Preface – Takes place sometime between Fallen and Heroes. As they say, "I like my SGC with Jack on SG1, Hammond in command and Janet in the infirmary." Not to mention I wanted Jacob alive. Sentinel-wise, takes place post TSbBS.
This story is aimed at SG1 fans, not Sentinel fans. You don't need to have seen The Sentinel to enjoy the story – but you'll be pretty lost if you know nothing about Stargate.
sigh I realize I'm probably making a mistake uploading this now. I have such a bad habit of writing furiously, then deciding to post and forgetting about it soon after I do. So I apologize if this never gets past the first few chapters.
Warnings – Slash. If you don't like it, leave. If you don't know what it is, leave now. Rated M for language, sexual situations and "alternate lifestyles".
Disclaimer – I don't own anything. It all belongs to someone else. I'm just borrowing for a while. Suing me will get you nothing, and flames will only be used to roast marshmallows. In addition – this fic is lore-intensive, and while I did do my research it's probable that some of my mythology is wrong or has been twisted to fit the story. Apologies in advance for mythological mistakes or bits out of canon.
"See you in two weeks, Sam," Daniel Jackson said as he locked up his office. Major Samantha Carter smiled at him as she passed, Sgt. Siler at her side and a toolbox in her hand. Daniel knew she'd be spending the next few days working on her precious bike, with Siler's expert help.
SG-1 had had a bad week, and they had more than earned the two weeks of downtime they'd been looking forward to for months. Sam was going to spend the time working on her various projects, including her motorcycle – and Siler. Daniel snickered. The poor sergeant had no idea what he was in for. Teal'c, their alien team member, had already headed offworld to visit his family. Daniel's CO, Colonel Jack O'Neill, had invited him up to his cabin to fish, which Daniel had respectfully declined, saying only that he had plans with an old friend. Jack had looked at him suspiciously, asking if it was an old girlfriend, to which Daniel had only widened his eyes innocently and told him no, he wasn't meeting an old girlfriend. Which was the truth.
Daniel slung his laptop case over his shoulder. Relaxed in soft, worn jeans, a navy t-shirt with a blue and white plaid overshirt, with his gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, he knew he looked just like the nerdy academic he had gradually shed over the past few years. The only shred of his everyday pseudo-military persona left were his military-issue combat boots, which he was taking home for a very good reason. He swiped his keycard at the elevator, shoving down the excitement that threatened to spill from him.
The SGC had been more of a home to him over the past few years than his actual flat. Caught up in his work, all the wonderful – and terrible – things he had seen, and the dynamics of the base and his team, he had almost forgotten that he had friends, very good friends, outside the mountain. That is, up until about a month ago, when one of his old students from back when he was a TA had emailed him. Daniel had been very excited, almost too excited, to hear from Blair Sandburg. He had gotten the whole story. How Blair's mother had published a fictional dissertation he had written for amusement, how he had had to go on national TV and proclaim himself a fraud, how he had been barred from getting his doctorate and how he was now considering the police academy. Having been in a similar state, Daniel could sympathize. He couldn't imagine Blair in the police academy, though – the younger man had grown up with a hippy mother and was pretty much a pacifist.
Still, Blair had spent the last few years as a "consultant" to the Cascade Police's Major Crimes unit while he worked on his real dissertation, an anthropological study of the closed community of law enforcement. Or something like that. The whole thing seemed off to Daniel, who had been there when Blair had first become interested in the legend of the Sentinel. Which, coincidentally, had been the subject of his "pretend" dissertation.
Daniel knew, from experience, not to take Blair's word on this as gospel. It wasn't that he didn't trust Blair – he did, with his life – but he knew better than anyone that some secrets had to be kept, even if it meant your peers thought you were a loony. Case in point – his own theories.
Through the emails and phone calls that had flown back and forth over the past few weeks, Daniel had detected a slightly desperate tone in Blair. Something was bothering his friend, something big. When Blair had suggested that they check out a new archeological find in Peru, Daniel had been surprised and intrigued. It seemed that the majority of the archeological world didn't know about the find, mostly because the ones who had found it were natives of a tribe called the Chopec. Daniel hadn't asked how Blair had heard about it, but he was glad that he hadn't told anyone else when Blair revealed that it was a Mayan pyramid – smack in the middle of Incan territory. Daniel could think of a couple reasons for this, none of which would be accepted by the general archeological community. Which, of course, is why Blair had told him. When it came to out-of-place pyramids, Daniel was an expert.
Daniel reached the ground floor and nodded to the airman at the gate, who gave him a smile and a "Have a good vacation, Dr. Jackson." Daniel shook his head slightly. Even now, it was sometimes a shock to realize he was respected in the mountain. He was the pet archeologist, and the military types in the mountain were proud to have him. It made a change from academia.
Daniel got in his car, tossing his laptop case on the passenger seat. He took a deep breath, preparing to leave the mountain for the longest stretch of time since he had Ascended. It was weird, but more than worth it. He had one more thing to look forward to over this break – the possibly rekindling of the relationship he had shared with Blair shortly after Blair had passed his Anthropology 231 class. Blair always understood him in a way in which no one else, not even Sam, had ever come close. His mind was as convoluted and slippery as Daniel's own, and the two of them often found themselves knowing what the other was thinking. They had been involved romantically for almost two years before the massive amounts of schoolwork necessary as Blair was finishing his masters and Daniel started his second doctoral dissertation had split them apart.
It's time, Daniel figured as he pulled out of the parking lot. It's been years since Sha're died. No one will ever replace her in my heart, and I know that now. He grinned. Besides, I haven't had anything that resembled consensual sex with anyone but Jack for what, five years? Hathor sure as hell doesn't count.
He shuddered. That had been one of the worst experiences of his life, and was the main reason he had gotten special permission to carry a zat gun on this trip. Hathor herself had been dug up from a pre-Colombian pyramid, and if he was gonna run into another crazy Goa'uld queen, he wanted to be ready. As unlikely as that was.
But he wasn't thinking about that right now. He was thinking about the plane he would be boarding in less than an hour, bound for Peru.
One very long plane ride later (made much more comfortable by an Air Force jet – he had called in a favor with Major Davis) Daniel was strolling through the Lima airport. He hadn't told Blair that he would be arriving by private jet, for the simple reason that he didn't want his young friend asking questions. With only a single rolling suitcase and his precious laptop case, he seemed like any other poor shmuck who was passing through.
A poor shmuck with a Beretta under his shirt at the small of his back and a zat gun in his suitcase. Daniel had learned long ago that just because he was on Earth didn't mean he was safe.
'Course, he wasn't planning on getting captured by Honduran rebels this time.
"Daniel?"
Daniel turned and found himself looking down at a pair of stormy blue eyes he hadn't seen in years.
"Blair." he said softly, hurriedly setting his suitcase upright. He freed his hands just in time to catch the young man as he threw himself into his arms. Daniel leaned his cheek on Blair's dark auburn curls, tightening his hold. Blair was holding onto him for dear life, and Daniel thought to himself that someone had hurt him – and he was going to hurt them. Then the bout of protectiveness subsided and he pulled away slightly, cupping the man's cheek in one hand and studying his face.
Blair's shoulder-length, wildly curly hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, somewhat mussed from sleeping on the plane. He looked up at Daniel soulfully from his position nearly five inches below him, blue-grey eyes peeking out from between wire-frame glasses and dark, expressive eyebrows. His skin was darker than Daniel remembered, a deep olive that had obviously seen some sun recently. His full lips were parted slightly, absently, as he studied Daniel intensely in return. Daniel swiped his thumb gently across Blair's cheek and let his hand drop, breaking out into a wide grin.
"You look fantastic." he said, and was rewarded by a smile like the sun rising on Blair's previously pouty lips. Looking much more like the enthusiastic student Daniel loved, Blair gave him another big hug and pulled away, grabbing his own duffel bag from where he had dropped it before.
"You're not so bad yourself, man." he laughed, his voice light. "C'mon, I've got a room waiting for us at a nearby motel. It's not much but it'll serve the purpose."
Daniel raised an eyebrow. A room. As in, one single room. He smiled to himself. 'The purpose'?
Blair sighed contentedly, not able to remember the last time he'd felt so relaxed. He was hundreds of miles away from everything that had been causing him stress for the past few months, safe in the relative anonymity of the small but comfy hotel room, with a man who he both loved and trusted, whom he considered closer than a brother. Best of all, he was far away from the damning influence of the man who'd been haunting his dreams – his partner, Detective Jim Ellison.
Jim wouldn't have known Blair was gone until just a few hours ago, when he came home from work. He would have gone on high alert when he realized Blair wasn't home, when his extraordinary senses of hearing and smell had alerted him to his roommate's absence. He would have visually swept the area for signs of struggle, finding Blair's note in the process. More than likely, he would be suspicious of the note, knowing it was not like Blair to just leave without prior notice. No doubt he would pay no attention to the note's reassurances that Blair was fine and would be back in a few weeks. Certainly he would have called the station, whereupon their superior, Captain Simon Banks, would have told him that yes, Blair had requested two weeks off, yes, he had asked that Jim not be told, and no, he had no idea where the anthropologist was planning on going. Blair sighed inwardly, imagining the tirade the big, hot-tempered man would have gone on, and was glad that he didn't have to be there to experience his Sentinel's wrath. Jim would have two weeks to calm down and think about why Blair might have done this. Meanwhile, Blair had two weeks to immerse himself in everything he had been missing out on – the thrill of discovery, his anthropological and archeological studies, and Daniel.
Blair chuckled to himself, wondering what sort of rampage Jim would embark upon if he could see his Guide now. Barefoot, in soft hunter flannel pajama pants and an open pj shirt, nestled in the arms of another man, dressed in a similar fashion but in dark blue silk. Daniel had propped himself up on pillows against the headboard, and Blair was cuddled comfortably between his legs, resting his head on Daniel's shoulder, the two of them excitedly going over the information Blair had collected on the dig site. He shared everything he knew about the misplaced pyramid. As he began to run out of information, his attention began to wander – as did his hands.
Reaching up to gently run his hands over Daniel's smooth chest, Blair explored the firm muscles and unfamiliar scars, large and small. Daniel stopped talking as his mind found its way back through the fog of academia to reality.
"Getting sidetracked, Blair?" Daniel asked, amusement in his voice. Blair judiciously decided to ignore the comment.
"Been working out, Danny?" he asked softly. He traced his finger over a long, shallow scar that ran from shoulder to collarbone, leaving his other questions unasked. He knew that scar hadn't been there before.
"Yeah. You know. Working for the military."
His excuse was weak and they both knew it. Daniel was a civilian consultant at an Air Force base in Colorado, and he should have no reason to work out – or get injured as often or as badly as his scars indicated. But Daniel had informed him long ago that his work was completely confidential, and he was prone to long absences; one of the more recent of which had rendered him unreachable for almost a year. Blair had his theories about what Daniel really did, the most likely of which was that he was an international spy. It was work that would capitalize on both his ability to conform to a culture and his knowledge of over 20 languages, and it would explain both his long, sporadic absences and his current physical condition. Still, he knew better than to ask, or to even make any comments that might lead Daniel to believe he had suspicions. It was an unspoken rule between them. Just as neither of them discussed their respective crazy theories, they did not discuss their work.
Still, something about Daniel's broad physique and marred skin compelled Blair. He leaned down and kissed the scar, carefully. Daniel drew in a sharp breath. Blair immediately pulled back, worried he had hurt his friend. Daniel smiled down at him and placed a hand under his chin, drawing Blair's lips forward to meet his own. The kiss was slow and relaxed, but chaste, Daniel broke away without ever opening his mouth. Blair felt himself pout a little, against his will. Daniel smiled.
"Easy, babe. We've got time."
Blair nodded, understanding. They'd both had a hard couple of years, and they hadn't seen each other for a long time. If they were going to rekindle the passion they'd held almost a decade ago, they would need time to get to know each other all over again. And, thanks to some understanding superiors and some plain old good luck, they had that time.
Blair nuzzled into Daniel's neck, content for the moment to be happy and safe.