CATEGORY: Drabble, Angst
COMPLETED: March 22, 2006
SEASON/SPOILERS: Season 9 Episode “Crusade”
“Jackson? You okay?”
Daniel looked up and met Cameron’s mildly concerned look with his mouth already opening to say that he was fine.
“You know, I’m really not.”
“Thought so.” Cameron nodded and walked over to sit on the side of Daniel’s desk. “Want to do the manly silence thing? I’ve got five minutes free.”
“How about I listen while you talk?”
“Me? Why me?”
Daniel smiled. Jack had told him once that it was a scary smile at times and he hoped this was one of them.
“Because you’re the only one who can tell me what she did with my body. No one else will. They either don’t know, or don’t dare. Sam says you’re the first person Vala told. I want to know what happened.”
Daniel didn’t stop smiling, “You’ve had your body taken over, Mitchell. Had memories not yours forced into your mind. This is similar. My body. Invaded. Moving, talking, eating—God, how much ice cream did you give her?”
“You seemed to be enjoying it.”
“Wasn’t me,” Daniel reminded him. “I’m just the one left feeling sick and full and sticky.”
“She, ah, licked the plate.” Mitchell gestured vaguely. “Blob of it. On your nose. You looked about ten. Kinda cute.”
“No. Not really. Look, Jackson—she had to do it, and I’m damn glad she did.”
“Oh, so am I,” Daniel agreed. “In the abstract. I just want to know what my body did while she was wearing it, and the longer you hesitate, the worse I know it must have been.”
“I stood up for you. There was talk of her getting into your pants, and I—shouldn’t have mentioned that, should I?”
“Was she alone with me?” Daniel waved his hand. “You know what I mean.”
“Possibly,” Mitchell said cautiously, his gaze drifting down and then jerking away guiltily.
“Don’t bother telling me she didn’t look.”
“Won’t.” Mitchell studied his watch. “We done here?”
“We will be as soon as you answer me.” Daniel used the calm, inflexible voice. Scarier than the smile.
“You are one stubborn man, you know that?”
“Locker room. She came up behind me and whistled.”
“I don’t know!”
“To get your attention?”
“Wasn’t that kind of whistle.”
Daniel blinked. “Tell me you weren’t naked.”
“I wasn’t naked.”
“I was wearing a towel. Around my waist. And a lot of shaving foam. On my chin. She whistled, I turned, thinking, what the hell and you—”
“She wiggled and smirked, and damn, that towel wasn’t as big as it looked when I picked it up.”
“God.” Daniel cringed. “What did you say?”
“I don’t know. ‘Jackson, is there something you want to tell me?’ Something like that. I was—it was deeply disturbing. The way you stood, the way you were looking—I knew it wasn’t you.”
Daniel stood, sliding his hand over Mitchell’s in a brief, comforting touch. “I’m sorry. I just—I had to know.”
“Yeah.” Mitchell nodded, his fingers curling around Daniel’s equally fleetingly. “I get that.”
“So you don’t think--?”
“No.” Mitchell shook his head hard. “No way she guessed.”
She was in my body. Staring at you half-naked and damp. She wouldn’t need to guess; she’d know, Daniel thought.
He smiled reassuringly at Mitchell. “No way,” he agreed.
** The End **
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