Title: Support

Author: Devra

Feedback: paravati@optonline.net

Rating: PG-13 language

Pairings: Slash-established relationship J/D

Category: First person POV, Angst, H/C

Date: April 25, 2003

Status: Complete.

Season/Spoilers: When they were still a team.

Archive: please ask.

Synopsis: Support comes in many forms.

Notes: This is a Table birthday fic for all the April birthday gals on the Flats. Athene, Lewie, babs, DebiC this one's for you. A little...okay a lot of whumping and a caring Jack. Thanks to Majel for her magic, Jo for her handiwork, and DebA...for her medical expertise (hope I didn't mess it up too much)

Support

It's early morning and I'm the sole occupant of the commissary; reading yesterday's edition of the Colorado Times that someone saw fit to leave here, nursing my coffee, and chewing mindlessly on buttered toast. I hear Daniel talking to the commissary crew before I see him. In my mind's eye, I conjure up a picture of…blue eyes dulled and shadowed by fatigue, an almost undetectable slump to his shoulders, and a body that's in need of a couple hours of uninterrupted sleep. I look up as Daniel places his breakfast tray and cup of coffee on the table and slides his body into the seat across from me. I fold the paper, placing it on the chair next to me, Daniel's physical state confirmed as our eyes meet… I add the dire need of a shave and shower to the litany. After years of practice, Daniel has the uncanny ability to read my body language as he cants his head at me, coffee mug poised halfway between the table and his lips. "Jack?"

I kick myself for not being able to hide my annoyance better. I'm tired of arriving at the SGC only to find Daniel's car sitting in the same parking spot from the previous day. "Again?" With that one word, he knows.

"Again, Jack." I don't fluster him, he knows me too well. His takes a sip of coffee in an attempt to hide a yawn…an action that is not lost on me. Daniel leans forward, pushing his breakfast tray to the side. Conspiratorially, he begins to whisper, a knowing smirk stretching across his features.

I stop his diatribe raising my hand. I extend my body, locking my arms, and raise my ass out of the blue plastic chair. I position my face so close, we are almost nose to nose…the table our only barrier. "This is not about sleeping alone. This is about me being your team leader and going through the Stargate without my team at 100 percent capability."

Lust drains from Daniel's eyes, replaced by indignation and anger. He purses his lips and I can literally hear the gears turning in his head, fighting himself…trying to hold back his volley of words. "When haven't I ever given you 100 percent?"

"Daniel, that's not what I meant."

He stands, palms resting on the table. "May not be what you meant, certainly sounded like what you said, though."

"When was the last time you were home? Went home…slept on something that wasn't the couch in your office?"

"I needed you, Jack to stand up for my recommendation to Washington to hire more people. I'm sure you got that memo from me…oh wait…must be sitting in your inbox somewhere."

"Daniel…"

He looks down at me, challenging me. "Gonna tell Hammond I'm unfit to go with you today?"

"Damn it. Sit down, Daniel." I'm sure he's counting to 10 in one of his 23 languages, as well as adding a curse or two before he sits. "I signed off on the memo…read it and signed off on it. Signed, sealed and delivered to Washington."

Eyes wide and unblinking behind his glasses, Daniel hangs his head and apologizes softly.

"You can't do it all. I need you."

His head shoots up, ready to argue with me…personal life and SGC should never interfere. "SG1 needs you…all of you. After this mission, I'm putting in for downtime for you."

"Today?"

I look at my watch, damn I was early today. "Today is a go. Provided you take a nap before the mission briefing."

He wants this mission badly, somewhere in the vestiges of my mind I remember a *very* long briefing with Daniel providing Hammond with a horse and pony show trying to convince him that a trip to this planet would be in SGC's best interest. Like I said, he wants this mission badly enough to do whatever his commander needs him to do…wants him to do.

He mirrors my actions and checks his watch. "Nap I can do…shower…" he runs his hands along his jaw line. "Shave…time for a shave." He graces me with a lopsided grin and bends toward me…momentarily my heart stops, thinking that Daniel is going to kiss me, here under the fluorescent lighting in the empty commissary, within eye-shot of the ever watchful big brother. Instead I am rewarded with a lascivious grin as he grabs the last corner of toast from my plate.

"Thanks for breakfast, Jack," he mumbles, stuffing the whole piece of toast into his mouth. I bite back my warning words regarding choking and my ability to perform the Heimlich maneuver. I make a shooing motion in his direction and he takes the hint and my warning in stride, never giving me a backwards glance as he leaves.

* * * *

I've been sitting in Daniel's office for the past 20 minutes, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps on the couch. His head is lying in the crook of his left arm, right arm hanging off the couch, dangling, the worn afghan twisted around his legs. And I watch. These are the times I take comfort in… the many mornings waking before Daniel and just watching. He shifts and moans in his sleep, trying and failing to find a position that would afford him more comfort. The size ratio of Daniel couch is disproportionate and Daniel's eyelids slowly rise. Feline-like, he stretches and though this is not the time and definitely not the place, I feel my cock begin to rise to the occasion. I shift positions hoping that I'm not telegraphing to Daniel my need nor my …

"Glad to see me, Jack?" Daniel's face is alight with a Cheshire grin which transforms in seconds to a jaw popping yawn. He scrubs his hands over his face, leading his fingers through his sleep induced spiky hair.

The sonofabitch is teasing me…enticing me with something unobtainable for the next 48 hours. "Daniel." I cringe at the sound my voice produces…I had been going for gruff and commanding…I'm thinking it came out all begging and pleading. Even though that's how I felt…that's really not what I wanted to convey.

Daniel swings his feet off the end of the couch, untangling those arms and legs until he brings himself to a standing position. Fingers intertwined, he extends his arms over his head, arches his back and stretches. I cough deeply to hide the whimper that is beginning to build in my throat.

I close me eyes against the tantalizing vision of this up close Daniel. The reel of images plays in my mind…Daniel asleep in bed, naked, the sheet twisted over his slim hips…

I jump as Daniel places a hand on my shoulder, his voice clouded with concern. "Are you okay, Jack? "

I allow myself to touch Daniel's hand as it rests on me. Nothing that can be construed as anything but reassurance to the omnipresent cameras of the SGC.

The years that Daniel and I have been together under the restraints of prying eyes and unforgiving minds have taught us the power of expression. Facing off, reflections of duel need and desire apparent to both of us…we just echo each other's sighs and take our leave of Daniel's office.

Daniel whispers a number to me as he leans across my body, a whisper of a touch, to push the button for the elevator. "Excuse me?" I counter.

He stands, rocking back and forth on his heels as we wait for the elevator, hands dug deeply into his BDU's pockets. "Minutes, Jack…how many minutes in 48 hours until we are able to…." The binging of the arriving elevator brings a slight blush to Daniel's face and an abrupt end to this conversation.

I give a quick prayer to the gods above that the NID has not been able to tap into our thoughts as I watch one very lovely ass, attached to the man I love, precede me into the elevator. "How many minutes, Daniel?"

Intent on the changing red numbers on the panel, he answers simply, "Too many."

* * * *

A temple buried deep in the forest that Daniel had promised as well as Carter's assurances of mineral enriched soil and this mission had been a go. Trees, I hate trees, I had commented to the team as soon as we stepped foot from the Stargate.…now, I breathlessly bless the trees as providing us necessary cover.

One mile away from the Stargate, my years of military training kick in…that sixth sense that has saved my life countless time. I feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand and come to attention. I swivel slowly, bring my P90 up and release the safety. From within the depths and darkness of the trees, we were being watched. I rotate back…"Daniel," I hiss. He turns to me, annoyed that I interrupted his conversation with Carter, but he gets the hint and ducks as the tree to his left is marred by weapons' fire.

"Go…Go…Go," I chant. No further explanation is needed as the team follows Teal'c's lead. Close enough to the Stargate, we are going to turn tail and blow this pop stand. No amount of mineral or number of pristine temples is worth this team's life.

Daniel loses his footing, staggers, and lands hard amid the trees. Silently cursing, I pull myself up short before I trip over his prone body. I roughly haul him up by his upper arm, registering surprise as he flinches at my touch. With no time to assess any damage or even inquire if he is all right, I shove him to get him moving again. Daniel sways momentarily before matching his earlier pace.

"Move it, Daniel!" I yell, pushing at his backpack…I'm closing in on him…the gap between him and Carter seems to be growing. He's having trouble and my anger at myself is growing exponentially with each step for thinking a two hour nap would be enough to revitalize him.

These natives just seem to want us off their planet…and fast. The trees appear to be taking the brunt of their anger…shots fired as a warning to us.

We break through to the small clearing where the Stargate is situated. Unceremoniously, I shove Daniel towards the DHD. He's panting, leaning heavily on the DHD, drawing a breath before he begins inputting the symbols. Daniel is moving in slow motion, like time is not a concern. "Daniel…today!" I yell, already preparing my argument once we hit the ramp at the SGC, my annoyance bubbling near the surface. Daniel pauses, wavering, his hand hovering over the middle crystal. Carter stands to the side ready to punch in SG1 's IDC. "Daniel…now would be nice."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him grasp the edge of the DHD for leverage before punching in the red crystal.

Carter sends the GDO code as soon as the wormhole stabilizes. "Accepting GDO code, Sir."

"Come on, Daniel. Home. Now." He pivots to face me, keeping one arm on the DHD for balance, and with shock I notice how pale and sweaty Daniel is. The right side of his uniform is splattered with blood. Red, virulent red that drips down his arm, already pooling within the glyphs of the DHD, dripping onto the ground. I barely register Carter and Teal'c laying down cover fire as I step forward to catch Daniel as his legs begin to fold.

"I've gotcha, Daniel."

"You always do, Jack," Daniel answers as he grabs at my jacket with blood stained hands, before succumbing to darkness.

* * * * * *

I hit the ramp already yelling for medical assistance as Carter and Teal'c stumble in a pace behind us. Carter shouts for the iris to be closed as Daniel begins to claw at my back, his movements offsetting my balance. The two of us hit the metal ramp with a resounding thud. Peripherally, I pick up the hum of some type of energy weapon and throw my body over Daniel's as a wave of heat emanates from the still opened Stargate behind us. The gate room is bathed in bright light and then total darkness. Within seconds, the emergency lights kick in and my nostrils are assaulted by the smell of burnt wires and ozone. I register the painstakingly slow closing of the iris amid the din of confusion that reigns in the gate room.

Daniel weakly pushes against my chest and I cautiously raise my body, locking my eyes on his face. "Daniel?" With shaking hands, I reach out and smooth back his already damp hair, his forehead uncommonly cool against the warmth of my palm.

"Colonel, let me." I smile in gratitude as Fraiser crouches down next to Daniel.

I move to the side, holding Daniel's blood slicked hands in mine, my thumb rubbing his knuckles in comfort, his as well as mine. "He was shot while dialing out…" Fraiser isn't listening to me, astutely ignoring me, in fact… intent on Daniel. He is confused at her questioning, eyes flitting from her concerned face to mine. Daniel's breathing has progressed from panicked panting to an actual struggle to fill his lungs with air. His body movements become increasingly anxious, as he crabwalks up my squatting body to move his injuries away from Fraiser's probing fingers. Leaning against me, his hand crawls up my jacket until he grips my upper arm in a painfully tight grip. Daniel grabs at his chest with his free hand, pulling his clothes away from his body in frenzied, terrified movements. I grab his forearm. "Daniel, let the doc do her job. 'Kay?" My heart skips a beat as Daniel mews in anguish, kicking out his feet against the abuse. Blood seeping through my fingers, I damn myself for unwittingly grabbing his injured arm. "Sorry…'m…"

I am shushed by Fraiser as she places two fingers under Daniel's jaw line. "Damn… damn."

"'Doc… what?"

"Shut up, Colonel… let me think." I see her eyes scan the dimly lit room and with a shock I realize there is no gurney, no medical personnel, no free ride to the infirmary…no open blast doors…

"Would someone tell me what in Sam Hill is going on down…"

I hesitate a moment, thankful that Carter has picked up the ball and is running with it as she answers the General's disembodied request in a clear concise voice. I see the outline of the General as he stands backdropped against the lighting of the control room.

"We were attacked sir. Daniel was injured while dialing out. I think some type of energy beam followed us through the gate shorting out the systems here. The blast doors have effectively been welded shut, Sir. Umm…for want of a better word, we're trapped."

Their continued conversation fades into the background and I focus all my attention on the Doc and Daniel. She lifts his bloody shirt, feeling along his ribcage…closing her eyes in concentration as she searches for something.

"Janet, help him," I plead as I feel his hand slowly snake down the length of my arm as he loses consciousness. Daniel's body begins to tilt from its position against my knees and I catch him, grimacing as I feel his struggle to breathe.

With her hands on Daniel's ribcage, her eyes scan the room. "Sam…clear the table. Teal'c over here…now!" I hear the crashing of glass and items falling onto the cement floor as Carter does what she is instructed. "Colonel, you and Teal'c lift Daniel up gently…"

"His injuries…"

"Will not matter at all, if I don't reinflate that punctured lung. Look, I really don't have time to explain…just as gently as possible, carry him over to the table, please."

I mentally apologize to my lover as Teal'c and I carry his limp body between us. 'Sorry I didn't notice…sorry I didn't cancel the mission…sorry I…' In the short walk to the table, my lists of sorry's is infinite.

I stand by the head of the table, my hands gently stroking Daniel's sweat-soaked hair. I watch with morbid fascination as Fraiser frantically searches for the necessary items. Peripherally, I see her dig into her lab coat pocket and hurriedly slip on a pair of gloves. For a room that is filled with only 7 people…the four members of SG1, Fraiser and two SF's, the volume of noise if deafening. I shut my senses off and focus only on every breath that Daniel's body is taking and the faith I have in Dr. Janet Fraiser.

She yells at Carter to dump out our packs and, after a taking a deep breath to regain her composure, she calmly explains her needs to my 2IC who is now kneeling on the cement floor of the gate room.

Daniel begins to squirm under my ministrations…simultaneously with the doc's unceremoniously cutting his shirt. "Colonel…there is no time to issue any anesthesia and the sedatives in your packs… just hold him down please." Her warning comes at the same time she pours an antibiotic on the site of his wound. Daniel arches his back off the table, moving and squirming to get away. I pray for him to stay unconscious as I notice his eyelids flutter. "Not now, Daniel… please," I beg.

I see Carter hand off the requested items to Fraisier…I watch her count along his rib cage, talking to Daniel in a soothing voice as she explains her procedure. I'm not too sure my archaeologist is capable of comprehending what she is doing, but I do, and in the heat of the moment, I catch her eye and nod. She mirrors my actions…she understands.

"You have a collapsed lung, Daniel. I know your arm and leg hurt too, but we need to make it easier for you to breathe. Once we put air back into your lung, believe me, you'll feel better…and we will take care of your other hurts."

The size of the needle that Carter has just handed to Fraiser makes my heart skip a number of beats. "I'm going to insert this between your ribs, it's gonna hurt…but almost immediately, Daniel, there will be some relief." I wince as she plunges the needle into my lover's lower ribs.

Daniel jerks in my arms and Fraiser issues me a warning to keep him still. No longer mindful of the cameras, I lean forward, placing a gentle kiss on his temple. I whisper in his ear that I love him more than life, but without him I have no life. The sound of escaping air is like music to my ears and Daniel's minute struggles cease as his breathing exhibits a more regular rhythm.

Daniel slowly opens his eyes…calling for me. He makes an attempt to lift his head to see what Janet is doing to his already abused body. "Jack?"

"Stay still, Danny…let Janet work her magic." At the uncommon use of her first name, I see Fraiser's lips turn up in a flash of a smile.

"Relax, I'll try to explain new and exciting ways in which our good doctor is using her needles." Daniel's attempt at a chuckle turns into a low moan of pain and discomfort, and I use my hand to brush the sweat from his forehead.

"Okay…Carter has handed over a syringe…and now Fraiser is removing the innards of the syringe…"

"Jack…" Daniel whispers my name.

"Yeah."

"Could ya shut up please…feels better…that's all I care about."

The atmosphere around Daniel lightens…as Carter snorts in response and Fraiser clears her throat to hide her laughter.

"Shutting up, Daniel," I counter…the crisis for the moment has passed. The end result is some type of makeshift device with a rubber glove that is expanding and deflating with each of Daniel's breaths. The dressing surrounding the wound covered with sunscreen…tape holding it in place. Fraiser has placed pressure bandages on Daniel's other injuries…and she is monitoring his vitals as best she can under the circumstances.

Fraiser reassures Daniel that it is okay to close his eyes and rest when she catches him struggling to remain awake. I feel his body relax under my hands, my eyes glued to the contraption protruding from Daniel's side, the one that is keeping him alive. Before I have a chance to thank Fraiser, the blast doors open and the lighting in the gate room returns to normal. I squint at the onslaught of bright lights. Fraiser barks orders to the medics that advance into the gateroom, a gurney hauled between them.

"Careful!" Our little Napoleon yells. "Careful of my handiwork." I step back and let the medics transfer Daniel to the waiting gurney. He squirms in discomfort and his eyes open, seeking. I step forward, grabbing his hand. "I'm right here Daniel…right by your side."

* * * *

The gateroom is being cleaned, the area around the table swept clean of the debris from our packs. The biohazard crew is scrubbing the ramp…and damp, darkened spots on the hard floor mark the areas where Daniel's blood had been cleaned.

A member of the cleaning team, steps forward, items in hand to scrub the table. "No!" I state, more emphatically than necessary. "I'll do it." I relieve the young man of bucket and chemicals.

"No, sir. Please…it's necessary for me to…"

"No…It's necessary for you to permit me to clean this table." Without further explanation, I turn to complete my labor of love, leaving a confused airman standing in the middle of the gateroom.

I wet the rag, and clean the top of the table that has once again served Daniel in his hour of need…in my hour of need. I thank the table for saving Daniel when I couldn't, for providing him strength and support when I didn't. I reverently touch the dimple that this table bears in remembrance of another time when it came to my aid, saving the person I love. I am unaware of the passage of time…but the table now shines and glows from the work my hand and my guilt has performed.

I jump when a hand tentatively touches my arm. "Colonel?"

"Doc… oh my god…is he?"

"He's out of surgery…in recovery. Thought you would like to know that."

I drop the rag into the dirty bucket, scrubbing my hands across my sweaty face. I wipe my hands off on the legs of my pants. "Can I sit with him?"

Fraiser issues a small laugh…and with a pang, it registers how exhausted she is…reflected in her eyes, the stature of her body. "Thank you," I whisper.

Placing her hand on my forearm, she assures me with a calm gentleness. "You're not the only one who loves him, Sir."

I place my hand atop hers…a gentle squeeze to confirm her statement regarding Daniel's uniqueness. "Come on…your bedside chair awaits you…after a shower…"

* * * *

I am a table. I am a rectangular four-foot wide by eight-foot long, golden oak table with lots of grain, a leg on each corner, and a polyurethane sealant. This is important, because though it removes me from the level of 'fine' furniture, it adds to my versatility and my longevity. I was purchased in the early 90's by the U.S. Air Force Quartermaster in a spasm of upgrades for the offices of NORAD. After I was delivered I was reassigned to a priority slot in a new command under the mountain cryptically referred to as SGC. I can seat eight formally, ten comfortably, and twelve friendly. Because I was purchased without chairs, I knew that my life would be one of utilitarianism not formal dining. In other words, I'll see a lot of service of all kinds…

As the many mobiles that had been filling this large room, milling about with various cleaning utensils and devices, finally begin to trickle out the blast doors, I sigh in contentment with the fine polish that Tall Military Jack has left me with.

I have performed countless important tasks in this place, for these mobiles, But in this vast room I stand a little prouder because today I have given support and remained strong and steady when others could not.

The End