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Daniel stared intently at the stone in his hand; it had been cunningly chipped into an arrowhead, but there was a tiny microchip inserted into the base. A computer-driven arrow? Was this a toy? A weapon? The grid of trenches surrounding him had revealed many of these arrowheads, but none in such perfect condition as this.
"Doctor Jackson?" Major Krieger said. Daniel rose, stretching his back, and looked across the trench to the major, who gestured with his P-90. When Daniel raised his head, he saw Jack accompanied by two other men, both in uniform.
Daniel was so surprised to see Jack that for an instant he thought he was mistaken, that it was another man coming toward him. But he knew Jack anywhere; after more than a decade of working, fighting, and playing together, he would have recognized Jack in a pitch-black room.
But this was not General O'Neill walking through the thick grass, whacking at its seedheads with a cane. This was Jack, wearing blue jeans and a plaid shirt, a White Sox baseball cap pulled down over his silver hair.
"Daniel," he said, stopping on the far side of the trench separating them.
"Jack."
"Warm welcome."
"Ah, welcome. It's a surprise. Jack --" Daniel felt the smile on his face; too big, too happy, but never happy enough to express his feelings. He wound his way carefully around until he could stand next to Jack. "Hey."
"Hey."
"So, to what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Walk with me, Daniel." He started walking and Daniel for once followed him. "Stay here," Jack said over his shoulder to the men who had accompanied him. "Please."
"Please?" Daniel asked him. "That's new."
"There's a lot new," Jack said, and fell silent.
They walked for a while, away from the camp, across the broad fields broken only by lumps of earth that hid the city that had once stood here. Daniel knew there really wasn't any place to go; this part of the world was mile after mile of level grassland. Something horrific had happened here, but thousands of years ago. Archaeology in the Pegasus Galaxy used a different timescale than in the Milky Way.
Finally, Jack slowed and then stopped. He stared around them, and Daniel knew he was noticing the slight blue in the grasses, the orange of this sun, the different smell of this air. Not home, his body constantly reminded him, but what was home?
The grasses flattened and shifted color as the breeze pushed across them. Daniel sneezed.
"Bless," Jack said, finally looking at him.
"Thank you." He blew his nose. "Why are you here? Not that it isn't great to see you. But why are you in the Pegasus Galaxy and not Washington?"
"Ah, see." Jack paused, and then said, "Do you know how old I am?"
"I didn't miss your birthday, Jack. I had Sam give it to you, remember?"
"Yes, and a lovely crystal vase it was, too." It hadn't been crystal or a vase, but Daniel didn't contradict him; he just smiled and nodded. "But I didn't ask if you knew when my birthday was. I asked if you knew how old I was."
"Sixty-five."
"Yep. A good round number, don't you think?"
"Shit, Jack." Daniel stared at his plaid shirt. "You retired."
"I did. Kind of." He grinned, and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a sheaf of papers and unfolding them.
"Form I-589," Daniel read, taking them from him. "Um, Jack. This is a request for asylum. With the words United States crossed out and replaced with the word Atlantis."
Jack leaned over to look at the paperwork. "So it is. What do you make of that?"
Daniel flipped through the pages -- it was a lengthy document -- and saw that every field was filled out in Jack's angular handwriting. "Asylum is a form of protection," he started, then stopped. Protection. He continued to examine the pages, stopping when he got to page eighteen. Under "marital status," Jack had checked "married."
Index finger marking that field, he looked at Jack. Jack nodded his head, then straightened up and met Daniel's eyes. "Well?"
"You talk to Weir?"
"I did. She has a copy of the application, too. Asked me if I had any fear about returning to the States, or if I'd be harmed if I was returned."
"What did you say?"
"There was some possibility." After a pause, Jack said, "A good possibility."
"I'd say so. NID, of course. But maybe the Air Force?"
Jack shrugged. "Depends, I think."
"On?"
"You, basically. Pretty much everything depends on you."
Daniel began to smile. "Does this mean I can ask? That you can tell?"
"Jesus, Daniel. It's about fucking time."
"I'm not good at keeping my mouth shut, Jack; you know that."
"You did a fine job, you never said a goddamn word," Jack started but then the wind caught the brim of Jack's cap, and he had to grab it quickly. Daniel stuffed the papers into his own back pocket so he could take the hat from Jack, turn it around, and fit it back on Jack's head, brim to the back. "That's better," he said, letting his hands slide down to Jack's shoulders.
"Doctor Jackson?" Major Krieger called. Daniel turned his head to find the major and the other two watching.
"Major Krieger," Daniel said. "We've got a new partner. He'll help with the digging and sifting."
"Ah," Krieger said, frowning.
"For now, though, I'm going to show him around. Why don't you and those gentlemen head back to camp. We should have a celebratory dinner, I think. Maybe you'll see another deer-thing to shoot. That was good barbecue."
"Yessir, Doctor Jackson," Krieger said, smiling. "I do love barbecue." He turned and herded the other two ahead of him, back the way they'd come.
"Good man," Daniel told Jack. "You'll like him."
"Barbecue? I do already."
"You okay?" Daniel asked. "Those guys trouble? A security detail?"
"Naw. Just Weir being cautious. I'm a citizen of Atlantis, or I will be if that's what you want."
Daniel stared at him. "Moron," he said at last, and kissed Jack.
Jack's cap blew off, but they didn't chase after it.