Sunshine and Shadow

First of all, let me say I love Stargate SG1 and have nothing but admiration and respect for the writers who brought it to us with such imagination and consistency week after week. God bless them for their fevered imaginations, even if they weren't quite as fevered as mine.

BUT! If ever a character cried out for a true serious romantic storyline, it was Daniel. What can I say, I had to fix this. Considering that Daniel has my dream job and I have a hopeless crush on him, this was pretty easy for me.

This one is for everyone with a hopeless crush on Daniel Jackson. Hope it fulfills your fantasies.

Everything recognizable about Stargate SG1 doesn't belong to me. I'm just borrowing and having fun. Jillian is mine. Jillian practically IS me, except that she got to actually be an archaeologist and my doctorate is in child development. The Chiu (CHEW-y) family is also mine.

Jillian works in SG canon if kept off screen, or as an AU, whatever makes you happy. This is technically a work in progress as I add to their growing relationship, but each section added will be complete. Rating may change depending on what is in the new sections.

Daniel studied the woman sitting across the table from him, half listening to the possible correlation between the artifacts brought back from P3X-2016 and the pre-Islamic gods of ancient Arabia and Northern Africa. Jillian North, PhD, was an expert in that particular mythology, fluent in Arabic, and more than qualified to lecture him on the subject.

She was tracing the etchings on the fragment s of an ancient tablet, reverently drawing out its secrets. He had noticed her hands before. They were elegant and graceful. For some reason the few times those hands had touched him, he had felt a hot rush of awareness. Something in him recognized her. It had shaken him at first and now…. Well now he just didn't know what to do about it.

There was something about the way Jillian smiled at him, something that was easy; like they had been friends forever and she was glad to see him. More often than not, he found himself returning the sentiment. He had been eager to show her the broken tablet, to watch the recognizable excitement and curiosity light in her eyes

"The style is Sabaean, similar to seventh century BCE Arabia. These symbols," she paused to move her finger across a series of etchings in the tablet," could be the name of a god. The first symbol in the series is shaped like the head of a bull, with horns. That was often used to represent the moon god, Almaqah. But this" and here she indicated a section further down the text, "seems to be about Iblis, or Shaytan, in the Koran."

"Satan in the Bible," Daniel said."Sokar."

He was unusually grave. He had just, quite literally, escaped from Hell. Jillian looked at him from under her lashes, sidelong.

"Yes, the equivalent. In both Christianity and Islam they represent the angel, or jinn, that rebelled against the Lord," she said, slowly. Then she spoke quickly to lure him from a descent into unpleasant memories. "On Earth Almaqah and Sokar would have been centuries and distance apart. I know of nothing that would indicate they existed at the same time."

"But if they are Goa'uld, they could easily exist together on P3X-2016," Daniel pointed out. His point was valid, but he sounded distracted. "At least one of them doesn't exist now at all."

His tone of voice had teeth in it, and sharp claws unsheathed. Jillian's throat felt dry. Daniel was the gentlest man she knew. From the time she had met him four years ago he had been kindness itself. He shone with his own inner light and it drew her to him like a warm fire on a cold night. She had seen Daniel take hurt without flinching, except for a shadow that would slide swiftly into his eyes. She knew he had endured emotion that would bring other men to their knees. He had been tortured long past the point when he should have begged for mercy.

But she had also heard him laugh – really laugh – and seen him smile in ways that lit the sun in her soul.

The events of his life since joining the SGC had changed him, turned him forever into someone made of both sunshine and shadow.

The solid, angry set of his jaw begged her to distract him, change the subject, say or do anything to pull him away from the memory. Without conscious thought she laid her hand on his wrist.

Daniel glanced down at her hand laying warm against his skin and was surprised by how small it looked there. He looked back up and was caught by her eyes. Something like a slow burning fire started in his chest and spread warmth through his body and her green eyes lit with the same fire, sparked with the same awareness.

Something in the air between them sizzled like an exchange of static. The conversation died. Her thoughts scattered when she realized he had leaned towards her. His face was barely inches from hers. She couldn't concentrate on anything but his presence and the feel of his wrist beneath her fingers. A small part of her remembered the priceless relic in her shaking hand long enough to place it safely on the table. After that, there was nothing but him.

Jillian gazed at Daniel for a moment of suspended time, encased in silence. Her pulse pounded, hot and bright and so strong she was certain he could hear it. Cool fluorescent light traced his sandy hair and broad shoulders and rested in shadows and planes on the perfect lines of his face. Daniel's energy, strong and unapologetically male, was hard to ignore. It defeated her, simply because he seemed so unaware of it and held it in check so effortlessly. His eyes were serene, the pupils expanded to leave a vivid blue circle around a pool of black. Those same eyes held hers briefly; then settled on her lips.

He was beyond any doubt the loveliest man she had ever known, in all his sunshine and shadow; and unless she did something to prevent it, he was going to kiss her. A shock of excitement and anticipation went through her at the realization. She had always wanted it and never known with quite how much intensity until this moment.

Tentatively, Daniel reached out until his fingertips stroked over her cheek, brushed an errant lock of chestnut hair behind her ear. A slow, smoldering shiver followed his touch.

His eyes burned, like the blue center of a flame. He slipped his fingers through her hair, cupping her head and tipping it back, drawing her towards him. Jillian caught the flicker of hesitation that ran across his features. She knew he was fighting it a bit, perhaps struggling against being single again, and able to kiss whomever he liked.

Jillian wanted to help him. She had one more breath to move back, to say something witty, or brilliant or even sarcastic. She had one more breath to break the moment. Instead she leaned forward and hopelessly craved this one man's caress.

She closed her eyes and surrendered to him blindly. He kissed the corner of her mouth first. It was a gentle, soft and erotic inquiry. She turned her head to meet him with her mouth open, willing. He teased her for a second longer and then his lips were fully on hers, supple and eager. Tongues touched hesitantly, with a gentle vulnerability that was heartbreaking. His fingers on the back of her head tightened. His thumb traced her cheekbone.

Jillian trembled as compassion rushed over her. The need for air and the inability to remain in the presence of emotion so compelling broke them apart. Breathing hard, she rested her forehead against his. Stunned and breathless, Daniel stroked her hair and kept his eyes closed.

"God, Daniel, god," she whispered, as if she was dragging the words from the other side of the galaxy.

"Yeah," he murmured, "Wow."

Daniel leaned back, letting his hand fall away, and immediately felt bereft. He looked at Jillian and found her looking steadily back. The fringe of hair on her forehead was slightly tousled and her eyes were wide. The color of them startled him. Why had he never really noticed how emerald green they were; or that her eyelashes were so long he could see their shadow on her high cheekbones?

Jillian had made him feel things he hadn't known were still possible, things he thought had died with his marriage.

Not merely physical desire – that was always pretty easy to conjure up. That one kiss had shaken him. What would it be like if they went forward, when they were both long past wanting gentleness and delicacy? Even now his body was ready to abandon conscience for whatever else she might allow.

But it was more than that.

Little ripples shivered down his spine suddenly as the reality of it hit him. Jillian mattered to him. He cared about her, the way he knew Jack cared about Sam; except that Daniel was free to act on the knowledge. Jillian filled him a desperate longing in his heart to share his life, his emotions, his dreams and his passionate pursuit of knowledge with someone. Jillian not only listened intently when Daniel's mouth and brain ran off on archaeological tangents, she participated in them, just as likely to be caught up in the excitement of discovery as he. She was the only person in his life who could truly speak to him in the language of archaeology – which was composed mostly of acronyms and was incomprehensible to the average English speaker.

Jillian made him want to be close to someone and never part – that needhe had forced himself to forget.

Daniel's stomach clenched. That need came with a whole host of terrors that iced his blood and made him remember helplessness and loss.

"God, Jillian." He wanted to stand and walk across the room, put some distance between them. But in the dizzying boneless moments after that kiss, he wasn't certain he could get that far. "What now?"

She smiled and he waded willingly into the cool green sea of it. His pulse was pounding in odd, maddening rhythms, like it did at the sound of gun fire, right before he started running for his life.

"Well," she said, "I don't think we need to go house hunting or pick out china patterns."

In spite of his confused emotions, he laughed. He rocked back in his chair, using distance to bring her into clearer focus through his glasses. She laughed too, a soft sound of relief and pure joy. Her hair shifted and danced behind her like an auburn waterfall.

"I'm not sure we can claim to be just colleagues anymore," he observed.

"I'm not sure we have to claim to be anything," she said, "especially when we aren't sure ourselves. It would take a better person than me to deny what is happening between us. But if you're wondering what we should do next, maybe we should just start small."

Remembering the way his soul had been rocked by the simple touch of her lips on his, Daniel said,

"I think it's too late for that. What we just did was…already…uh, big."

Jillian laughed, if only to cover how much she really wanted to kiss him again. He leaned forward again and placed his hand on the desk palm up. Gently she placed her hand on top of his. His pulse beat warm and steady in the fingertips he curled around her hand.

Jillian kept her eyes down, fascinated by the fact that they were holding hands; or at least he was holding hers.

She had known, instinctively, for years, that if she wanted Daniel she had to wait for him to come to her first.

"Well then the second thing we do should be small," she said, and god, how she kept the hope and passion out of her voice she never would know. "Look, I'm starving and I never like the cafeteria food."

Daniel glanced at the empty dish next to her. A little bit ago it had contained fresh strawberries slathered in Cool Whip. She had brought it with her and absent mindedly finished it off while studying the tablet. The faintest taste of it had clung to her mouth when he kissed her.

Resolutely he kept his mind on what she was saying and didn't let it dwell on the feel of her lips on his, her gentle tongue tracing his. He didn't look at her, afraid of how she might be looking back at him.

It scared him too much to consider, how much he could picture her in his life, traveling through the Gate to digs, translating ancient writing in his office until late into the night, waiting for her to return from off world, having her waiting for him.

His heart pounded again.

"Why don't we go get some lunch?" Her invitation was gentle. "We can go somewhere together that isn't here or through the Stargate?"

Daniel was quiet for a moment. He wanted nothing so much at the moment but to stand, pull her to feet, catch her against his chest and kiss her again. He was forced to breathe slowly. His stomach unclenched at least and that was mercy.

He considered going somewhere with Jillian – away from here, away from the constant presence of the Goa'uld and their persistence in taking away the ones who mattered.

"All right. You pick a place and I'll treat?"

For a moment she couldn't answer. She had made the mistake of looking up into Caribbean blue eyes without bracing herself first. He always made her think of blue waves and golden sands; the warm sun on her skin.

"Um, well," she paused once more to organize her thoughts. "There is a little place in town owned by this delightful Mandarin family. They let me practice with them. If I bring someone else who speaks Mandarin, they'll want to adopt me. It doesn't look like much on the outside but the food is excellent."

"I don't get much of a chance to practice Mandarin out loud," he said. His smile was genuine, even if she thought there was still something hesitant in his eyes. "So it sounds like a plan."

The place was little. At one time it must have been a traditional 1950s style diner. The booths, red vinyl seats and a black and white checked floor scuffed and veined by time still remained. Now there was an Asian-themed aquarium with several small koi. A small Buddhist shrine decorated the window and stencils representing the seven emotions lined the walls where a chair rail had once been. Daniel could see the rectangular repairs on the walls above the tables where the juke boxes must have once been.

A tiny but plump Asian woman with silver hair greeted Jillian like a prodigal child, chattering at her in Mandarin almost too fast for Daniel to follow. She was wearing an oversized Hawaiian print shirt that seemed entirely out of place in Colorado Springs, and leaned on a bamboo cane. She looked to be about sixty but Daniel had never been a good judge of age. Jillian greeted her as 'Mama Chiu' and was rewarded with an expression of maternal concern and more rapid mandarin.

Jillian introduced him as Dr. Jackson.

"Ah, handsome doctor," Mama Chiu said. She looked up into Daniel's eyes and seemed to squint for a moment. Then she said, "Ah, yes. I know you."

Daniel was taken off guard. "You-you know me?"

"I wasn't sure, but now I see you are a person of good heart. But hard on yourself and life has been a little hard on you too."

Daniel was staring at her, trying not to let his jaw drop.

Mama Chui turned to Jillian then and changed to Mandarin. "This one needs a walk in the mountains, clean air, blue skies. Stop somewhere and put your bare feet in the grass or in a clear stream.' She put her hand on Jillian's wrist and patted it, "Keep this one. He will be good to you."

Color rose in Jillian's cheeks but her eyes were dancing. "Um, Dr. Jackson speaks Mandarin, Mama, and he's not that kind of doctor. He's an archaeologist like me."

"Oh archaeology!" Mama Chiu exclaimed, and then switched again to Chinese. The fact that Daniel could understand her didn't seem to bother her in the least. "What are two archaeologists digging up in Colorado? Dinosaurs?"

"Umm, that would be paleontology," Daniel said. Jillian quirked an eyebrow at him and he finished hastily, "But Hollywood gets that wrong all the time too, so it's okay."

It didn't escape Daniel's notice that they were ushered to the booth directly under the Chinese symbols for 'love' and 'desire.' Apparently Jillian noticed too, since she blushed again when her eyes met Daniel's. His expression danced with amusement. Daniel seemed more casually relaxed now for some reason. He turned his attention to Mama Chiu.

"What can I make for you, Dr. Jackson?" Mama Chui's English was better than his Mandarin, but she no doubt used it more often.

"Please call me Daniel," he said, accepting the menu she thrust at him. He spoke slowly in Mama Chiu's language. "Jillian said you might be willing to help me with my Mandarin, if it isn't an imposition."

"Impose!" She waved a hand impatiently, "Does the food impose on the cook? Does the stone impose on the diamond cutter?"

Her words coaxed a wide, delighted smile from Daniel.

"She also said the food here is excellent," he continued in Chinese.

It was obvious immediately that Mama Chiu didn't mind correcting Daniel's Chinese, since she made him say hǎojíle – literally good extreme – three more times until she was happy with it. He tried not to be amused when Mama also fussed over Jillian's attempt to say, "Xia ren chao fen" until she got it right.

In English, Mama said, "Orders the same thing every time she comes and still can't say it right! No idea how she knows what is good and what is not. And for you, Daniel? Also shrimp and rice?"

He ordered mu shoo pork. Mama Chiu beamed over his pronunciation and then limped off towards the kitchen shouting rapidly.

She came back a few minutes later with a pot of tea and two small cups. She also brought a bowl of fruit, which she encouraged Daniel to eat.

"It is blessed," she told him, "It will help you heal."

"I'm fine, though," Daniel protested.

"You will be," Mama Chiu said, "Your basic self is stronger than you realize."

She patted Daniel on the shoulder in a motherly fashion and went back to the kitchen, leaning on her cane.

Daniel folded his arms on the table and leaned forward.

"Okay, you were right," he said, "She's adorable; and a little terrifying. I keep thinking she's going to hit me with a menu if I say something wrong."

"She does remind me a bit of Yoda at times, including the odd bit of philosophy now and then," Jillian admitted. She smiled with genuine affection but then sobered a bit, "Little places like this and families like the Zhou's remind me why we do what we do."

"Dig up the past?" he asked. He opened a set of chopsticks and speared a pieced of papaya with them.

She started to say 'fight the goa'uld' but decided not to bring them into this peaceful place.

"Put ourselves in harm's way," she said, cautiously.

Jillian saw the glimmer of pain in his eyes, as something soul deep surfaced briefly and then was ordered back to the depths from which it threatened. His mouth twitched in a bittersweet smile.

"Archaeology seemed like such a good idea at the time, huh?" he said.

She knew what he meant. When she had chosen her profession – or maybe it had chosen her – she had fully expected to spend her life happily lost in the past. Instead she worked almost daily to unlock secrets that would help them defeat an enemy only an elite group of Earthlings even knew existed. SG-8 didn't seem to get into as much trouble as SG-1. They weren't as 'front line.' But she'd picked up her share of scars and injuries in the last three years.

But Jillian's scars were all on her body. The worst ones Daniel had suffered were on his heart and soul. Jillian had been in love with Daniel nearly from the moment she had met him three and half years ago. Jillian had come to know that behind Daniel's usual calm and imperturbability was the passionate nature of a man who didn't think twice about defying Jack, Star Gate Command or the entire US government to do or say what he felt was right. She had watched him freely argue with people in authority and insert himself into situations from which many would run.

She had never thought there would come a time when she could do anything about her feelings.

"My father wasn't happy about my career choice," Jillian admitted, "Then he became resigned to it and tried to steer me in the direction of Egyptology."

"Nothing wrong with Egyptology," Daniel quipped."You did concentrate on Egyptian writing for your dissertation in LLC."

"And Egypt is a slightly safer part of the world at the moment."

"But you decided to focus on Babylon and the Persia, right in the heart of Iraq, for your archaeological studies," Daniel surmised.

"Yes," Jillian said, then she leaned forward as if sharing a deep dark conspiracy. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, "But for most of my life I wanted to be the person who found the Titanic when I grew up."

He smiled in sympathy. "And then someone beat you to it."

"When I was seventeen," she gave him a rueful smile, "I was crushed and elated at the same time, though my father was relieved. He said I could finally give up my 'morbid fascination with that boat and get on with my life'."

"Did you? Give it up?"

"Not really," Jillian paused," though I changed my educational goals from underwater archaeology to ancient religions and LLC."

"You minored in underwater archaeology, though," Daniel pointed out.

Considering the simplicity of their conversation, Daniel's eyes were unusually intense – opalescent and framed by honey colored lashes. She had found no refuge in glancing away from those eyes. Light danced on hard forearms and glinted off the fine hairs that started at his wrist and disappeared under the sleeve of his pale blue sweater. The strong column of his throat rose from his collar and she could see his pulse beating. Bronze skin, broad shoulders, male muscle and bone, strong hands; and yet somehow all wrapped up in a tender vulnerability that pulled at her heart.

Jillian forced herself to eat some fruit, breathe normally, swallow and then continue.

"It's still my hobby when I'm not translating something from some planet I didn't know existed four years ago."

Always looking for new information and something to learn, Daniel began asking her questions about the loss of the Titanic. He listened intently, but part of him was wrestling with the conundrum of his life. Last week he had been in Hell, certain he would never see home again. It had made him re-evaluate what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, what he was really willing to live without if he got a second chance. He had decided to renew the passionate pursuit of his first love – language and the past.

He had also decided to more carefully examine his reaction to the scientist sitting across from him, the one with the brilliant mind and equally brilliant green eyes. At the moment, he was longing to touch her again. Since he had kissed her, he had wanted nothing more than to continue.

He wondered what it would feel like to lay his head on her shoulder and feel the promise of her arms around him; to feel the promise of her acceptance and understanding.

He wondered if he could offer her his soul as well as his body. There was something about Jillian and his attraction to her that made him resist the idea of casual sex, or a relationship that was only 'friends with benefits.' Those had never been things he cared about anyway; and certainly not now.

Not when she looked at him that way; not when he could still remember the passion and caring and joy in her eyes when their first kiss finally broke.

God, Daniel, she had said. He wanted to make her say that again, in the same breathless, off-balance way.

He realized suddenly that she had stopped talking. He had been too busy watching the sparkle in her eyes and the animated movement of her hands that betrayed her passion for the subject.

He was spared having to say anything when their food arrived. He discovered he was ravenous, though he somehow also managed to eat like a civilized being and chat with Mama Chiu at the same time.

Jillian watched him from under her eyelashes, trying not to be obvious. There was laughter in his eyes and in his voice – laughter not often seen by anyone at the SGC. Daniel could fill a room just with the intensity of his presence. It was even more obvious of late; now that he lived among colleagues that respected him. Now that he had seen everything he had believed for so long confirmed beyond doubt. Self confidence sat on him with serenity and grace.

She watched Daniel making use of conversational mandarin, talking about Mama Chiu's children and grandchildren and her birthplace in China and why she had come to America with her husband so many years before. Jillian watched how he put people at ease with his fervent curiosity about other people and other cultures.

Jillian wondered why in this little restaurant at the end of a strip mall, where the 1950s lingered and Asian culture had made a stand, in this most casual of settings – Daniel Jackson made her feel as if she had been struck by lightning.

They stayed at Mama Chiu's until the autumn evening began to descend outside. They each got a kiss on both cheeks from the plump Chinese woman and were made to promise not to stay away long. They returned to Daniel's jeep. However, both paused before actually getting in.

"There's a park across the street," Daniel noted.

"I know. I've jogged the path around the lake," Jillian said, "Would you like to take a walk?"

"Well," he said, slowly and with a smile to match, "Mama Chiu did say I needed one."

Jillian grinned at him.

"A walk in the mountains, as I recall. But maybe this will do. It looks like a beautiful sunset."

Daniel got a dark blue jacket out of the jeep. Jillian pulled on a black hooded sweat shirt that said 'Real men defeat dark wizards' across the front. Daniel read it and smiled.

His eyes locked with hers in a flash of understanding and Jillian felt the impact right down to her toes. His smile cast a spell; a magical, sensual spell that promised interest and intimacy. She was afraid for a moment that she might melt into an undignified puddle on the sidewalk – a puddle wearing a funny black sweat shirt, jeans and sneakers.

She managed to shrug in a self effacing way.

"I grew up on sci-fi," she said by way of explanation.

They crossed the street in silence and stayed that way until arriving at the path around the lake.

He glanced sidelong at her and caught her in a long shaft of sunlight. His sense of recognition stirred again. There was something about the way her cheekbones slipped like the curve of a pear into the heavy silk of brunette hair, her wide set eyes beneath the dark slash of eyebrow. He remembered the wildfire in those eyes when they had kissed and how her skin had felt under his thumb. Her jaw had fit easily in his palm, like it belonged there. Her mouth had been all too willing against his.

"What else did you grow up on?" Daniel asked, quickly, to derail his thoughts.

"Museums," she answered too quickly and he wondered where her thoughts had been. She took a breath and let it out slowly, "My father is a US ambassador. It seemed that no matter where we lived my mother found a job at a museum and she would take me to work with her. When I was seven she worked as an assistant curator at the Acropolis Museum in Greece. Can you imagine? Having the Acropolis as your playground?

"I can imagine it pretty easily," he admitted, "I spent a lot of time in museums myself when I was a child."

Jillian glanced at him swiftly. She knew his parents had both died when he was quite young. There was nothing in his eyes to betray how he felt about that at this moment. She wondered if it was possible for him to feel pain and the absence of pain all at the same time, and if so, which hurt worse.

"Did you go to school?" he asked.

"Not at first. My mother homeschooled me. Then I went to a boarding school in England for a while"

"Why?"

"My mother died when I was ten. My father was sent to Beijing almost immediately after the funeral, or maybe he asked to go, I never was sure. It's where I learned to speak Mandarin. I had a private tutor there. Then my father was abruptly reassigned to Paris and he sent me to school in England."

There was a pause in which Daniel dealt with a surge of old hurt and hurt newly made.

"He sent you away?" Daniel's voice was flat when he finally spoke.

"Don't judge him too harshly, Daniel. He was devoted to my mother and," she paused and there was a moment of long, pain filled stillness, "I look much too much like her."

Daniel felt a fist close around his heart. It was impossible for him to harshly judge a man who had lost a beloved wife. He thought of Sha're and tried to imagine being faced every day with a growing adolescent girl; one with the same midnight eyes and riot of ink black hair, one whose shy smile would remind him every day of what he had lost.

It might have been torture. It might even have been comfort in a way. But he still didn't think he could send his own child away, not when he had memories of being given to strangers.

He glanced at Jillian again. Her eyes were fixed on the pavement and her spine was stiff. He noticed that she had jammed her fists into the pocket of her hoodie and the tender line of her jaw now seemed forged from steel.

Daniel couldn't see her eyes but if he could he knew he would recognize the look. He knew the hurt of being sent away as a child, the pain that sank inside like a stone in the ocean and stayed lodged in your soul forever. He remembered feeling lost and small and insignificant and unwanted.

Words failed him. Language had been evolving for thousands of years. He had a PhD in language and spoke dozens of them; and yet there were no words that two abandoned children could offer each other.

Daniel was filled with regret at having inadvertently made her remember; and with helplessness at his inability to change her past. He stopped walking and put his hand on her arm to stop her too. He wrapped strong fingers around her wrist and gently pulled her off the path to stand on the edge of the lake.

Jillian looked up in genuine astonishment. Daniel's hand lifted hesitantly and then slid into the cool fall of her hair, coming to rest on the back of her head. He pulled forward questioningly, letting the final decision be hers.

Jillian exhaled as if she had just remembered how to breathe. She stepped forward into his arms and rested her forehead against his collar bone. Her arms slipped around his waist. Her fingers laced behind his back, as if she was afraid to touch him too much.

He wanted to tell her about his grandfather, but he couldn't. He stuck with facts that were known by everyone.

"You know I was raised by foster parents?"

She nodded, her forehead brushing against his sweater.

Sunset lay soft around them, casting the world in crimson and gold. He closed his eyes against the glare of the amber light and became even more aware of her tall, lithe body. She held herself bare inches from him, which was somehow more erotic than if she had been pressed fully against him.

Bravery, Daniel had discovered, had little to do with facing down the Goa'uld, or trying to dial home while your teammates covered your retreat with ear-shattering gunfire. Bravery was giving all the pieces of your broken heart to someone with the power to crush them in the palm of her hand.

He put his hand under her chin and tilted her face. She gazed up into his eyes, a fine tremble at the corner of her mouth. Gently he leaned down and kissed her. Jillian put her hand on the back of his neck and kissed back.

Their lips parted and their tongues touched with fleeting little strokes, as if shared pain had left them with nothing but tenderness. She clung to him now – all soft curves and warmth and sweet scent. The kiss caressed them both, eased hurts long suffered until they melted back into the shadows.

Gently, very gently, Jillian broke the kiss. Daniel took a deep breath and the power of the sunlit blue sky shone in his eyes. He kissed her forehead and held her lightly, the fingertips of one hand stroking a line between her shoulder blades. Whatever remained uncertain and awkward between them vanished.

"Would you like to keep walking with me?" she asked, quietly.

Daniel nodded.

"Yes I would," he said.

And he knew in his heart, he meant every word.

To Be Continued