<< Previous | Story Intro | Return to Stories | Next >>
Little Green Men
"Ready for round two?" He asked softly.
"Always," she replied, snuggling closer to him.
Daniel rolled over, putting Casey on her back beneath him. He lowered his head, kissed her gently. "So beautiful," he whispered.
She reached up, cupped his cheek with her hand. "So beautiful," she replied.
His eyes searched hers, looking for any pain, any fear that might be lurking there. Found none. The only thing that reflected out of those amazing pools of emerald green was love. Fire. Happiness. Satisfied that at least for now she was not suffering from hurt, from guilt she shouldn't feel, he kissed her again. Sent all of his love to her. Felt hers returned. He wrapped himself in its warmth, let it surround his still battered heart and soul.
She could feel the pain, the darkness that tried to move into his mind. She firmly pushed it away, caressed him, sent her love yet again. He had suffered so much because of her. Whether or not she was directly responsible meant little to her. She only knew that this man, this incredible man whom she loved with all of her heart, had been hurt, had grieved, had cried…and that the pain he had experienced was because of her. She could never forgive herself for that. Never. She could only try to make up for it.
He moved his mouth to her throat, slid down to her breasts. He would taste her once more before he took her. But first he would make love to her, arouse her, make her totally ready for him.
She arched toward him, offering more of her body to his mouth, his hands, seeking to please him as much as he was pleasing her. The thought that he was addicted to her skittered across her mind. Made her giggle.
He looked up at her, a smile on his face. "What?"
She ran her fingers through his hair. "You're addicted to me," she said simply.
"Oh yeah. Love getting my 'fix' of you," he replied, his eyes twinkling. "Such a sweet drug," he added.
She giggled again. "Such a sexy addict," she replied.
He chuckled. "Love you," he whispered, just before he lowered his mouth to her breast once again.
"Love you," she whispered in return, filling her hands with his hair. "Oh, goddess, how I love you!"
Her soft whisper sent his heart soaring. He moved down once again, the need to taste her filling his entire being. He tasted her, teased her, until her breath was coming in soft gasps.
"Please, Daniel, I need to feel you inside me," she whispered.
He moved up, kissed those beautiful breasts, then sheathed his aching flesh in her warm well. Oh hell yes! Her body wrapped around him like a fist, massaged him, held him. Every time, his mind sang. Every time was just like the first time. Wasn't there a song about that? Yep, there was, he was sure of it. Each time he made love with her, it was just as sweet, just as wonderful, just as mind-blowing as the first time he had taken her, made her his own. He lowered his head to kiss her.
She wrapped her arms and legs around him, wanted…needed…to feel his body against hers. Loved to feel the weight of him on top of her. It made him…real…not just a dream that her mind had conjured to help her through endless, lonely nights. Her hips were moving up to meet his, beat for beat, step for step as he led her through the dance of love. She was rushing toward the edge of the cliff, her toes hanging over, looking down at the abyss that would in turn send her sailing.
Her body was responding so ardently to each touch, every thrust, that he knew he wouldn't last long. Not when her sweet well was gripping him so tightly, massaging him so firmly, her arms and legs holding him so closely against her warm skin. He looked down, her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, her lips parted slightly. She was so damned beautiful!
She could feel that sweet, hot feeling building up, filling her belly, moving toward her aching well. She could already feel the air starting to move around her. She would soon be flying. Her heart was hammering against her ribs in anticipation, her toes curled from the intensity of the feelings that were already rushing through her.
So close…so damned close! Her thighs were quivering against his sides…that beautiful whimper filled her throat, made his heart pound ever harder against his ribs. When she cried out, his name on her lips, his body raced to respond. Two, three, four thrusts, and he was sailing into the clouds, spiraling toward the stars, her second cry filling his ears. The pulsing of that sweet well around his throbbing cock made him cry out, her name a prayer of gratitude.
Her body was still trembling, her soul still twirling among the stars, dancing beside him, with him. She wrapped her body tighter around his, holding on as they rode the Flames, as those flames changed into waves of pure, sweet pleasure.
When he could breath again, he rolled over, held her close. "Love you, Angel."
"Love you, Sweetheart," she replied. She snuggled closer to him, sighed contentedly.
He was aware that she had fallen asleep, her body had relaxed against him, her breathing now slow and steady. He thought about his…journey…into her mind. He could only hope that he had helped her, changed enough that she would be free of the pain, the guilt that her adoptive mother had embedded in her from the moment she had been taken from the orphanage. He finally closed his eyes, drifted into sleep.
She stood in front of…that…house. Recognized it. Could recall every time that she had been screamed at, beaten, locked in her small room, alone. In the dark. The thought that she should be terrified of the dark flittered across her mind. Perhaps the dark had become a friend, hiding from sight those things that hurt her so. Allowing her to hide from that which hurt her.
There were sounds of children at play coming from the house up the street. Mrs. Williams was sitting in her usual spot on the front porch, cigarette dangling from her crimson-painted lips, a beer bottle in her hand. Grubby children playing in front of her, ignoring her occasional demand that they stop fighting, knowing that she would never leave the porch, never carry through with the threats she issued.
Not understanding what was happening, she walked up the cracked concrete sidewalk, up the steps, avoiding the third one, which squeaked so loudly. Across the porch that needed painting so badly that most of the boards were beginning to splinter. The door was unlocked. Surprisingly. It was always locked. Especially after…if she had stood up for herself, left the house to avoid…punishment, it was always locked when she returned.
Her father…no…Frank…he wasn't her father, was he?…was sitting in the worn Barcolounger that he had saved for three years to buy. She could still remember the screaming that Helen had done when it was delivered.
"Fra…ah…yes. You've…found…your parents, haven't you?"
"You love them?"
"Very much. They love me very much. They were…devastated…when they were denied the right to raise me," she replied.
He nodded his balding head. "I can imagine. I always loved you. You know that, don't you?"
"I know," she replied softly.
"I should have…I should have protected you. Sent you to my mother's house permanently. I…she was a cruel woman, Casey. You have no idea how cruel she could be."
Casey couldn't hold back the sarcastic laugh that filled her throat. "Oh, I think I have a very good idea how cruel she could be."
The middle-aged man shook his head. "She abused you, yes. I know that she hurt you. Did you ever wonder why I never stood against her, even when she was beating you?"
She nodded slowly. "I thought it was because you didn't care."
"No, sweetie. It was because I was a coward. I couldn't take the pain."
"I don't understand," she said, her eyes full of confusion.
"Do you remember ever seeing me without at least a tee shirt on?"
She searched her memory. "No, now that you mention it, no. Why?"
Frank stood slowly, took off the tee shirt that covered his thin body.
She gasped. Scars, burns that looked like tiny circles covered his chest, his belly. "Wha…why…oh, god, Dad, what did she do to you?"
He pulled his shirt back on, motioned for her to sit down. Waited until she was settled on the worn, sagging couch. "Helen was never beautiful. Never even pretty. When she was young, however, her face was…interesting. Strong. Full of life. She was raised by her grandparents. Her mother was only fifteen when she was born. Out of wedlock of course. Something that her grandmother threw into Helen's face every day. No one knew who her father was. That information disappeared with her mother."
Casey shivered. Everything that Helen had suffered, she had re-directed toward the innocent child who had been adopted into their home. Had accused her adoptive daughter of being what she believed her mother was.
"Helen was never…friendly…either. She was quiet. Angry. Rebellious," Frank said, continuing his narrative. "And…easy. I don't think there was a boy in my class who hadn't…had…her. She used to go to the docks, and…well…she…she was a prostitute, Casey. She sold her body to the dockworkers, to sailors on the ships, for money. You see, once she turned fifteen, the age her mother had been when she had been born, her grandmother refused to…well, she was allowed to sleep in the house, but she paid for her own food, her own clothes."
"Oh, god," Casey murmured.
"She…your grandmother…Harris very rarely held her as a baby, as a small child. Helen never knew what love was. God help me, I didn't change that. I…I asked her out, only because I wanted…I was a virgin, you see, and I wanted…well, anyway, I tried to treat her kindly; took her to dinner, and then to a nice motel. No back seat. That…touched her. I guess she thought …hoped…that it meant that I loved her." He ran his hand over his face. "I don't know that I even liked her, not like that. I just wanted…Well, when I took her home, I walked her to the door. I had no intention of ever talking to her, seeing her again. When I didn’t call her, she confronted me at school. Offered something she hadn't given me…that night."
"A blowjob." She didn't know how she knew that. Somehow, that didn't seem to matter.
Frank nodded. "She took me behind the bleachers, and…oh god it was so amazing. Then she let me…take her…again. Two weeks later she told me she was pregnant. I didn’t know that she'd had gonorrhea. She was…sterile. My parents were mortified. Mom was so…disappointed. She never liked Helen. I think she knew exactly what was going on. But even in the mid 70's, there was no legal way for me to force her to prove that she was pregnant. We couldn't force her to have a pregnancy test. I have often wished that we could have. It would have saved me…you…so much pain."
"So, you married her."
"My father told me that it was just until the baby was born, to give the child a name. Then he was going to help me get a divorce. I was going to join the Navy, and that would have been the end of it."
"So what happened?" Casey was sitting forward on the sofa, unaware that Frank was sitting forward as well.
"She claimed to have had a miscarriage. A doctor who…that she had…serviced…told me that she had been…damaged …and wouldn't be able to have children. I felt so damned guilty!"
She smiled. "I can relate to that!"
He smiled at her. "Yes, I know. I don't know if I taught you that or not. If so, please forgive me."
"You have nothing to ask forgiveness for."
"That's not true," he said softly. "But thank you. You were always such a loving, giving child."
"Did you try to leave her?"
"Yes. I went to see an attorney straight from the doctor's office. When I got back to the apartment where we lived, she was waiting. She had followed me, then went home. Planned her…revenge."
"That was the first time she…hurt you?"
"Yes. She…she had a broken curling iron. The tip was missing. She was waiting for me, hit me over the head with a small bat that she carried when she was…working. When I came to, she had me tied to a kitchen chair. She had me gagged, and the radio playing…loudly. We had a gas stove, she turned on one of the burners, and had it…it was glowing red, Casey."
"She only had to touch me twice before I was willing to do anything she said. After that, whenever I was…whenever I didn’t do what she wanted, I'd wake up tied to a chair, or the bed, gagged, and she would…burn me." Frank's hands were shaking as he lit his cigarette.
"Why didn’t you tell anyone?"
"Sweetie, men aren't supposed to be victims of domestic abuse. Aren't supposed to be the ones beaten, abused. I was…I was too ashamed. I was able to keep it…hidden. I did tell her that if she ever…hurt…you like that, I would turn her in to the police. She believed me."
"She hurt you. She hurt me. We've both had to live with what she did to us."
"Try to understand, Casey, she wasn't…your Mo…Helen was never…right, in her mind. Never. She was so full of anger and bitterness and hatred. Poisoned by it. She was always a bit… chubby…so every woman who was slender, who was beautiful, was a threat to her, made her more aware of what she looked like. That's why she hated you. I never should have insisted on adopting a child. I just wanted a family so damned badly…and I thought that if she had children…to make up for the one I thought she had lost, that she would…change. I fell in love with you the first time I laid eyes on you in that orphanage. So sweet, so full of energy and life. Helen could see the beauty in you, even at that young age. As you grew up, matured into such a lovely young woman, a popular young woman, something she had never been, it just…it ate at her, made her…angrier." Frank shook his head again. "I should have sent you to live with Mom. She offered, several times. No, not just offered, she begged me to let you live with her. I tried to get you there as often as possible, especially when Helen was in her…mood."
"What about Sheryl?"
"Sheryl was just like your mother…an angry, bitter child. I think Helen saw herself in that little girl. They both hated you, not just because of how beautiful you were…and are. Not just because of the light that shines in you, or the way you can make people laugh. They hated you because they couldn't break you."
"I'm not so sure that's true," she murmured. "I think they did more damage than anyone realizes. I'm afraid of men, Frank. I can't talk to my Husband about sex. My Husband, Frank! He's the most gentle, kind, generous man in the world, but I can't tell him what I want when we make love. I…I blame myself for everything bad that happens, because I grew up hearing that anything bad, any…accident…was my fault. Because I'm bad."
"You're not bad, Casey. You never were."
She shook her head. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to believe that."
"Believe it, Angel," a soft, familiar voice said from the doorway.
Casey stood to her feet. "Daniel!"
"I…you were moaning, I…I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he said quickly, apologetically.
She held out her hand. Held his tightly when he crossed the room and put his fingers against hers. "Thank you," she whispered. "How much…?"
"From when Frank…uh…took her to the motel." He sat down on the couch, tugged her to sit beside him. He turned to the man who should have protected her, was unable to do so. "How did you explain…" he motioned toward the man's chest and belly.
Frank laughed, a sad, quiet laugh. "If anyone ever saw me, I told them I'd been in 'Nam. Didn't have to say anything else."
"Then you weren't married very long before you adopted Casey?"
"Three years. She…Helen said she didn't want some snot-nosed, shitty baby in the house. I thought a child would…I thought that she didn't want a baby because of the one I believed she had lost. So I talked her into adopting a little girl. It was cheaper, easier to adopt an older child as well."
"We never had money…how…?" Casey asked.
"When my dad died from a heart attack, he left me some money. It was tied up so that Helen couldn't get her hands on it. But Mom helped me get enough to pay all the fees for adopting you. And Sheryl," Frank explained.
"I always wondered something…why didn't Grandma Rose like Sheryl? I mean, I could understand her not liking…Helen…but why Sheryl?" Casey asked.
"Because Mom could see that Sheryl was just like Helen…and Sheryl didn't need protection from Helen the way that you did."
She nodded slowly. Stood to her feet. "Thanks," she said softly.
"You're welcome," Frank said, standing also. He offered his hand to Daniel. "Some scars will never be healed. But if she…understands…she might learn to…deal…with them," he said softly.
Daniel took the outstretched hand. "I hope so. I'll help her however I can."
Frank nodded. He turned back to the woman his little girl had become. "Got one last hug for your old man?"
Casey smiled, hugged the man, kissed his cheek. "Goodbye…Dad."
She sat up on the bed, her breath coming in gasps. Daniel sat up beside her, running his hand over her shoulders, down her back. "Oh, my god!"
"Yeah," he said softly. "Are you okay?"
She managed to nod. "I…I had no idea! I have no idea how…"
Daniel smiled. "You're a seer, Angel. You must have…reached out…looking for answers."
"I guess," she replied, although she didn't sound convinced. "Thank you for being there."
"Anytime, Angel," he whispered. "We have to go to work in a couple of hours. Think you can go back to sleep?"
She shook her head. "I have some…thinking…to do. You go back to sleep," she said.
"I'll make a deal with you. Let me hold you. You can think, and I'll be able to sleep."
"Sneaky, Doctor Jackson, very sneaky," she said, smiling at him. "But a good idea."
He grinned, laid back on the bed. "C'mere, you."
She settled on top of him, her head on his shoulder, his arms tightly around her slender frame. "Love you."
"Love you, too."
She smiled when she felt him relax. He started snoring a few minutes later. She went over what she had learned, the horrifying facts about her adoptive parent's marriage. What a twisted, cruel …dangerous woman Helen Harris Webster really was. Marveled that she had escaped being hurt more than she had been. The scars were still there. They always would be. But perhaps…someday…she would be able to…live…with them. She wasn't aware when sleep crept up and softly claimed her.
A A A A A A
She was going through the email when Daniel walked into the office, a sheaf of notes in his hand. "Hey, handsome," she said, smiling up at him.
"Hey, gorgeous. Anything interesting?"
"I'm not sure. Do you know somebody named Doctor Steven Raynor?"
He stared at her. "Yeah. Why?"
"Because he just put in a request to transfer to Gamma to work in the Center. He wants to talk to you directly."
He couldn't stop the grin that covered his face. He and Steven had been…if not adversaries, then certainly competitors, in the archaeological community. Now that his theories had been proven correct, Steven's had been disproved. He shouldn't feel any gratification from that fact, but he did. "Tell him to send his resume," he said.
She looked at him. "Want to tell me about him?"
He perched on the corner of the desk, and told her about his mentor, Dr. Jordan, about how he and Sarah Gardner and Steven Raynor had all worked for the man, about the fact that Dr. Jordan's favoritism towards him had always angered Steven. About the competition that had existed between them from the moment they had met.
"Do you really think that having him here is such a good idea?" she asked, when he had finished.
"We could use the help, Case. And he's damn good at what he does," Daniel admitted.
"Just not as good as you," she teased.
"Nope. Not as good as me," he agreed with a wide grin. "Send the message. If he's serious, he'll send the resume. Then I'll talk to him."
She nodded, began to type out the reply. "And you call me vindictive," she muttered under her breath.
Jack wandered into the room, his hands in his pockets. "Hey, kids. Just wanted to let you know that Duncan wants to see us in the conference room in twenty."
"Why?" Daniel asked immediately.
The older man shrugged. "Something about ruins, and maybe the Lost City."
Daniel felt his heart stop beating. "Are they sure?"
"Have no clue, Danny. Just a few MALP images. Boys in the lab thought they recognized some of the symbols," Jack replied.
He nodded. He had carefully drawn out the hieroglyphs that meant "Lost City" in Ancient, and taken it to the lab nearly a year ago, right after his discussion with Aaron. Hoping that the men and women who processed the images that came from the MALPs and UAVs might recognize them as soon as the photographs were ready. Too many images were put aside, waiting for his attention. He shook his head. It was time to take Duncan's advice, hire a secretary and have Casey doing more to assist him. "Let me call Aaron. He's going to want to know about this."
"I think Duncan already did," the older man said. "So this is a big thing, huh?"
"It could be, Jack," Daniel replied. "We might just find a weapon, or at least a means for getting rid of the Goa'uld once and for all."
Jack grinned. "Sweet. Big honkin' guns?"
Daniel chuckled. "I have no idea."
"Guess we'll find out." Jack turned and left the room, whistling happily at the thought of a 'big honkin' space gun'.
Casey giggled. "He will be so disappointed if this turns out to be nothing more than sage advice."
"Oh, yeah," he laughed. "Call Mike and tell him to hold off on sending down those tablets. This is going to take awhile. I’m going to go get the photos and start going over them. I'll meet you there."
She nodded. "I'll be there in a few." Her heart was pounding. Something big was about to happen. She could feel it.
<< Previous | Story Intro | Return to Stories | Next >>