It's night outside, which considering we're in space and it's always dark, this is a damn stupid observation. For clarification, it's *our* night. Those certain eight hours out of twenty-four our little universe decided would be set aside for sleep. It's when we lower the lights and pretend to sleep. Or run in the corridors. Or pace the hallways. Water our plants. Read. Play the cello. Or have sex.

Daniel and I are naked… and in bed, which I want to clarify for the record, because most times, sex isn't enjoyed in bed. It's on the floor. Or up against the windows in our sleeping quarters. Or in the supply closet on the third level or in the room housing the Asgards' history, which I find, though I'll never tell Daniel, pretty creepy. While Daniel, on the other hand, finds the room entrancing, and he often traces the reflective glow of their words on my naked body as he reads to me in an unfamiliar language.

Rough, calloused hands cup my breasts and Daniel's cock lies thick and heavy against my thigh. He's stroking me, teasing me as he slides up and down my body; close yet so far. I wiggle under him, performing a dance of invitation. He buries his face in my neck and I reach down to fondle his cock, play with his balls and move him along. I don't feel like being patient tonight.

Daniel, on the other hand, seems to be all for patience and his deep chuckle reverberates against my body. In retribution, I smack him lightly on his ass, then gently rake my fingernails along his ribs. He's ticklish, something I find endearing, which annoys him tremendously. Swiping backwards, he misses my hand and I laugh.

Strangely, tonight there is a familiarity between us, as if all the little things we've discovered about each other since my tearful seduction are falling into place. Our strengths. Our weaknesses. Suddenly, life does become too short and I meet his lips as they skim mine.

Daniel senses something also, something's different, and he lifts his body and stares at me. "Vala?"

Reaching up, I touch his face, gently. I'm terrified of how much I feel when I'm with Daniel. Overwhelmed and damned unsure and terrified that I'm in over my head. Questioning my sanity, considering the circumstances, would be what Daniel would call an oxy moron, so I just go with the flow and smile.

And he smiles back, and there's a joy in his face that reflects my own happiness. My urgency slips away and I kiss him again. Slowly. Seductively. "Gotcha." I hook my right leg over his, my toes dancing over the back of his leg.

Laughter bursts forth and he smothers it in my neck, and the bastard finds the sensitive spot just below my ear.

I squirm under him, making sure my movements create friction against his cock. "Two can play at this game, Daniel."

He growls. "You started it, Shau'ri."

The moment stutters before it comes to a screeching halt. Daniel closes up shop, his cock withering against my skin. I don't stop him as he backs out of bed and reaches for his clothes. I don't move. I don't say anything because I don't know *what* to say. I don't want to fuck this up by saying the wrong thing. So I try to remain silent, but I don't do silence well at all. Sitting up, I grab at the blanket to cover my nakedness. "It's okay, Daniel, I'm not upset."

There's a flash of anger in his eyes, so intense, that if Daniel had a zat in his hand, I'd be nothing more than a memory and an empty seat at the breakfast table.

"I'm glad I didn't *upset* you." Daniel can do sarcastic with the best of them.

"I just meant…"

"You meant you forgive me for calling you my dead wife's name while the two of us were lying naked in our bed."

*Our* bed, the fission of thrill settling in my stomach is inappropriate and entirely out of place. "No, that's not what I meant." Yes, it is, but Daniel's not asking for my forgiveness.

He stands before me, his pants in his arms, clad only in his boxers and a shirt and I watch as his anger morphs into confusion.

"Do you want me to leave?" That didn't come out right, and I hope Daniel understands that I meant 'do you want me to leave *just* for now'. Not for good. Not for however long we're stuck here. Time slows even more and I wait for his answer, my heart pounding in my chest, afraid.

Daniel slips on his pants and answers my question by exiting without a word.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." I add a "fuck" for good measure. Frustrated, I pound on the mattress then flop backwards. Now what, I question the ceiling? Funny, the ceiling holds no answer. Besides silence, patience isn't another of my virtues and I roll out of bed, throw on my clothes and hurry after Daniel.

* * *

The overhead lights flick on as I step into the Asgard library. "Daniel?" There aren't too many places to hide here, actually there's none. This would have been too obvious a place. Daniel's predictable, but he's never obvious. The lights in the library shut off as I leave.

* * *

"Hey." There's a tiny window, stuck in a corridor, far from the maddening crowd, where the viewer has a bird's eye view of the Ori weapon headed straight for us. One of us, we don't know who because the person has never stepped forward, made a black line on the window, marking the infinitesimal movement of the beam towards its intended target. Us.

Daniel's standing at the window, his back towards me.

At this moment, Daniel's emotionally skittish and I approach him warily, stepping up to his right side, a good arm's length away. He's furiously rubbing at the mark.

"It's not going to come off." I search for the word. "It's inedible marker."

"Indelible," Daniel corrects.

"Yes." I take a step closer, grimacing sympathetically at his bare feet. "Aren't you cold?" Based on my experience, a good offense is just ignoring the problem at hand.

"Yes."

Okay, that's two one-word answers in a row from Daniel. Not a good sign. "Do you want me to get you—"

"Nothing, I don't need anything."

Even though that was a complete sentence, the fear in the pit of my stomach branches out and the tendrils wrap around my heart. I've experienced horrific things in my lifetime: I've been a Goa'uld, I've been burned at the stake, but the horror of facing the rest of my what's left of my life without Daniel, scares me more than anything I've ever faced. "I'm sorry."

"Go to bed, I'll be there—"

"No, you won't. You won't be there later. Or tomorrow. Or the night after that." I slap his hand away from the window, inexplicably angry at his ability no, change that - his desire to brush me away. "I know you well enough—"

"You. Don't. Know. Me. At. All!"

He's in my face, breathing hard and it's only the moisture in his eyes that soften the sharp edge of his words.

"That's where you're wrong, Daniel." Cautiously gentle, I reach out and wipe the corner of his eye. "I know you love me, and I think you're scared."

"You're not?"

"Of course—" I was going to fib, but I can't. "I'm terrified." I gaze over his shoulder, out the circular window at our ticking time bomb. "I'm terrified that it's going to be over before it starts."

"I've been there, done that." Daniel's hand cups my cheek. "And it sucks."

I press his hand to my face, anchoring it. "You loved her."

He nods.

"She was very lucky." And I keep silent over how jealous I am of the woman who, even in death, still holds a part of Daniel's heart.

"Shau'ri is dead. I don't think luck played a big part in our marriage."

"You gave her a lifetime's worth of love, Daniel."

"I pushed down the first domino. I opened the 'gate. I threw the tissue box back to—"

I silence him with a kiss. "You loved her."

"I failed her."

"You loved her," I repeat.

Daniel's short burst of laughter is loud in the ship's silence "And in the end, it wasn't enough."

"Yes, it was. It was enough for Shau'ri and it'll be enough for me."

Daniel moves away from me, resuming his lookout by the window. "I drew the line. The first night we—" With his pointer finger, he traces the black mark. "I wanted to measure how much time I—we had left. So I could—" He rubs furiously at the line again. "I wanted to make sure to know when to say goodbye. Now, I don't care about looking over my shoulder. I just want to—"

"Hold that thought." I give him a peck on his cheek. "Don't move," I order, backing away and wagging my finger at him.

* * *

Daniel's standing behind me and I can feel his smile without even looking at him.

"That's much better, don't you agree?" I twirl the marker between my fingers and admire my artwork. The line has been transformed into an arrow intersecting a heart with the feathers and arrowhead obliterating the line of destruction heading our way.

Daniel plucks the marker from my hand and writes our names in the heart. "Better."

Now it's my turn to cry as my fingers run along the letters of our names. Daniel waits until I get to the last "a" in my name before he wraps his arms around me.

Damn, he's cold. I can feel it through my shirt. "Let's go back to bed."

"Wait—" He leans around me and writes on the bottom of the window, underneath the heart, one word. 'Forever'. It's Daniel's way of telling the galaxy to fuck off and for once, leave his happiness alone. That one word gives him control in an uncontrollable situation.

* * *

Sex hasn't helped warm up Daniel's feet.

I shriek in protest as he tries to rub them against my calves.

"What?" He’s still trying to worm his frigid toes between my toasty warm legs.

"Keep your cold feet to yourself."

Daniel takes his indignation and the majority of the blankets to the other side of the bed.

"Play nice." I tug on a corner of the blanket.

Daniel tugs back.

"Share." I pull again. "It's cold."

"I know. But just to show that I don't hold any grudges, and that *I'm* the better person..." Leaning over, he tucks the blanket around me. "There."

I pop up to kiss him on the lips then drop down into the pillows with a sigh.

Even in the dim light I see my reward, a dimple-producing smile and I bask in its glow. Reaching up, I touch his temple, smoothing down an errant hair or two. "You need a haircut."

"I'll make an appointment."

"I'm pretty good with scissors." I make snipping motions with my fingers.

"I've seen you with a sharp instrument." Daniel gives a mock, exaggerated shudder before lying down by my side. "I'll just go the ponytail route."

"Mmmmm. Works for me." I turn to face him, hooking my leg over his. My warm feet travel over his as a peace offering.

Daniel yawns in my face. "Sorry," he sputters.

"Me, too." I tuck up against him. "Think we're going to miss breakfast." Now, I yawn.

"Nope, it's my turn to make breakfast."

"Ahhhh, this means I'll have the entire bed to myself when you get up…"

"Ha!" His bark of laughter is short. "If I have to get up, so do you. Misery loves company."

I shake my head. "You know, you're really not as nice and sweet as people think you are." He jumps when I poke him in his side. "But don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"Thank god. I was afraid I was going to lose sl—"

I shut him up with a kiss. If I have to get up with him, the least I can do is torture him. Except he kisses me back, and suddenly, as his hands skim my naked ass, I'm the one who's being tortured.

"Damn you, Daniel Jackson," I hiss when we separate. I look over my shoulder at the clock, there's going to be no sleep for us at all tonight.

"We can always take a nap after breakfast," he says, reading my mind.

"I want pancakes."

"Yeah, and I want you to shut up and kiss me," he growls as I stick out my tongue at him. "We don't always get what we want in life, do we?"

And I kiss him. Long, hard and demanding, just to prove that sometimes, in life, when we least expect it and in the place where we least expect to find it, we *do* get what we want.