Notes: This is an epilogue for 'Through a Glass Darkly'. It won't make much sense unless you read that one first. Thanks to Judy and Spring for the beta'ing.

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Shattered Reflections

Everyone's been yawning for a while now, but no one wanted to be the first to leave. I'm pretty proud of myself; I knew my kids needed this, but sheesh, you would have thought I'd scheduled them all trips to the dentist when I suggested this party. Repeat after me, everyone: Jack's always right.

Okay, okay, no need to throw things. I know my own screw-up rate, thank you very much. Can't a guy make a joke?

Frasier and Teal'c, standing by the door, are waiting for Carter to finish babbling at Daniel and say goodbye. Teal'c, who thanks to Junior is the eternal Designated Driver, is going to drop Carter and Frasier off at their places before returning to the base. Daniel announced a little while ago that he was going to spend the night here and help me clean up tomorrow. There wasn't a single reaction -- not one knowing look or hidden grin -- so either they still don't know or they don't care. And I don't care either way.

Carter's kneeling by the side of the overstuffed chair Daniel's been bonding with for the last hour and she wants to pat his knee or his arm or something, but even as relaxed as he is, he's still radiating that 'hands off, personal space here' aura he has. Means nothing to me, but it still throws her off some days. Especially now.

Finally she says goodbye and Daniel, ever polite, stands to walk her to the door. She stands too, and they look at each other for a moment before she wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face in his shoulder. There's a moment's pause from him, then he hugs her back.

Thirteen days ago Daniel and I went to Carter's lab to see if she wanted to eat lunch with us. She didn't hear us come in, so Daniel went closer up behind her and said her name. We spent the next fifteen minutes pulling my rock-steady 2IC's fingernails out of the cement in the ceiling. Not only did she most definitely not eat lunch with us, I don't think she ate for the rest of the day. And I didn't see her and Daniel speak to each other again for the rest of the week.

Five days ago, my team was in a briefing with Hammond. Daniel had gotten up to point at something or other on the monitor, and coming up on Carter's flank he raised a hand in a gesture. She instinctively shrank back and raised an arm as though to block an incoming blow. The only thing worse than the deafening silence that came after was her feeble attempts to disguise the motion as some sort of yawn. Hammond and Teal'c looked sad, Carter looked like she wanted the Earth to open up and swallow her whole, Daniel looked like someone had just beaten the crap out of him -- again -- and I was wishing someone would just come in and shoot me -- again. It would have been less painful.

Across the room now, Teal'c's wearing his 'approving parent' smile, and I return it over Daniel and Carter's shoulders. Don't know why everyone says Teal'c's so hard to read; maybe they just don't pay attention.

Carter finally lets go and steps away, but before she makes it completely out of Daniel's air space she dips back in and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. He's taken aback, then he smiles softly. She beams a smile back and heads to the door. I could pat both of them on the head, but I'm pretty sure if I ever pat Carter on the head I'll need stitches.

I close the door behind the three of them, wishing them sweet dreams or something silly, and turn back to Daniel. He's fidgeting. He wants something. He isn't for the life of him going to tell me what. If I ask he'll just say he's fine.

I watch him fidget for a few seconds. If I can outlast him, maybe he'll break and talk first. Oh, Jesus. Who'm I kidding?

"Danny? You want something?"

His head comes up and he looks at me. "Um ... no. I'm fine, Jack."

I've spent the last two weeks trying, and for the most part failing miserably, to get Daniel to say more than three words at a time. His repertoire for our down time thus far has consisted almost entirely of "Yes, Jack", "No, Jack", and the ever-popular, "I'm fine, Jack."

That would be annoying enough on its own, but what's really getting under my skin is Daniel's relentless campaign to not offend anyone for any reason. He's always been polite -- when he's not being stubborn -- but lately he's gone out of his way to be completely docile. Won't argue, no matter how much I tease him. Won't offer an objection, no matter how objectionable I get. Doesn't have an opinion, no matter the topic. I brought up Budge the other day and he said 'hmm' and went back to work.

I don't know if he's been doing it on purpose, but his desperate attempts to not be Major Dan are breaking my heart. And pissing me off, too. I wish I'd shot that son of a bitch.

Oh, yeah, tough guy act now. Clint Eastwood, here. As though I hadn't thought about it at the time. As though I didn't look at his unconscious body crumpled on the floor and think about how vulnerable he was. Thing is, unconscious like that, he looked just like Danny. More like Danny than Daniel did, as beat up as he was. I could have shot him if he'd had a gun, if he'd been awake, if he'd been a threat. But out cold like that? Let's not kid ourselves, okay, Jack?

Back to the problem at hand. Daniel relaxed a lot tonight. Talked to everyone, even kinda laughed a few times. I had to go out and drag him back from the observation deck once, but all in all he's been almost Daniel-like. This is just an awkward bit. We can get through this. We have to. I miss him.

Let's try the direct approach. Frontal assault and all that.

Mimicking Carter's move from a minute ago, I step forward, slide my arms around his waist and draw him into a hug. This time there's no hesitation, and he returns the hug with steady strength. I can tell from the tightness of his grip he's missed me, too. Good.

I let myself relax into it, the holding him. I can smell him, feel his heart beating against mine, and when I open my mouth against the soft skin behind and below his ear, I can taste him. Mine. Mine and safe. Mine to keep safe. Mine.

I realize I'm trembling slightly. I...I've missed him. Between my leg wound and his, well, all his wounds, plus the monumental load of guilt he's managed to accumulate, we haven't done any of this for a while. I was a little surprised he said he was staying. Surprised, not put out. Missed this.

Whatever I say I want, he'll agree to, so I have to be careful. I've been afraid to even kiss him, as deeply bruised as his face was. I hold myself in place to make sure I'm under control, then I pull my head back up and brush my mouth across his.

Lips part under mine, and I softly brush my tongue against their warmth and wetness. I want to seize him, I want to press him to me and claim him and ground him and force him back into himself and back into me. But I don't. My hands are shaking with the effort of holding back, but still I hold back. I miss him, but I need him to come back to me.

His hands brush lightly over my back, then one slides up into my hair. I feel him moan rather than hear him, and it gets under my skin. Forgetting myself, I bring a hand up to capture and hold his jaw, and he flinches as I connect with a still-sore bruise. My libido dies an instant death, and I jump out of his arms.

In reward for my knee-jerk protectiveness, I get a glare. I'm so happy to see it for a moment that I forget it means I did something wrong.

"What?" Not my best line, maybe, but an old favorite.

"What? What?" Daniel continues the glare for maybe another two seconds, then slumps, and turns from me. "I'm going to bed."

What? Bed? As in, 'alone to bed'? Man, we're more screwed up than I thought we were.

"Hey, wait a minute, Danny." I catch his arm in my fingers, and he stops, but doesn't turn around. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Talk to me, would you? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" He still hasn't turned around. "It was a nice night, Jack. I forgot for a while that Sam's afraid of me. She did too, even. But ... I can get by with Sam not talking to me. I don't like it, but I can manage. What I can't stand is you tip-toeing around me like I'm ... like I need fixing. Let's just wait for the bruises to heal and maybe you won't be so afraid to touch me anymore."

"I don't think you need fixing, Danny. But you haven't been yourself every since we got back from MirrorWorld."

"I'm fine, Jack." He turns, finally, to look at me, but the soft light in the room is somehow caught just right in his glasses just right and the glare makes them into mirrors. I look in them and see a pale reflection of myself looking back. I look old. I shift so the light changes angle and I can see his eyes again. They look accusatory. Have I been fussing too much? Maybe. But I'm going to have to fuss a little more before this is over.

"Daniel, you're clearly not 'fine'. If you agree with me one more time I think I'll kill someone."

"That doesn't even make any sense. You're irritated because I'm agreeing with you?"

I run my hand over my face and try not to grind my teeth. "Daniel, you've agreed with me more the last two weeks than you've agreed with me since we met. You've been agreeing with everyone. You've been positively ... passive the last couple of weeks. Accommodating. Docile. Agreeable. You've been the sweetest, nicest, most honest, most non-violent man I've ever met. Are you seriously telling me you don't know you were doing it?"

He gets a stubborn set to his jaw. I resist the urge to kiss him for it.

"I like to think I'm always honest, Jack. I also like to think I'm not a violent man. I don't know about the 'sweet' part, but I don't see how 'accommodating' is an insult."

"How about 'docile'? Three weeks ago, if I'd called you 'docile' you would have still been on your first breath of the lecture. Care to take a guess at the cause of the change?"

His eyes shift away from mine and focus on some fascinating thing over my left shoulder. He blinks a few times, and finally looks back at me.

"I don't think it's been that bad."

"Well you're not on this side of it. It sucks. I want my friend back. The friend that argues with me. The friend that annoys the hell out of me. I'd even take the guy that smirks at me when I'm being a dumbass. Oh, and while you're at it, I'd like the guy that kisses me back, too."

"I was kissing you. You were the one that put a stop to that with your compulsive over-protective streak."

"You were NOT kissing me. I was kissing you. I want you to kiss me back." Now he is irritated, and the corner of his mouth is quirking down. That means I'm winning, but I'm big enough to be mature about it. Besides, the battle's not over yet.

"You were NOT kissing me, Jack. You were ... breathing on me. When you kiss me, I generally feel it." Somewhere in there, his path of logic changed. Just another sign that I'm winning. Time for the big guns.

I raise my hand, which in 'Jack and Daniel language' means he should take a breath and wait for the next argument round. It's like the bell in boxing.

He takes a breath, and waits. Damn, I'm good.

"You want a kiss?" I ask him, but he just looks at me. I was hoping for a nod, but I'll take wary silence. That means he doesn't want to start agreeing for fear where he'll end up. "Fine. Come over here."

There's the space of about two feet between us. Still looking wary, he takes a step forward and just as he does, I take a step back. He frowns.

"What the hell was that, Jack?"

"I'm teasing you," I answer shamelessly, and I can't help but grin. After seeing him argue, my libido's come back and it's quite interested in the deeply annoyed look he's giving me now. That's my Danny.

There's probably a psychiatrist somewhere that would be appalled at the behavior modification techniques I'm employing. Screw him though, it's working.

"Teasing me?" he frowns harder and stares at me like I've grown another set of arms.

"Just a little. C'mon. Don't you want to catch me?" Would this be more effective if I could quit grinning? Maybe not; Daniel likes my grin.

"Do I? Maybe I just want to go to bed." But he takes another step forward, and I step back as he does. His mouth twitches, yet he manages not to smile. He's still interested in the game, though, and takes another step.

My third step back angles us towards the hallway, and I've still got all his attention. "How 'bout let's compromise? You can catch me and go to bed. Everyone wins."

Daniel loses the struggle with his mouth and the grin he's been suppressing wiggles free. "I'm still not sure I want to catch you. Are you worth this much trouble?" Oh, he wants to catch me. I can almost physically feel the weight of the attention he's putting on me. I step back out of turn and almost without thinking he follows suit.

"Of course I'm worth the trouble. Aren't I always?"

He snorts, almost laughs, and takes a quick double-step. "That's debatable." I avoid the edge of the couch as I move backwards, and spin a little to miss getting grabbed by his hand. He shakes his head. "You're going to hurt yourself. You're walking backwards on a sore leg. Janet'd kill you if she knew."

"Hey, what Janet doesn't know won't hurt me." I pivot on my good leg and take a few quick steps into the hall. Daniel's right behind me, and his arm goes around my waist and we crash into the wall with more force than I'm sure he intended. He doesn't apologize though, and I spend a few happy seconds silently cheering.

The cheering fades pretty quickly however, replaced by the growling of my fully-returned libido. I can feel his quick breaths on the back of my neck and I know it's not from the tiny bit of exertion.

He shifts his stance, presses into me, and I can feel for certain how much he wanted to catch me. At the same time he opens his mouth and I can feel his teeth and his tongue on my neck. That's definitely one of my hot spots, as he damn well knows, and I gasp at the sensation.

"Want to keep teasing me, Jack?" His voice is soft and low, heavy with want and tinged just a little with amusement. I love the sound of his voice in my ear. Love it. I grind my hips back into him, and can't help but notice that my leg doesn't seem to be hurting. Lust is good for a body; I should tell Janet.

I grind my hips again and he presses back, then shifts again and turns me around to face him. His mouth moves over my neck, my jaw, my ear, and I'm panting and gasping and enjoying every second of it. When he pulls away I feel suddenly cold and I hear myself whimper. He rests his face in the hollow of my neck and shoulder to catch his breath, and I can feel his body tensing and shuddering against mine.

There's a pause as he gathers himself and I hear him chuckle.

"I still haven't gotten that kiss, have I?" He looks up at me and I grin back at him, and turn my head just as he moves into meet his lips to mine. His mouth falls on my cheek and he growls.

He doesn't even ask this time, now that he's figured out the game. He just pulls back and looks at me and there's a hot, bright fire blazing in those amazing eyes of his.

"Oh no, Jack. That's enough of that." He brings a hand up and captures my jaw and then my mouth with his. He grinds his hips into mine at the same time, pushing us both back into the wall, and drives into me.

His kiss is searing, possessive, hot and hard. I love it, love him. It surprised me the first time, all the aggression he's capable of once you blast through his uncertainty. We haven't been together long enough for me to take it for granted yet, and I hope I never do. There's certainly no chance of that now, as he pushes everything out of my mind but him and leaves behind all thoughts that aren't of me.

When he finally pulls back he's panting hard and I remember then that his mouth is still bruised. There were stitches just a few days ago, where his teeth had cut the inside of his cheek open. But he's forgotten about the bruises and cuts, and I haven't gotten this far to blow it now.

Interesting turn of phrase.

"Well, you've caught me," I say, trying to sound nonchalant despite the fact that I'm gasping for air and my dick's as hard as a baseball bat. "Now what?" For answer, he takes one of my wrists in his strong hands and starts leading me to the bedroom. I follow meekly. Don't throw me in that briar patch! Heh.

We're naked and in bed in amazingly short order -- skin on skin, sweating and gasping and moaning, licking and kissing and rubbing against each other. I want to suck him, so I do, but it almost costs me my victory as the stillness gives him time to re-discover his new-found passivity. No, no, Danny-boy. Not goin' there.

I pull up and he starts to roll over, assuming without asking what I want. I stop him with my hands, then lie down beside him and pull him to me. Daniel gives me one small questioning look before cuddling into me. I tilt his chin up and start kissing him again, letting it stay soft and slow while I shift his weight on top of me. I keep it soft and slow even as he starts to press in, and the game of cat-and-mouse goes much faster this time.

It takes almost no time for me to convince him that ravishing me is the best idea he's had in years. Not that he's a slouch in the idea department, either. Finally, finally, finally I can recognize through my happy lust-filled haze that he's moving me into position and I open up to him. He spends more time than I need on preparation, and it takes a bit of effort not to argue with him. But I don't argue -- I don't want to break the mood.

Sliding into me, his eyes are closed. When he opens them at last they're blazing, hot with need and desire and want. The enormity of it blows me way as much as ever, that anyone could want me that much. God, if there was anything I ever did to deserve this, I don't know what it could have been. As always, he's completely focused on me, the entirety of his existence boiled down to this thing we share, this thing that holds us and shapes us and keeps us safe and sane.

I didn't need a trip through the looking glass to tell me I'd be lost without him, and he didn't need it either to know he had demons. Somewhere out there, there are probably a lot of Jack O'Neill's that got the short end of the stick. There's definitely one that got royally screwed. I feel sorry for him, sure, but the poor bastard can't have mine.

Above me Daniel's gone, lost in sensation, feeling, and emotion. He's moving faster and rougher with every stroke, and I'm in awe of the passion playing across his face. The pleasure's breaking over and through me like a storm, and I'm holding on only for the joy of watching him reach the edge and fall.

Fall he does, screaming, reaching out for my hand, calling my name as he always does, and I clasp his fingers tight in mine while he rises, peaks and crashes. He spends a few moments gasping for air and scraps of coherency, then opens his eyes and fixes them on me. Shifting to balance his weight on one hand, he takes me in the other. I groan as he strokes me, and just before I close my eyes I see that knowing smile -- he's got me, he's got us both. I let go of my last bit of control and he takes it, easily, and takes me.

I come back panting, flushed and sweaty, to find Daniel lying on his side, head propped up on his hand, smirking at me.

"Did you hurt something? I think the neighbors are going to call the police."

"If they haven't by now I think we're safe." My voice is a little raw; maybe I should start leaving a glass of water on the nightstand. I realize I'm giving him a dopey smile, but damn, I love that little post-coital smirk of his. "So how 'bout you?"

"I'm good."

"Better than good, I'd say." I'm rewarded with a flash of a brilliant, happy smile.

"Thanks."

"So, you feel better?"

"Uh..." he blinks at me for a moment as he considers arguing, then contentment wins out and he shrugs and smiles. "Yeah, I do, actually. Thanks. Is sex your answer to everything?"

"Yep, pretty much." I grin as he tries to frown at me through his smile. "I'm a simple guy, Daniel. There are very few of my problems that can't be solved with mind-blowing sex. You might want to write that down somewhere. For future reference."

"I'll try to keep it in mind. Thanks for the advice."

"Hey, no problem."

"Just to clarify, though -- for future reference -- I am aware that there's very little about you that's 'simple', despite your full-time efforts to convince everyone to the contrary."

"Hmmmm." I pretend to consider that for a moment. "I am fooling everyone else, though? It's not all going to waste?"

Daniel sighs and leans over to kiss my shoulder. "I am not going to comment on whether anything's 'going to waste' or not. Your dumb soldier routine annoys the hell out of me and you know it. I'm not participating by offering you feedback on your success."

I grin at him, and again he loses a fight with a disapproving frown and smiles back. I open up my arms and he cuddles into and over me, sighing in contentment. Time passes as we listen to each other's breathing and heartbeats, and the sounds of the neighborhood dogs outside. We never turned on the bedroom light, and never turned off the living room light, so it's peaceful and dark without being completely closed off.

"Daniel?"

"Yes?" He doesn't look up at me.

"I know you're going to say you don't want to talk about it, but you can if you want to. You know that, right?"

He sighs, but doesn't tense up. "I know that. And you're right, I don't want to." He shifts and looks up at me. "MacKenzie wanted to know if I could think of any reasons why he turned out that way," he says rolling his eyes, and lays his head back down. No need to ask who 'he' is.

"Wha'd you say?"

"To MacKenzie? 'No, no clue'." He snorts. "The worst thing about this job is the required psych evals. Like I didn't get enough of that in school."

"So do you?"

"What?"

"Have any idea?"

He pulls himself up again and looks down at me in the shadowy room. His face is suddenly a closed-off mask, and since the glasses went onto the nightstand some time ago it's ... well, I don't mind saying it’s a little creepy. He closes his eyes slowly and lays back down, snuggling his face into my chest. Maybe I shouldn't have pushed, but this stuff's got to get said.

"I have some ideas," he says quietly, and I'm surprised. I really didn't expect an answer. "But ... nothing that'll make MacKenzie happy. I don't think that sort of ... problem is something that ... happens one day. I think it's the result of losing a lot of smaller battles."

Without raising his head, Daniel tilts his face up and looks at me. I brush my fingertips across his brow, and he gives me a smile so faint I almost think I imagined it. "Yeah, I know what you mean," I say, even though he didn't ask. The smile comes back and he scoots himself up to kiss me. Naturally, I let him. When he pulls back, I'm smiling again. "Did I ever say thanks?"

"Uh, for what?"

"For getting us out of there."

He gets that little crease between his eyebrows. "I didn't, though. Sam did. And the Colonel." He's very pointedly not called the man 'Jack', not even once.

"And 'the Colonel' was helping us why?"

Daniel shrugs. "Because he got tired of Major Dan?" Pretty much everyone's picked up my derisive nickname, but I haven't heard Daniel use it until now.

"No, because he was stupid enough to try and talk to you and you kicked his ass. I doubt there's a Jack O'Neill in any universe that doesn't sooner or later end up being wrapped around your little finger."

"Oh, yes," he says dryly. "I notice that all the time. What was that you called me earlier? 'Passive?' That just about sums it up, I think." He snorts. "I'll try and remember how much control I have over you the next time I want to stay on a planet and translate some fabulous archaeological find, and you want to get home to watch a game."

"Daniel." He looks down at me, wry grin still in place, and raises his eyebrows questioningly. "Good job." The wry edge leaves his face and he licks his lips.

"I really didn't think it was going to work. I mean, I had to try, but he was so closed off ...." he trails off and looks at me for a moment before leaning in for another kiss.

It's gotten very late, but we've been on short rations for weeks. The kiss deepens and when he finally pulls back I follow the curve of his jaw and throat with my mouth. He tastes of salt, the dried sweat from earlier. I lick the taste of it off my lips when I pull away.

"Want a shower?" I give his skin another lick between the words.

"Depends." His voice is husky and sexy as hell in the dark, quiet room. "Are you going to be in the shower too?" He looks over his shoulder at the bedroom door and then back at me with his very best flirtatious smile. Every nerve ending I have comes to attention for that smile.

"Well," I place a soft bite on the collarbone. "It is my shower."

"Mmmmmm'kay," he pretends to acquiesce and helps me off the bed as he gets up. We laugh our way to the bathroom, turn on the water, and mess around until steam starts filling the room.

On the wall behind us, the vanity mirror covers over with steam, obscuring our images.

This afternoon I found him in here, glasses on the counter, water pouring over his hands, face still damp with the water he'd splashed on it, staring at his reflection. He'd spent the better part of an hour trying in his soft-spoken, docile, annoying-as-all-get-out way to convince me that forcing Sam to spend an evening in his presence wasn't going to be good for anyone, then finally slid out of the room. Twenty minutes later I came to get him and I didn't have to ask why when I saw him.

Now he's forgotten the mirror, and in lieu of pensive I get flirtatious. If this keeps up, I'm going to have to ask for a cut of MacKenzie's paycheck. It's not as though he ever actually earns it.

Daniel pulls me into the shower, under the hot water, and into his arms. We take turns washing each other, and neither of us flinches when we go over the remaining bruises left on the other.

We heat up faster than the water did, and I'm glad the water heater tank is as large as it is because it takes us a long time to cool back down. When the water finally shades into cool we climb out, wet, tired, sated and thoroughly happy.

The bathroom mirror is still fogged over when we kill the lights and head back to the bedroom to fall into bed. Daniel's looking sleepy and adorable -- not that I'd ever, ever use that word out loud -- when I pull him under the blankets and into my arms. Somewhere out there, there's a Jack O'Neill sleeping in a Nox hut, and yeah, he got royally shafted.

I feel a soft, sleepy kiss on my arm, and I smile in the dark. Mine, I hear myself think, and almost laugh out loud. Yeah, lucky bastard that I am, this one is. Mine. I whisper that I love him, and get the slurry words whispered back at me. Mine and safe, and healing. Now all I have to do is make sure he and Carter get plenty of opportunities to get used to each other again.

My eyes finally close and I drift to sleep.

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