Nicholas: Another in the "Shattering of a Rock" storyline. I really thought I'd stop after that last one, but I didn't want to end it like that. So I started to write another fic from Vala's point of view, and I got distracted. By Daniel/Cameron. Yeah, I'm pushing this one into the slash realm as well, however I'm not certain how far yet. I'll probably go with the happy medium that I love and make it all Daniel/Vala/Cameron. We'll see. And I hope I haven't disappointed any of you who were getting into these by turning it to something that is perhaps not your glass of cream soda. Not that I've been getting any reviews anyway, aside from my lovely Braama. Thanks, dear!

Disclaimer: I'm not that crazy. I'm only this crazy. That? That's all them.

Rating: M...language, slashy hints...ah, who am I kidding? M because the rest of them are M.

Vala talked off and on: sometimes to Daniel, sometimes to Mitchell if he was there. He usually was. Ever since her first tirade, she settled down to little things—small talk, little yes or no questions, random, often bizarre comments, asking how he was doing. Over the course of the first day, she barely shut up, but by nighttime and the next morning, she was considerably less animated. She had started a trend, however. That second say, it seemed like everyone who even remotely new Daniel came to visit just to talk. All the while, Mitchell stood at the back of the room while people came and went one by one to say a few words. It was eerily lamenting while inspiring. It started with most of the medical staff, the nurse who had been there the longest had taken care of Daniel multiple times and had some quite touching things to say. Then, it morphed into some of the technical personnel, namely Silar and Walter for starters. No one seemed to have a problem with speaking while Vala was in the room and Cameron was virtually ignored, if they noticed him at all. Vala did step out a few times, when it got too much for her, usually for an hour at a time before she was back. Eventually, for all her "probably can't hear us" business, Carter came in looking like she'd given up on fixing her eye makeup. Teal'c followed suspiciously close behind her with a gift—a little, wooden statue of a dog…man…thing. As soon as he was done, Vala practically jumped on him about it, badgering him with questions about whether she should get him something and something about a stuffed turtle. They left together and were gone for a while.

Cameron found it kind of funny—if that could be used in a situation where he could see absolutely no humor—that almost everyone who came in to talk had started with "I just wanted to tell you" or "I thought you should know" or "I wanted to say." It was pretty amazing actually; he started keeping a tally after the first few because it just struck him as so strange. Everyone came in to say something that they "thought you should know" to a person that most likely would have absolutely no recollection whatsoever that they'd said anything at all. All of it was stuff that could easily have been said while Daniel was awake and could hear it and respond, but no, everyone decided that now was the perfect time to open their yaps about these things.

It was stupid! This endless cadence of "I wanted to tell you" "I wanted you to know" and not one of them obviously wanted him to know bad enough to tell him when it really mattered. Cam felt the reflection that his observation had on himself, knew that it would be completely hypocritical to think any less of any of these people. He'd done the same damn thing, the only difference was, even with Daniel unresponsive he still couldn't grow the balls to speak his mind.

So he listened, all day long, until the very last one. He listened to the "I've been wanting to says"s like a taunting, agonizing cadence around him, until he just couldn't stand it anymore. Until he couldn't bare not to man up and take his turn.

"I want to tell you…"

"I want you to know…"

"I just want to say…"

"I thought you ought to know…"

"I thought I should say…"

"I should tell you…"

"I slept in your office, hope you don't mind." The only sound that replied Mitchell was that irritating beep of the monitor. He stood up straight at the foot of the bed and looked down at the tiny, shriveled form of Dr. Daniel Jackson. "Yeah, when we got the word that you and the Little Missy were missing…let's just say I haven't left base for a while. I could have used a VIP room, I guess, but there's just something about...I mean, you've done it plenty of times, fallen asleep on piles of notes of that mumbo-jumbo, linguist stuff."

Putting his hands down, he leaned a little on the rail. His eyes were dry and crusty from not sleeping and there was this niggling pain in his left socket, crying out for eye drops. Nevertheless, he blinked and forced his gaze back to Daniel. The least he could do was look the man in the face when he was trying to have a heartfelt discussion…monologue…despite Jackson being unconscious.

"Not that I've been watching you or anything," Cameron amended when he heard what that last bit sounded like. "Cause that would be weird, right? Just on principal, watching people sleep when you don't have some sort of emotional attachment to them is—no—N-not to say that I don't have, that is, feel an emotional…I think what I meant was I don't have a 'romantic' attachment—'sentimental,' maybe. Like, if I had some reason other than being your commanding officer and it's my job to check up on you—Oh hell, I really suck at this."

He took a deep, slow breath and let his head hang. He could almost hear Jackson laughing at him for his complete and utter ineloquence. "Almost" being the operative word because that was the point of all of this, right? Tell him now, or Cam might never get the chance. "Let me try again," he said slowly, on a soft exhale.

"I know that Carter and Dr. Lam think that you can't hear me, or won't remember this if—when you wake up, but…I think I have to tell you…that is, I want to—say something—a-about...how I feel." His eyes scanned every part of the room that wasn't anywhere near the bed before finally coming to rest on Daniel's mussed hair and smooth brow. "There, I said it. I am a male of the human species who actually wants to talk about his feelings, aren't you lucky to be witness to such a rare cultural deviation.

"It's like my grandma always said 'Even if a man can fight a war, doesn't mean he has the balls to show he cares.'" The heart monitor beeped a high, grating noise. "Yeah, shocked me the first time I heard it, too.

"Anyway, the point is, Jackson…that if you—I mean, ah, fuck this!" Throwing himself away from the bed, he slammed his foot against an empty IV stand and ran his hands through his hair. "Why do you have to do this? I mean, the whole 'Dr. Jackson's Dying Again' thing got old the first five times, and I only read about those! You just want attention!"

Heaven only knows that the minute Cameron opens himself up and lays everything inside him out on the table for Daniel to see because he thinks that Daniel is dying the bastard is going to miraculously get better! The fucker just does this stupid possum act to get people to say nice things about him. It's mean, is was it is, making everyone worry about him and cry over him and break their damn hearts just to pop and go "just kidding!"

If only Mitchell could get himself to believe that, he'd be set.

But how was he supposed to say all this? How was he supposed to tell Daniel all these things that he feels for the man without the certainty that it wasn't going to come back and bite him in the ass later? How could he let that much out with such a high risk that Jackson was just going to die anyway?…for real, this time.

"I hate you," he said, with absolutely no conviction whatsoever. "Part of me…part of me just hopes that you won't wake up. I mean, I'm glad as heck that we got you back, and I would give various vital organs to get you up and about and arguing again, but…Lam seems to think that even if you do wake up, you'll just…you'll be like—a-a vegetable or something, and I don't think I could…I can't see you like that. I've seen some pretty horrible shit in my day, some terrible things, and seeing a friend brain dead is the worst of them. But you know you're more than just…You're not just a friend—to me. I wish—I mean, I wanted to...because I…"

He tried to continue, but the words were gone. All around him, the silence was caving in, pounding his eardrums, making his head ache. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to force himself to say what he never could while Daniel was ali—awake. "I guess, if you don't wake up, it would always give me the free and clear to date Vala," he said instead.

The heart monitor beeped pointedly at him. "Damn, I thought for sure that one would work.

"Just…whatever you're going to do—live or…die. Just quit dragging it out and making us all feel like coffin ornaments."

Then, he turned and he meant to leave, but something stopped him. He was probably going to nuts or something because he was pretty damn sure he heard Jackson stirring, waking up, and he spun around so fast he almost lost his balance. But…No, the man was still and silent, face calm and serene—making a mockery of the emotional turmoil going on in Cameron's gut. Suddenly, Cameron knew that he shouldn't have looked back, shouldn't have given another glance because he lost all that reserve he'd had to leave. He walked to the side of the bed and scanned Jackson's face—doing his best to omit the tube that was doing his breathing for him. Even with it, though, even so sickly and pale and thin, Daniel was still as beautiful as always. If anything, the pallor gave him an ethereal, ascended look.

Hand shaking slightly, Mitchel reached over and drew his thumb down the side of his face. "Daniel, I—" his throat swallowed his own voice. "I…" He took a deep breath, tried to gather his strength to say it, but he felt it slipping from his like a sieve. "I…I guess I hope you wake up soon."

Abruptly, he turned around and left.