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Adrift

Notes: A little post-Meridian angst




Itís the middle of the week and heís home. Itís rare, but it does happen Ė sometimes Hammond gives them a few days in between missions; seems to be happening more lately and Jack tries not to think about why.

He wanders around his house, aimlessly, not able to settle anywhere. He feels like heís looking for something, but he knows heís not going to find it and it makes him restless. He grabs a beer out of the fridge. Itís early, but what the hell Ė heís not going anywhere, except the roof. He climbs up and looks over his neighbourhood briefly before sitting down in the chair by the telescope with a sigh.

Jack sits for a few quiet moments, taking sips of beer and then he says, "Hey Daniel," to the open air. "Howís it going?" he asks with a bit of a sarcastic smile. "Not too cold? Not too hot?" He laughs grimly and then falls silent for a few moments.

"Itís just not the same without you, Daniel. That new kid, Jonas, heís okay. Heís trying to fit in. Doing a pretty good job, I guess. Follows orders. Not like someone I could name." Jack pauses again and says, his voice breaking, "We miss you, buddy... I miss you."

Thereís silence again, while Jack takes a long slug of beer. "Thereís this giant hole in my life where youíre supposed to be, Daniel, and I just canít seem to fill it." Jackís voice gets a bit harsh, almost accusatory, "Did you know? Did you know I was Ė am Ė in love with you? You must have known. You could be an observant son of a bitch when it came to people. Goddamnit, Daniel! Why didnít you tell me?"

Jack laughs harshly. "Well, yeah, of course I wouldnít have believed you, would I? Not me. Too fucking stupid for my own good, to not notice, to not *see* what was right there, plain as day, right before my eyes. Too busy deliberately chasing after the impossible to see the possible." Jack takes another drink and thinks about all the lost time, all the lost opportunities.

"Iím so sorry, Daniel. So sorry I didnít know until after you were gone. So sorry I couldnít tell you when you were here. So Iíll say it now, not that it makes much difference," he pauses again and swallows against the tightness in his throat.

"I love you," Jack says clearly into the flat, breezeless day.

A soft breeze comes out of nowhere and gently ruffles through his hair and he swears hears a faint echo of his words in his ear.