Cycles, by Devra

Part 4: Begin Again

Begin Again: Daniel's POV

I stretch out my legs, leaning back in the chair on Jack's deck. The sun should be rising soon, the night sky is lighting with the first rays of color. I shiver in the early morning dampness, but I am lacking the energy to go inside. The upside to Janet's painkillers is that for the four hours you are under their control, you sleep the sleep of the dead…and I should know, I've been dead enough times to be familiar with that sensation. Like clockwork, I awoke, but I was still too groggy to ingest another pill. I know my limitations, I need to eat something first or nausea will accompany the ache in my wrist.

Jack and I talked last evening and made discoveries. Some rekindling…some new…some old. But different…this time around different. It must be different, because too much hurt has been rendered for us to just pick up where we left off.

Jack gives me space and sits on the chair, I stay on the couch…not touching. No physical contact, hey I barely make eye contact with Jack, keeping my head lowered. Afraid to see what was right in front of me. I was and still am, afraid to do this over again.

Jack cautiously moves to the couch… he seems to seek my approval with step he took. He sits next to me and we continue to talk. I am the one holding back and Jack respects that. I hold my resolve…and then he places his hand atop mine. Jack's hands….that belonged to a stranger this morning…now, mere hours later I feel the warmth of friendship in his callused fingers.

We talk until there are no words left to say. Words are my life, but sometimes words are not enough. Jack and I can say whatever we wish during the night, it is the actions during the light of day that will make or break us this time.

He leaves my side and returns with water and my painkiller…and a few Oreo cookies, placing them on the table in front of me. I pick up a cookie and hold it up to him, questioning. "Jack?"

He shrugs. "I haven't shopped in awhile, and you usually need to eat with those pills." He smiles sheepishly. "At least they fresh."

I pop one in my mouth…and then I finish the others, washing them down with the water and the pill.

I toe off my shoes and rest my head on the back of the couch. Jack sits next to me, the closeness of his body comforting. He turns the TV to some sports channel, and we watch in silence. A companionable silence…not fraught with anger.

"Want me to order pizza?" I must've fallen asleep, by body jumps at the sound of his voice. Compliments of the pill, I need to remove the cotton from my mouth before I can grace him with a coherent answer. I open my mouth, Jack just says, "Sleep for you."

He follows me up the stairs and I hesitate…unsure of my destination. "Your choice, Daniel."

I walk slowly to his room, using the wall for guidance. Jack pulls down the covers and I strip to my boxers and tee shirt and I crawl into bed…not even bothering to hit the bathroom first. With a sigh, Jack leans over me, removes my glasses, kissing me tenderly. I would like to stay awake and reciprocate, hey I would like to be awake enough to at least pee, but sleep's siren song wins out. Big mistake. When I wake, four hours later, it's with an uncomfortably full bladder. I try to ignore it, but its persistence makes further sleep pretty much impossible. The bed side clock reads 5:00 am. I slip on my glasses and get up carefully so as to not awaken Jack. He is sleeping next to me, close yet not touching, snoring softly.

I get up, relieve myself, and get dressed. Searching for solitude, I go outside. The night air is cool, and feels good. I eye the observation deck, not believing I would make the climb with my wrist. I opt for the chairs on the back deck, instead. I sit and wait, drinking in the quietness of predawn hours

I open my eyes to see Jack standing over me, the sunrise visible over his shoulder. I croak out a "good morning."

"Daniel, come inside. It's kinda cold out here. Letting you catch pneumonia was not on Fraiser's list of instructions." He extends his hand to help me up, and I accept gratefully. I'm stiff and achy, my body demands both caffeine and a side of pain killer. Jack rubs warmth into my forearms and steers me towards the sliding doors.

"Jack?" Once inside, a smorgasbord of delicious odors delights my nostrils. The table is set for two with fresh waffles and pancakes, bacon and eggs and, by my place setting, is a mug of coffee. It's a simple gesture from a friend and my eyes fill with tears. A thought, a gesture, an action…made by Jack. A step toward healing…a step away from anger. Toward friendship…and the promise of what lies beyond.

Begin Again: Jack's POV

Daniel has retreated to the couch. I can still decipher his body language well enough to be aware that he is in the 'look but don't touch' mode. We are talking, conversing, saying words tonight that do not echo the anger we have felt these past months.

Prophetically, as he sits in my house I realize that I love him. I guess I never stopped. I guess it kinda just got lost in the translation of our life and our relationship. Daniel admits that he was willing to stay with me, even though I had come damn close to destroying both him and us. I want him to choose me because of his love not from fear and that he no longer wishes to be alone. God, I don't want him to feel like he is settling for me. God, I just wish he would look at me.

I can't take it a moment longer, the need to be near him overpowering my sense of reason. I cautiously move to sit by him, talking all the while, like one would do with a skittish animal. I use words to convince him of his safety as I sit down on the couch. Daniel still has a problem equating family and unconditional love. With a mind of its own, my hand snakes out to lie atop Daniel's. Almost too quietly to perceive, he issues a tiny gasp as my fingers intertwine with his. He doesn't pull his hand away…a first step.

We talk…until there is nothing left to say. Daniel and I prove nothing with words, our actions will be the truest gauge of our ability to survive.

He shifts on the couch, a look of discomfort flashes on his face, pain pill time. Daniel would never admit that he was in need of anything to make his life easier or happier. With Daniel, the more things change, the more they remain the same. I go to the kitchen for a pill to help ease his pain and something for him to eat. I'm the proverbial Mother Hubbard, my cupboards are bare. I open my refrigerator which mocks me with all the tin-foil covered items in residence. None of which I am sure is edible. Many of which, I'm sure, are alive. In the back of the closet, left over from a previous Cassie visit, is a box of Oreo cookies. I remove a few, balancing the water, the drugs, and the Oreos and go back to Daniel.

He looks at the cookies questioningly and I give him some mundane answer as to why they're there. Daniel is hungry, he finishes the cookies, takes the pills and swallows the water in record time. Before I have a chance to offer seconds on the Oreos, he has taken off his shoes, rests head and closes his eyes. A gesture I haven't seen in a while in this house… a gesture of being home.

I turn on the TV to a sports show I have no intention of watching, and settle down as close as I can get to Daniel without being in his skin, as close as he will permit me this time. Daniel drifts off, his head falling onto my shoulder. From his sleep, I steal a small kiss, a small moan from his lips is my reward. My eyes rest on the empty Oreo plate, and I'm suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of guilt. I shake him gently…"Want me to order pizza?" Daniel turns to me with unfocused, drugged eyes. He is not hungry, he's craving sleep.

"Sleep for you."

He stretches lazily, like a cat enjoying the midday sun. My body reacts, I'm thinking cold shower while he sleeps. I follow him up the stairs and, with pounding heart, I notice Daniel's hesitation on choosing a room. I'm rooting for my bedroom, it has been awhile since we've woken up together. The choice must be Daniel's.

He walks towards my bedroom, leaning on the wall for support. I am itching to help him…but Daniel needs to make this step on his own. I stay near him, close enough to catch him if he should fall, a position I haven't been in for some time, neither as a friend nor as a lover.

I keep my back turned getting the bed ready because I again feel my body react as I mentally picture Daniel's removal of his clothes. At this time of hopeful renewal, I don't want my body to do the talking for me. We've had our bodies couple in anger and it is unfeeling and almost an act of vengeance. I no longer wish for that.

With a few deep breaths and the promise of a cold shower, I again have my body under control. Daniel is ensconced in covers, his eyes already at half mast. It will be mere seconds before he is fully asleep and I take this opportunity to place a kiss gently on his cheek and remove his glasses. There is no argument on Daniel's part…little steps, but enough to give me hope.

The empty water glass on the coffee table gives me an idea. I scribble a note to Daniel should he awake, but checking my watch and from my experience with Fraiser's meds, I have 4 hours to complete my task.

I forgot an intrinsic part of our relationship. Actions. Little gifts of kindness. Daniel thrives on them. Deprived of them for the majority of his childhood, living in houses where only basic needs were met, never the note in the lunchbox, the special birthday dinners, stories at bedtime…lately I had forgotten, too.

Thank goodness for all night grocery stores. I return an hour later, arms laden with bags. I check on Daniel before I begin. He hasn't moved, his breathing deep and regular. I return to the kitchen and begin to construct the makings for a breakfast feast. I clean up, placing the made batter, fresh fruit, squeezed juice in the refrigerator for safe keeping. The coffee machine is filled, just waiting for a flick of a switch. All lays in readiness.

I didn't mean to fall asleep, not really. Really I didn't. Daniel's side of the bed is empty and cool to the touch, he has been up for a while. Shit! The clock taunts me with time of 5:30 am….I had fallen asleep on top of the covers fully dressed…it was *safer* that way.

I take the stairs two at a time, hoping that maybe Daniel had just moved his sleeping quarters to the living room couch. His name dies on my lips… not there. Where…ahhh. I see him through the sliding glass doors, eyes closed on a deck chair. I'm mean and selfish at this point. He should be inside, in the warmth of the house, but I want to start breakfast first. The breakfast wins out…I will warm him later.

I have this down to a science…Carter would be proud of my precision and planning. From start to finish…including coffee and the table set…under 45 minutes.

I am now standing over Daniel's still sleeping form…"Daniel?" I feel the hesitancy in my voice when I call his name. He slowly opens his eyes and attempts a "good morning" in return.

"Daniel, come inside. It's kinda cold out here…" I continue with the Dr. Fraiser line of guilt, though that's nothing compared to the guilt I feel when he takes my proffered hand and stands with visible stiffness. I step forward to take him in my arms and hesitate when he steps back. Instead, I just settle for rubbing some warmth into his forearms. I then steer him into the kitchen.

I maneuver so I can see his face. I am so tempted to go "Ta-dah"…and have a drum roll…but that would be a little over the top, so I wait while my early morning endeavors filter into Daniel's brain.

"Jack?" I can almost hear the unspoken words…for me? Daniel is thinking. He looks at me, working hard to keep his emotions in check. The residue of months of anger seems to leave his face…replaced with a sense of…peace? Happiness? Place settings for two…plates for two, coffee for two. Friendship. One action…that has affected two people. A simple step…that's all it takes. We will fall and falter again, I am sure, that's just who we are…but I will always remember a simple step.

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