Tarnished Heroes
A Daniel Jackson
Stargate SG-1
Adult FanFiction Series
By
Moon Mistress
a/k/a Lisa Beth Darling

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Did she make you cry
Make you break down
Shatter your illusions of love
Is it over now, do you know how
To pick up the pieces and go home.
Gold Dust Woman
Fleetwood Mac
Words & Music by Stevie Nicks

Daniel headed down to the weight room as he’d planned and worked off some of that anger. Immortality had its benefits. Last week he bench pressed 180, today 220 was no problem at all. He did twenty reps without breaking much of a sweat or losing much wind. Two hours or so just clicked by while he picked up and slammed down free weights. Daniel wasn’t all that tired by the time he stopped in fact he felt energized but he was a bit less angry and he stunk. Even he couldn’t stand his own funk and headed for a hot shower.

Being Immortal didn’t have to be a horrible thing and it might, as Colleen said, just take some getting used to. How he came by that Immortality, no, he’d never get used to that and every day that he didn’t age and didn’t die, he’d be reminded of how high the price had been for him walking the Earth throughout eternity.

Dressed in clean clothes he stopped by the infirmary Colleen was sleeping. He kissed her forehead and made his way off the base without stopping to find Jack. He wasn’t much in the mood for company and didn’t think himself to be good company either. Daniel wasn’t much of a drinker either but he thought the occasion called for a few shots of the hard stuff and made his way to O’Malley’s.

Sitting at the bar on his third shot of Southern Comfort Daniel noticed the man at the end of the bar who kept staring at him. The guy didn’t look familiar but still it was clear he had something on his mind. Sure enough, the man moved from his stool and wandered up to where Daniel was sitting. “Aren’t you Daniel Jackson?” He asked in a casual voice.

“Yes I am.”

“Any idea where your wife is?” He asked quickly and took out a tape recorded from his breast pocket.

“Excuse me? You would be?”

“Harold Cunningham, I’m with the Colorado Sun Times. I work in the Arts and Entertainment Section.” He explained with a happy smile. “Any truth to the rumors she’s having an affair with Andrew Hartley?”

“What?!”

“That can’t be news to you; they’ve been photographed together for weeks. Ever since she had her trip to New York.” Cunningham said with the shake of his head. “Any truth to the rumors that your wife is some type witch? That’s she’s got some magic potion that keeps the two of young?” He was just about salivating. “Or…”

“What the fuck?” Daniel stood up.

You don’t know what’s been going on since you left, it’s been just awful. Colleen’s voice rang in his head.

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” Daniel told the reporter.

“Yeah, ok so I didn’t think she was a witch either,” the man smiled still holding out the tape recorder. “How about the fact that she won the contest? How do you feel about that? Do you have any thoughts on who the Art Stalker is?”

“The who?”

“That’s right you’ve been away,” Cunningham said easily, “the man who killed Booker and Dyer, any idea who it might be?”

“Booker’s dead?”

“Daniel,” said a familiar voice from behind him. “Cole said I’d find you here.” Daniel turned around to see Jack standing there.

“What about calliendanny.com?” The reported asked hurriedly as the General still in his uniform made his way toward them. He didn’t want any trouble with the USAF, the job didn’t pay that well. “Any idea on who put that site up?”

“Why don’t you get out of here?” Jack suggested in a dark voice but with an easy smile and laid a hand on the reporter’s shoulder.

“No comment.” Daniel stumbled. “To any of it.” He tossed the last of the shot down his throat and motioned for another one. “Just leave the bottle.” Daniel told the bartender.

“You don’t have anything to say, Doctor Jackson?”

“No!”

“Go on get.” Jack said.

Knowing when he was beat Cunningham clicked off the tape recorder and made to walk away. “You know, you’re not helping yourself any if you don’t talk to the media, Dr. Jackson. Inquiring minds want to know and we’re going to find out.” He gave a slight nod. “Good night gentlemen.”

“What the fuck was that all about?” Daniel demanded and poured his fourth shot into the glass.

“We got a lot to talk about.”

“I’d say we do.” The two of them turned around to see that General Hammond was now joining them. “Why don’t we grab a table?”

Daniel grabbed the bottle and his shot glass and headed off toward a corner booth with them. Following them, he noticed Jack has some newspapers under his arm and General Hammond was carrying a large manila folder. By the time the two men finished filling Daniel in on Current Events all that was really left for him to find out about was Calla’s rather substantive drug indulgence during his absence. Of course neither O’Neill nor Hammond knew about that. They also weren’t sure just how intimate her relationship with Andrew Hartley was. Those details would be left to Nicholas and a special visitor to fill in.

“Jesus Christ! I go away for two lousy weeks and the whole world falls apart!” Daniel grumbled and took down his sixth shot. Jack moved the bottle away from him as he went for the seventh. “Gimmie a break.”

“Gimmie your keys.” Jack held out his hand.

“Fine,” Daniel dug in his pocket for his car keys and tossed them at Jack. Jack let go of the bottle. “She wasn’t even supposed to meet with this Hartley guy.” He groused and poured that seventh shot. “Where the hell did calliendanny.com come from?”

“We don’t know,” General Hammond told him. “We’ve been trying to find it and shut it down for over a week now and we’ve had no luck. Whoever’s responsible is a professional and not some amateur web master. We think whoever killed Booker and Dyer put up this web site. Kicker is they had to have saved the files from the original site these last eighteen nineteen years.”

“She must have been going out of her mind.” Half the shot down. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Huh?” Jack asked.

“Why didn’t she get a message through to us? I would have gone home, whatever we were doing wasn’t that important.”

“Whoa!” Jack leaned across the table. “Danny, do you remember what we were doing? How do you think that would have gone over? Sorta like it did, like a led zeppelin, huh?”

“What are you talking about?”

“What am I….” Jack leaned back in his seat. “Danny, what were we doing before Calla showed up and got us out of Medea’s cells?” He folded his arms across his chest and waited for an answer.

“I don’t know, wandering around.” Daniel downed the last of his seventh shot.

“Wandering around?” Jack nodded and looked at George who already knew what they’d been it was all in the reports Sam and Jack filed. It would be in the one Teal’c would file when he was feeling a little better. “Where’d we…wander to?”

“I don’t have time for Twenty Questions,” Daniel grumbled and reached for the bottle again.

“No, that’s enough, Daniel.” Jack took the bottle away. “Do you remember Bacchus? And the Blood Moon Ritual?”

“Bacchus? Blood Moon? What the fuck?”

“He doesn’t remember.” George said in a mildly shocked voice.

“Calla.” Jack told him. “That’s one hell of a wife you got, Daniel.”

“Had.” Daniel corrected. “I guess she’s off fucking Hartley by now.”

“Yeah, well, I for one wouldn’t blame her if she were.” Jack shot and pushed one of the newspapers toward him. “Andrew Hartley.” He pointed at the picture of the young man with the rock star looks and winning smile. “She could do worse.”

“Asshole,” Daniel grumbled.

“Hey, turnabout’s fair play.”

“There you go again,” Daniel complained. “Stop dancing and tell me what you think happened on the planet.” His mind and words were sluggish from the alcohol swimming around his blood stream. “Look,” he dropped his voice and looked from one man to the other, “I know she caught me in bed with Medea, ok?”

“Calla caught you doing what?” Jack asked as his mouth dropped open. “And she still saved our asses?”

“I was trying to save your asses it’s not like I was getting off on it or anything.” He stuttered.

“That’s our Daniel, always ready to take one for the team. Well if it includes a beautiful woman, even if she is a cannibal.”

“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm.” A bit of spittle flew from his numb lips as he pointed at the papers on the table. “None of that gives her the right to go screw him.” He pointed at the picture of Hartley. “Or Ares.” More spit flew from his lips and he reached for the bottle again this time Jack let him take it. Daniel filled the shot glass to overflowing; depth perception was getting a little difficult and then drank it down.

Calla slept with Ares. Jack was really trying to let that one sink in but he supposed Immortality came with a high price and Ares always did detest Daniel. That was the unforgivable thing she’d done and why she couldn’t face Daniel. It didn’t have anything to do with the women he’d fucked. Just the one guy she had. “Come on, Danny,” Jack said as he stood up, “I’ll take you home.” Jack was wholeheartedly unsure of whether or not to fill Daniel in on the intimate details of the time they spent in Bacchus’s kingdom. In the end, he figured Danny-boy probably had enough for one night.

“What do I wanna go home for?” Daniel complained.

“Because it’s where you live, Doctor Jackson.” George sighed and helped Jack get Daniel out of the seat and out to the car. “Good luck, son. You let me know if you need me.” He put the manila folder on Daniel’s lap, it was a dossier on one Andrew Hartley, all the information the best USAF Intelligence could dig up. It was quite a read. Maybe when he was sober he’d have the chance to look it over, once he was done digesting General O’Neill’s report.

Jack pulled into the driveway to drop Daniel off and noticed the shiny new car. “Hey, whose car?”

Daniel looked through the front window at the silver Saturn. “Colleen’s, we got it for her birthday.” Didn’t it ever end? It was just one bad thing on top of another. He was starting to understand how Calla must have felt over the last two weeks because all he wanted to do was dive into the liquor cabinet and maybe pack himself a bowl of that happy weed she liked so much. Anything to make it stop and take the pain away.

“Need some help getting to the door?”

“No,” Daniel said in a snotty voice and opened the car door. “I got it.”

“I’ll be by tomorrow.” Jack told him and then waited while Daniel got in the house before taking off for home.

Opening the door to the mudroom and then to the living room Daniel didn’t need anyone to tell him his wife wasn’t here, he could feel her absence. The house just seemed sort of empty and cold.

“Nice to see you made it home, Dad.” Nicholas said in the darkness and then turned on the lamp light next to him and caught his Father making his way to the liquor cabinet in the dark. “Mom does that too.” He commented and waited. From the look of him, Dad had been through the wringer tonight and it wasn’t quite over yet.

“Where is your Mother?” Daniel didn’t apologize for his actions he just opened the cabinet and grabbed his own bottle of Southern and a shot glass. He sat down on the couch across from his son.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t give me that you know where she is. She with him? Hartley?”

“I don’t know!” Nick growled. “She’s shoved that fucking spoon up her nose or that goddamn needle in her arm again and I can’t find her.”

The glass halfway to his lips Daniel stopped. The needle. He’d almost forgotten about that, about how she subdued Medea. He was starting to wish that Nicholas never said anything about her little stash of happy pills, yes he’d much rather have left her with them when he was away. “Hartley show her how to do that?”

“Uh-huh, and how to make magick mushroom tea... and god knows what else.” Nick grumbled. “Go on, have a drink Dad, I’m sure it’ll help.”

“I thought you said I didn’t have anything to worry about that you’d take care of her while I was away.” Daniel downed the shot. “Isn’t that what you said?” When he left here, his wife had a very mild problem with sometimes taking a few pills. When he came back two weeks later, she was a full-blown junkie. One who mustered the strength to save his sorry ass.

“So this is my fault?” Nick asked as he pointed to himself. “He’s her agent now, ya know, she signed a contract with him. He’s been all over her like white on rice since New York.” Nick stood up and paced around. “Yep, he’s been a real White Knight. The reporters descended like locusts, Mom was trapped in the house, she couldn’t go anywhere without someone shoving a microphone in her face and asking her questions. There was Hartley, he came in and took care of everything for her.” His eyes narrowed on Daniel. “Just like you’re supposed to do.”

“Maybe but I think I would have left the heroin out of it.” Daniel shot and his stomach began to turn from all the alcohol and his head began to let out a dull pounding.

“Yeah, well, as far as Mom’s concerned you are the drug. You’ve been her pusher for twenty years and you wonder why she goes bonkers when you go away and she can’t get her fix?”

“That’s enough,” Churning stomach or not he took a pull right off the bottle. “I don’t have to listen to this.”

“No? Fine.” Nick reached out, grabbed Daniel by the collar and hauled his Father to his feet. The bottle of Southern tumbled to the living room spilling its amber contents on the rug. “You can watch instead.” Nick dragged Daniel into his office and stood him in front of the computer. “Have a good look.” He meant to open the DSL line and go to calliendanny.com but when the screen saver disappeared; the computer was already online and on the site.

“I’ve seen this already,” Daniel turned to leave the computer but Nick pushed him down in the chair.

“So has Mom, about, I dunno, a thousand times. And let’s not forget like….EVERYBODY else in town.” Nick said through gritted teeth.

Daniel hadn’t thought about whom else might have been looking at the site, certainly the idea of the neighbors, the people Calla worked, the students at the high school and those he worked with hadn’t entered his head until now. His blurry eyes dropped down to the counter on the first page. That couldn’t be right, he had to be seeing double. Did it really say over three million?

“Welcome home, Dad.” Nick patted his drunken Father on the back. “If you get bored you just type Mom’s name into google and get, I dunno, five or six thousand hits.” Nick left him there at his computer. He went out to the living room and retrieved the spilled bottle of Southern from the floor and the overnight bag from next to the chair. Nick plunked the bottle down on Daniel’s desk. “Might want that.” He suggested and dropped the overnight bag in his lap. “Mom’s leaving you after almost twenty years together and that’s what she was taking with her.” He pointed at the bag and frowned. “Ya know, I can’t tell you how many times I told Mom he was just using her or how many times I told Hartley to stay away from her. What can I say? He was here and you weren’t. And you really needed to be here, Dad. This was a motherfucker of a shit storm. You look at those sites and you think about it. Maybe you’ll find a way to forgive her for saving your life.” Nick walked away. Annie was waiting for him upstairs.

Daniel opened the bag. A bag of cocaine and a bag of weed were on top. Below them were several pairs of panties, a few bras, one dress, Aphrodite’s anklet and a photograph of the four of them. Almost twenty years and this was what she thought her life came down to? This is what she thought she was entitled to take away with her. It wasn’t a hell of a lot. Daniel put the bag down. He picked up the black tablet he’d been working with before he left to get it out of the way while he moved the mouse. He thought maybe he’d go over to google and do as his son suggested. Even in his inebriated state, he saw the long strands of hair scattered on the desk, across the dark tablet, keyboard and the mouse. He picked the strands up one by one. He was always unclogging the bathtub in their room, her hair jammed in the pipes as though she were a Wookie shedding her winter coat. Her pillow was often littered with them and so was he. Sometimes he’d find them wrapped all the way around his cock when he went to the bathroom. Recalling how it gotten there always made him smile. Daniel knew that she’d been sleeping here at his desk and watching that shit on the Internet. The more she sat and the more she watched the more she got stoned, he could see her in his mind’s eye plain as day. Looking down at the strands of hair in his hand he noticed he’d picked up four auburn strands and two blonde strands. The blonde hairs were shorter than Calla’s but just about the right length for Andrew Hartley, at least from the picture he’d seen. Hartley’d been in his office too. Here at his desk. Doing what?

“Christ, go away, Davy.” He muttered as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Daniel picked up the bottle of Southern.

Dun believe me? Go on, git up. Have a look-see at yow chair.

Bottle in one hand and tablet in the other, Daniel stood up and looked down at the black leather chair. Staring down at the white spots on the black leather, he drew a deep pull from the Southern. Yep, those were cum stains, no denying that. Another pull.

“Slut.” He huffed and poured the alcohol on the chair, he wiped it away with his sleeve to sterilize his seat. “You got a lot of nerve fucking that bastard in my chair.”

“What the fuck do you know?” Daniel said aloud. “You’re in my head.”

His drunken legs were struggling to hold him up and even though he didn’t want to sit there anymore he plopped back into the now clean chair. Realizing he was still holding the tablet, he put it down on the desk. “You done seen the whole thing, huh, Davy?” He asked the tablet.

Yep, all of it. The tablet replied in David’s voice.

Man I have got to be drunker than I thought.

To you? He looked at the tablet with astonishment in his eyes. But why not? The first time he heard David’s voice again after all these years was when he and Calla touched the tablet.

Suddenly sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the desk was David Jackson. Big as life and solid as a rock. “Looky ‘ere, Danny, we ain’t got much time.”

“Where the hell did you come from?” Daniel pushed the chair away from the desk and himself away from Davy.

David huffed and pointed at the tablet. “It’s some type a memory thang.” He said. “I dunno know how its works Danny, dats yo job.” He reached in the pocket of his plaid shirt and pulled out a pack of Marlboros. “Yew mind?” David asked. “Nah, yew probably need one.” He shook two cigarettes out of the pack and handed over to his younger brother. “Well go on, one ain’t gone kill ya.” David coaxed and Daniel took the cigarette from his hand.

“You’re not really here, are you?” Daniel asked and leaned in for the tip of the flame coming from the BIC. He choked out smoke as he drew in a drag.

“Dat seem real enuff ta yew?”

“Yep,” he coughed again and reached for the bottle.

“Hey, ‘slong as we’se gone sit ‘ere and jaw, why dun yew pass dat my way?”

Hell! Why not? David was here but if the Ghost Man wanted a shot why… Daniel passed the bottle across the desk and watched David take a long pull from it.

“Ah, nah, dat ain’t bad. Been a while.” David smiled and swiped his sleeve across his lip. He took another drink; he put the bottle back on the desk. “A’ight, now lis’en Danny ‘coz I ain’t got all night.” David puffed his cigarette and exhaled smoke into the office without coughing; he even blew little smoke rings. “Dat Hartley he’a snake,” Davy said with a flourish of his cigarette. “He dun took Callie right dare in dat chair when she was ‘sleep.” Davy held his hand up when Daniel’s mouth opened. “He come in trew dat dare win’da.” He pointed behind him. “She was ‘sleep on the desk af’ta he got her all high and shit.” Another drag from the cigarette. “Hartley snuck in ‘ere and had ‘is way with yow wife. She nevah said ‘yes’, Danny…evah.” Looking at his brother David got the distinct feeling he wasn’t getting through. “You understand wot I’ma tellin’ yew?”

“He raped my wife.” Daniel tried the cigarette again and didn’t cough quite so much this time.

“Yeah.” David said in an almost sympathetic voice. “Ain’t da first time, Danny.”

“I know it’s not the first time she’s been…..”

“Keep up wit me, Danny!” Davy shouted. “Ain’t da first time HE done it ta ‘er.” David shook his head and took another drag, he exhaled the smoke into Daniel’s face. “That Brit he drugs ‘er and den he fucks her. She dun ‘member a thang, Danny. Not one blessed thang! She thinks he’s her friend. Now, I know’d you’se all pissy ‘bout what she done wit Ares but at dis ‘ere exact moment Daddie ain’t yo big problem, Danny. Hartley is. Dat is if’n you got any designs on savin’ yo marriage.”

“I do.” Daniel admitted finally. Drunk or not, hallucinating this conversation with David or not, Daniel wasn’t ready to let go without putting up some type of fight.

“Den mab-be yew shuld go on up dem steps and see what’s on dat dare ease-sel.” David stood up and tossed the butt of the cigarette into the fireplace; he took the one Daniel’s hand and did the same. “Lots a luck, baby bruther.”

“Davy, what the hell do you care?” Daniel asked and took the last swig from the near empty bottle. “Why are you here? Why are you helping me? Or are you?”

“Nah, dat ain’t nice.” Davy cracked. “Here I is, tryin’ to be the gud big bruther and ya’ll knockin’ me fer it. Nah, who is dat yew think put dat dare bee in Callie’s bonnet and made ‘er go aft’a yew and dun take no shit?”

“You?” Daniel wished that there were just a little bit more left in that bottle. “You’ve been talking to Calla…like this?” He pointed at his obviously solid brother. “No wonder she’s insane She thinks she’s hallucinating…hell, man, so do I..”

“Nah, not like dis.” Davy snorted a loud laugh. “She was crazy be’fo I came along.” Davy smiled. “You shoulda seen ‘er Danny, she was higher’n a 747 but she was real brave and little crazy but she did’t take no shit from any’a dat brass.” David laughed again and shook his head as though he were recalling something remarkably funny.

“Why?” Daniel demanded again. “Why would you make her help me?”

“Coz I dun like Hartley, like I said, he a snake.” David leaned forward and dropped his voice. “Lis’en. We both know’d I done some awful things to Callie,” David looked almost a shamed of himself….almost. “What I done, what ‘er Daddie done, it ain’t purty Danny, no-sah, it ain’t.” Davy shook his head and let out a sigh. “But yew know in ‘is own way Ares’ sorry ‘bout de way things went down, not fer wot he dun, yew under stand.”

“Yeah,” Daniel agreed and let him go on.

“I ain’t ‘ere for no A-Tone-Ment, dun need to cleanse dis ‘ere soul, dat ain’t my style,” he smiled and Daniel nodded. “Dat dun mean I ‘prove of what An-drooo Hartley’s got in mind fer her, Danny. You was right ta shoot me…twice!” Davy smiled and his eyebrows went up. “Dun ‘spect no less from a man dat’s defendin’ da woh-man he loves. You think I’se bad and Ares is worse but you dun know shit. Hartley, he de worst of the de bunch. I like dat gurl, Danny she a good wife ta us…”

“Us? There you go with that shit again. She’s MY wife!”

“Oooh, good. You hold ta dat, Danny. Dat anger, yew gone need it.” David coached. “Anyway, yew dun puts up wit sum’a her shit ov’a da years but, yew know’d, she dun puts up wit a heck’a lot’a yer shit too. Life ain’t perfect but yew damn shore got it made, Danny, I’da….I’da….well, I wouldn’t wanna see yew lose it, no-sah, I wouldn’t” he looked at Daniel with stern blue eyes, “Even tho’ yew might jus’ deserve it. Nah, go on nah, up dem steps and have a look-see at what’s on dat ease-sel. Mab-be den yu’ll un’erstand how Hartley wormed ‘is way in so easy.” David stood up and stretched. “I gots ta be goin’, Danny, my time’s up. Yew ‘member, I warned yew, I tried to he’p yew way be’fo nah.”

“You don’t say? When did you become my conscious?”

“Yeah, well, it’s a durty job but sum-buddy gots ta do it.” Davy smiled, pointed at the ceiling and disappeared. “Go boy, git yew dat look-see.” He called from no where.

After a few moments, Daniel stood up on drunken legs and weaved his way from the office through the living room and to the bottom of the stairs. Looking up to the landing he swore the steps were moving, breathing almost, and that he’d never be able to climb them. Grabbing the banister tightly with one hand and keeping the other on the opposite wall, one step at a time he wobbled his way up to the second floor.

Again he thought he was hallucinating or just mondo-beyondo drunk. But nope, that really was a girls’ voice coming from his sons’ room. Daniel stopped outside the door and listened. It was Annie. If Calla were here she’d……………….

“Tell me mind my own damn business,” he muttered and walked away from the door. He had more important things to tend to at the moment, well at least according to David. Daniel followed the same weaving unsteady pattern, one hand tight on the banister and the other pressing against the opposite wall as he made his way up to attic. He yanked the twine switch turning on the overhead light and stumbled backwards a bit as he held his hand up to shield his drunk eyes from the bright light.

Once he became accustomed to the glare Daniel held his hands out to his sides as he tottered his way across the attic to the area where Calla painted. Before he turned around to see the ease-sel or any other paintings, he saw the cashed bowl and white powder on the old coffee table by the ratty sofa. Hartley’d had her up here too.

Well of course he’s been up here, his inebriated mind told him, he’s her AGENT, remember?

“When the hell did that happen?” Daniel muttered to no one, the last she said to him she wasn’t going to meet with Hartley and she didn’t want to be a World Famous Artiste. So what was with the agent to begin with? When did she change her mind? General Hammond showed him the newspaper clippings of Calla and Hartley on the front steps of the New York Museum of Art; he was swiping at them with a walking stick and telling the reporters to back away from her. She had given no comments in the article but Hartley seemed to speak right up on her behalf and take command of the situation, which must have panicked Calla.

Score One for Hartley. A big one.

From that point his best drunken guess was that she couldn’t tell him she wouldn’t meet with him at least once not after he’d been so nice to her. After that, though Daniel didn’t have much idea of how things had gotten so out of control so quickly. Turning away from the remnants of the coke on the table and the couch where they may have made out or may have made love Daniel’s eyes fell upon the easel.

Calla had taken the painting of her photo session from it and replaced it with the painting of Daniel and all his women. She was going to paint over it and couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Holy shit,” Daniel muttered and held an unsteady hand out to the painting of him with some twenty or more naked dark haired dark eyed women. In the depiction, he too was naked; he was surveying the women around and below him while drinking from a heavily jeweled gold chalice. No one had to point out that they all looked like Sha’re except for the very quite and almost unnoticed one down in the bottom right hand corner. She was watching and crying. She was the only one dressed. Her long red hair cascaded around her face while emerald eyes looked over hands held there in shock and disbelief.

Jack’s voice came from inside his head; “Danny, do you remember what we were doing? Do you remember Bacchus? And the Blood Moon Ritual?”

Yeah, the painting certainly did have a ritualistic quality to it.

Jack again; “And she still saved our asses.”

David’s turn; “Have a look-see at what’s on dat ease-sel. Mab-be den yu’ll un’erstand how Hartley wormed ‘is way in so easy.”

Swaying back and forth as he stood staring at the painting and listening to the voices in his head, an image of Medea shot up behind his eyes;

“In your dreams.” He walked away from the bars.

“No, Daniel,” Medea countered lightly. “In yours. You think your Mistress is unaware of your deeds because you are so far apart and have yet to confess? But she already knows what you’ve done. So, what’s one more?”

“No,” Daniel sound loud and shook his head as he frowned. “No, I wouldn’t, I didn’t.” But yet the wine was sweet, he remembered that much. So very sweet and cold it made you want more and more of it. The women were warm and ready. Their touch was soft or hard depending on what he wanted them to do and they did so many decadent things! They did them with, to him, with, and to each other, round, and round again. His head swimming and his eyes spinning Daniel stumbled over to the old couch and plopped down on it. Beside him was a stack of new paintings and he didn’t know if he had the nerve to look at them. Trembling fingers plucked the first one from the stack. A couple was having a picnic dinner by a lake. It seemed very nice and very innocent except the couple was Calla and Hartley and someone was watching them from the brush as they cuddled under the stars.

Yeah, ok, fine, not so bad. He put it down and picked up the next one. It was Hartley’s Million Dollar Prize--the one at this very moment he was telling Calla she had go back to the house and get. Even in his drunken state, Daniel recognized the background this was the painting she’d started work on just before he left.

Ok, once again not so bad. Daniel put it down and took the next one. It was entitled Phantom Lover.

“He come in trew dat dare win’da. She was ‘sleep on the desk af’ta he got her all high and shit. Hartley snuck in ‘ere and had ‘is way with yow wife. She nevah said ‘yes’, Danny…evah. You understand wot I’ma tellin’ yew?”

Well, judging from the painting in his hands, it seemed that wherever he’d come from, Davy sure enough knew what he was talking about.

Two more paintings in the pile—these weren’t quite finished and she hadn’t shown Hartley but he didn’t know that. Daniel didn’t think he wanted to go any further but in for a penny in for a pound, Daniel put the depiction of Hartley raping his sleeping wife at his desk on the couch and picked up the next one.

Daniel was fairly certain the woman making love to him in this rather graphic depiction was Sha’re but it could be Medea or some delicately warped variation of both women. Whoever she was her dark head was thrown back in ecstasy as her hips ground down on him, his own hands planted on those firm hips and he thrust from below her. Around them was a sea of dark haired beauties waiting their turn with him. There was no red haired woman in this painting, no one sadly weeping over what was going on.

He put it back in the pile. Last one. Daniel took in a deep alcohol breath and turned it over. He looked at it for a while almost trying to decipher it. It wasn’t finished that was the problem it was more of an outline than anything else but he didn’t need the dots connected and the colors filled in to know that was Calla on a huge bed made of stone and covered with thick animal skins. Looming over her was Ares.

Colleen’s turn now; “Daddy you don’t know what Umpa did. She cried the whole time.”

“She knew.” He whispered in horror. “Oh my God she knew!” Calla’s hands were bandaged the last time he saw her and as unfinished as it was he didn’t think she’d stopped to paint before packing her bag. No. Calla started this before she went through the Stargate to rescue him. Off to the right in the mid-ground, standing in the doorway was the only person in the painting that was finished. It was Daniel. His arms were crossed over his bare chest as he glared down at them on the bed. He was half in shadow and half in light, one foot in the doorway and the other behind him. She was looking over at him, her hand stretched out to him. Daniel followed her line of sight back to himself and suddenly understood that he’d seen that pair of blue eyes, the ones he saw every day when he looked in the mirror. They were in Phantom Lover and those were the same eyes that stared at the picnicking couple and peered through the window of the photography shoot and watched the ‘phantom’ have sex with Calla. They were his eyes.

Tonight Ares got the last word;

“You were below her and I was behind her. You don’t remember? Pity.”

But he did remember….something. Daniel remembered being hot, so hot, the air was so dry he could hardly breathe. His body ached and he was covered in sweat. Suddenly…suddenly there was the cool feeling of seawater drenching the top of his head. In big droplets and large splashed it rolled down his neck to his shoulders and chest it was followed by the bumpy soft sensation of a sea sponge.

Calla was bathing him. He could hear her voice. She was telling him everything was all right and that she’d taken care of things for him. As washed the sweat and women away she told him about the kids and of home and how they would go there very soon and resume their life and all would be well again,…this whole mess would be over and behind them.

Ares. Angry. Yelling. Screaming at her but he couldn’t understand what the God of War was saying. Calla was screaming back at him. Again he couldn’t understand the words. He could almost see her, her little face red and blistering with anger and his just the same as he grabbed her, pushed her down.

“Sa’tan, please…help me.” She whispered in his ear as her tears dripped against his neck.

Lost in his own vision, Daniel’s eyes opened therein to behold Ares over him and over Calla between them.

Reality blissfully slipped away as the painting fell from his hands and Daniel passed out on the old couch.

End of Chapter Thirty-Nine of
Daughter of the Gods:
Tarnished Heroes
An Adult Stargate FanFiction Novel
By
Moon Mistress
Continue to
Chapter Forty