait," Jack said, gesturing to the food. He stepped toward Daniel, dropping his clothes on the tile floor. When he reached out to catch Daniel in his arms, the other man didn't stop him. "Let's go up."
"Why?" Daniel asked again.
"Because I want you?" Jack replied. "Because I don't want to leave here, but I can't stay. Because you want…"
Daniel's desperate mouth and aggressive tongue cut him off.
Jack melted into the kiss, feeling Daniel's arms as tight around him as his were around Daniel.
"I can't come with you," Daniel was saying.
"You don't have to," Jack replied.
Daniel was walking them toward the front of the house – toward the stairs – toward a bed somewhere. Daniel finally stopped kissing him when they couldn't negotiate the stairs. He took Jack's hand and Jack went up behind him, then let himself be pulled to Daniel's bed again.
They fell together, kissing and touching. It could have been heaven. Jack loved this, just enjoying the feel of his lover in his arms, and being so close to someone else. But it was goodbye, and there were other things he wanted to accomplish before he had to leave.
He rolled Daniel onto his back. He went easily enough, though he protested with grunts and tight fingers on Jack's skin as he tried to lever himself up. Jack laughed and pushed. Daniel glared up at him, already looking thoroughly ravished. Jack wanted to see that again and again, the red wet lips, the blue eyes nearly completely black with lust.
"You need to be more naked," Jack said firmly, and started on working Daniel's pants off. Daniel seemed to agree with this plan, because he was suddenly very cooperative, lifting his hips, and squirming to get free of his shirt even as Jack was pulling his khaki pants down his long, long legs, and his boxers along with them.
Jack went down on him while he was still tangled up in his shirt. That was what Jack wanted. He put his mouth on Daniel's erection, drawing a gasp and a sharp surprised yelp from Daniel. His hips bucked up, jamming his cock into the back of Jack's throat. Jack moved with him and managed not to choke, taking him hard by the hips to hold him still. He sucked him in whole three or four times, then backed off to check him out, up close, looking and licking, touching only with his tongue and eyes.
When he finally went back to sucking him in earnest, Daniel suddenly gasped, and flooded Jack's mouth with semen. Jack would have smiled at how easily Daniel came, but he didn't want to lose any of the liquid. He swallowed around the dick he still held between his lips, drinking the fluid down, wanting to experience that, too.
"Sorry, sorry," Daniel gasped. His hands were fluttering near Jack's head. Jack let his dick go with a pop, and crawled up Daniel's body, crushing their mouths together. A residual tremor swept through Daniel, rocking them both. Daniel's arms came weakly around his back as he let Jack ravage his mouth, making whimpering, groaning noises back to him.
Jack pulled Daniel's legs up, folding his pliant body, then realized he had skipped an important step. He put the tip of his cock against Daniel's hole, smearing precum there, applying gentle, controlled pressure. He propped Daniel's leg on his shoulder and replaced his cock with a thumb, pressing firmly, testing. Daniel took him in easily.
Jack took the fact that Daniel was repeating "Yes, yes, yes" over and over as an indication that it was okay to go ahead.
He rocked in slowly and carefully. Daniel helped, pressing against him and bearing down. When they were locked together, Daniel opened his eyes and looked up at him. Jack was drowning in the blue.
"Don't say you love me," Daniel warned him, just as he was opening his mouth to say it. "If you ever actually come back, you can tell me the reason then."
Jack carefully pulled back and pushed back in. Daniel stayed with him, eyes on him. He pulled out again, spit in his palm, lubed things up a little and pushed in again, a little easier this time. The whole time, Daniel watched him. It was difficult to hold his gaze so long – more intimate even than the sex.
Sex was just the animal act of fucking.
Daniel's eyes were the blue sky, and Jack was lost there.
At 0500, Jack was standing at the end of Daniel's road. He had three cases of equipment, neatly stacked. Daniel drove him down the half mile or so with the heavy boxes in the back of one of his trucks, along with Abdul Halim, Ahsan and Galib. His breakfast had been the meal Daania had sent for them the night before - minced spiced lamb, with a cool and yogurty cucumber sauce, bowls of the last fresh khalal and the earliest Medjool dates. The taboon[7] was soft and cool under a protective cover of several tea towels. Jack had been reluctant to eat, despite his stomach's demands. He wanted to pretend he could still taste Daniel for just a little longer.
The bird arrived right on schedule. He fought down the smile that came when he saw that the men who piled out to efficiently load up his gear were Boucher, Farris, Rouse, and Arroyo. Jack knew what he would have felt, leaving one of them behind in the hands of the enemy, and he knew he would have wanted to be the first one on the team that brought that guy home.He was surprised to see General West walk around from the other side of the helicopter, though.
West came around, looking first to Jack, who saluted smartly while still giving a discreet tilt of his head toward Daniel, who was in his turban again. The General returned his salute, then approached The Beast and offered his hand. Jack couldn't hear what was said over the bird's engines. There was nodding and more handshaking, then Daniel walked over to Jack. His eyes were hard. There was stress in the lines around them. Jack put out a comforting hand on Daniel's shoulder, as Daniel stood close to him, closing the envelope of personal space. It was very culturally correct for Iraq, but Jack had been skin to skin with Daniel in the shower less than 75 minutes ago, and he felt a very American discomfort, standing so close to Daniel with so many people watching. Touching him. He dropped his hand away. Daniel felt what he did and the line between his eyes deepened.
"I will," Jack said. No one would hear them, and no one would see, they stood so close together.
"Goodbye, Jack," Daniel said. "Take good care of Charlie."
Then Daniel turned away and walked back to his men, climbed into his truck and drove away.
Jack had never felt more alone.
He shook it off and turned to West.
"Are you ready, Colonel?" West asked crisply.
"Yes, sir!" Jack responded.
They loaded up and took off.
"I'm sorry we don't have any more information for you about your boy," West said. "There was a car accident, and that's all they told us. You will meet with a Red Cross representative in Dubai, so they may have more information for you later today. Also, there will be phones available on the plane."
"Thank you, sir," Jack replied.
West's eyes were on him, in the dim dawn light. Jack had the feeling that the general knew exactly why Jack had stayed longer, and exactly what Jack's hand on Daniel's shoulder had meant.
He told himself he was just being paranoid.
But he couldn't shake the feeling.
Although it broke his heart, Daniel knew that he had to let Jack go. He felt in his heart that he would never see Jack again, and he knew that he would never love anyone again. Not the way he had loved his wife, and not the way he had loved Jack. Everyone left him, or was taken from him. He knew it was unfair to feel they had all abandoned him, but whether they had chosen to leave him or not, the fact remained that they went away, and he stayed behind.
And now with Jack gone, and his special relationship with the Americans ended, he knew nothing would hold the Juhi's at bay anymore.
"Goodbye, Jack," he whispered to himself. "Maybe if you come back you will find that The Beast is already dead."
Then he turned and walked back up to Abydos, listening to the fading sound of the helicopter flying off into the dawn.
He arrived at Petersen at 0900 local time. Though Jack felt crumpled and used from fourteen hours in the air, he didn't even stop to change clothes and shower on his way through the base, just kept moving to the hospital.
He found his mother standing in the hallway outside Charlie's hospital room.
Beth O'Neill gave him a watery smile that released more tension in Jack than any words of reassurance could have.
"Charlie's going to be fine," she said into his chest as he hugged her.
"They said at the front desk that they're both in surgery?"
She nodded.
"They're working some more on Charlie's foot and ankle. Um…" Beth paused, looking tired as she tried to sort out the best order of the story for him. "He had knee surgery yesterday. The biggest job for him will be getting his leg sorted out. Otherwise, he had a clean break on the arm, and thank God, no head injury. She still had him in that BriTax seat you bought him."
"Well, I've always said they should build car compartments with five-point harnesses for everybody."
She snorted.
"Like any woman is going to reach between her legs for a crotch strap. All those g-forces have scrambled your brain."
More tension left Jack's chest when his mother chuckled to herself.
"What about Sara?" Jack asked.
Beth sighed and looked tired again.
"When they brought her in, they weren't sure she was going to make it. They basically told Marshall to expect the worst. Her heart stopped twice in the ambulance. She had two collapsed lungs, she's lost a kidney. The surgery today is to take her right leg. She's a mess, Jack. But she's a fighter. When they went out this morning, the doctor actually said for the first time that he thought she would probably pull through."
Jack looked around the nurse's station. He peered back into what was Charlie's now empty room.
"When did Charlie go in?" he asked.
"About an hour ago. They expect it to be a four or five hour surgery."
"Did Dad go out for food or something?" Jack asked.
"No, he's sitting with Marshall in the surgical waiting room."
Jack waved across the room to one of the nurses at the other end of the desk. She walked over.
"I'm assuming this lady's been here since Charlie came in?" he asked her.
"They all have," she confirmed. "We keep trying to chase them home so they can sleep, but they won't go." She gave Beth a stern look. His mother just made a dismissive noise.
"What's the procedure, if we want to bring in something to eat?"
The nurse smiled and walked down the long desk, returning with a well-worn Xeroxed sheet. "These are the places that deliver," she said. "The diner across the street," she pointed to the number on the list, "is pretty good, and really fast. I've got their menu right here." She opened a file drawer and pulled a worn glossy folded take-out menu from a hanging file.
"Can we borrow this?" Jack asked, taking it from her.
She smiled and nodded. Jack turned to his mother.
"Lead the way, Ma," he said.
He followed her though the maze of hallways to a large carpeted area with lots of chairs. Hank O'Neill and Marshall Owen were sitting together near a window. Both looked exhausted.
The two men stood to greet them. Jack put out his hand to his former father-in-law.
"Marshall," he said quietly. Marshall's handshake was firm as always. But his face was ashen.
"I hate to say it, but you both look like shit," Jack said bluntly. He presented them with the menu. "Let's get some food."
They had to leave the surgical waiting room to eat. They camped out in Charlie's empty hospital room, sitting in the uncomfortable guest chairs, renegades from the 1960's, with vinyl seats that tipped back awkwardly and hard wooden arms. They ate from the rolling tables designed for patients sitting in bed.
"So how was your trip back?" Hank asked him, trying to fill the empty quiet that had fallen over the group.
"Not bad. The Red Cross flew me over in style. Direct commercial flight from Dubai to New York. Of course, I think the trip from ERW to Stapleton took longer than the transoceanic flight. You just can't get here from there."
He rotated his head, cracking his neck. Talking about the trip made him suddenly feel every sore, tired muscle. He could only imagine how the rest of them were feeling after days in the hospital waiting for the worst.
The food seemed to have been exactly what they all needed. He watched his parents reviving before his eyes. Even Marshall had regained some color as he ate.
"I don't know what I'll do if she dies," Marshall said quietly, staring at the empty paper plate on the tray in front of him. "I don’t' know what I'll do. But the docs think she's going to make it now…"
"Listen to them, Marshall. They usually know what they're talking about," Jack said. Beth reached out and put her hand on Marshall's arm. He nodded.
"Charlie's in bad shape," Marshall continued. "But he's been awake and talked to us."
"You know kids," Hank said. "They're tough. We didn't tell him much about Sara. No sense worrying him while he's still got so many of his own battles to fight."
Jack saw Marshall's face crumple for a moment as he fought back tears.
"Maybe we should go back over there," Marshall suggested.
"You boys go back," Beth said. "I'll clean up this mess and be there shortly."
So the three of them walked back through the maze. And then they waited.
Dr. Asher, Charlie's surgeon, appeared in about an hour.
"Colonel O'Neill?" the doctor said.
"That was fast," Jack remarked, shaking the doctor's hand.
"Yes, it was," the surgeon said, smiling. "It went very well. Charlie's got a few pins in him, but the ankle was very cooperative. It came together like a charm. He'll be off it for a full six weeks, of course, and there will be physical therapy after that, but once it's healed he should walk normally and pain free!"
"Wow! I don't know how to thank you, doctor."
"He's a great kid. I'm just happy we were able to do so much for him."
Another doctor put his head out the surgical suite door and beckoned Dr. Asher.
"Well, it never stops," he said. "I just wanted to come out and let you know personally."
He went back thought the door.
Jack was smiling. They all were, even Marshall.
"Okay, men, that's one down, one to go," he said. He suddenly felt the strong urge to call Daniel, but that would have to wait until he got home.
One of the nurses from the desk came over.
"Charlie will be in recovery for an hour or so," she informed them. "Then they'll move him back to his room."
Jack nodded and resettled with his folks for more waiting.
An hour went by. They chatted a little about Jack's latest deployment. He commented that he had spent a lot of time near a date orchard, which he knew would catch Marshall's interest. The Owens had a small apple orchard down their property.
Finally, the nurse let them know that Charlie was back in his room.
"We'll stay with Marshall, Jack, you go see that boy," his mother ordered him.
Charlie looked pretty good actually, for a kid that had been in a nearly fatal accident just days ago. No facial bruising or neck brace. His arm lay in a cast on top of the blanket. The cast did immobilize the elbow, so it could be a pretty serious break. Jack would talk to Charlie's doctors tonight.
He was still looking a little spacey, but he was awake. When he saw Jack, he broke into a huge grin
"Daddy!"
"Hey, shhh!" Jack said, pointing back over his shoulder with his thumb. "Hospital!" But he was grinning back in response, and went over to carefully hug the boy.
"Grandma said you would be here today! Look! You can sign my cast!" he said, showing his father the cast that was already well on its way to being covered in hearts and drawings of cars.
"I see that! So how you doin' kiddo? Pretty banged up?"
"Yes, sir," he said, but he didn't stop smiling. "I got a broken leg and a broken arm, but the nurse just told me the doctor is really proud of me because the operation was really good today!" He pointed to a star on his cast, signed by Dr. Asher.
"Guess what?!" he said excitedly, not giving Jack space to get a word in edgewise.
"What?!" Jack asked.
"Grandad got me a model A 129 Mangusta and a Northrop Grumman YF-23 Black Widow II and he said we were gonna build 'em when you got here!"
"I don't think the nurses are gonna let us bust out the airplane glue in this place, buddy," Jack said making a mournful face. "I think you have to get better first."
Charlie scowled.
"What about hot dogs? Grandad said when you came he would go out and bring me a hot dog."
"That can be arranged, I bet," Jack said, leaning down to hug his son again. Charlie was already looking ready for a nap.
"You tired?" he asked.
"No," Charlie said defiantly.
"Tell you what," Jack proposed. "You get your rest now so that you can get out of this place sooner. And when you wake up, I'll track down those model boxes, and we can look at all the specs on the back."
Charlie smiled happily.
"Okay, Daddy," he said. He was already fading off to sleep.
Jack sat watching his boy for a long time. Charlie was growing so fast, and Jack had been gone so much. Jack still thought of him as a stumbling, barely talking toddler, and here he was, raring to go on plane models. Of course, Jack or Hank would be doing all the work. Jack could line up the snapshots in his mind of the sleeping infant, the inquisitive creeper, the food-covered toddler, and this little boy, sleeping peacefully, the newest picture.
It only seemed like moments before his mother was standing at the door, her face covered in tears.
Jack held the line for what seemed like forever, especially since he was making an overseas call.
"'Allo?" came Daniel's voice at last. He sounded breathless, like maybe he had run up the hill.
"Daniel?" Jack asked needlessly, just to say his name.
"Jack," Daniel said. "What happened?"
"Charlie's fine. He was in pretty bad shape, but he came through all his surgeries with flying colors."
"And Sara?" Daniel prompted, when Jack paused too long.
Jack couldn't say it. He had spent the night being strong for Charlie. He had taken his turn sitting with Marshall. He wasn't even married to the woman anymore.
"Oh, Jack," Daniel said, with his voice full of sympathy. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could be there."
"I'm going to be here a while," Jack said. He was surprised to hear his own voice, suddenly rough as he held back tears. "There's a lot I'm going to have to do. Charlie…"
"I know, Jack," Daniel said softly. "It's alright."
"No, it's not like that," Jack protested. He could hear in Daniel's voice that Daniel had already accepted that Jack was not going to come back.
"I know," Daniel said. "Just take care of Charlie."
Jack could hear Daniel's unspoken forgiveness and acceptance that he was not part of Jack's real life and that he did not have any expectations for Jack's promise to him.
It was a relief, in a way.
Jack sat in the car holding his son in his lap. It was a little awkward, with the big cast on Charlie's leg and the stupid ribbons on Jack's chest all getting in the way of Jack really holding him. Jack was proud of his son, who had done his crying in the hospital, then stood bravely by his mother's grave.
As if to prove that life wasn't fair and doctors weren't gods, Sara had come through the amputation fine, only to die when a fat embolism reached her lung in the recovery room.
Charlie had been sniffling against his chest a little, but now seemed to be asleep. Poor guy.
"Hey, kiddo," Jack whispered in his ear. "Time to head home."
"OK," Charlie said back sleepily. Jack helped him to slide down off Jack's lap. Beth rushed over and knealt by him so he could lean on her and keep his weight off his leg. Together, he and Beth helped Charlie into the car. Charlie picked up the model Black Widow II box and held it in his lap, but he didn't look at it, staring out the window toward the gravesite."Will Mommy be underground, Daddy?" Charlie asked him the night before. They were snuggled up together in the big bed in the master bedroom. The house was in Sara's name now. Charlie had inherited it. Jack would buy it as soon as he could. The existing equity would go into Charlie's college fund.
"No," Jack said, shaking his head. "Mommy's in Heaven. Only her body is down there. She's not there anymore." He knew it was a complicated idea for a three-year-old, but on the other hand, Charlie didn't have any doubt that Jack knew what he was talking about.
"I'm glad they didn't burn her up," Charlie said now, staring at the grave. "We can visit her, right?"
"Right," Jack said softly. "But now it's time to go home." Charlie nodded, and Jack shut the passenger side door.
He stood leaning on the car, and looked over again at the grave, where the florist had left Daniel's urn of red and white roses by the head of the grave, as Jack had asked.
"The flowers were beautiful," Jack said. "The family really appreciated them. But you didn't have to do that."
"There weren't any flowers at Sha'uri's funeral," Daniel's voice sounded far away and dim. "She's buried in an unmarked grave. A good, proper Muslim burial. I hate it. It's like she never existed."
"You'll have to show me," Jack said. "Maybe next summer we can take a bowl of dates and sit by her a while."
Jack had to take Cascade Avenue anyway to get from the grocery store to the plumbing supply place where he needed to pick up a new mechanism for the master bath toilet, so he stopped in at the Penrose branch of the library. Charlie was going a little stir crazy, and Jack needed some fresh bedtime reading.
Jack wasn't stopping in at all just to review Penrose's excellent selection of academic periodicals. Winter would protect the ice cream and frozen fish sticks in the back of the truck.
Thirty minutes later, Jack emerged with a bag full of Berenstein Bears, and a sheaf of photocopies of extremely interesting articles by a controversial young archaeologist and linguist. A little bedtime reading for everyone.
"What are your plans?" General Cogdill asked.
"I was thinking about applying for an extended leave," Jack replied. "Charlie's going to need intensive physical therapy for another few months…"
"Have you considered that maybe as a single parent it's time for you to retire? With your areas of specialty, I'm sure you will find it difficult to avoid deployment in harm's way. You've got twenty-two years in. Your pension is waiting for you."
"Actually, sir, there are instructor openings at the SERE School at Fairchild and the Academy at the moment."
"Let me cut to the chase, Colonel," Cogdill interrupted abruptly. "General West has had The Beast under close surveillance since you left."
Jack's stomach plunged.
"He's got good reason to believe you fraternized with this individual."
Cogdill said "fraternized" like it was a filthy word.
"His surveillance reports that The Beast has been receiving telephone communication from you. General West is concerned about what your relationship might have been with this Beast character. Frankly, with the information West has, I would run you out on a rail, but West still considers you one of the best officers he ever worked with, and he has the utmost respect for your abilities and professionalism. He says you always got results when he needed them. Because of that, he doesn't want to have to initiate an investigation. So, for the sake of your boy, I'm suggesting that maybe it's time to consider the private sector. There are a lot of consulting firms that would pay plenty of money to a professional like you – experienced, security clearance intact. A dishonorable discharge would end that."
Jack knew the fight was already lost. He didn't even try to argue.
"My retirement paperwork will be on your desk this afternoon," he replied crisply.
"I thought you would see it that way," Cogdill said. He took a manila envelope out of his inbox and slid it across the desk to Jack. "My secretary already did the forms. All you need to do is review and sign them."
Jack accepted the forms with a blank face.
"Good. That unpleasant business out of the way, I have this for you." He now put a slim briefing file in front of Jack. "General West said that you should review this brief before you get your separation. Which I can assure you will be within the week. I needn't remind you that after you are discharged, official files and materials will no longer be your concern."
The general stood.
"It's always a disappointment to lose a good command candidate. West thinks you could have been a general."
He expressed the sentiment like the empty platitude it was.
"I appreciate that he thinks so, sir," Jack said, not trying to hide the insubordinate, sarcastic tone at all.
"You're dismissed, Colonel," the general said curtly.
Jack turned on his heel and stalked back to the office he had been temporarily assigned.
Rather than open General West's personal message to him, Jack ripped open the retirement paperwork and read it through. The reason given: retirement to care for the son after the mother's death. Good enough. Jack initialed the right places, signed by all the x's.
And that was it for what he had assumed would be a lifetime's career.
Cogdill was right, of course. There was big money to make as a contractor. Jack just never thought of himself as a mercenary. He scowled at his final signature, then took the whole stack and put it back in the envelope.
Now for West's brief. Jack flipped it open and leaned back in his chair.
It opened with a summary of the surveillance on 'The Beast's compound' over the three months since Jack had left.
He read with rapt attention. It looked bad. Daniel's feud with the Juhi family was getting hot again. The file listed a half dozen skirmishes. Daniel had apparently gone to the local sheikh for a decision. As an 'impure foreigner,' he hadn't been able to gain even a hearing.
When Jack flipped the page and saw that Daniel had disappeared two days ago, he grabbed the phone to call his mother.
Jack was so terrified by this vision that he announced his intention to go back to Abydos at once, and that very night said goodbye to Charlie, leaving him in the care of his grandmother, shook hands with Hank, and set out on the long journey that would return him to The Beast.
Forty-eight hours later, Jack stood at the foot of Daniel's road. He went up toward the house in the broad daylight alone. The surveillance reports said that Daniel's people were still in control of Abydos, and that over the last few months it appeared that they had increased security measures. Apparently Daniel had actually been ambushed while in the town.
A shout went up from the trees. One of the orchard workers had seen him. More answering shouts, passing the news up the road ahead of him.
Abdul Halim met him at the gate. The blue turban was gone. He was just a worried, middle-aged man, greeting a friend with little hope.
"Thank Allah that you have come," he said in his rapid, Egyptian Arabic. "But I fear you are much too late."
"Tell me everything that happened," Jack said. "We'll get him back."
"We are certain the Juhi family took him. Daniyal went down to village. They said there was a problem at the warehouse with the dates shipping out. When he got there, the people in the warehouse heard shots fired and yelling and they saw cars driving away. No one could follow them. All the vehicles near the warehouse had been sabotaged. By the time someone ran up the road for a truck, the Juhis and Daniyal were long gone."
"How many days ago?" Jack asked.
"It has been five days now."
"We have to find someone who knows what the Juhis are up to," Jack said. "Daniel may still be alive, and until I see a body, I'm treating him as MIA."
Abdul Halim nodded gravely.
It was a two hour drive to the Juhi village.
"Do you have any men out looking for him?" Jack asked.
"Of course, Colonel O'Neill!" Abdul Halim said.
"Call them back as soon as you can," Jack said. "I've got a plan."
Abdul Halim nodded again.
"We can trust you to bring him to us?" he said.
"I'll bring him home," Jack said grimly.
Jack hid the truck under netting, and proceeded on foot.
Ghalib had loaned him a dishdasha and kaffiyeh, and one of the orchard workers had been willing to sell him his sandals. He carried his boots and socks in a bag over his shoulder. He set out on the walk into town.
He kept his face covered as he entered the outskirts of the large village. On the advice of Ghalib and Abdul Halim, he headed straight for the main town plaza and the fruit juice bar that opened out onto the main communal area.
In the cool darkness of the establishment, he went up to the counter.
"Ahlan wa-Sahlan," the proprietor greeted him.
"Ahlan Bik, [8]" Jack replied. The man heard his accent and looked at him more closely. Jack let his face covering fall away. "Do you have carrot juice?"
The man was flustered.
"Of course," he replied, as if he would rather have said no. "We do not get many foreigners in this small town," he said nervously.
"You wouldn't," Jack agreed. "Which means you can guess I'm here for a reason."
The man shook his head.
"What possible reason could you have?" He tried to make the question sound casual.
"You know exactly why I'm here," Jack said, fixing the man with an intense stare. "You also know exactly why I have a large extraction team about five miles down the main road. And I think that you are the kind of guy who knows just exactly how bad a ground invasion of a tiny town like this could be."
Jack accepted the glass of carrot juice from the man's shaking fingers, placing a few dinars on the counter. He followed it with a handful of worn ten dollar bills.
"If I could get the right kind of information, then I could take care of this cleanly and simply. Just one guy. Nobody's business or family would be in danger."
He held the other man's gaze and was surprised to find him able to meet Jack's eyes steadily. The money on the counter was carefully pushed back toward Jack.
"I cannot accept any bribe or go against the Juhi family, no matter what your threats," he said firmly. "When you are gone, they will still be here."
"Maybe when I am gone you will be dead," Jack said.
The man shook his head and walked away.
Jack turned, leaning against the counter, to survey the other patrons. He kept the bar owner in the corner of his eye, but the man only continued preparing vegetables and fruits.
What now? Was this guy an anomaly, or would every well-placed potential informant in this town have the same loyalty to the Juhi clan? He stared out into the bright light of the street and realized what a fool he had been.
Sitting in the shade across the road was a row of street urchins. Shoeless, unsupervised, and probably…
Jack left the shade of the juice bar and went out into the plaza. He bought a pile of shawarma[9] and taboon, and then went to another vendor and bought a big plastic bucket full of lablaby[10] and the plastic spoons to go with it.
Then he went to talk to his informants.
He stared at the burnt out shell of the house. The children said that The Beast had been brought here.
Jack immediately saw that vehicles had been parked here recently. He circled the area where they had been and saw the sign of people leaving the trucks. More importantly, he saw the indications that something heavy had been dragged. Something, or someone. The children also reported that The Beast had been quite horribly beaten in the square when he had been delivered there in the night. The Juhi family wanted everyone to see their enemy brought down and broken.
"The town needs to know who is in charge again," said a five-year-old girl named Mais. She sounded like she was parroting some adult. "Just because he gives to the poor and builds schools doesn't mean that he's in charge," she opined around her chickpeas and bread.
"Of course not," Jack agreed.
"So they showed everybody he's not in charge anymore. They are," said her sister, Walihah. "But I think it's sad, because maybe I could go to the school," she sounded wistful. The boys laughed and spat. Her sister shushed her. Walihah punched the nearest boy.
"Hey!" Jack interceded. "We're all friends here, just eating some dinner."
The boy rubbed his arm and glared at them. But he went back to his meat and bread.
"So what happened after that," Jack asked.
"They buried him alive," one of the other boys whispered. "In the old house."
Jack gave a low whistle.
"What house? Do you know which one?"
"Yeah, we know. The old Juhi house. The one he burned down. The family's pretty mad about that. It was a nice place."
Jack stood up and offered the children a bow with a touch to his forehead. This brought a collective round of giggles.
"If I find him, I'll come back and bring you some more treats," Jack said. This got him big grins. Jack held his fingers to the corner of his mouth and drew them across in the universal sign for zipped lips. The children zipped up their smiles, and Jack turned away from them, drawing his kaffiyeh over his face again as he passed through the square in the direction they indicated.
He peered up at the structure, wondering how dangerous it was to go in. He followed the sign as it led around the house.
They sign ended at a door to an underground cellar. Not that surprising. He examined the door carefully. When he didn't see any indication of a booby trap, he turned to the task of actually getting the door open. In his head he started running numbers that he had thus far refused to consider. Five days since Daniel had been kidnapped. Even if it had taken them a full day to put him down in this cellar, Jack would bet good money that they hadn't taken particularly good care of him before they dumped him in there. That could mean five days without water. The kind of beating the children had described would probably mean serious injuries and bleeding.
Jack took the horrible realization that Daniel had to be dead, acknowledged it, and put it aside in its own box. First, he had to open the door.
It was padlocked closed with a strong bar across it, but the door itself was weak. Jack found a solid piece of two-by-four in the rubble of the house, singed but relatively undamaged. He took it back to the cellar door and stood it on its end, then raised it and brought it down like a battering ram with all his strength on what he judged to be the weakest spot in the plywood door. It shattered through so easily Jack almost fell over.
He worked the edges of the hole, tearing the door apart, but he discovered the plywood was reinforced on the inside. Jack was starting to think the door was reconstructed using a piece of floor, complete with joists.
He looked at the problem again. The next weakest spot was probably the hinges, which were lightweight and flimsy. He went in search of a fulcrum to turn his two-by-four into a lever. He found a pile of cinderblock. He hauled four over and stacked them together, put the end of his lever through the hole he had made in the door and put all his weight on the opposite end. There was a loud crack as one of the hinges gave way and another as the plywood gave under the force. Jack tumbled backwards.
No sound came from inside the dark hole.
Jack repositioned his cinderblocks and this time set the lever under the frame of the door where the hinge had given way. Another couple of loud cracks and both the other hinge and the end of the locking bar gave way. Jack pulled the wreck of the door out of the way and opened the bag over his shoulder to pull out a flashlight.
Steep, ladder-like stairs led down into the ground. Jack found Daniel's still body very near the bottom of the steps. His hands and elbows were tied cruelly behind his back, and it was clear that Daniel had fought the knots. His wrists were a mess of dried blood. Jack circled around him so that he could see his still, pale face. Both eyes swollen shut, face covered with bruises – he had probably taken kicks to the head. Jack reached for his neck and felt the faintest flutter of a pulse.
It was a goddam miracle.
Daniel was alive.
Hands shaking, Jack reached into his pack and took out his water bottle, opening the lid and letting a trickle of water run over Daniel's dry, swollen lips.
From The Blue Fairy Book: "He is dead; and it is all my fault," said Beauty, crying bitterly. But then Beauty fancied The Beast still breathed, and, hastily fetching some water from the nearest fountain, sprinkled it over his face. To Beauty's great delight, The Beast began to revive. [11]
Daniel stirred in the bed. Jack looked up from the comfortable chair in the corner, where he was working his way through a book of crosswords he had bought at the airport in Dubai. Daniel was watching him.
"Hey," he said softly. "How are you feeling?"
"Like crap," Daniel said. "Which is reassuring, because I am thinking this is not the afterlife. I figure if it were, I'd either feel a lot better or a lot worse."
Jack grinned.
"That's the spirit! It was touch and go there for a while, but you are one tough bastard, I've got to hand it to you."
"Thanks, I think," Daniel replied. He tried to sit up and immediately groaned and lay back down again.
"Broken ribs," Jack said helpfully.
"You don't say," Daniel wheezed.
Jack couldn't stop grinning like a loon. Yeah. A goddam miracle.
"I have a plan," Jack said. Daniel had been getting in and out of bed on his own for about three days now. He was moving better and more each day. Jack was starting to feel that it was time for next steps.
"What plan is that?" Daniel asked. They were walking down the garden toward the dig site.
"Come back with me," Jack said softly.
Daniel stopped and stared at him.
"Come back where?" Daniel asked. He looked confused.
"Come back to my house. Live with me. I want you there. So much."
"But…" Daniel seemed to be at a loss for words.
"I have another plan," Jack continued.
"Plan B?" Daniel asked.
"You've already set up the girl's school down the road. Leave this place as a boy's school, and I know a bunch of little kids to bring here. Not to mention some girls I want the headmistress at Sha'uri's school to meet."
"So Plan A is come live with you and Plan B is I turn this place into a residential boy's school for street kids?"
"Exactly," Jack said. "I like it."
"What would happen to me in Colorado Springs?" Daniel asked.
"Well, I could keep you in reasonably good style, if that's what you'd like," Jack said with a leer and a rakish grin that had Daniel eyeing his staff uneasily. "But I am thinking of doing some consulting work, and I figure with you on my staff, we could offer some really interesting specializations."
Daniel laughed and turned to begin slowly walking down the path again.
"Military contracting? Me? That's insane."
Jack smiled to himself. It wasn't a "no."
And so, rescued by Jack, Daniel left The Beast behind, making space for Daniel Jackson to become the prince he was always destined to be.
Catherine Langford stood at the foot of the driveway of the little house tucked away at the end of a woodsy drive on the outskirts of Colorado Springs. As she and her escort walked up the drive, they could hear shrieks of laughter coming from behind the house. A little boy came dashing around the side of the house with a little girl hot on his heels. They both stopped short when they saw people in their driveway. The girl screeched and ran back shouting "Daddy! Abouya! [12] Walihah!" The boy stayed and watched them curiously.
Jack O'Neill came around the corner from the backyard, the little girl holding his pants leg and hiding behind him. Catherine recognized him from the file. She saw him draw up short at the sight of the uniformed men with her, before he strode down the drive to meet them.
"Colonel O'Neill?" she asked.
"Retired," he said tersely.
"My name is Dr. Catherine Langford," she said, reaching out to shake his hand. "I was wondering if Dr. Jackson is be available? I have an extremely interesting artifact about which I would very much value his insight…"
And Daniel and Jack shared all their adventures together, the good ones and the bad, and lived happily ever after to the end of their days. [1] Hello.
[2] Good night.
[3] An honorific title used to address someone respected. Literally translates to "professor"
[4] The tagelmust on Wikipedia
[5] Monster. Beast.
[6] A cold yogurt drink made of yogurt mixed with water, sometimes salt, often served over ice.
[7] Iraqi flatbread, similar ot pita.
[8] The phrases are a typical exchange. The barman says "Welcome," Jack says "I am welcomed." Approximately.
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