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Chapter Text

If there was ever an appropriate time to get contemplative right after sex, it was on an anniversary. So Daniel lay sprawled out, tangled up with his lover, and considered the significance of their anniversary.

One year. A year since SG-1 got back from fishing in Minnesota and Daniel was supposed to thank Jack for the ride and vacation and get out of his truck, but had kissed him instead. A year since they went back to his apartment and had a frank conversation, which had then led to a relationship.

It hadn’t always been easy. Daniel may have spent eight years basically ignoring his bisexuality (a consequence of working for the Air Force), but Jack was a career Air Force officer. That meant Jack had spent his entire adult life completely repressing any suspicion that he might not be completely straight. It also meant that they had to be careful to the point of paranoia.

“Daniel?” asked Jack in a voice that meant he’d been thinking too.

“Yes?”

Jack looked right at him the way that always made Daniel feel like Jack could see into his very soul. “What would you say if I retired?”

That he had not seen coming, and he said the first thing that sprung to mind. “I’d say you’d get bored quickly.”

“True,” conceded Jack, “but I managed the first time.”

“Any particular reason you’re thinking about retirement?”

“Rank hath its privileges. It also hath too much paperwork.”

“Really.” He wasn’t convinced, despite Jack’s dislike of paperwork.

“Working at SGC isn’t as much fun when you hardly ever get to go through the gate.”

“So you’ve told me.”

Jack fidgeted with a corner of his pillow. “Plus you could move in.”

He’d suspected their relationship had something to do with it, but he was somehow still surprised. “You want me to move in?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to be an activist or anything. I’m just sick of skulking around. So I got to thinking, why am I doing all this skulking? To push paper and deal with politicians? Not a good trade.”

“You want to retire because of me?” He was awed and humbled and oh, so in love with Jack.

“When you say it that way, it makes me sound selfless.”

“It’s not?” asked Daniel, still absorbing the information. It seemed more than a little surreal that Jack would give up SGC for him. Daniel had never asked or expected that of him. SGC was his life, and to give that up… for once, words failed Daniel.

“I could grope you in the movie theater.”

“Maybe.” He’d never been a fan, but if Jack was going to retire he might rethink the idea.

“It wouldn’t feel like a stealth mission on a Goa’uld mothership every time we go out on a date.”

That would be great, of course, but he didn’t want to be hasty. “But Jack -”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“Alright, I won’t.”

“It’s my decision, but…”

A year ago Daniel might have pressed, but he knew better now. If Jack started the conversation, he’d finish it, but it had to be on his own time.

“… it’s not just about me.”

“Are you asking what I think you’re asking?” Suddenly, he hoped it wasn’t possible to somehow go through a quantum mirror without actually having one.

“That depends. If you think I’m asking if you’ll reconsider dragging me to that pottery shards exhibit, no. Good guess though.”

“Jack.”

“Daniel.”

“You don’t need my permission to retire.” Jack nodded just a tiny bit, but that wasn’t all he needed to hear. “And you certainly don’t need to retire on my account. But if that’s what you decide, once it’s official, I’ll head over to the post office.”

“Post office?”

“For a change of address form.”

Jack’s smile exploded out like the event horizon of the stargate, full of energy and potential.

While he waited for the phone call that he knew was coming as soon as Hammond got his email, Jack was trying not to worry. True, he was perfectly within his rights to resign his command and retire. And he had no obligation to tell the Air Force why he was retiring. But he was still afraid it could all go terribly wrong.  

Things weren’t all bad. He was finally convinced that Rosnik was a good guy and worthy of being on SG-1. It helped that, while given no choice over having a Russian on SG-1, Jack and Carter had been allowed to have final say on which Russian. Ba’al had been forced to keep a low profile. Desertion among his ranks was really cramping his galaxy-conquering plans, especially when a Jaffa rebellion destroyed his little supersoldier factory. It had been some six weeks since any SG personnel had been taken hostage, which was probably a record. And he was happy with Daniel; happier than he had been since Charlie died. Now all he had to do was manage a nice, quiet transition to civilian life.

It was time to stop living in fear of being found out and retirement was the only way to do that. He knew that what he and Daniel had was real. He’d pretty much known from the beginning that there was no doubting Daniel’s commitment. The first few months had been rough, but that was Jack’s fault. Daniel had been willing to get involved with a confused, repressed Air Force general over fifty. He’d been nothing put patient and understanding as Jack had come to terms with this redefinition of his sexuality, when he needed to wonder how he could’ve not know for so long, when he got a little freaked out, and when he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. Jack was still repressed, but he was no longer confused and this time he knew exactly what he was doing.

He was waiting for a phone call, but the ring still startled him. “O’Neill.”

“Jack, are you serious?”

And thus it began. “Yes.”

“The President isn’t happy. Your friendships with our allies are invaluable connections, and nobody has your experience.”

“Nice to know I’m appreciated, but it doesn’t change my mind.”

“I don’t suppose there’s anything we can do to change your mind?”

Repealing Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was not on the table, so the answer was, “No.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Personal reasons. It’s just time.”

“We can’t stop you from resigning your command, Jack, and you’ve certainly earned your retirement. But it’s going to be a problem getting a qualified candidate to run the SGC on short notice.”

What SGC needed, Jack gave. “I can hang around longer if you need. But when the day comes, I’m retired. Civilian.”

Hammond sounded confused and yet hopeful. “You’ll do that?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re not in a rush to leave SGC. Just the Air Force.” Hammond paused, thinking. “We’ve had a civilian in charge before. What do you think, Jack?”

“I haven’t finished thinking.” He did wonder how that would go over with the President, the Joint Chiefs, and everyone who would like to command SGC, which amounted to at least half the generals in the Air Force.

“One of the biggest reasons the Russians haven’t asked for more say at SGC is because of your experience. If you leave, we lose that. SGC needs you.”

“I’m trying to figure out the catch.”

“No catch. The President said any way to keep you is fine by him.”

Again, any way but allowing him to stay in the Air Force and not hide his relationship. But Jack wasn’t going there. Besides the career implications, it wasn’t his battle. He was a soldier. He didn’t want to be a poster child and, worse yet, pull the SGC into a heated political debate. Once he retired, he was safe. No career to ruin, pension coming, and he and Daniel could finally go to that upscale romantic restaurant that Daniel pretended he didn’t care about. If Jack could have that and stay at the SGC, well, that was having his cake and eating it too. Plus Daniel could stop feeling guilty about staying on SG-1 while Jack left because of their relationship, which he did even after a long attempt to convince him otherwise.

“I will need something to do after I retire,” he said to Hammond, hardly believing his good fortune.

Jack liked plans. Therefore they had sat down and come up with a careful plan of how to tell Sam and Teal’c without actually telling them anything that could put Jack, or for that matter Sam, in a compromising position. Sam was there, so as soon as Teal’c got to Daniel’s office they were ready.

Daniel wasn’t really worried, since Sam and Teal’c already knew that he was bisexual and didn’t mind. In fact, he’d boldly announced that he was a Kinsey 4. They had learned his lack of gender preference not long before he got together with Jack, when an allergic reaction to offworld fruit had him acting very drunk. The hazy memory still made him cringe, not because he minded his friends knowing, but because he’d made a complete fool out of himself at a party in SG-1’s honor. But Jack wasn’t out to anyone else in the universe, and despite Daniel’s reassurances was not looking forward to the experience.

“Daniel Jackson. You have something you wish to speak about?”

“Shut the door, would you, Teal’c?”

Once the door was shut, Jack spoke up. He didn’t look nervous, although Daniel knew better. “I’m retiring from the Air Force,” he said. Short and to the point, the only way he could start.

“Sir?” asked Sam.

“Two weeks from Friday is my last day.”

“That is most unfortunate,” declared Teal’c solemnly.

“Ah, you can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m sticking around as a civilian. No eyeing my office, kids.” Both Jack and Daniel were pleased beyond measure at that unexpected development. In fact, Jack had even said something nice about the Russians. Daniel had stopped feeling guilty that Jack was giving up SGC for their relationship.

Sam was shocked, but regained her composure enough to get out, “May I ask why, sir?”

“Actually, no.”

She tried to hide it, but she was confused and hurt. It was time for Daniel to make sense of things. “I have some news too.”

They were all looking at him, Sam still confused and wounded, Teal’c as though he was contemplating the possibility of a foothold situation, and Jack… Jack was trying to urge Daniel on and shore up his own best stoic defenses at the same time.

“I’m moving. Moving in with someone, actually.” He swallowed, trying not to stare at Jack and instead focusing on the bookshelf.

Teal’c looked ready to call for quarantine and medical exams, which spurred Daniel on. “I’m hoping that in a couple of weeks, you’ll come have dinner with us. Once he’s officially retired… from the Air Force.”

He inhaled, waiting. Jack was only looking at him and Daniel gave up trying not to stare back.

“Are you implying that -”

“Teal’c, don’t,” implored Sam.

Apparently, Teal’c hadn’t quite understood the careful line they were walking by not actually telling, just providing enough information that made their relationship obvious. Teal’c tended to think in black and white, and loopholes through vague wording weren’t his strongest point. “I -” he began.

Sam broke in again. “I’ll explain, I promise.” Daniel didn’t envy her that job.

“Very well,” ceded Teal’c. “I will hold you to that promise.”

Sam’s gaze altered between Jack and Daniel for a moment before she said, “Congratulations, Daniel. I’d love to meet him.”

Teal’c had evidently grasped the basics of what they were doing, dancing around the truth, because he wasted no time in adding, “As would I.”

“Me three,” quipped Jack.

Daniel smiled. “Great. That’s really great. I’ll get back to you with the details, okay?”

Sam and Teal’c were like family to them. The four of them plus Cassandra had spent the last Thanksgiving and Christmas together, and that spoke volumes. He himself, of course, had no other family; Jack had an aunt he talked to sometimes but rarely saw and a few cousins with whom he wasn’t especially close. So by telling Sam and Teal’c, they had just told the people who mattered most to them.

Sam turned to Jack. “With all due respect, sir, I’m glad you’ll still be with us, but does this mean more work for me?”

Jack grinned tentatively. “Maybe a little. You and Colonel Warren are gonna be responsible for anything I can’t do. Which isn’t as much as I’d hoped. Although I think inspections might be coming up.”

“You know where to find me.” Sam smiled, then said, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to brief Teal’c on a few Air Force regulations.”

“Indeed. Should you require assistance moving, Daniel Jackson, I offer my services.”

Sam echoed, “Me too.”

“Thanks, guys.”

Their Jaffa friend nodded and followed Sam out the door. Once they were alone Daniel would’ve loved to have kissed Jack, but he couldn’t. Not on base. Never on base.

“That went well,” said Jack.

“Yes, it did.” The weight of their relief was beginning to oppress him, so he added, “Funny thing is, you didn’t offer to help me move.”

When Carter knocked, Jack didn’t hesitate to let her in. “Good morning, Carter.”

“Good morning, sir. Do you have a minute?” She looked tenser than usual.

“I’m sure I can delay the excitement of my budget report.” He’d take anything over a budget report, actually.

She shut the door. “This is a little awkward, sir, but I thought you should know. There’s been a lot of speculation as to why you’re leaving the Air Force. It’s come to my attention that the most popular opinion is… well, is me, sir.”

Ah. That explained her tension. “Yes, slightly awkward.” Because there had been a time when he and Carter could’ve had something, like in those alternate realities. Their time had passed. As Teal’c said, the reality they inhabited was the only one that mattered.

“I just, um, thought you should be aware.”

“I’m sorry for dragging you into it.”

She shook her head. “Not your fault, sir.”

There was an uncomfortable pause while both of them tried to figure out how to lay the past to rest for good. Jack cared for Carter – he always would – but he wasn’t in love with her. Carter and Teal’c were family in every way but blood, but they weren’t Daniel.

“You only have thirty-eight minutes to go through the gate,” blurted out Carter.

“Ye-es,” said Jack, not seeing the connection.

“Time, sir. While it passes, things change. If you don’t take your chance, it might pass.”

Now he understood. “Absolutely right, Carter. And I’m sure Dr. Hallowell would agree.”

Her jaw almost dropped, but she caught it in time. “How did you know?”

“For the past month, two of SGC’s most devoted lab-dwellers have suddenly started keeping something that almost resembles normal hours. It’s my job to notice these things.” Jack was happy for her. Hallowell refused to be intimidated by her towering reputation (it probably helped that he was a biologist and not a physicist), he was a civilian so there was no chain-of-command conflict, and it was plain to see that Carter had been notably chipper the last few weeks.

Smiling, Carter said, “Excellent powers of observation, sir. We aren’t at an announcing stage yet.”

“Why thank you.” He paused a moment, then added, “Are we good?”

“We’re good.”

“Great.”

“I’ll let you get back to that budget report, General.”

He scowled at the offending document. “Sure you don’t have any new theories about the universe, wormhole physics, the inner workings of ZPMs, that sort of thing?”

Jack had expected that an hour or so before it was time to leave, a crisis or three would crop up, but none did. No teams came in hot, no nuke the size of the moon detected around Jupiter, not even a political mess that somehow involved him. It was 1710 Friday evening, and time to go home. He was retired from the Air Force.

Daniel was waiting for him in the parking lot. Most of the shift had already left so nobody was around, but Jack wasn’t quite sure he was up for kissing Daniel while they were still technically on base, even in celebration. Daniel seemed to understand, because he grabbed Jack’s hand and gave it a squeeze before letting go.

Carter and Teal’c were headed their way. After some discussion, Jack and Daniel had agreed on how they wanted to spend their first ‘not-hiding’ evening. The romantic restaurant could wait another twenty-four hours. They wanted to relax and visit with their friends.

“Daniel,” said Carter playfully, “I’m sure I’ve met this boyfriend of yours before.”

“Have you had his family recipe for barbequed chicken?”

“No.”

“You’re going to tonight,” Jack informed her and Teal’c. He was only a passable cook generally, but he was good with a barbecue. For the occasion, they were having chicken and steak. “Let’s head over to my house.” A second later, he amended, “Our house.”

Daniel practically glowed. He was a linguist, and words mattered to him. Jack wasn’t always good with them, but he had his moments.

Jack asked, “So, you’re okay with this?”

Teal’c looked offended that he’d even been asked. “Why would I have any reason to object to your shared happiness?”

Carter shrugged. “I was surprised, but I’ve had two weeks to realize that I should’ve seen it coming.”

He nodded, relieved.

“We’ll follow you over, sir.”

“Carter, you can drop the sir.” This was about friendship now. And friends could use last names all they wanted, but not ‘sir.’

“Right. I’m parked this way, Teal’c.”

Daniel unlocked his own door, musing, “You know, we could carpool.”

“We could.” People would notice them coming in together all the time, eventually, and he wasn’t entirely sure about that. It was true that he didn’t want to hide their relationship, but he didn’t want to advertise it – and everyone knew old habits died hard.

Daniel wisely didn’t push the issue. “I’ll see you at… home.”

That Jack really, really liked the sound of.

Sam and Teal’c showed up a few minutes behind them, with a cake. “To celebrate,” she explained.

“Thanks.” Daniel took it into the kitchen. “Anyone want a drink?”

“Yes,” said Jack, which meant a beer of course. “Beer. I’m going to fire up the grill.”

“Sam, Teal’c? Beer, wine, cream soda?”

“Cream soda,” replied Teal’c. He had recently discovered the beverage and immediately developed a taste for it. They’d bought a bottle just for him.

“Wine’s great, thanks. I’ll help.” Sam trailed him into the kitchen and found the cream soda. “I think ‘sir’ is going to be coming out of my mouth for a while.”

“Well, he won’t mind on base, but Jack knows how it is.” After all, it had taken him months to drop the ‘sir’ with General Hammond and ‘George’ still came rarely.

Sam nodded. “Old habits and all that.”

“Exactly.”

On the porch, Jack was showing Teal’c the finer points of grilling technique. When they all had their drinks, Sam said, “A toast.” She raised her wine glass. “To new beginnings and old friends.”

Jack lifted up his beer. “I’ll drink to that.”

The sound they made clinking glasses was multifaceted with different glasses: Teal’c’s regular drinking glass, Jack’s bottle, Sam and Daniel’s wine glasses, all hitting together.

“How long have you been in a relationship?” asked Teal’c.

“Just over a year,” supplied Daniel.

“You’re happy.” Sam didn’t ask; she stated it. “Congratulations. Rather belated, but… Air Force.”

“Yeah. Air Force. Oh, the old employer.”

Jack’s past tense was quickly corrected by Teal’c observing, “Are you not still in the employ of the Air Force?”

“But with less rules.” Jack glanced over at him, and Daniel’s heart warmed to see the affection.

“I really had no idea you two were together,” said Sam, leaning against the railing.

Teal’c echoed, “Nor did I.”

“That was the goal.” Daniel sat, reveling in the simple pleasure of talking openly with his partner and closest friends.

“Mission accomplished.” Jack left the grill to achieve just the right temperature and moved a chair closer to Daniel’s.

“We wanted to tell you, but we didn’t want to burden you with keeping our secret.” It was important to Daniel that they knew that.

Sam nodded. “At first I wished you’d trusted me enough to tell me. But Teal’c pointed out that you were just trying to protect us. Well, mostly me.”

“Which was honorable, though not entirely necessary,” added Teal’c.

“Honestly, Daniel,” Sam said, “I did sort of wonder if you… but I never guessed it was mutual, you know?”

“It took me long enough to figure out that it was mutual,” he said. It certainly had, and even then he wasn’t sure whether he was hoping or guessing when he gave Jack that first, crazy kiss.

Sam smiled at them, a soft and warm smile of happiness on their behalf. “It’s okay if it’s none of my business, but how out are you planning to be?”

Jack answered, “Door open, still in closet.”

Either Sam had filled Teal’c in on terminology or he’d been on Google again, because he was following the conversation easily. Then the Jaffa surprised everyone by announcing, “There are multiple female airmen who will be most disappointed if they learn this news. I overheard their discussion on the topic of your desirability, Daniel Jackson.”

“He’s spoken for,” said Jack.

“That is now evident.”

“So when’s moving day?” asked Sam.

“I’ve got through the end of the month, but a lot of my stuff’s already packed up.” He was looking forward to officially moving, even if there were going to be complications working out the display of some of his artifacts.

Jack added, “Or here.”

It was almost too good to be true. There they were, being open. Not saccharine or all over each other, but just themselves. And yet Monday morning they were both going back to SGC. This was almost as if the galaxy was paying them back for their best efforts at saving it.

They’d been forced to cancel their dinner plans when, Saturday morning, SG-2 managed to get themselves magnetized. Magnetized! That was a new one. Having four large magnets walk through the stargate had screwed with some of the base systems, as if figuring out how to demagnetize humans wasn’t enough to deal with. It was late Tuesday before Jack left the base.

This was why he didn’t have a dog.

Carter had been dead on her feet. When he told her to take Wednesday off, he realized that he was hardly in better shape, what with the base being vulnerable while systems were haywire and all. So he’d given himself Wednesday off as well. Sometimes, it was good to be in charge.

Therefore it was Thursday before Jack had a normal day as the civilian Director of Stargate Command. He decided it was time for another of his rounds, just to learn what was going on. It felt weird, strolling around the base in slacks and a button-down shirt. He needed to buy more of this civilian clothing, actually. Almost all of his clothing was casual. He’d have preferred BDUs like Daniel and Teal’c, but apparently as director that was out. Or so he’d been told.  

Neatly hidden underneath his shirt he still wore his dog tags. Only Daniel knew that. They could serve vital identification purposes if needed, after all.

As usual, making the rounds was educational. He learned that the biological sciences folks hadn’t quite forgiven his refusal to let them bring an alien parrot back to Earth, the Marines were starting to get bored so it was time to schedule a couple of offworld training exercises, the results of the latest geological survey were scientifically fascinating but completely without practical application, and the base had switched to a different brand of ketchup. Much to the delight of the medical staff, their new MRI machine had arrived. Carter was happily poking around in the half a fried ZPM that SG-11 had found and the civilian physicists were trying to figure out how to share their newly-tweaked understanding of subspace with the outside world without saying anything classified. SGC personnel were racing Area 51 to develop something similar to a zat, Teal’c was reading political manifestos and documents for ideas that might help stabilize the situation among the Free Jaffa but had so far found little of use, and there was widespread support for setting up some nice uninhabited world - or possibly even a friendly inhabited one - as a vacation spot for SGC personnel, although the support mostly came from the unattached who took solo vacations.

Finally, having been informed that all four of Daniel’s linguists agreed that fluency in Ancient was a lost cause, he sauntered into Daniel’s office.

“Remember that paper I submitted?” asked his boyfriend excitedly.

Jack thought for a minute. “The one about patterns in multiple ancient languages?” He hadn’t really made it through the whole article, but it mattered to Daniel so he at least read the conclusion, which was always the important part anyway.

Daniel gave him a happy smile. “It was accepted.”

“Hey, that’s great. Glad to hear it.” He very much liked the idea of more people appreciating just how smart Daniel was, though how Daniel found the time to write that article he didn’t know. Of course the Air Force had gone over the article with a fine-toothed comb before concluding that, while off-world experiences may have inspired Daniel’s theory, they were not mentioned or even hinted at.

“It’s only a minor journal, but after my last reception in academia and then disappearing, this is good.”

“About time those guys learned to appreciate you.”

“We’ll see how it’s received. Usually you put what college you’re at, so I think the panel was surprised to see my affiliation as ‘US Air Force consultant.’” Jack knew next to nothing about linguistic journals, but he could see how the Air Force association would be rare. “In the meantime, moving weekend is coming up. Teal’c and Sam are showing up at 9 Saturday morning. I’m bringing coffee and donuts.”

Jack’s reply was cut off by a knock on the open door. “Come in,” called Daniel.

Captain Evans walked in and held out a report. “Here’s my report on the evidence of habitation during our mineral survey of P1X-994, Dr. Jackson.” Out of habit, he nodded to Jack with a deferential, “General. Director. Sir.”

Daniel had been looking forward to that report, so Jack just nodded and said, “I’ll leave you to your fun.”

On his way out, he realized how terribly he would have missed his rounds and once again found himself in the unfamiliar position of being grateful for pushy Russians.

They were enjoying a quiet and altogether typical domestic evening. Jack was in his recliner with Newsweek and Daniel was on the couch reading, or rather trying to read, his book on a major archaeological expedition that uncovered new Aztec sites. The anthology of essays covered all kinds of fascinating topics, but Daniel was distracted by his own thoughts.

Finally he decided to give up on the Aztec sites. “Jack?”

“Hmm?”

“I just want you to know” – Jack put Newsweek on his lap on hearing that – “you’re free to tell anyone you want or need to about us.” That ought to have been a good thing, so Daniel didn’t quite understand Jack’s slightly pained look as he nodded. “What?” he asked.

Jack quickly said, “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

His partner fidgeted with the magazine cover for a minute while Daniel waited to be told what was going on. “It’s good, Daniel. I’m just not quite ready to say the same.”

Well, that made sense. In fact, he hadn’t expected Jack to be ready, since he was still in charge of a military base. “That’s fine. The people who I really wanted to know already do. I’m happy for other people to know, but I don’t need them too. Although we should probably tell Cassandra soon.”

Jack looked somewhat reassured. “If you change your mind…”

“I know.”

“Okay.”

Hopefully his other comment went over a little easier. “Also, how do you feel about ‘cariad’?”

“That depends. What is it?”

“It’s Welsh for ‘beloved’ or ‘darling.’ I’ve always liked it.” He’d picked up a decent amount of Welsh Gaelic during the semester he spent as an exchange student in London, where he’d had a Welsh roommate. Cariad had a great sound to it, somehow speaking to how love went back beyond human memory. He didn’t really like pet names but he did like endearments, if they weren’t ridiculously sappy.

Jack didn’t say anything in reply, but he did get out of his recliner and sit on the couch. Daniel suspected that this was the lead-in to a polite denial, so he was quite surprised when Jack kissed him.

“I’d like that,” whispered Jack right by his ear, and the tickle spread to Daniel’s spine. “Teach me.”

“Cariad.”

“Cariad,” echoed Jack. It was slightly hesitant and awkward pronunciation and yet, because Jack was saying it, meaning it, and learning the new word because Daniel liked it, Daniel decided he’d never heard a more perfect word of Welsh.

“You know how jokes aren’t as funny if you have to explain them?” Jack asked Carter while they headed out for another set of boxes.

“Sure.”

“I wonder if it’s the same for Jaffa jokes.”

“I’m afraid to ask.” She grabbed a box labeled Egypt – 1993. “But Daniel is Teal’c’s best chance of anyone getting his jokes.”

This was true, and for the past ten minutes Daniel had been giving it his best effort. Only Daniel would quiz someone about the format of his culture’s jokes while maneuvering a bookcase inside.

“There’s a pool on why you retired,” Carter informed him.

“Oh?”

“I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to find out about it.”

He had no trouble believing that. “What’s the smart money on?”

“The favorites are me and ability to swear at the Pentagon.”

“Swearing at the Pentagon. I hadn’t thought of that.” Actually, it still wasn’t a great idea, tempting as it sometimes was.

“Don’t give me credit for inspiring you.”

Jack took the Greece – 1992 box. At least they were done hauling books. Daniel had a ton of books and the boxes had been heavy. He was going to feel this in his arms the next morning, Jack was sure of it. To his surprise, there were only two boxes left. “I can see the back of my truck cab,” he told Carter.

“Great.”

It was great, alright. This was the end of Daniel’s stuff that needed to be moved. The spare bedroom was, from now on, going to double as Daniel’s study. Mainly because there was nowhere else to fit all of his books and notes. It didn’t hurt that it gave him a place to put most of his strange decorations, either. Jack had sportingly agreed to put a few in other rooms because he wanted it to be home for Daniel, too. He still had his medals and his pictures of Charlie; there was room for some of Daniel’s things too, even if they were ugly.

“It refers to an ambush that I believe you would describe as ‘infamous,’” Teal’c was telling Daniel as they passed. “This ambush occurred several centuries ago.”

“What happened?” Daniel may not have gotten the jokes, but he and Teal’c both seemed to be enjoying the conversation.

Carter put her box down in the living room and then looked at the clock. “That didn’t take as long as I thought it would. I told Eddie I couldn’t have dinner until eight.”

“Good, then you have time for ice cream.”

“I definitely have time for ice cream,” she said, following him into the kitchen.

“You know where the bowls are.”

Jack was getting out the Haagen-Dazs when Daniel and Teal’c came in with the last of the boxes. “That’s everything,” declared Daniel.

All of Daniel’s things had been relocated and they’d left their keys to his apartment behind. It was real, now – they lived together. Jack felt a surge of emotion that he didn’t quite know how to express. After a minute of just looking at Daniel, he ventured, “Dulce de leche, cariad?”

Dulce de leche was Daniel’s favorite flavor of Haagen-Dazs, but that couldn’t be the reason for his megawatt-smile, so Jack figured he understood.

It was a Tuesday when they finally made it to Santelli’s, so the restaurant wasn’t particularly crowded. Daniel had wanted to take Jack there for a long time; Santelli’s made the best Italian around and had a great, intimate atmosphere. The dining room was filled with two-person tables, underlining the fact that this was first and foremost a date restaurant.

Jack had taken the seat which gave him the best vantage point to see the entrance. He always did that and Daniel wasn’t bothered by it, at least not any more. The habit was so deeply ingrained that Jack did it automatically, wherever he was. Teal’c did the same thing.

Daniel was happy to see that his lover was relatively relaxed. For the first year of their relationship, any date was weighed down by the fact that Jack’s career – the entirety of his life’s work – could be brought down if anyone from the military learned they were together. Jack even looked a bit younger, with that fear no longer hanging overhead. It reminded Daniel once again how much Jack had cared for him, even in the beginning, to take such a huge risk.

“What do you think of getting a flat-screen TV?” asked Jack while they waited for their desserts. “The prices have come down, and the one I’ve – we’ve – got is getting old.” Not as old as the one from Daniel’s apartment, which had stopped working six months before he moved in with Jack but only made it to the dump during the move.

He really didn’t watch a lot of TV, but did enjoy curling up on the couch with Jack to watch movies. “Sounds good.”

“Here you are, gentlemen,” announced their waitress, cutting off further discussion of a new television. “One tiramisu and one amaretto cheesecake.”

“Thanks,” said Jack at the same time Daniel replied, “Thank you.”

“Enjoy your desserts.”

Jack looked at his cheesecake for a few moments longer than a quick, ‘looking over my dessert’ sort of gaze. Daniel stopped, a forkful of tiramisu halfway between the plate and his mouth. “What is it, Jack?”

“Thank you,” said Jack, the words full of emotion. “It couldn’t have been easy, hiding and… everything.”

He put his laden fork down and grabbed Jack’s hands. “It wasn’t easy for you, either.”

“But I had to. You didn’t.”

“I had you.” He squeezed Jack’s hands a bit. “I never doubted that it was worth it.”

Jack’s gaze was tender as he said, “I don’t tell you as much as I should: I love you.”

He’d never needed to hear it constantly. Once it had been said, he knew. And Jack showed him through actions, his preferred method of communication. What Jack did was always much more important than what he said.

“I love you,” he replied, “and I don’t need to hear it constantly to know anyway.”

They slipped their hands apart reluctantly, getting back to dessert. Daniel was a huge tiramisu fan, and Santelli’s was excellent. “How’s the cheesecake?”

“Great.” Jack took another forkful, but this time held it out. “Want a taste?”

He let Jack feed him a bite, savoring not just the cheesecake but their open togetherness.

Chapter Text

Jack really had no problem with the British-Australian team, although he was slightly concerned it might eventually lead to a Chinese team, and that would be intolerable. He had spent too much time fighting the Cold War to blithely accept communists in SGC. (Although the Chinese were getting awfully greedy, which made them communists and hypocrites.) At least the Russians were better all around these days, and that was saying something. Anyway, the British-Australian team was fine by him. The only issue was the jokes they made which never made any sense.

Commander Harold Evans, Royal Australian Air Force (Jack had been told his rank equaled a USAF lieutenant colonel) led the newest SG team. He seemed to enjoy reminding his 2IC, Major James Ashburn, Royal Marines, that this time an Australian was in charge and the Brits were to follow. Ashburn had mentioned something about ‘letting go of Gallipoli already’ but the two worked together well and Jack had high hopes for this team. So much so that he’d assigned SG-1 to teach them the ropes.

He was in the middle of an email update to Hammond. You can tell the British liaison, he typed, and the Australian liaison while you’re at it, that Carter’s initial reports on SG-27 are favorable.

Something flickered to his left. Jack looked over and saw Thor, or at least Thor’s hologram. “Hello, Thor.”

“Greetings, O’Neill.” The Asgard blinked and asked, “Is there significance to your change of attire?”

“Why yes there is. I retired from the Air Force.”

“And yet you are still here.”

“Only retired from the Air Force. Not a bad gig, since they’re actually paying me more as a civilian.” Not a lot more, but there was the principle of the thing. And actually, with his pension, he was completely secure financially. He and Daniel, he reminded himself. That sort of stuff was a joint endeavor now.

“I did not realize financial gain was such a strong motivator.” Thor managed to sound disappointed. Jack thought that his ability to notice that spoke to how often he ran into the little grey guy.

“That’s not why I retired, just a nice perk.”

He fully expected Thor to ask what the reason was, but the Asgard didn’t. That happened sometimes when he tried to anticipate aliens’ actions according to human standards. Daniel had a fifteen-minute lecture on anthropomorphizing, and while Jack thought fifteen minutes was excessive, Daniel did have a point, as Thor had just demonstrated.

“The Asgard High Council requests permission for Heimdall and her assistants to visit your Ancient outpost. We believe there may be information useful to solving our cloning problem.”

Jack thought the whole cloning thing was creepy, especially after his own experience with it, but the Asgard with their desperate search to preserve their race gave a whole new dimension to the idea. “Officially, that decision is out of my hands,” he told Thor. “Unofficially, we’ll make it happen.”

“You have our thanks.” One of the white beaming lights flashed, and there was an Asgard communicator on his desk. “Use this to contact me aboard the Carter when you have news.”

“The Carter, huh?” Thor seemed to go through a lot of ships.

“Yes.” The little alien paused, blinked, and stated, “I am pleased that you still command this facility, O’Neill.”

“Thanks,” he replied. “So am I.”

“I will await your communication.” With that, Thor’s hologram winked out of existence. Jack, thinking to himself that life really was good, picked up the phone to call Hammond.

Daniel was in his office conferring with Sam about ZPMs. The Asgard scientists currently in Antarctica had uncovered a bit of text about ZPMs, which were even beyond Asgard technology. He was halfway through the translation, but Sam couldn’t wait for the entire thing.

“The problem is that we have no equivalent for some of these advanced technical terms,” he explained.

Jack walked into his office, a man on a mission. "Oh good, two at once. You know how we're supposed to go to your place for dinner?" he asked Sam.

"The day after tomorrow, barring emergencies."

"Right. Change of plans. How about you, Teal'c and Hallowell come to our place instead?" suggested Jack.

"Any particular reason? I didn't think my cooking was so bad."

"Rosnik came to see me, off the record. He's realized there's something everyone else on SG-1 knows. I told him that I know for a fact none of his teammates have any personal or professional issues with him, but for some reason he didn't believe me."

"Really?" asked Sam. "I didn't think we'd acted any differently." Daniel suspected that might be his fault, somehow. Well, it wasn't Teal'c's, that was for sure.

"The last thing we need is the Russians getting offended again. So I told him to come over Friday at 1900."

For a minute Daniel was surprised that Jack invited Aleksi Rosnik over to their home. Not that he had objections, because he didn’t mind at all if people knew they were together. Then he realized what Jack was doing: taking it out of the mountain precisely because it was personal business.

"Eddie won't be as intimidated going to your house if Rosnik's there," decided Sam, who smiled to herself as she said her boyfriend's name. “As long as you don’t mind that he knows about you guys.”

Jack said, "Oh, just tell him on the way over. Maybe he’ll stop worrying that one of us is trying to steal you away from him.”

She blushed. "I'll just, ah, go tell him about the change of plans," she announced, which was really a poor excuse, but she'd picked up on the fact that Daniel wanted a moment alone with Jack.

"Tell Teal'c, would you? I told Rosnik to give him a ride because he knows the way."

Sam shut the door behind her, giving Daniel his moment. "Are you okay with this?"

"Not hiding, remember?"

It was never a good sign when Jack avoided giving a direct answer. Daniel stood up and moved closer to him. "It's a yes or no question."

"Look, offended and suspicious Russians are very bad. I try to avoid them at all costs. Not that... damn it, Daniel, you know what I mean."

He took pity on his lover. "You don't really want to explain to Rosnik, but you're doing it for SGC."

"You do know it's not about you, right?"

"I was under the impression I was a key figure," said Daniel, who didn't quite follow.

"You are, but it's not like I don't want people to know because... it's not personal."

Oh, now he understood. "I know you're not ashamed of me, Jack," he promised. "You're not ashamed. Just afraid." Daniel had never, ever thought Jack was ashamed of him. He knew full well that Jack was the product of a thirty-odd-year career in an intensely homophobic organization that discouraged dissent. Usually, he felt like it was a small miracle Jack was with him at all.

"I'm not -"

"Yes, you are."

Jack didn't admit it, but tellingly failed to argue the point further. “Well, if he has a problem, there are plenty of other people who’d love to have his job.”

“Right.” Daniel patted Jack’s shoulder and decided to try for a mood-lightening quip. “And don’t forget, he’ll be outnumbered at our house.”

It was clearly a suspicious and guarded Russian captain who came in with Teal’c. He surveyed the room and seemed slightly perturbed by the fact that the head of SGC was pouring wine for guests, which included Rosnik himself. Of course, if Jack was in his shoes, he’d be suspicious too.

On the bright side for Rosnik, Carter took a sip of her wine, so it clearly hadn’t been poisoned.

Jack was, at least, relieved that Hallowell had no qualms about he and Daniel being together. He still thought the biologist was thrilled because he didn’t have to worry about competition with Carter’s close male friends, two being with each other and the third in a very, very long-distance relationship. (Jack had given up trying to understand Teal’c and Ishta.) Hallowell wasn’t the least bit bothered, so far as Jack could tell. 

“Hope you like spaghetti,” he said to Rosnik.

“Yes,” the man replied, wary. Jack figured he could’ve announced that they were having raw Goa’uld and Rosnik would’ve claimed to like it.

Since the atmosphere wasn’t really conducive to small talk, they started in with the food. Teal’c eyed the salad bowl with concern as it made its way around the table. “Are there jalapeño peppers in this salad?”

“No, T. Nobody wants to go there again.” Jack shuddered a little at the memory. Whether it was all Jaffa or just Teal’c nobody knew, but he’d had a terrible allergic reaction to jalapeño pepper.

“Just watch out at Olive Garden,” added Sam.

“I do not intend to consume salad from Olive Garden ever again.”

Considering the fever and hives he’d gotten, Jack could hardly blame Teal’c there. “No peppers at all,” he promised.

“I do not understand,” said Rosnik suddenly. “What are we doing?”

“Having dinner,” replied Daniel calmly.

Rosnik turned to Jack. “I fail to understand what this has to do with learning what the rest of SG-1 has kept from me.”

“Oh, for cryin’ out loud! Do I look like the kind of guy who hangs weird masks in his house? Or has a statue like that?” Jack pointed to one of Daniel’s uglier statues. Unfortunately it was also one of his favorites.

Rosnik just looked at him blankly. “I assumed they were gifts from Dr. Jackson.”

Before Jack could speak, Daniel corrected the Russian. “I wouldn’t give those away. They’re some of my favorites.”

Rosnik looked puzzled, then shocked. Jack had to remind himself to breath, because Rosnik could still try to stir up trouble over this. The only problem was that not telling him would definitely lead to trouble. Daniel’s hand resting on his knee was a welcome reminder of what really mattered, and Jack grabbed it.

“This is privileged information, yes?” said Rosnik at last.

“Very perceptive,” confirmed Jack.

“Nobody outside you” - Daniel made an encompassing motion – “knows.”

“And the mailman,” added Jack.

Teal’c gave him a perplexed look. “The mailman?”

“Well, I think it’s kinda obvious, with all Daniel’s mail. And even if the mailman wasn’t looking at the names, I sure never got the Journal of Archeological Method and Theory.” 

“Do mailmen even pay that much attention?” asked Hallowell.

“Nothing to do with me personally or professionally indeed,” said Rosnik. That was what Jack had tried to tell him but he hadn’t believed. Apparently he believed it now.

Carter was watching him, trying to make sure he wasn’t a threat to SG-1 as a team or the two of them as her friends. “I apologize for making you feel excluded.”

“Nyet, it was not my business. It is I who should apologize.”

That, Jack thought, was a good sign.

He didn’t look particularly thrilled, but Rosnik continued, “I assure you that this information will have no bearing on my professional conduct, and will not be shared.”

Sam nodded. “Glad to hear it.”

“Thank you,” said Daniel.

Jack just managed to nod and finally serve himself salad.

Come Monday, Daniel followed Rosnik’s cue and went back to last names. The man was true to his word, though, because while he was clearly not quite comfortable with Daniel, he was as professional as ever. Daniel wished they were still training SG-27, just so the mood would be different. It’d been a while since he had to deal with the post-coming out awkwardness.

The first hour of sky-watching had been nice, especially with the three comets Sam was so excited about, but after that it started to get old. Jack would’ve liked it. Daniel was more interested in learning if there were remnants of past civilization on the presently uninhabited planet, and if the comets had significance in local culture. Both of those were next to impossible to determine in the dark. And that in itself felt weird – being under a night sky when his watch and stomach both told him it was barely lunchtime.

Teal’c had no use at all for stargazing and no challenge to defend their little hill. He was therefore, in his own stoic way, bored. Sam was having a great time, taking measurements, recording observations, and working out a theory on the comets that Daniel honestly didn’t care very much about. Rosnik was in charge of running the bulky telescope with a camera and he occasionally chimed in with regards to Sam’s theory.

What Daniel liked was that, with the Goa’uld less menacing than they’d ever been and the Replicators gone for good, SG-1 could devote time to watching comets. Now he just needed to find a promising archaeological site to spend some time at.

“So how’s your research project?” he asked Teal’c. Unfortunately for Teal’c, SGC lacked people who were really able to explain political theory to his satisfaction. Daniel had picked up two books for him. Personally he preferred to go to a nice local bookstore, but he was starting to think Teal’c should get an Amazon account.

Maybe it was time to talk to Jack about setting Teal’c up with a debit card.

“None of the works I have read are sufficiently adaptable for Jaffa. I fear that I will soon be expected to produce a creed.”

“That’s such a bad thing?”

“Yes,” said Teal’c, leaving no room for discussion.

“Anybody want lunch?” asked Sam.

Not having anything better to do, Daniel replied, “Sure.”

“That is fine,” said Rosnik, fretting over the camera for a minute before walking away. Teal’c handed out their sandwiches, water, and oranges.

“I got an email from Cassie this morning,” said Sam.

“Janet Fraiser’s daughter,” Daniel told Rosnik. He’d developed a habit of filling in when necessary for the newest member of the team. “We lost Janet two years ago.”

Teal’c peeled his orange and said, “I trust Cassandra is well.”

“She’s declared a major,” Sam continued. Cassandra had worried about that when she applied to college, maybe because she’d spent so many years around people who had always known what they were doing with their lives and she hadn’t decided yet. And to top it off, she was a couple of years older than her classmates since she’d been born on another planet.

Daniel momentarily abandoned his chicken salad sandwich. “What?”

“Pre-med.” Sam’s smile was tinged with sadness, and Daniel understood. Cassie had grown to take after Janet in so many ways. He made a mental note to tell Jack later.

“I am certain she will distinguish herself,” said Teal’c.

In a deliberate bid to lighten the mood, Sam quipped, “She’s a sophomore in college. Doesn’t that just make you feel old?”

Teal’c calmly replied, “No.”

“Look who’s talking,” Daniel reminded Sam. “Wait until you hit forty.” Or worse yet, forty was in the rearview mirror. He didn’t feel almost forty-one, but the calendar said otherwise.

“I don’t have long to wait,” muttered Sam.

“It is your experience which distinguishes you, Colonel, Dr. Jackson,” said Rosnik.

“Thanks.”

The Russian simply nodded and returned to silence. Rosnik wasn’t an especially chatty guy, but he had been a bit more verbose before. Daniel reminded himself not to take it personally. 

In retrospect, Jack thought he should’ve seen it coming. One minute he and Daniel were on the couch, shirtless and sharing lazy kisses, and the next the couch disappeared from under them. When he sat up and wished for a weapon, he found himself looking up at Thor.

At least they were only shirtless and not naked.

“My apologies,” said Thor, who looked about as surprised as Jack had ever seen him.

“You know, I thought the whole point of a communications device was to communicate.” He stood up, clinging to the remains of his dignity while reminding himself that he had been minding his own business in his house and Thor was the one who should be embarrassed. Although, again, it could’ve been much worse.

“I wished to speak with you, and the device is not with you.”

Well of course it wasn’t, Jack thought. Did Thor think the Air Force was just going to let him walk around with an alien cell phone in his pocket?

“Maybe we should give you our phone numbers,” suggested Daniel.

“That is a wise idea.”

“So, now that you know why I left the Air Force, what’s going on?”

Thor regarded him curiously. “I do not understand.”

Jack groaned. Now they got to explain Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell to an asexual alien. The night just got better and better. Luckily, that sort of thing was his boyfriend’s area of expertise.

“The Air Force has a… complicated institutionalized bias against homosexual relationships,” Daniel explained. “Serving in the military requires that one keep at least a pretense of strict heterosexuality.”

Thor did one of his slow blinking expressions. “How peculiar.”

“I know.”

Thankfully leaving the issue aside, Thor got back to his original purpose. “Our latest information indicates that Ba’al is being challenged by Telchak. It is of little concern to us at the moment, but you may find the information useful.”

“Intelligence is always useful,” he said sincerely. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

“You are welcome.”

“Thor,” began Daniel, “we’re both civilians so the Air Force has no say over our personal lives, but we’re still keeping this discreet.”

“I have no reason to inform them,” replied their alien friend, “nor do I feel the High Council needs this information.”

Jack said, “Appreciate it, buddy.”

“I have created a screen with your numerical characters.”

Daniel stepped forward and touched the screen, entering their phone numbers. Jack thought it would be a good thing that the Air Force had their cell phones heavily encrypted if the Supreme Commander of the Asgard fleet decided to give them a call.

“So, did Heimdall and her team find anything useful?” asked Jack.

“Perhaps. Research of this type takes much time. Since the defeat of the Replicators, we no longer require cloned bodies at the speed we have for centuries, which allows more time for such research.”

“Breathing room,” said Jack. It occurred to him that the Asgard were really focused on the clones and, evidently, living forever. “Too bad your clones can’t have kids,” he mused out loud. That, after all, was how most species survived.

“An interesting observation,” noted Thor.

Daniel stepped away from the screen a little regretfully. Jack figured he wanted to mine the computer for information about Asgard history and culture.

“I will return you to your residence.” And with that, Thor transported them back home.

They were standing in their living room, right next to the couch. “Well, that was weird.”

“Our entire lives are weird,” replied Daniel. “We should be used to it by now.”

He had a point.

The cemetery was quiet and calm in the late afternoon light. Weather at cemeteries was always either suited to a mood of grief or in stark contrast to it. As they walked a path Jack knew well, Daniel reflected that it was decidedly the latter. There was a gentle breeze, it was warm, and only a few innocuous clouds marred the blue of the sky. It was the kind of weather that was so wondrously alive that it could seem almost mocking when you were surrounded by graves.

It was Charlie’s birthday, and Jack had surprised Daniel by asking him to come to the cemetery. That had always been Jack’s private ritual, but now he led the way to a headstone which read Charles Adam O’Neill.

He knew that Jack still carried the weight of his grief, not just for Charlie’s death but that it was Jack’s gun which killed him. He would always carry that, just as Daniel would never be free from losing Sha’re. They moved on, but some things cannot ever be truly left behind.

There was a big bunch of daffodils next to the headstone. “The fall he was two,” said Jack, “Sara was planting daffodil bulbs and Charlie decided to help. He called them ‘daf-dils.’”

Daniel had nothing to say that wouldn’t sound hollow. He put a hand on Jack’s shoulder and whispered, “That must’ve been adorable.”

“He was.”

He had next to no experience with kids, Cassie being the only real exception. It was a bit hard for him to conjure up a mental picture of a two-year-old planting daffodils. But it was not at all hard to picture Jack, proud and delighted. He could even imagine Jack happily relating the story to his friends or coworkers.

Jack pulled a small pack of baseball cards out of his pocket and tore open the foil. He slid all five down right next to the base of the headstone, wedged in the dirt just a little.

“He would’ve been twenty-one,” said Jack. “Legal to drink.” And yet, Charlie would forever remain a kid.

Daniel understood death and loss. He felt like he always had, though in truth before his parents died he had not. First his parents and then, as an adult, Sha’re – he was certainly experienced with losing the people closest to him. Yet there was a level on which he couldn’t relate to Jack, because Charlie was Jack’s son, who was supposed to grow up and outlive his father.

Jack was tracing the letters of Charlie’s name. Daniel said nothing, because there was really nothing to say. Anyway, if Jack had wanted him to talk he would’ve brought him before.

“We were going to get him a dog for his birthday,” Jack said while he stood up.

“He wanted a dog?”

“Badly.”

They were alone in the section of the cemetery, so Daniel slid an arm around Jack’s waist. “Dogs and baseball. He took after you.”

“Too much,” whispered Jack, almost inaudible. Daniel thought that was probably a reference to the tragedy with Jack’s gun, but knew better than to ask. Jack had spoken of Charlie’s death only once, when they’d been exposed to a truth serum offworld, and Daniel understood then why Jack had wanted the first mission to Abydos to be a suicide mission.

They stood without speaking for several minutes, Jack lost in thoughts of his son. Daniel just stood beside him, being there.

Jack had known what was coming when Hammond arrived as SGC as part of his latest Homeworld Security tour. Sure enough, once they ended up back in his office, Hammond closed the door and asked, “Do we need to worry about finding your successor any time soon?”

He sat and motioned for Hammond to do the same. “Not on my account.”

“Glad to hear it.” The general swept his eyes around the room, finally coming to land on Jack. “You’re happy with this arrangement?”

“Yes I am.”

“Your personal reasons don’t seem to be interfering with your job.”

They certainly weren’t. He wasn’t leading SG-1 anymore, and Daniel wouldn’t let him get away with favoritism anyway. Well, except what SG-1 already got, because they were his flagship team and former team and all. They were his best people.

“You’re just dying to ask, aren’t you?”

“You’ve never been one for outright mystery, Jack.”

“Is this for you, or the Joint Chiefs and the President?” he asked.

“Both.”

He’d figured as much. “It’s really nobody’s business, George.” His use of the man’s first name was deliberate, drawing attention to their personal interaction. “So I’d appreciate it if you tell as few people as possible.”

“Alright.”

“I’m with Daniel. As in, together, a couple.”

Hammond was positively shocked. It took him a minute (which Jack felt drag out interminably) before he could say, “That explains the retirement.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re right, I don’t think it’s anyone’s business.”

“Thanks.”

“I didn’t expect that.”

“Well, neither did I.” Wasn’t that an understatement. Realizing he wasn’t exactly straight had not been fun, but things had improved considerably not long into his awareness when Daniel kissed him, and it had gone from there.

“If you two are happy together,” Hammond paused, as though he still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the concept, “I’m pleased. Surprised, but pleased.” And not, Jack was grateful to note, running away in horror. “I hope you won’t interpret any… adjustment on my part as a loss of respect for you as a person or as director of this facility.”

All in all, it was better than Jack had hoped for. He’d assumed there would be a bit of awkwardness for Hammond and appreciated that his predecessor didn’t pretend there wouldn’t be. Respect was even better. 

“I assume you’re keeping things discrete.”

“That’s the idea.”

“I said you’ve earned retirement, Jack. You and Dr. Jackson have both given so much to this program, this country, and this planet. If you’ve found happiness together, you’ve certainly earned that as well. It’s just… unexpected.”

“Thank you.” Then, because it was clearly time for a change of subject, he asked, “How’re the girls?”

Jack was a morning person, so Daniel was used to finding him up and doing something on Saturday mornings. Daniel had never been much of a morning person, certainly not the way Jack was. Jack thought it was perfectly normal to get up and go for a walk first thing in the morning. He mowed the lawn as soon as the dew evaporated. When at the cabin, he liked to fish at sunrise. So to find Jack working on something official-looking when Daniel was stumbling towards the coffee machine was no surprise at all.

“Good morning,” his alert and no doubt already-caffeinated lover said.

“Morning.”

He started brewing his coffee and poured himself a bowl of Cheerios. “What’s that?”

Jack set down his pen and looked at him. “I figured I ought to change my will.”

“Oh.” Before his coffee, it was really too early to expect a more coherent reply.

“I realized that it still named Sara, and it should be you, now that, well, you know.”

He was surprised that Jack hadn’t changed his will before, but that was just Jack. A little thing like being divorced and Sara remarrying some three years ago wouldn’t necessarily mean he got around to changing his will.

“You know you’re already in mine.” Actually, he hadn’t bothered with a will for a long time, but apparently that caused the Air Force some problems when he ascended, so he’d been asked to make one. On the plus side, the Air Force hadn’t quite gotten around to doing anything with his stuff, so he got it back. Having nobody else, he’d named Jack as executor and heir, said that Jack, Sam, and Teal’c were to take anything they wanted, and then added that any of his artifacts that nobody wanted should be given to a museum (the Earth artifacts, obviously, because alien artifacts weren’t allowed to just be taken home).

Jack nodded and Daniel went to get out a spoon.

“Teal’c called. We’re gonna go see that new movie this afternoon. Crap, what’s it called?”

Daniel couldn’t remember the name either, but he had a pretty good idea which movie it was. During last night’s baseball game the preview had been on multiple times. (If he’d been watching the game he would’ve remembered the name, but his attention had mostly been given to the latest Journal of Archeological Method and Theory.) He remembered explosions in the previews because they kept startling him. “The one with all the explosions?”

“Yes. Wanna come?”

“No thank you.”

Jack wasn’t at all surprised. Daniel went to those movies next to never. For one thing, they weren’t much fun from his perspective. For another, listening to Jack and Teal’c critique the hero afterwards was even less fun. He suspected the two of them went mostly to discuss how they could’ve done a better job.

It did remind him, though, that he needed to ask Sam about going to the movies because his favorite movie theater was playing something he wanted to see. Ever since Janet died, Sam was the only person he knew who liked watching the small independent films.

He sat down to his Cheerios and a steaming mug of coffee. “Is this an unfriendly neighborhood?” he asked. The question had been nagging at him recently.

“No, why?”

“The neighbors aren’t very… neighborly.”

Jack shrugged. “I wasn’t the best new guy on the block when I moved in. And then I started disappearing for stretches at a time, keeping odd hours, and never telling anyone a thing except that my work is classified. I’m the one who isn’t neighborly.”

That made sense even in his uncaffeinated state. “Okay.” He sipped his coffee, enjoying the rich flavor and aroma.

Jack gave him a fond smile. “You always look like the first cup of coffee is some kind of religious experience.”

“Who says it isn’t?”

“Maybe there’s a planet out there where they worship coffee.” Jack considered the idea for a minute, deciding, “You’d fit right in.”

“No I wouldn’t. Worship is taking a subservient position by acknowledging some kind of higher -”

Jack held up a hand. “I take it back.”

He rolled his eyes and went back to his coffee.

Daniel was with SG-11 on a six-day archaeological mission. Unfortunately, it was only day 2. Jack missed him. He was also a little concerned that excavating an abandoned Goa’uld site could go badly. It did, however, fall firmly in the realm of what constituted acceptable risk at SGC.

Day 1 hadn’t been so bad. He’d hit the weight room after work, finally gotten around to doing laundry, caught up on his email, finished the crossword puzzle in the newspaper without looking anything up online, and watched a baseball game. Going to bed alone wasn’t his preference, but it was nothing new either.

The highlight of day 2 was when Daniel checked in at 1300 hours as scheduled, pleased with the progress they’d made on P4A-921. Teal’c was visiting Rya’c, Ka’ryn, and Ishta. Carter had, for once, actually taken a few days’ leave and was off visiting her brother and watching her niece star in a play. So Jack went home to an empty house again.   

He went to bed early. He had a favorite memory that he liked to revisit when he was alone in bed and not ready to sleep. It was reliably good, although nowhere near as good as the real thing had been.

It was several weeks into their relationship. He and Daniel had been in Daniel’s apartment, fooling around in bed. It was a Sunday morning and they were in no rush to do anything or be anywhere, so it was a slow and easy kind of fooling around. He was teasing Daniel’s chest with his fingertips, inching his way lower, when Daniel stopped his sexy little breathing noises.

“What?” Jack had asked.

Daniel was oddly shy. “It’s fine if you don’t want to, Jack, but,” he’d paused, biting his lower lip, “I’d really like to have you inside me.”

His body had responded so positively to the suggestion that his brain was quick to follow suit. “Okay,” he’d said, kissing Daniel long and…

This pleasant reminiscence was shattered by the sound of the front door opening and closing. “Jack?”

Daniel was home, but nobody had called from the mountain, which meant no catastrophe. Jack jumped out of bed, yanked on his boxers, and headed out of the bedroom.

“Did I wake…” Daniel’s eyes landed on the none-too-concealing boxers, and he interrupted himself. “No, definitely didn’t wake you up.”

Jack leaned in and kissed his lover. A short, welcome-home-but-why-so-early kiss in real life was much better than any remembered kiss, no matter how passionate and sexy. “Not complaining, but aren’t you supposed to be about thirty thousand light-years away?”

“Yeah.” Daniel sighed. “We’re pretty sure we know why the Goa’uld abandoned the site.”

“Oh?”

Daniel shucked his coat and shoes, and Jack could tell from the way he moved that he was very tired. “Tendency to have flash floods. Don’t worry, everyone’s fine. We lost some equipment and only salvaged a couple of the artifacts, but we’re alright. They might even be done mopping up the gate room by now.”

“That bad?”

“You’d swear a dam burst, Jack.”

He pulled Daniel in for a hug, glad that he was safe. “Need anything?”

“No. Dr. Andrews even let us take hot showers before examining us. All I want is our bed and my own personal bedwarmer.”

Jack was only too happy to serve. “That can be arranged.”

“I’m not really in the mood, though.” He glanced down at Jack’s boxers.

“Doesn’t matter.” He’d barely started, anyway. “Bed’s always better with you in it.”

Daniel trudged to the bathroom and pulled out his toothbrush. Jack got back in bed, laid down on his back, and waited for Daniel, enjoying the good fortune of having him home even if it was due to unfortunate circumstances. Nobody was hurt, and that was the important thing, so he didn’t really feel guilty about being glad the mission had to be abandoned, from his personal standpoint.

Daniel flopped onto the bed and gave him a kiss that tasted like toothpaste, then proceeded to nestle in against Jack. “Well, my sleeping arrangements for the night improved.”

“Mine too,” replied Jack sincerely. “Sleep well, Daniel.”

His lover yawned. “‘Night, cariad.”

Chapter Text

When Daniel got home from SGC, Jack was positively glowering at something on the coffee table. He wasn’t surprised to see, upon closer examination, that the scorned object was a glasses case. Jack had, after all, left work early for an optometrist appointment.

Jack took another swig of beer and managed to keep scowling at the glasses case. Daniel went over to the couch and sat down next to him. “You don’t mind glasses on me,” he pointed out after a silent moment.

“That’s different.”

“Oh?”

“On you, they’re normal. On me, it’s a sign of aging. They’re damned reading glasses, Daniel!”

He shrugged and reached for the case. “Let me see.”

Jack’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t refuse. Daniel carefully set them on his partner’s face. “I think they make you look distinguished.”

“Nice try.”

“Really.” They weren’t bad at all – a sleek pair of glasses that he didn’t think would take him long to get used to seeing.

“They make me look old.”

“Better than a sarcophagus.”

“Barely,” huffed Jack.

Daniel kissed him. “You’re sexy with or without glasses, cariad.”

“I’m -”

He cut off the protest with another kiss. “You’re mine, and I say you’re sexy.”

Jack looked at him and Daniel could see the moment where Jack’s heart melted. He loved the little moments like that, when Jack was all out of reasons to put up his gruff Air Force officer exterior.

“I am yours,” admitted his lover. “And I think we should eat so we’ll be fueled up to take full advantage of that.”

Daniel chuckled and got up. “Let’s try that jar of korma sauce.”

“Rice?”

“Yes.”

While Jack pulled out the rice cooker, Daniel pulled out the korma sauce and read the suggested cooking directions for chicken korma. He was just reaching for a pan when he heard Jack pouring rice awfully fast.

“Damn.”

He turned around to find Jack standing beside of a pile of rice, holding an empty bag. It was quite an amusing sight, and he had to laugh.

“I grabbed the wrong end,” explained Jack, who proceeded to make the mistake of moving. Next thing Daniel knew, his partner was lying on the floor amidst a rice puddle. “Oh, for cryin’ out loud!”

His attempt to stifle further laughter was an exercise in futility. Jack was indignant, glaring at the rice (and Daniel) as he stood up.

Finally making himself useful, Daniel grabbed the dustpan and little broom out from under the sink and started sweeping up the rice. Jack’s fall had scattered it further.

“Huh,” said Jack.

“What?”

“Just found my silver lining.”

“Oh?”

“Great view of your ass.”

He purposely stuck his butt out as he moved. “We could eat later.”

Jack pulled him up, spilling the rice that had made it into the dustpan. “We can vacuum later too.”

Daniel dropped the empty dustpan and broom so he could reach around and play with Jack’s hair. “You have a point.”

“Uh-huh.” Then Jack kissed him, and Daniel was in full agreement that the spilled rice could wait. It could wait a very long time, for all he cared.

The three hours that he’d been waiting for Daniel to wake up had been among the longer hours of Jack’s life. He was relieved when Daniel finally stirred. “Hey,” he said quietly, “you’ve gotta stop ending up in the infirmary so often.”

“You’re one to talk,” muttered Daniel, blinking his eyes open.

He put his hand on Daniel’s shoulder, both for the reassurance of touch and to keep him from trying to get up. “Don’t try to get up too fast. You took a nasty blow to the head.”

“Are -”

He knew what the rest of the question was and didn’t wait for an answer. “Carter, Teal’c and Rosnik are fine.”

“And, unlike some people,” Dr. Brightman punctuated this with a loaded stare at Jack, “they know a medical order to eat when they hear it.”

Jack ignored that and handed Daniel his glasses. He wasn’t hungry and, despite Brightman’s assurances, he refused to leave. Head injuries are bad things.

Daniel looked much better – his skin was the right color, for one thing. Now as long as his amazing brain wasn’t harmed, Jack could return to his normal breathing pattern.

“What happened?” asked Daniel.

Brightman busied herself checking Daniel over. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Running to the stargate.” Daniel frowned. “Apparently, we upset several large baboons.”

“One of them knocked you over the head,” supplied Jack, who thought that seeing Teal’c carrying a limp Daniel through the gate had taken a couple years off his life. Daniel seemed okay, though. “Teal’c said it used a big branch.”

“That explains the headache.”

Jack frowned and turned to Brightman. “I thought you had him on the good stuff?”

“It’s a low dose.”

That seemed dumb to him, but Brightman was the CMO and wouldn’t hesitate to remind him who went to med school if he questioned her. Further discussion was cut off when the rest of SG-1 returned.

“Daniel!” exclaimed Carter.

Teal’c gave Daniel one of his small, relieved smiles. “It is good to see you alert, Daniel Jackson.”

“Thanks. It’s good to be alert.”

Rosnik, trailing behind, added, “You gave us a scare.” Jack didn’t miss Rosnik’s gaze as it flickered to him and back to Daniel.

Daniel carefully touched his head. “I’ve had worse.”

Carter patted his hand. “But baboons are a new one, right?”

“I’m the one with a head injury and you’re asking me?”

Jack couldn’t help but grin. “Yep, he’s gonna be fine.”

Daniel was not in a particularly good mood. His head ached, Dr. Brightman absolutely refused to let him have coffee with breakfast, and the infirmary bed was, as always, less than comfortable. The only good thing was that he’d already had a lot of visitors and it wasn’t even 1000 hours yet. Sam was trying to entertain him with a story about something funny that happened on her last date with Eddie, but it was an involved story and he wasn’t quite up to following it.

So he was pleased when Jack sauntered over and said. “Good news. I’m springing you out.”

“Really?”

“Still no coffee. She gave me a whole lecture on keeping an eye on you.”

No coffee was bad, but going home with Jack was good. And, headache aside, he didn’t feel much worse than he usually did before coffee. “Our bed is more comfortable, at least.”

The words were already out when he realized Dr. Brightman was right behind Jack. Damn, he should have known better than to try talking before coffee! Jack paused for a moment, then nodded. “Way more comfortable.”

Daniel was incredible grateful for his partner’s smooth reaction. Dr. Brightman, meanwhile, continued with her ‘unflappable medical professional’ demeanor. “Don’t jostle him in bed,” she told Jack.

“I’ll add it to the list.”

“List?” Daniel asked.

Jack nodded. “The dos and don’ts of taking care of you.”

“I’ll get you the painkillers,” offered the doctor.

When she was safely away, Daniel began, “Sorry. I -”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jack said firmly, and Daniel could tell he meant it. “Let’s go home.”

Sam stood up and broke through his daze. “Call if you feel like company.”

“Thanks.”

“Rest up, Daniel.” With that, she headed out of the infirmary, no doubt to her lab.

He was just pulling on his shirt when Dr. Brightman came back with a bottle of pills. “No more than one every four hours,” she instructed. “Call if the pain gets worse, or -”

Jack interrupted. “Or nausea, fainting, dizziness… I’ve got the list.”

She nodded. “And don’t read today. Let your body rest.”

He would never admit it, except possibly to Jack, but his head hurt too much to read anyway. “Fine. Am I allowed to have ice cream?”

“It’s not on the forbidden list,” said Jack as they headed to the door.

Dr. Brightman, fortunately, didn’t add it to the list. “Just eat it slowly. You don’t need to compound your headache with an ice cream headache.”

Since he really wanted a nice bowl of ice cream, Daniel was happy about this. If he got lucky, Jack might even go for coffee ice cream.

Teal’c liked bowling. Or so he claimed; Jack sometimes wondered if what he really liked was that he always kicked everyone’s butt at bowling. Apparently, it was similar to a game played by Jaffa kids. Anyway, they were celebrating Teal’c’s birthday and he wanted to bowl. It was a few days after his actual birthday. (Or, more accurately, a few days after the best guess for his birthday; it was hard to be sure since he was born on one planet, grew up on another, and then moved to Earth.) The celebration had been postponed until Daniel was back at 100%, which to Jack’s immense relief had taken only a couple of days.

Hallowell and Rosnik had joined the four of them, though Rosnik didn’t look very relaxed. Hallowell, on the other hand, was perfectly at ease, marveling at Teal’c’s easy handling of the heaviest ball available. The biologist was a terrible bowler – his ball spent an awful lot of time in the gutters – but he was enjoying himself anyway.

Carter was the best after Teal’c and was working on teaching her boyfriend the basic physics involved in bowling. “You’re not thinking about the angle enough,” she told him.

Hallowell didn’t look too worried. “I got four pins that time.”

It was Rosnik’s turn next, and after his first roll he had two pins on one side and one on the other. That got a comment in Russian which made Daniel’s eyebrows shoot up. Jack guessed that Rosnik had a foul mouth in his native language.

Teal’c looked at the scoreboard and announced, “I am one strike away from a chicken.”

“Turkey,” corrected Carter.

Rosnik sat back down while Daniel got up for his turn. “What about poultry?” asked the Russian.

Carter explained, “If you get three consecutive strikes, it’s a turkey.”

“That is an odd choice of term.”

“It’s an odd game,” noted Jack.

“It’s making me hungry talking about chicken and turkey,” said Hallowell. Turning to Carter, he asked, “Want to share some nachos?”

“Sure,” she replied. “Just don’t get the hot salsa this time.”

Daniel knocked down eight pins. For someone who didn’t really like bowling, he wasn’t bad at it.

Carter’s phone rang. “Hi, Cassie,” she said. Carter was one of those people who had her phone set up so certain people were assigned their own ring. Jack thought the caller ID function was good enough. Apparently, the news from Cassandra wasn’t good, because Carter’s face hardened into a scowl. “He said what?”

Jack was glad Cassandra had Carter to call up for the times she needed a maternal figure. Cassie had her own apartment, but she also had Carter’s spare bedroom.

“That’s low.”

He hoped Cassandra remembered to tell any unpleasant ex-boyfriends that she had an elite group with plenty of combat experience which would not take kindly to anyone messing with her.

“What a jerk! I’m sorry, Cassie.”

Rosnik was looking at him with an expression Jack couldn’t quite place. The Russian finally explained, “You look like my father when my sister said a boy treated her with disrespect.”

“She’s a good kid who’s been through a lot,” replied Jack.

He finally placed Rosnik’s expression. It was a small renewal of personal respect. He didn’t pretend to understand exactly how that worked in Rosnik’s brain – did the Russian think only straight men got protective and paternal? That was ridiculous. Anyway, he’d given Cassie her dog and taught her to drive because Fraiser got too nervous. They had a bond thing going.

Hallowell returned with nachos and an extra large Coke just as Carter said, “Absolutely. I’ll see you Friday. Lots of chocolate, okay. Take care of yourself. Bye.”

“Who’s coming Friday?” asked Hallowell.

“Cassie.”

Daniel asked, “What happened?”

“She thought one of her classmates liked her, but he was only asking her out so she’d work with him on a project. They got an A on the project and now he’s ignoring her.” Carter’s face hardened again just summarizing the incident.

“That’s despicable,” said Daniel.

Jack cringed a little for Cassie’s sake. “What a lowlife.”

Teal’c chimed in with, “This individual lacks a sense of honor.”

“Poor kid,” agreed Hallowell.

Rosnik thought for a second. “I believe that young man is a slimeball.”

The Russian must’ve been hanging around SG-4 again. ‘Slimeball’ was one of Palmer’s favorite words. Jack nearly choked trying not to laugh.

SG-1 was on another joint mission with SG-27. Commander Evans and Captain Singh, SG-27’s scientist, had decided Sam needed to look at a large machine. So far they had no idea what it did, and there was barely any writing to help. Daniel had radioed back SGC to confirm his hunch that the single symbol was Furling. He’d have been more excited if he had more than one symbol to work with, but Nyan had checked the archives and confirmed that the character was definitely Furling.

On the other hand, he thought his failure to perform a linguistic miracle with one symbol might finally break down the case of hero worship that Julia MacDonald had for him. She was a good anthropologist in her own right and an asset for SG-27. Besides, hero worship didn’t sit well with Daniel.

The mysterious machine was made of metal – some of it unknown, which excited Sam and Rosnik to no end – so after failing to be of any help the first day, Daniel had requested metal detectors from SGC. Jack had quickly agreed to have Siler send them through. The second day, therefore, saw him, Teal’c, Julia, and Major Ashburn trying to locate other artifacts. Daniel suspected Ashburn was more interested in making sure Julia didn’t get into any trouble. She had precious little military training, the same way Daniel had when he first joined SG-1.

Julia looked over to where Sam, Rosnik, Evans, and Singh were examining the device. “I haven’t seen anyone so excited since my brother found out Doctor Who was coming back,” she said in her lowlands Scot brogue.

“Never mind Doctor Who, I’m starting to feel like we’re living Torchwood.”

Daniel had no idea what Ashburn was talking about, but assuming it was a TV show he idly wondered if Jack and Teal’c would enjoy critiquing it the way they did action movies. He’d have to remember that around Christmas, since Teal’c was ridiculously hard to shop for.

“Daniel,” came Sam’s voice over his radio, “another symbol just appeared on the device.”

“I’m on my way.” Actually, all four of them were on their way. Julia was naturally excited to see another Furling symbol. Ashburn and Teal’c didn’t especially enjoy metal detecting and were happy enough to take a break.

Walking at a decent clip, they were back to the machine in a couple of minutes. Daniel pulled out his camcorder and got a good shot of the two symbols, the second just to the left and below the first. “What did you do that got this to appear?” he asked.

“Tightened a screw,” replied Singh. “More or less.”

“This entire machine could be covered in writing.” Not for the first time, he wished he’d been able to spend more time in the meeting room on Heliopolis. With more time, and now since he had at least some basic knowledge of Ancient, he could make headway in translating Furling.

Jack said he spent too much time thinking about ‘what-ifs.’ In this case, Daniel had to remind himself of that. It did him no good at the moment. Although he wondered: if the Prometheus visited Heliopolis, would anything be left?

He doubted the Pentagon would be willing to find out. Focusing on the task at hand, he put down the camcorder and leaned in for a closer look. “Amazing.”

Rosnik and Singh were discussing how it might be scientifically possible for the writing to just appear. Sam peered at the machine’s surface carefully. “I wonder if we can make more visible.”

“Are there any more loose screws?” asked Julia. She had out a pad of paper and was sketching the second symbol. Daniel preferred the camcorder, but she insisted that drawing personalized the experience. Having very little artistic ability himself, he was in no position to understand, but it seemed to work for her.

“It wasn’t quite that easy,” said Sam. Daniel wasn’t at all surprised.

“Was it making this noise before?” He didn’t remember the low buzzing sound.

Teal’c informed him, “It was not.”

“It’s getting louder. Maybe we should stand back,” suggested Sam. It was a good idea and they all hurried back. Of course, there was no way of knowing what a safe distance was, but they’d only gone a few yards when Sam stopped.

Daniel turned around and saw that the machine had melted down into a puddle of liquid so round there had to be some kind of barrier. Sam, Singh, Evans, and Rosnik raced over to the puddle, bemoaning the apparent loss of the Furling device and wondering how this could’ve happened.

Teal’c eyed the puddle critically. “I believe we will be forced to endure many jokes about this from O’Neill.”

“Probably,” agreed Daniel. Melting down an alien machine was just the kind of thing Jack would enjoy bringing up a few times.

Sam’s enthusiasm hadn’t been dampened by the meltdown. “This is unbelievable. It’s already completely solid!”

Only Sam, he thought, could find something so fascinating after ruining the device they were trying to study.

It was a great weekend to spend at the cabin. Jack hadn’t caught any fish yet, but he didn’t really care. Daniel, who had a low tolerance for fishing, was reading a book. It pleased Jack that his lover appreciated the serenity of the cabin, even if he rarely fished. The previous night they’d sat out on the dock and enjoyed the stars without any moonlight. It was nice to relax, far away from the rush of their everyday lives.

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t suppose there’s any way the Pentagon would agree to send Prometheus to Heliopolis.”

Why Daniel brought that up he didn’t know. “What are the chances of finding big honkin’ space guns?”

“Since it was a peaceful meeting place, slim to none.”

“Then no.”

“I know,” sighed Daniel. “The Pentagon doesn’t care about ‘meaning of life stuff.’”

“What if this is the meaning of life?”

That earned him a disbelieving stare. “You’re saying that fishing is the meaning of life.”

He wasn’t, although if it was Jack wouldn’t have minded a bit. “Not just fishing. Saving the planet, buying Girl Scout cookies, staying up too late on the roof watching a meteor shower, getting our butts kicked by Teal’c at bowling, burning a pot roast, sex… all of it. What if the meaning of life is as easy as living?”

Daniel considered that, which was why Jack told him in the first place. He knew that his boyfriend would at least give the idea thought. “I’m not sure that’s really easy.”

Fair enough. Living wasn’t always easy, as he knew well from personal experience. “Maybe not, but it’s a lot closer to home.”

“True. And if nothing else, it’s nice to think there was a point to the pot roast incident.”

“Getting the updated Chinese take-out menu wasn’t enough?” That, and Jack had pretty much decided that he was too old to improve his cooking skills.

“No.”

There was a fish nibbling on his bait. He waited until it was a solid bite, then started reeling in his catch.

“Got something?” asked Daniel.

“Yep.”

Actually catching fish was just a bonus when fishing. That was probably why Teal’c hated fishing. Well, that and the way the mosquitoes swarmed around him. Jack had always enjoyed it, because for once results didn’t matter, which never happened in the military. For all that he played up his simpleton act because it gave him an edge to be underestimated, Jack did like the simple pleasures in life.

“Not one of the edible fish,” remarked Daniel.

“Sunfish. Not worth it.” He never understood how Daniel could remember dozens of languages, myths, and histories, but fail to remember which fish species was which. While Jack fished his lover was reading a book about Aboriginal Australian creation stories, which was relaxing in Daniel’s world. No doubt he’d remember them if SG-1 ever encountered a planet populated by descendents of the native Australians.

He tossed the sunfish back, glad that they weren’t relying on the pond to supply any meals. Really, that would add too much stress to a vacation weekend.

Jack had fallen asleep immediately, worn out by a long session of lovemaking, but Daniel needed a couple of minutes. He usually did after topping, because his mind needed to wind down from paying attention to Jack’s pleasure. As always, his post-coital thoughts were scattered but kept coming back to Jack.

Moonlight was coming through the blinds in slits that made stripes of his partner’s hair gleam. It looked like something out of a poem and transfixed Daniel momentarily.

Jack never used the word ‘partner.’ He said it sounded like they worked at the same law firm. Daniel liked it because it encompassed how vital Jack was to him.

A sarcophagus was a strange thing, he reflected. Ba’al’s had taken years off Jack’s knees and you couldn’t tell where the Goa’uld’s knife had killed him, but it left his old scars. Daniel traced the ragged line on the back of Jack’s shoulder. Their first few weeks together, he kept finding new scars, and Jack would give a brief explanation. The shoulder was, “Shrapnel, Iraq.” On his right side just below his lowest rib was, “Bullet grazed me in Czechoslovakia.” Some of the scars, of course, Daniel recognized, like the staff blast on his leg from Netu.

The scars reminded Daniel of just how much Jack had been through, and how devoted he was to protecting his country and planet. Daniel didn’t always agree with the politics involved, but the scars always made him realize, again, that Jack was a protector, a hero.

Jack had once admitted that Daniel’s scars (much fewer in number than his own) reminded him of the times he’d failed to protect Daniel. Except the small one on Daniel’s knee where he had, at age seven, found a piece of pottery on his parents’ dig when he fell on it. Even at seven, he’d felt terrible for bleeding on an artifact, although his parents were only concerned about him. Nobody had been as concerned about his wounds again until Jack. But without the experiences that gave them scars, neither of them would be the same people.

Outside the cabin frogs and crickets were making a peaceful background chorus. Times like this he could understand why Jack had claimed, so long ago, that the Goa’uld wanted Earth for Minnesota. Not that the Goa’uld could appreciate the serenity of the cabin. Not even the Tok’ra would, Daniel suspected. Although there was the possibility that the Tok’ra might enjoy peace and relaxation once the galaxy was free from their evil brethren. It was a moot point, though, because Jacob Carter and Selmak were the only Tok’ra that Jack would’ve let near his cabin, and they were dead.

In his sleep, Jack rolled over so his body was pressed against Daniel’s. He was quite a sight, debauched and completely relaxed. Low on his neck, where it would be covered by his collar at work, Daniel had given him a small hickey.

Before Jack, it had been so long since he’d had a steady, loving sex life that Daniel had half forgotten how fulfilling it was. But then, being with Jack had changed his life for the better in a lot of ways.

Happy and content, Daniel fell asleep to the sound of frogs, crickets, and Jack breathing.

Chapter Text

Jack was in his office reading SG-16’s latest mission reports when the alarm sounded. “Unscheduled offworld activation.” He made his way to the control room quickly.

“Receiving IDC,” reported Walter. “It’s SG-1, sir.”

“Open the iris.”

Walter did, and Jack stared at the gate. SG-1 was exploring P3X-042, where there were dilapidated buildings and a room giving interesting energy readings which Carter was interested in. Teal’c had identified the trademarks of a Goa’uld who had been dead for three hundred years, which in Jack’s opinion was the best kind of Goa’uld. Jaffa rumors hinted that the snake in question might have been killed by his own Jaffa, which interested Teal’c greatly. Rosnik had been peppering Daniel with questions, because there was strong evidence suggesting this particular snake had been involved in ancient Slavic culture. It was a mission with something for everyone.

Carter came through supporting Daniel, whose left leg was dragging uselessly. Jack’s heart lodged somewhere in his throat and he hurried down to the gate room. When he arrived, Teal’c had come through, carrying Rosnik. All four of them were dirty and bloody. From Jack’s considerable experience, it was a safe guess to say they’d been in an explosion.

“Rosnik is dead, sir,” reported Carter. He recognized that tone of voice; it was the kind that meant she’d ruthlessly pushed aside personal feelings for the moment, taking refuge from the routine of being a soldier. “The room was rigged to explode if anyone got inside. We realized, but not in time to clear the blast radius.” Three of the fingers on her right hand stuck out at odd angles that could only mean they were broken.

“Infirmary,” he ordered, taking over the job of supporting Daniel. Teal’c carefully set Rosnik’s body down before following. He looked to be the least injured, but knowing Teal’c he could have six different internal injuries.

“I can’t feel my foot, Jack,” Daniel whispered. “There was shrapnel. I think it was trinium.”

Jack was just relieved he was alive and hardly knew what to say. It was another of those situations where Daniel would’ve known what to say, but he really didn’t. “Bastard snake,” he finally said.

In the infirmary Dr. Brightman took charge as always. Jack just stood by helplessly while she and her staff examined the three remaining members of SG-1. He thought of Rosnik and wished that the Russian was there as well, muttering curses in his native tongue when he forgot Daniel could understand.

It came as no surprise that Teal’c had two cracked ribs and a gash right over the pouch where Junior used to live. That was the kind of thing the Jaffa wouldn’t bother to mention so long as anyone else was hurt. Carter, in addition to the broken fingers, had a nick taken out of her ear where a piece of shrapnel had barely missed her head and a pulled tendon in her shoulder. But Daniel was undeniably the worst off.

Brightman pulled the curtains so Daniel had privacy when she came to talk to him, which was never good. Jack was glad she knew they were together, because she didn’t ask him to leave. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Jackson,” she began, and Daniel’s face went white. “Your nerves are completely severed. There’s nothing we can do to repair them.”

Jack put his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “I’ll call Thor.”

Brightman kindly left them alone. Once she left, Daniel turned to Jack with a shocked, pale face. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. Jack sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Daniel into a hug.

They could hear Hallowell rushing in to see Carter and Teal’c protesting that he could rest in his quarters, but nothing else in that moment was nearly as important as Daniel’s injury. Jack resolved to contact Thor just as soon as he could leave Daniel.

Daniel’s voice was low and resigned. “Jack, if my foot -”

He cut the rest of the statement off. “The Asgard can do a lot of cool stuff.”

“I’ll try to hold off on the breakdown, then.”

That made two of them, but Jack didn’t think Daniel needed to hear that particular piece of information.

Daniel was incredibly lucky and he knew it. Eleven hours after having his nerves completely severed, Heimdall had him back on both of his feet. Thor had sent her, for which Daniel would be forever grateful. His left foot would never quite be the same. Heimdall warned against expecting more than a 95% recovery. But it was far better than anyone could’ve imagined.

Still, the Air Force had decided that he and Sam were too valuable to risk in the field anymore. They would’ve liked to keep Teal’c safely tucked away as well, but everyone knew he would never go for that and Jack had managed to get him reassigned as co-commander of SG-28, a team that hadn’t even been assembled yet. Jack had also fought long and hard to keep Sam from being sent to Area 51. The Pentagon had agreed to let her expand the research department on the base and occasionally go offworld. This was because 1) they realized that having her close to technology when it came through the gate had saved the day more than once and 2) they didn’t like the idea of never having her around to go offworld and figure out something nobody else could make work. (If there was one way to get the Pentagon to cave, it was pointing out that a Sam who could go offworld was a Sam who might get big guns to work.) Like Sam, Daniel would be able to go offworld once in a while, when there was a promising dig or vexing translation and the situation looked safe. And he would have plenty to do, but it wouldn’t be the same.

So, the day after the explosion, the four of them had confirmed with the Air Force their flight to St. Petersburg for Rosnik’s funeral and gathered at Jack and Daniel’s house. Teal’c was moving carefully because of his ribs, Sam had her fingers splinted and her ear bandaged, and Daniel still felt twinges of pain in his left foot, which didn’t respond quite as fast as it used to.

Jack had even forgone beer in solidarity with those who were on painkillers and not allowed alcohol. He was having a diet Pepsi instead. “They’re retiring our number,” he announced, breaking the silence.

“Is that significant?” asked Teal’c.

Jack was quick to answer, “Your number only gets retired if you’re the best.” Daniel wasn’t entirely sure comparing sports to the military was appropriate, but Jack knew more than him about both.

He leaned against Jack a bit. They were on the couch, leaving the chairs to Sam and Teal’c. “You got used to staying on Earth. We will too.”

“I’m just glad I’m not going to Area 51,” said Sam. “They never get anything when it’s new.”

“Hammond helped a lot there. He knows how valuable you are.”

Sam nodded and sipped her soda. Daniel thought she was taking ‘grounding’ even harder than he was. But there was the part of Daniel that was relieved, thinking he would hopefully not have to kill again, not have to do the things that made him like himself just a little less. And the image of Aleksi Rosnik’s last moment was seared in his mind: a piece of shrapnel shot straight into a good man’s brain, the pool of blood seeping out from where Rosnik’s body fell. There were things he’d never wanted and would not regret.  He’d miss going through the gate a couple times a week, certainly. It stung to think he’d never again be one of the first humans to step foot on a planet, or to make first contact with people whose ancestors had been taken from Earth. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure his foot would heal enough to satisfy the Air Force anyway.

“I am pleased that I will be entrusted with a joint command,” said Teal, “but I regret that it requires the dissolution of SG-1.”

“You’ll be great, T.” Jack looked over at Sam and changed the subject, “Carter.” When she looked up, he continued, “We can tell you it wasn’t your fault as many times as it takes until you believe it.”

Daniel couldn’t understand the feeling of losing someone under his command, and it wasn’t something Jack would exactly go into, but his partner knew what Sam was dealing with.

She nodded, “I’ve been asked to say a few words at his funeral. It’s hard because I can’t say anything, really.”

“Captain Rosnik was an honorable man,” offered Teal’c. “He had great potential.”

Potential that would never be realized, now. Daniel felt an aching spike travel through his foot and reminded himself that he’d always decided the risks of gate travel were outweighed by the rewards.

It was the end of an era and they’d lost a teammate, so the mood was melancholy. It was probably for the best that they weren’t drinking alcohol.

After Rosnik’s funeral they tiredly made their way to their hotel room. “I hate funerals,” said Jack. “Whether I understand the language or not.” He’d certainly never thought he’d be attending a funeral in St. Petersburg. Half the time he still thought of the city as Leningrad.

Daniel gave him a disbelieving look. “You fought in the Cold War and never picked up any Russian? I thought it was another one of your acts.”

“I get ‘da’ and ‘nyet.’ My German’s rusty, but better. I can get by with it.” It was also notably East German, he’d been told, although maybe people wouldn’t notice as much anymore.

“Less Soviet Union, more East Germany?”

“Something like that.” He’d spent even more time in South America, but that was neither here nor there.

The Russians, being cheap as usual, had provided the four of them with two rooms. Jack couldn’t say he minded, since Carter and Teal’c automatically took one and left the second for him and Daniel. The twin beds were a pity, but he was sure Carter and Teal’c didn’t think so.

Daniel had been limping noticeably, though he tried to hide it. He sat on the bed with evident relief. “Not a good foot day?” asked Jack.

“The flight didn’t agree with it.” His lover pulled off his shoes and stretched the injured foot. Jack was extremely grateful that Heimdall had done what she could. Daniel could feel his foot and walk on it. The aches were supposed to fade away, leaving him with a useable foot that just responded a little slower to his brain than it used to. Brightman was astonished. Jack was still sorry that Heimdall couldn’t entirely fix the nerves.

But Daniel would be alright, even if his foot was never as good as it had been. Jack had known from the minute Daniel was leaning on him, walking around Heimdall’s infirmary. Because, while Jack was still focused on Daniel, his lover had found an opportunity to learn and asked Heimdall about the Furlings.

All she’d said what that the Asgard had been unable to determine what happened to their former allies. Jack didn’t even care, because he’d been so filled with relief that Daniel was going to make it through this ordeal just fine.

Now he carried that knowledge with him, holding it close when he needed it for strength to be strong for Daniel. He sat down on the same bed. “Turn around,” he told Daniel. When they were facing each other, he picked up Daniel’s foot, pulled off his sock, and started rubbing the sole of his foot. “Better?”

“Mmm. You’re good at this.”

He’d learned to give a decent foot massage when Sara was pregnant and her feet killed her, but had never done it for anyone else. It was too intimate, somehow.

“It’s hard,” Daniel ventured after a moment, “because we can’t tell his family that he died doing something meaningful, or that he got to see amazing things in the months he was with us. When I talked to his mother, she was just so lost.”

“I’m used to it.” He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but Jack had always been one to accept the state of things. “Did you see that woman who was obsessed with Teal’c’s tatoo?”

There was really no way to cover Teal’c’s forehead that wouldn’t be disrespectful at a funeral, and as always the gold symbol of Apophis attracted attention. “She had to be one of the people who speaks English,” replied Daniel. “But you know Teal’c. He said that it’s the symbol of a false god he once worshipped, and that was it.”

Once Teal’c decided he’d said enough, there was no way to make him speak another word. On the other hand, his brief but sincere statement about Rosnik’s skills had apparently suited Russian sensibilities. Carter had, with Daniel’s help, mastered a couple sentences of Russian which also pleased Rosnik’s friends and family. Jack hadn’t been asked to speak, to his relief

He’d pulled out his dress uniform for the first time since his retirement. After all, he was still entitled to wear it to occasions where appropriate, and Captain Rosnik’s funeral was certainly an appropriate occasion.

“Is it me, or do the Russians have long funerals?”

Daniel shrugged. “It might be the jet lag.”

“Maybe,” he said, but he wasn’t convinced. He’d always thought Catholic ceremonies were long – and they were – but the Russian Orthodox Church seemed to take even longer. Jack hadn’t needed to understand the language to feel the solemn, ritual-filled nature of the funeral. He couldn’t decide whether being unable to comprehend what was being said made it more or less depressing.

Daniel opened his mouth, but a knock on the door cut him off. Jack stood up and looked through the peephole.

“Hey, Teal’c.” He opened the door, letting their friend in. Teal’c had already changed into more casual clothes.

The Jaffa nodded slightly. “I am going to take this opportunity to see more of your world before our flight tomorrow. Colonel Carter and I intend to witness the ‘White Night.’ Captain Rosnik referred to the phenomenon fondly. Would you like to join us?”

Jack himself would’ve passed, but Daniel tugged his sock back on while saying, “He told us we should see the White Nights of St. Petersburg. Let’s.”

As always, he had a hard time saying no to Daniel. Only Daniel could get him to play tourist in Russia.

They’d decided on breakfast for dinner, and Daniel was making pancakes when the doorbell rang. “I’ve got it,” called Jack.

“Jack!” It was Cassie. “Where’s Daniel? The two of you can face down big, bad aliens but have Sam do your coming out for you – honestly, it’s absurd!”

“I told you we should’ve told her ourselves,” he reminded Jack as the two of them came into the kitchen.

“Back for the weekend?” asked Jack while Cassie hugged Daniel.

“My summer job is at a day camp, so it doesn’t start until next week.”

“Ah,” said Jack.

“So, congratulations!”

Daniel pulled out a chair for her and went to flip the pancakes. “Thank you.” 

Jack dug around in the cupboard until he found a bottle of sparkling grape juice. It was Cassie’s favorite so Jack kept some around, because he had a huge soft spot for her. (Sometimes, it was hard to believe he managed to so thoroughly convince people that he had no soft spots.) Eventually he found his quarry and set about pouring three glasses.

She asked, “Now, when are you going to tell Sam she can call you Jack?”

The look on Jack’s face was priceless. Daniel wished his camera was handy. “I thought she didn’t want to,” said Jack.

“Men.” Cassie sighed theatrically. “You need to give her permission.”

“I told her to drop the ‘sir,’” protested Jack.

“Not the same.”

It was a good thing Cassie tended to be blunt. Sometimes, they just needed someone to tell it like it was.

“Oh.”

“Pancakes?” offered Daniel.

“No thanks. I just ate.”

“What are you doing at the camp?” Having never been to a summer camp, he didn’t know what working at one would involve.

“Making sure eight-year-olds don’t kill themselves or each other.”

“No small task,” noted Jack. “I hope they pay you well.”

Cassie eyed him critically. “You save the world from megalomaniacal aliens and are worried about me not getting paid enough?”

“I get great benefits.”

“Speaking of work,” she said, “How’s the new job, Daniel?”

Sam really kept her in the loop, at least as much as she could without mentioning classified details beyond what Cassie knew. “It’s good. Not the same, but good.”

“I haven’t gotten Sam’s voicemail recently. It’s hard to imagine the two of you with regular hours.”

“Regular is an overstatement,” said Jack, “especially with Carter.”

Cassie gave him a knowing grin. “She is a workaholic, isn’t she? Of course, now you don’t have to worry about Daniel every time he goes through the gate.”

“I never wanted -”

She interrupted his protest. “Of course not.”

“You are entirely too perceptive.”

Daniel put a plate full of pancakes on the table and changed the subject. “Sure you don’t want any?”

“Oh, they’re blueberry. Maybe just one.”

Jack grabbed silverware. Cassie continued, “You look good, Daniel.”

“Thanks.” He felt pretty good, too; the aches in his foot weren’t as bad, and if he didn’t try to move too fast the limp wasn’t noticeable unless someone was looking for it. And while he missed going through the stargate, he had more time to devote to fascinating research.

“Plus, you two are such a cute couple.”

Only Cassandra could get away with using ‘cute’ to describe Jack O’Neill.

Jack had read the report, but he looked at it again for the catch he was sure it had to hold. “This is too good to be true.”

At the other end of the briefing room table Commander Evans shook his head. “We might not think that when we’re trying to get three hundred and ten head of sheep through the gate, sir.”

“True.” It was going to be an interesting requisition order, too.

“For two naquadah boulders the size of this table, I’ll gladly play shepherd,” said Major Ashburn.

“Even better, they’re open to further trade.” MacDonald had been crucial to formalizing the trade and was justly pleased with the result.

“If they like our sheep?” asked Jack. Now the requisition form would be even more interesting. In the interest of future trade with the Hegmanki, please provide quality merino sheep.

“And us,” she added. “It might be a good idea to give them an extra gift as a goodwill gesture.

“Bonus sheep?”

MacDonald shook her head. “I’m not certain, but based on my observations, I recommend against that. It might be seen as an attempt to renegotiate the deal.”

Since that would be bad, sheep were out. Which was fine, because Evans was right about getting sheep through the gate. “What do you suggest?”

“Gifts in Hegmanki culture tend to be ornamental or decorative, not practical. A nice framed photograph – a large one, of somewhere on Earth – would be appropriate.”

It occurred to Jack that whoever got his requisition orders probably looked forward to them. At least SGC requisitions were interesting. “So I need to order a framed landscape picture?”

“It’s cheaper than jewelry, which is my other idea.”

“A picture it is.” He wrote a note down for himself about that. “Do we have any idea why the Goa’uld didn’t grab these naquadah boulders?” It was a glaring question, since the Goa’uld had been the one who spread humans throughout the galaxy.

“Nothing but guesses at this point. I talked with Daniel, and we haven’t found any indication that the Asgard were involved. I’m hoping to learn more when we go back. There are probably clues in folk stories and legends.”

“Keep me updated.”

“Of course.”

Turning to Singh, he asked, “This naquadah is useable?”

“It’ll need to be refined, of course, but absolutely.”

That was good, and there were people at the Pentagon, including of course Hammond, who would be very happy. Jack was happy too. The Unas mine on P3X-403 was drying up, so finding new sources of naquadah was a high priority.

“Alright. Do we need to sign any papers for this deal?”

“It’s not a literate society,” MacDonald told him.

Evans was smiling. “Request permission to return to Hegmank and inform them that we have your approval.”

“Granted. Tell them it’s going to take a little time to gather up the sheep.” He looked at the gate travel schedule, which he’d taken to bringing with him to all briefings. “You leave at 1300 tomorrow. Keep up the good work.”

Recognizing the dismissal, the members of SG-27 stood up. Jack reflected that he was grateful he didn’t have to determine who got the naquadah. Competition among various projects for scare naquadah got heated. Fortunately, SGC almost always got a fair amount.

“Jack!” Daniel burst into the briefing room, his limp barely noticeable, while SG-27 was filing out. “I just got an email from Steven Rayner.”

“Your old colleague?” That couldn’t be good. “Don’t tell me. He’s not buying that half-baked cover story anymore.” It hadn’t been one of their better cover stories – something about decades-old research into chemical warfare. Its main selling point had been that it fit neatly with the view, widespread in academic circles, that the military was and always had been reckless and careless with human life.

“I was never sure he bought it, but that’s not it. He found a smashed hand device on a dig in southern Egypt. He’s terrified it’s contaminated by chemicals.”

“Great,” Jack muttered. “Just what we needed.” One day, he knew, some archaeologist was going to find something that couldn’t be covered up. Jack hoped it was after he’d retired for good.

“He wants the Air Force to send someone to come take care of it.”

“I’ll book you and a couple of airmen for flights.”

“Actually, I think it’d be better if I didn’t go.”

He hadn’t expected that. “You do?”

“Yes. For one thing, it doesn’t really make sense to have an archaeologist deal with chemical warfare experiments. It was hard enough to explain my involvement last time.”

That made sense. “And?”

“And what?” asked Daniel.

“You said ‘for one thing,’ which usually means there’s at least one more thing.”

“Right. He’ll try to get more information out of me. Send airmen, and he’ll want as little to do with them as possible. Less questions, less chances for silence to confirm anything.”

“Okay.”

“Someday we won’t be able to make this just go away.”

“I know.” He repressed a sigh. “I just hope I’m gone by then.”

Daniel gave him a wry smile. “Rumor around has it that you’re never actually going to leave.”

Daniel found Teal’c in his quarters reading Air Force regulations and happy to have a reason to take a break. “Did you have a pleasant weekend, Daniel Jackson?”

“Yes, thanks. How was whitewater rafting?”

“Sergeant Zimmerman was correct. It is indeed an invigorating activity. I intend to go again. Perhaps you would like to accompany me.”

That was more Sam’s kind of thing than his, so his reply was a noncommittal, “Maybe when the water’s warmer.”

His Jaffa friend nodded and sat back down. Daniel took that as his cue to sit in the extra chair. Teal’c never invited anyone to sit. In Jaffa culture, a guest’s willingness to sit indicated his or her level of trust in the host.

“So, have you and Colonel Dinsmore found a linguist yet?”

“We have not.”

He’d suspected as much. There was a shortage of qualified candidates. Jack said if SG-28 was going to be a good team, they needed someone who could tell Asgard from Ancient. There weren’t many people who fit that description. Even among his small staff, most were content to stay in the relative safety of the mountain. “You might want to talk to Nyan.”

“He has had opportunity to learn from you,” said Teal’c. “You have confidence in his abilities?”

“Yes.”

“I will confer with Colonel Dinsmore.” Teal’c paused before informing him, “She has told me in no uncertain terms that I must stop seeking a candidate with your talents. I will miss your presence offworld.”

Teal’c was sparing with his compliments but always sincere. “Thank you. I miss it, too. But Nyan is good.”

“Colonel Carter says that she is now less a solider and more a scholar. I do not know if she believes the change to be positive or negative.”

“Probably both. At least, that’s how it is for me.”

He’d asked Jack how he coped with his sudden ‘grounding.’ Apparently Jack had only been half surprised, but he’d said, “I follow orders, Daniel. I go where the Air Force says I’m needed.” He wondered if the same was true for Sam.

“Dr. Brightman cleared me to go offworld in low-risk situations.” Which in particular meant situations where his inability to run properly wouldn’t be a liability.

“That is good news.”

“So keep an eye out for potential dig sites.”

Teal’c raised an eyebrow slightly but agreed. “Very well. I trust that the situation with Steven Rayner’s discovery has been rectified?”

“More or less. He sent me another email asking, and I quote, ‘how the hell early twentieth-century American military experiments get mixed in with Middle Kingdom artifacts.’”

“A fair question.”

“I know,” he sighed. “And since we can’t stop his dig, I’m afraid we might have to tell him the truth.”

“Do you believe he is trustworthy?”

“I don’t know.” Because he didn’t want to think about Steven any more, he changed the subject. “I don’t envy you reading those regulations.”

“The Air Force has an unreasonable amount of regulations. However, I must follow them.”

“Jaffa warriors don’t have regulations?”

Teal’c gave him a look that implied the answer should be obvious. “There is only one rule: please your god.” Glancing at his ready, he added, “Numerous as they are, Air Force regulations are preferable.”

Nobody could argue with that.

Rayner had discovered one of the Goa’uld healing doohickeys and was not buying the ‘experiments with chemical warfare’ story anymore. In a few days he’d arrive in Colorado Springs. Nobody was particularly happy about that, but according to Daniel it was pretty obvious that hand devices and healing doohickeys weren’t Egyptian. Jack took his word for it.

The upcoming visit had Daniel working harder than ever, which was really saying something. Since dinner Jack had read National Geographic cover-to-cover without hearing so much as a peep from Daniel, who was holed up in his study.

Deciding that his workaholic boyfriend needed a break, Jack set his reading glasses and magazine on the coffee table and headed to the study.

“Daniel?”

Unsurprisingly, that got no response. He went for the more direct approach and combined it with one of Daniel’s favorite words. Leaning over so his arms were around Daniel’s shoulders, Jack said, “Hey, cariad.”

That earned him an only slightly distracted, “Hi Jack.”

Excellent. His plan was working. “Let’s go get ice cream.”

“I’m in the middle of -”

“Working yourself to death. I noticed. You do know we don’t get paid for overtime, right?”

“We’d bankrupt the Treasury if everyone at SGC got paid overtime. Sam alone would be a millionaire.” Even as he spoke, Daniel was clicking to enlarge a picture of old writing on his laptop.

“Please.”

Daniel gave an exaggerated sigh. “I guess a break would be alright.” He saved his work and put the laptop on standby. Like their phones, Daniel’s laptop was heavily encrypted. He’d also insisted on an alarm system when he moved in, due to Jack’s past experience with unwanted visitors.

Dairy Delights was only a few minutes from their house. It had just opened that summer, and the homemade ice cream was delicious. Since it was a warm summer evening, Jack hadn’t been the only one thinking of ice cream. They ended up in line behind a group of teenagers. One of the boys looked so much like Siler that Jack would’ve bet money he was the sergeant’s son.

He could hardly believe his eyes at the dish of ice cream one little girl got. In fact, he couldn’t even see any ice cream beneath all the sprinkles. It looked sickening.

Jack decided to try a scoop of butterscotch. He always got vanilla for his second scoop, because he was sure to like it. Daniel got mocha and mint chocolate chip, which did not sound like they would taste good on the same cone. At least he’d warmed to the ice cream break considerably.

They found a bench and sat down to their treats. After a few licks, Daniel asked, “Jack?”

He swallowed, deciding he really liked the butterscotch. “Yeah?”

“What do you think about taking a vacation?”

It certainly sounded appealing. “We’re both due for some leave. It would be nice to actually take it.”

“How about going out of the country?”

He wasn’t opposed on principle. “Depends which country.”

“I don’t suppose you have a great desire to visit Egypt.”

“Not really.”

“I’d like to see the Great Wall of China.”

“China? I don’t think so.” First, he disliked the Chinese generally. Well, the Chinese government anyway; he had nothing against the Chinese people per se. Moreover, he had professional concerns. “I’d rather not bring myself to anyone’s attention over there. Wouldn’t put it past them to try something for more influence.”

“Oh,” said Daniel, disappointed. “Do you really think they would?”

“I’d rather not find out. How about a safari?” He’d always wanted to go on a safari.

“Getting up close and personal with creatures that would happily kill me? Doesn’t sound like much of a vacation.”

It was probably a lost cause, but Jack felt compelled to point out, “Most of them don’t want to kill anyone.”

“Still. Maybe Greece? The Parthenon is always great, and -”

“Daniel, I don’t want to go anywhere where the main attractions are old buildings and museums.” He figured there had to be decent fishing in Greece, but if they ended up doing separate things, it defeated the point of taking a vacation together. In that case, he might as well talk Teal’c into taking the safari while Daniel showed Cassie the remains of ancient Earth cultures.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“I’ve never been to France.” It sounded promising enough. Any country with good food and sandy beaches was an alright destination in Jack’s book. There was history to entertain Daniel but not as much history so ancient he’d end up dragging Jack from ruin to ruin. History that was more recent and well-preserved was always less fascinating to Daniel, for some reason. On the other hand, Jack thought any country where coffee was an art form would suit his lover.

“When are we looking at, the end of August?”

“Middle. I’ve got an in with the guy who does the schedule.”

“France is out. Practically the whole country goes on vacation for the month. Service is bad, beaches are crowded, you get the picture.”

He did, and it wasn’t a good one. 

“How about Australia?” asked Daniel.

Jack considered this for a moment. “They do have the Great Barrier Reef.”

“Is there a good season for that? I’ll have to look it up at home.”

“So, we have a destination?”

“I think so,” said Daniel with a grin.

“Cool.” He went back to his ice cream cone, very pleased that he’d insisted on getting out of the house.

Chapter Text

Steven was even more impossible than Daniel had remembered. First he didn’t want to sign the nondisclosure agreement. Jack was about to have him escorted out when Steven protested that he could go public with what he knew.

Jack, of course, didn’t take kindly to threats, and simply responded with, “Then I can guarantee you’ll never work again.” This, accompanied with his fiercest Dangerous Special Ops Colonel stare, got Steven to sign the nondisclosure agreement.

At least being afraid of Jack tamed Steven somewhat, and he’d been transfixed by their summary explanation of the Goa’uld. “If what you’re saying is true, this changes everything we know about human history!”

“Not everything,” objected Jack. “We overthrew the snakes thousands of years ago.”

“We?” asked Steven. “You talk like you were there.”

Jack shrugged. So far as they knew from that weird video recording, alternate versions of them had been there. That, however, was nothing Steven needed to know.

Fortunately, Steven moved on. “Snakes?”

“The Goa’uld,” explained Daniel, “are parasites with more than a passing resemblance to snakes.”

“Parasites?”

Jack nodded. “With a nasty habit of taking humans as hosts.”

Steven shuddered a little but forged on. “Why are you keeping this a secret? It’s our communal history and heritage. Everyone has a right to know!” Turning to Daniel, he added, “Wait a minute, if this is confidential, how did you…”

“I theorized that the pyramids were of alien origin before I came here.”

“That’s why he’s here,” added Jack.

“And we thought you were crazy,” muttered Steven. “Still, the military has no right to keep this from the public.”

“Sure we do,” said Jack cheerfully.

“Let me guess: national security.”

“More like planetary security,” corrected Daniel. “See, the Goa’uld are still out there.”

“Well, as long as they aren’t here, what’s the problem?”

Jack fixed Steven with a serious glare. “They’d really like to be back here. You’d think the increased pollution levels might turn them off, but nope. Still want good old planet Earth.”

Steven was smart. After a moment’s thought, he declared, “That wasn’t a meteor shower a few years ago, was it?”

“No,” answered Daniel. “It was a battle.”

That, like some dramatic cliché, was when the alarm sounded. “Unscheduled offworld activation.” Jack and Daniel both rushed to the control room.

Steven was arrogant enough to follow. He hadn’t changed much. “What the hell is that?” he asked, but nobody was paying any attention to the archaeologist gaping at the stargate.

“Receiving IDC, sir. It’s SG-21,” reported the ever-professional Walter.

“Open the iris,” said Jack.

The first thing that came through was a charred tree branch. Steven gasped.

An agonizing thirty seconds later, Captain Hernandez came out of the gate at a dead run. She skidded to a halt near the bottom of the ramp and looked up to the control room. “At least four al’kesh, sir,” she reported while Lieutenant de Silva made it through and nearly crashed into her.

“Two hours ago there were no signs the Goa’uld had been there for hundreds of years!” exclaimed Jack.

“If Telchak is challenging Ba’al, they both might be revisiting planets they’d previously abandoned.” Daniel tried to focus on an explanation, if only because it distracted him from the painful wait for the other two members of SG-21 to appear. “We’ve seen it before.”

Jack muttered, “I hope the sons of bitches annihilate each other.”

Mercifully, Major Roth and Colonel Peterson came through in a shower of dirt. “Shut it down,” Jack ordered as soon as they cleared the event horizon. On his way out of the control room, he said over his shoulder, “Daniel, you’ll have to take Dr. Rayner to your office.”

Relieved that nobody looked hurt, Daniel turned his attention once again to his old associate. “So, that’s the stargate.”

He enjoyed the stunned expression on Steven’s face more than he probably should have.  

“So the good news,” announced Daniel after spending most of the ride home relating his frustrating day with Steven Rayner, “is that we now have someone actively involved in digs on Earth who will let us know if he finds or hears of any potentially Goa’uld artifacts. Not because he agrees with keeping this a secret, mind you, but because they could be dangerous in the wrong hands and incredibly useful in ours.”

Jack slammed on his brakes because the idiot in front of him hadn’t used their blinker. “Well, he’s not completely unreasonable.”

“No,” admitted Daniel.

All the same, they were both happy that Rayner was on a plane back to Egypt. Jack was pleased that someone finally knew Daniel had been right all along. He was less pleased with Rayner’s clear unhappiness about keeping knowledge of the stargate and the Goa’uld secret.

He turned onto their street as Daniel said, “I wonder if Nick is still out there.”

Daniel was forever thinking. It was one of his defining traits. Jack suspected it was exhausting and somehow related to his caffeine intake. After a long day of revealing SGC to Rayner and then trying to figure out who’d been shooting at SG-21, Jack was happy that the most important issue he had was deciding which baseball game to watch that evening, but such was not his lover’s style.

He knew Daniel didn’t expect an answer, but he still needed to say something. “We gave him a GDO, but he is related to you, so he probably lost track of time.”

“He was never good at keeping in touch,” remarked Daniel. “And I think the Air Force made their position pretty clear when they gave me all his stuff.” Jack remembered that. Nick Ballard hadn’t had much money (which Daniel wouldn’t have cared about anyway), but his collection of old books and ancient knick-knacks had found the most appreciative home possible with his grandson. “But think of all he’s had the chance to learn.”

Of course. Daniel could never pass up an opportunity to learn about another culture. Along the lines of familial similarity, Jack idly wondered if Nick Ballard had even thought to ask about big honkin’ space guns. Probably not. Also, best not to bring that up, so he just said, “That’s your department, not mine.”

“I’d like to know what they were doing on Earth. And why they set things up like they were waiting for Indiana Jones.”

“Hey, maybe Indiana Jones is based on a true story.”

Daniel, who had a fairly low opinion of Indy, made a face but let the comment slide. “And how many other aliens were on Earth in the past? We really have no idea the extent to which aliens were involved in our affairs.”

Jack preferred not to dwell on that. “You could always ask Thor next time he’s around.”

“He doesn’t seem to like talking about it.”

As a military man, Jack could see where Thor was coming from. “Maybe he could put you in touch with an Asgard archaeologist or historian.”

“It’s worth asking.”

Jack parked and they got out of the truck. While Daniel pondered weighty questions like the history of the planet and the extent of Asgard knowledge about ancient Earth, he focused on a more immediate question. Namely, what to eat for dinner. 

Daniel was in the dairy aisle of the supermarket checking the eggs to make sure they weren’t cracked, which Jack never remembered to do, when a feminine voice asked, “Jack?”

Looking up, he saw Jack and a vaguely familiar blonde woman. Jack said, “Sara.”

Well, that explained why she looked familiar. He’d met his partner’s ex-wife once, years ago. Although if he recalled correctly, her hair was much shorter then.

“Fancy meeting you here,” said Jack in his forced casual tone of voice.

“I was in the area and we’re out of milk. How’ve you been?”

“Good. You?”

“I’m doing very well.”

“You might remember Daniel,” he said.

She nodded. “It was a memorable incident.” Then, stopping, she looked at the two of them and the grocery cart. “Is there something you’d like to tell me, Jack?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m happy. And I’m with Daniel.”

Sara was clearly stunned, but managed to speak smoothly. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

As far as Daniel knew, Jack and Sara had not parted on exceptionally bitter terms. They had been too devastated over Charlie’s death to hate each other, just as they’d been too devastated to rely on each other. Even without rancor, though, the moment was awkward.

Of course, he supposed that it would be a shock for Sara to learn that her career military ex-husband was now in a relationship with a man.

“You never told me…” she trailed off.

Jack shrugged. “Didn’t figure out I could go either way until last year.”

“Oh.” Sara gave Daniel a small smile. “Pleased to meet you again, Daniel.”

He shook her hand. “Likewise.”

“It really is good to see you this content, Jack,” she said.

“You look pretty content yourself.”

“I am. Have you retired for real yet?”

“From the Air Force, yes. From consulting, no.”

She didn’t seem surprised. “I never could see you liking retirement.”

Daniel wished he could think of a convincing excuse to leave them alone, but he failed to come up with anything that wasn’t absurdly transparent.

“I have my moments,” said Jack. “Are you still teaching?”

She nodded. “Kindergarten, now.” Stepping in for a brief hug, she went on, “I really have to get going. It was nice seeing you. Both of you.”

“Take care of yourself,” Jack told her.

“You too.”

Sara headed to the milk, and Jack mused, “You just never know what a day will bring.”

“No,” Daniel agreed. “You really don’t.”

Looking at Sara’s retreating form, Jack spoke quietly. “Sorry if that was weird for you.”

It certainly could have been worse. Sara was a good woman, he thought. “No big deal.”

“Come on. We’re out of cheese.” With that, Jack pulled them away from the past and back into the present. He did it as well outside of work as he did when Daniel was engrossed in artifacts and translations.

Jack strode into Carter’s lab – Sam’s lab, he corrected himself mentally. Transitioning to a first-name basis after nine years was proving more difficult for him that for her. It figured.

She, Hallowell, and Sergeant Smithfield were standing in front of a board covered in calculations. “So the number of planets capable of supporting small life forms is potentially… whoa,” declared Hallowell.

Smithfield shook his head. “Good luck getting to those anaerobic bacteria on toxic planets.”

Jack announced himself with, “There’s something I’m supposed to see?”

Hallowell took that as his cue to leave. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Over here,” said Car – Sam.

Jack didn’t see anything unusual. “It’s a naquadah generator.”

“Not just any naquadah generator, sir,” corrected Smithfield.

Sam proudly informed him, “We’ve improved the design so it’s capable of generating the same energy output with twenty percent less naquadah.”

It still looked like any other naquadah generator, but using less naquadah was always a good thing. “Sweet.”

Smithfield said, “I’ll be in the main lab, ma’am.” On his way out he nodded to Jack. “Sir.”

Jack stepped around to look at the other side of the generator, which also looked the same. “So, twenty percent less naquadah.”

“I’m happy with our results.”

“So am I. The Pentagon has been talking about switching the mountain over to a naquadah generator for power, with electricity as backup. Apparently our electric bill is getting too high.”

“The stargate does require a tremendous amount of power.”

Jack knew that. The penny-pinchers from the Pentagon were always whining about it. He didn’t know why they thought traveling throughout the galaxy would be cheap. “Your new job is still working out alright?”

Sam nodded. “I miss gate travel, but I’m getting to follow up on some exciting research. Honestly, I suspected it was coming sooner or later.”

“Your brain is a national resource.”

“Thank you, si...” She caught herself, but Jack was glad he wasn’t the only one falling into old patters. “If you have a few minutes, I’d like to discuss a few minor changes to my department.”

He checked his watch. “Can we do it over lunch?”

“Sure. It is meatloaf day, though.”

Jack didn’t consider himself a picky eater by any means, but the meat loaf sat in his stomach like a brick. “There’s always the vegetarian option. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

She gave him a quirky grin. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“It’s still better than Asgard food.”

Sadly, even the meatloaf bricks were better than Asgard food.

It was ten at night, and Daniel would still be at the mountain if it hadn’t been one of the days he and Jack carpooled. Instead he’d been holed up in the study with his computer, notes, and a few reference books. The actual tablets were at SGC, of course, but he had pictures. While the writing was clearly derived from ancient Egyptian, it had changed over time and he was having a hard time making progress on it.

Jack was out in the hallway putting a nail in the wall. Teal’c had found reruns of Bob Ross painting programs on late night cable and decided he needed to try this pastime. Their Jaffa friend had made a hobby out of trying out different human hobbies. His two-week origami phase was particularly memorable; paper swans had popped up all over the base. Some of his hobbies worked out much better than others. The less said about his foray into poetry writing, for instance, the better.

That afternoon Teal’c had presented Jack with a painting of a little cabin near a pond. It turned out that Teal’c wasn’t a bad artist, though the cabin scene was definitely not set in Minnesota. He’d then given Daniel a summery mountain painting before heading off to give Sam her own snowy scene. Teal’c never embraced his hobbies halfheartedly. Daniel had tracked down Senior Airman Hawkins from maintenance and asked about getting the painting hung on the concrete walls of his office. Of the maintenance staff, Daniel trusted Hawkins most around priceless artifacts. Since the hallway at home was bare, Jack had decided to hang his painting there.

A minute after the hammering stop, Jack popped his head in. “How’s it going?”

“Frustrating. This would be so much easier if I had older writing to trace the evolution of the language from Egyptian. It’s like… trying to read Old English if you didn’t know about the Norman influence.”

Jack cocked his head a little. “I’m just gonna take your word for that.”

Daniel was used to this. Jack was smart – smarter than he pretended to be by far – but his greatest talent was not languages. At home, Daniel really tried not to go off on his tangents for too long, though he didn’t always succeed. But that was alright, because sometimes Jack would give him a warm look that meant he appreciated Daniel’s passion, if not the intricacies of his argument.

“Coming to bed anytime soon? It’s not as much fun without you.”

“I don’t know, Jack.”

Jack padded off down the hallway and Daniel went back to the writing. There was a character that seemed to represent a small winged marsupial which SG-2 had found (and which had Eddie and his biologist colleagues clamoring with excitement). The overall style kept ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, but added several new characters and, moreover, the writing wasn’t organized like hieroglyphics.

Nothing made sense, and Daniel wondered with despair if this would be another language they simply didn’t have enough information to understand. It happened, but he never liked it.

He heard Jack in the doorway again a few minutes later. Jack knew better than to sneak up on him, at least most of the time. “Daniel, I tried the subtle route. Are you going to stop anytime soon, or do I need an appointment with my right hand?”

That got his attention. He looked up to see his partner wearing nothing but pajama bottoms bulging out at the crotch. Daniel hadn’t thought he was in the mood, but the telltale twitch in his groin informed him that his body had other ideas. Jack did that to him.  

So he saved his work and stood up. “Can we keep it simple tonight?”

“Simple works,” agreed Jack, pulling him in for a kiss.

They kissed for a few minutes, and Daniel allowed himself to forget about his translations. Jack’s kisses could do that to him, especially after they’d been together a couple of months and Jack learned all of his favorite tricks. When they kissed languidly, slowly building up towards passion, Daniel could forget anything else in the universe. He brought his hands up and rested them on Jack’s bare chest, feeling his partner’s strong heartbeat.

When they broke apart, Daniel rested his forehead against Jack’s. “Take me to bed, you sexy man.”

Jack chuckled and tugged him along to the bedroom. “Happy to.”

Jack stood outside Sam’s front door with Daniel and Teal’c. “You called for cheesecake tasters?” he asked when she opened the door.

“Please.” She had an eager test group follow her into the kitchen, where four different cheesecakes were sitting on the table. All of them looked tasty.

“What’s the occasion?” asked Daniel.

“It’s Eddie’s birthday Wednesday and he really likes cheesecake.”

Jack didn’t quite follow, though looking at the spread before him, he figured it was safe to guess that Hallowell had been forgiven for getting so involved in research that he accidentally stood her up. “So you’re feeding us cheesecake?”

“Perhaps we should not question this fortuitous circumstance,” suggested Teal’c. He had a point. Sometimes, it paid to be friends with perfectionists.

Sam just chuckled. It was easier to think of her as Sam when they were out of the mountain. “I can’t decide which one to make for him.”

“And of course good scientists run experiments,” concluded Jack. “Well, I’m a willing lab rat for this one.” There were certainly worse ways to spend a Sunday afternoon.

“As am I,” said Teal’c, who usually objected to the phrase ‘lab rat.’

“What kinds of cheesecake, Sam?” asked Daniel.

She pointed to each one in turn. “Pina colada, black forest cherry, classic New York style with strawberries, and apple caramel with walnuts.”

Jack was glad he’d eaten a light lunch. He also wondered about the possibility of helping Sam by taking some cheesecake home, thus relieving her of the burden of too much cheesecake.

She started in with a knife, cutting four thin pieces of black forest cherry cheesecake. “How’s the vacation planning coming along?”

“You wouldn’t believe how many companies give Great Barrier Reef tours,” he answered.

“And we’re only looking in Cairns,” added Daniel. “It’s a huge reef.”

“What a terrible problem.”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “It’s rough, but what can you do?”

Daniel was the first to get his cheesecake. “This is great!” he said.

“He’s right,” agreed Jack.

“Thanks.”

“It is not offensive,” conceded Teal’c. “For a dish with so much chocolate.”

“I knew it wouldn’t be your favorite,” said Sam, moving on to cut pieces of the pina colada cheesecake. Teal’c only liked small amounts of chocolate.

Teal’c nodded and went back to the subject of the Great Barrier Reef. “The Tau’ri have a great fascination with the seas.”

Jack pointed out, “Well, we’ve got a lot of them.”

“Indeed. It is no surprise this world is so crowded, with so much water.”

“There are land-based day trips around Cairns, too,” said Daniel.

“It should be great. I think he’s going to come back with five hundred pictures.” Jack thought any of the day trips sounded good, as long as there wasn’t too much downhill hiking. Ba’al’s sarcophagus had only taken ten or twelve years off his knees, and Jack was in no rush to wreck them sooner than he really had to.

Sam handed them pina colada cheesecake. “Sounds like you’ll have a good time. This is the one I like the least.”

Teal’c gave her a disbelieving look as he chewed. As soon as he swallowed, he said, “I strongly disagree.”

“I don’t know,” said Daniel, “the coconut is kind of chewy for a cheesecake.”

Sam nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

“Tastes fine to me.” With that, Jack dug in for another bite. “I like the pineapple.”

“Save room for the other two,” she warned. He hardly thought that would be a problem with the tiny slices. She was a cheesecake tease.

Daniel poured water for them from the pitcher Sam had out. “Don’t worry. You won’t be able to get rid of us until we’ve tried them all.”

“Can’t abandon our mission in the middle,” said Jack in agreement while Teal’c reached for a piece of apple caramel cheesecake.

Jack took a generous forkful of his piece – he couldn’t properly evaluate if he was stingy, after all – and couldn’t believe she’d been holding out on them for nine years. Nine years he could’ve been having cheesecakes that just got better and better. What a shame. He’d have to make up for it, even if doing so required extra gym time.

“I like the black forest cherry best,” Sam informed them, “but you know me and chocolate.”

They did. Sam and chocolate were not quite as bad as Daniel and coffee, but close.

“This one’s the best yet,” said Jack.

Teal’c didn’t seem to be having any trouble putting his away, but he disagreed. “It is enjoyable, but I prefer the pina colada.”

Daniel, fork in the air, said, “I’m with Jack on this one.”                                            

“Well, try this last one before you decide.” She handed them slices covered with fresh strawberries.

“Glad to.” Was he ever. Jack was already trying to work on a plan that required her to make cheesecakes more often.

Daniel was the first to render a verdict. “It’s really good, but I like the apple caramel best.”

“Me too.” Not that he minded any of them, though. “In fact, I think we should have it regularly.”

“I still find the pina colada the best,” said Teal’c.

“I think you’ve been outvoted,” Sam told him.

Teal’c didn’t look the least bit sorry. In fact, he had his own subtle look of amusement. “Perhaps if you prepare more varieties, we can reach a consensus.”

Jack had spent the morning golfing with a small group from SGC. He didn’t golf often, but enjoyed it when he did. Of course, he also enjoyed that he was still better than Teal’c. Daniel, having no interest in golf, had taken the opportunity to crank up the volume on music Jack didn’t like. So he was over adjusting the stereo while Jack brought his golf clubs in.

“Jack O’Neill. Come in,” he heard Jack say.

He saw his partner and a redheaded woman entering. “This is Alana Bucklin. She bought the house next door. Alana, Daniel Jackson.”

Daniel stood to shake her hand. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

“I’ve been trying to introduce myself, but you’re not home very often.”

“We have an… unpredictable schedule,” agreed Daniel.

“Tina Wardley mentioned a general,” said Alana, eyeing Jack’s medals.

“I’m a civilian consultant now,” corrected Jack.

“Really? What do you consult about?”

“It’s classified.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” said Jack with a shrug. “We’re used to it.”

“Oh, you’re both men of mystery?”

Daniel had never quite thought of himself that way. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“I’m a dental hygienist. The biggest secrets I deal with are people lying about flossing daily. From where I’m standing, anything classified is mysterious.”

Daniel decided he liked Alana Bucklin. He’d never been a particularly social man, but did like knowing he had good neighbors. He also appreciated that she didn’t try to pry out any details about their classified work lives. That was a real barrier to being friendly with the neighbors.

“Well,” continued Alana, “I’d introduce you to my daughter Kelly, but as usual she’s at the mall. Teenagers.”

Daniel asked, “Can I get you a drink?”

“No thanks.”

“Have a seat,” offered Jack.

“I really can’t stay or I’ll burn my bread. I just wanted to finally meet the neighbors. And apologize in advance if the cat leaves dead birds on your doorstep.”

“They’re just birds,” replied Jack. “No big deal.” Daniel only hoped they didn’t trip on a dead bird someday. It was the kind of thing that could happen easily enough when they came home exhausted around midnight.

“Glad you think so. It’s nice meeting you.” She moved towards the door, and they followed.

“You too,” replied Daniel sincerely.

Jack said, “Have fun with the bread.”

“Take care.”

When the door was shut, Jack looked at Daniel. “Men of mystery, huh?”

“It does sort of make us sound like we’re in some romance novel.” Janet had been a fan of romance novels and Daniel could almost picture that on one of the overly dramatic covers. It wasn’t a mental picture he particularly wanted.

Jack must’ve felt the same way, because he said, “Let’s not go there. I’m having a good day.”

“You beat Warren?” Colonel Warren was a good golfer, or so Daniel had been told.

“By two strokes.” Jack headed off to put away his golf clubs, humming to himself. Daniel smiled fondly. They might be men of mystery, but sometimes you’d never know it.

It was a good thing SGC had installed the handprint recognition security system, Jack decided. The Secretary of Homeland Security had just been briefed on the stargate program (why, Jack didn’t know) and insisted on a review of procedures to prevent terrorism at SGC. He also insisted Jack see to the review personally, which meant no handing it off to Lieutenant Phillips, his new aide. In the unlikely event terrorists heard about SGC, Jack wasn’t worried about them getting in. Cheyenne Mountain was one of the most secure facilities on the planet. He even tested the guards with unannounced attempts at unauthorized entry.

The knock on his door was not an unwelcome interruption. “Come in.”

Major Ashburn was in the doorway. “Do you have a few minutes, sir?”

“Sure. Have a seat.”

Ashburn closed the door and sat. “How’s the shoulder?” asked Jack. The major’s shoulder had been burned by a glancing staff blast.

“According to Dr. Brightman, healing faster than expected.”

“Good.”

Ashburn shifted in his seat. “Are you familiar with British civil partnerships, sir?”

“Not really.” Actually, not at all, but he wasn’t about to admit that.

“It gives same-sex couples the same rights as a civil marriage.”

“Okay,” said Jack. He did know that the British military let gays serve openly and had wondered once or twice about Ashburn. And for a fleeting moment he thought that it would be nice to have the rights of marriage, which came as a bit of a surprise to himself.

“I don’t know how that status transfers to the States. And after what happened last week, I’d like to know how my partner Paul would be treated in the event I was incapacitated or killed. Commander Evans said that he would do his best, but I’d like to know what you would do, sir. And in case you wish to know, out of consideration for American military policies I’ve kept my personal life private except from SG-27.”

Jack wasn’t exactly surprised, although he didn’t know precisely what the official line would be either. “Your commission is with the Royal Marines, Major. While your discretion might be advisable, it isn’t required.” Ashburn nodded, clearly waiting for Jack to address the most important part of the question. “In the event it’s necessary, I will treat Paul as your spouse. I assume that’s what you would prefer?”

“Yes sir,” said a relieved Ashburn. “Thank you.”

“For the record, just because I have to enforce policies doesn’t mean I agree with them.” Although ‘enforce’ might be too strong a word for Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. Jack would do nothing about any gay personnel as long as nobody was making out in the gate room.

“I know,” said Ashburn. “And I appreciate this, sir.”

“I look out for my people, Major.”

“Thank you. It sets my mind at ease.”

“Glad to help. Anything else I can do for you?”

Ashburn recognized a dismissal when he heard one and stood up. Then he turned, hesitant. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Go ahead.”

“If you’re not out, you might want to work on not looking wistful when civil partnerships are mentioned. Sir.”

Jack barely kept his mouth from hanging open.

“Most people wouldn’t have noticed it,” Ashburn reassured him. “But I’m used to seeing it in America.”

“That’s a…” he searched frantically for the right words, “a wise suggestion, Major. I’ll take it under advisement.”

Ashburn nodded. “Good afternoon, sir.”

With that, Jack was alone in his office. He just knew Daniel was going to find this amusing.  

Though he hated to admit it, sometimes after a really bad day Jack had nightmares, usually about being tortured by Ba’al. It had been a bad day; Lieutenant Foster of SG-19 had died from the poison he’d been injected with by a scorpion-like creature. The poor man had spent his last two days in pain until lapsing into a coma from which he never woke.

So when Daniel woke up to an otherwise empty bed and sounds in the kitchen at 3 am, he wasn’t surprised to find Jack at the table drinking warm milk and honey. That was another thing he preferred not to have be commonly known: warm milk with honey was his favorite comfort food.

Daniel got himself a glass of water. His foot was dragging a little, which it always did when he first woke up. “Hey.”

“Sorry if I woke you up.”

“It’s fine.” He sat and tried to sound casual. Jack never liked talking about his nightmares. “Bad night?”

“Yeah.” Jack winced. On a scale of one to ten, Daniel pegged the nightmare around a nine. Jack’s open vulnerability was only obvious after the worst nightmares. “Foster was you all over again.”

Even when he’d regained all of his pre-ascension memories, he remembered next to nothing about his death. Therefore Daniel hadn’t really made the connection. “Oh,” he said. “Jack, I -”

To Daniel’s surprise, Jack continued talking voluntarily for once. “Only there’s no magic reset button. And I’m a selfish bastard for being glad you’re not on SG-1 but I don’t think I could go through that again. Not now.”

Daniel stood up and then leaned down, giving Jack an awkward hug. “You’re not a selfish bastard. You’re human, Jack, just like everyone else. Nobody wants to be left behind.” That he certainly knew from multiple personal experiences. “We beat the odds and we’re here.”

“Yeah,” agreed Jack.  

Between the two of them, they probably had enough ghosts and demons to populate Hades. Sometimes it was a wonder they managed to function at all. He sat on Jack’s lap and kissed him tenderly. “Love you.”

Jack rested his head on Daniel’s shoulder. “Love you too,” he whispered into the shoulder. They sat like that for a couple of minutes, until Jack said, “Daniel? My leg’s falling asleep.”

That worked for Daniel, who was half asleep again himself. He slid off Jack’s lap. “Let’s go back to bed.”

“Okay.”

They made the short walk to the bedroom in silence, but it was a comfortable, tired silence. Unfortunately the bed had gotten a bit cold during their absence.

Normally Jack wasn’t a fan of spooning, but he settled in that way. “You know, tomorrow’s Saturday.”

“Today, actually.”

“Whatever.” Daniel just knew his partner was rolling his eyes. “My point is, we have nothing to do and nowhere to be.”

“Anything specific in mind?” he asked, though he had a pretty good idea that Jack’s idea was going to involve sex somehow or another. Which was more than fine in Daniel’s book.

“You had that interesting idea with chocolate syrup.”

“If you keep talking like this we’re never going to get any sleep.”

Jack chuckled. His demons were clearly shelved; Daniel had never understood how he could do it so quickly. “Night, Daniel.”

Chapter Text

It was a good thing he was going on vacation in a couple of days, Jack decided. If he hadn’t needed one before, he certainly did now. For one thing, he’d accidentally used the last of Daniel’s favorite jam on his own toast which he ate while Daniel was showering. He’d thought they had another jar. So the day had started with a sulky Daniel. Unfortunately, things had gone downhill from there.

SG-2 had discovered a small vein of naquadria on P4C-908, and the locals were willing to trade. While Asgard hyperdrives were going to make naquadah and naquadria reactors obsolete for interstellar travel (or so Carter told him), the list of potential uses for naquadah and naquadria was still long. However, the people on P4C-908 practiced ritual cannibalism. Not unrestrained, at least, so SG-2 came back without so much as a bite mark. Still, the people of P4C-908 (who didn’t care much for vowels, if their unpronounceable name was anything to go by) insisted on sealing a trade deal their customary way. Since that involved SGC personnel eating one of the P4C-908-ers and, worse yet, the P4C-908-ers eating someone from SGC, there was no way it was going to happen. Jack hadn’t yet ruled out locking the coordinates out of the dialing computer. On the plus side, Daniel was so interested in a culture with ritual cannibalism that he forgot all about the jam incident.

Next, SG-27 had been chased through the gate by a pack of sabertooth tigers, one of which also made it through the gate. Hallowell and the other biologists then had the gall to protest that their specimen had too many bullet holes after the guards were done in the gate room. Jack had flatly refused to allow a scientific expedition to a planet overrun with sabertooth tigers. He therefore had a group of unhappy biologists, all of whom felt the need to email him reasons why he should allow them to potentially be devoured by sabertooth tigers.

Lieutenant Fitzgerald, who was on medical leave recovering from her tonsillectomy, had come in to report discovering what looked like a necklace with Goa’uld writing for sale on eBay. Hoping to avoid raising suspicion as to why the Air Force cared about jewelry, Jack had assigned Daniel the task of winning the bid. Reimbursing him was the least of the paperwork Fitzgerald’s find created. (Later in the afternoon, Daniel learned he had won the auction, and the necklace cost a ridiculous $3,724.) Jack was also worried that the necklace would turn out to be a death trap. Anything Goa’uld had a nasty habit of doing that.

All of that came before lunch, which consisted of eating a sandwich while signing off on commendations. Right after lunch, SG-28 was overdue to check in. It turned out they were stoned out of their minds. They couldn’t even dial home, so SG-3 had to put on hazmat suits and go in after them. Nobody was certain, but the suspected culprit was pollen. Jack had instituted his own little don’t ask, don’t tell policy regarding what happened to Colonel Dinsmore’s missing pants. Teal’c had spent most of the afternoon singing the same song over and over, loudly and, at least to the human ear, badly.

It had just been one of those days where nothing went right. The Pentagon wanted the protocol for dealing with foothold situations to be updated, SG-15 had trampled sacred grass and had to serve three weeks’ community service on P5L-025, and someone’s experiment in the lab adjacent to Sam’s had blown up. Nobody was hurt beyond bruises, but there was a mess to be cleaned and accident reports to be filled out.

He was wading through his email when one caught his eye. It was from Daniel, and the subject was Request to Attend Linguistics Conference. Jack hadn’t heard anything about a linguistics conference, but that was how Daniel liked to do things. Just like when he requested that the base get a subscription to another academic database for reference, he approached it professionally first to avoid favoritism.

It was only a three-day conference in Omaha. Sending Daniel and his senior linguistic assistant was going to cost a whole lot less than the previous month’s expedition. (Sam insisted that she and the four other astrophysicists had not, repeat not, spent their five days in Vegas on the USAF’s dime gambling or seeing shows.)  The Omaha conference was on ‘Meta-Themes in Linguistics.’ Jack had only a vague idea what that meant.

He picked up the phone and dialed Daniel’s office. “Hello?”

“Hey, Daniel, I’m looking at your email. What’s so special about this conference?”

“I listed relevant seminar titles.”

“I see that. I also see that you need a PhD or two if you want to understand them.”

“Besides the obvious potential to find candidates for the new position I’m waiting for the Pentagon to approve, there’s a seminar on approaching languages with only minimal points of reference. Sound familiar?”

“Very.”

“And one on new computer programs that Peggy wants to attend.” Of course, Daniel didn’t trust computers to translate properly, so he wasn’t interested in that one. “Several deal with the influences languages have on each other…”

“Okay, I’m convinced.”

“Great. I’m in the middle of those rubbings from P4X-736.”

“Have fun.”

“Thanks,” said Daniel before hanging up.

Jack was forwarding the email to Lieutenant Phillips for flight reservations when the alarm went off. “Unscheduled offworld activation.”

He went to the control room. “It’s SG-8,” reported Walter.

“Open the iris.”

In short order SG-8 came through. He blinked, sure he must have been seeing things. “Is there something wrong with the lights in here?”

“No sir,” replied Walter. That meant SG-8 had actually come through with lime green hair, every single one of them.

Jack was really looking forward to his vacation.

Jack called Daniel a workaholic, but he was the one trying not to appear worried as their plane taxied out of LA. “You know Sam and Colonel Warren can handle this,” said Daniel.

“It’s not that,” protested Jack. “I don’t like being unreachable for so long.”

“We’re not unreachable.”

“An international phone does no good when it’s turned off.”

“Sam has our flight number and seats. If it’s an emergency, you’ll get called up to the cabin.”

The woman in the aisle seat stared for a few seconds but didn’t say anything. Daniel realized the conversation would be unusual for most people. Of course, most people weren’t going on a vacation with the director of Earth’s highly classified galactic travel organization.

“Too bad we can’t beam to Australia,” declared Jack. “I should get Carter on that. She’d probably win a Nobel Prize.”

If Sam’s work wasn’t classified, Daniel thought she’d have a Nobel Prize already. “Since we’re on an airplane and not the starship Enterprise, how about sharing the armrest?”

Jack grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers. “Better?”

“Much, thanks.”

The plane took off, and soon they were tilted back. “It’s never as much fun when you’re not in the cockpit,” said Jack.

Daniel raised his eyebrow. He really didn’t think the beginning of a fourteen hour flight was the best time to call Jack on the alternate, X-rated interpretation of his comment. But Jack smirked, getting the picture anyway and enjoying it immensely.

Of course Daniel had never been involved in any kind of piloting (and was there nothing Jack hadn’t done at some point in his career?), but he was just glad that there were no leaps out of this plane scheduled. One jump out of an airplane had been more than enough for him.

And it was still, even after all the years, weird to think that they could travel to other planets – Jack had even traveled to another galaxy – so much faster than they could travel across their own. Naturally, this would be easier for Jack. Daniel didn’t sleep well on planes. He never had and expected that he never would. Jack, on the other hand, had spent too much time in the air for it to keep him from getting a decent night’s sleep, or a decent day’s sleep, as the case may be.

“Are you going to tell me now why I needed to pack a suit?” Jack had refused to share that information, which drove Daniel to distraction in the two days since he’d learned about it.

“I guess…”

“Jack. Do you plan on getting any sleep on our overnight flight?”

His message was duly received, and his partner coughed up the information. “There’s a special roundtable discussion seminar Thursday at the University of Queensland about Aboriginal archaeology. Registration’s closed, but I pulled a couple of strings and got you in.”

That he never would’ve guessed. “How did you hear about this?”

“I walked by your computer and there was an ad on a website you were looking at.”

Daniel thought he might need to start paying more attention to ads. He gave Jack’s hand a squeeze. “Thank you, cariad. It sounds like a terrific opportunity. I’m looking forward to it.” Daniel didn’t know much about ancient Pacific cultures, though he’d been trying to read up when he had the time. Jack’s gift was thoughtful, perfect, and made Daniel fall in love with him even more.

“Thought you’d like it. Just leave me by the pool.”

“So, what kind of strings?” he asked, quite curious as to how Jack managed a connection to the academic world.

“I called the Australian liaison, who called his senator, who called the university. Favors make the world go round, you know.”

Daniel grinned. “I can live with that.”

“This is the life,” declared Jack.

He and Daniel had gone out to the Whitsunday Islands and were relaxing on the beach with a couple of Australian beers. It was warm and sunny, the water was nice, and the most arduous task they’d done all day was write out a few postcards. Jack had only planned on postcards for Cassandra, Sam, Teal’c, and his Aunt Kate, but Daniel insisted on sending Hammond one as well. Apparently in Daniel’s world, being called ‘son’ meant sending a postcard. Or something like that. Daniel never really talked about his foster care experiences, except to say they were probably better than most: four families in eight years and then emancipated at sixteen and off to college. Still, Hammond’s use of ‘son’ touched something in Daniel. So they sent him a postcard with kangaroos.

There were other people on the beach, but not so many that it was crowded. The beer was good, even if it didn’t stay cold as long as Jack would’ve preferred. All in all, it was a perfect situation to laze around and do nothing. He didn’t even need a fishing pole.

“Mmm,” agreed Daniel lazily. “We should do this more often.”

The previous day they’d gone out with a tour company and snorkeled along the Great Barrier Reef. Jack had thoroughly enjoyed seeing one of the natural wonders of the planet he spent so much time defending. (Though it was a shame there were all those fish and no fishing.) Both of them had enjoyed the day trip immensely. Daniel had rented an underwater camera and came away with a CD full of pictures.

“I don’t know how anyone around here ever gets any work done.”

Daniel shifted on his lounge chair. “They probably get hungry.”

“With all these fish around?”

It was a little weird seeing Daniel wearing (prescription) sunglasses. Jack had never realized how expressive Daniel’s eyes and eyebrows were until he couldn’t see them. “They’re protected fish, Jack.”

“Right.”

There was a small but stubborn part of Jack that warned him to enjoy this perfection while it lasted, before he screwed it up. He’d meant for his marriage to last forever, and it had taken some time for him to work past his guilt for failing Sara. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he worried that he might screw things up and fail Daniel as well.

But the night after Daniel surprised the hell out of him by kissing him, they’d talked. And talked some more, because there were an awful lot of things that came up. It hadn’t been fun, but probably was a good idea. Among the more important remarks Daniel had made was, “We both have baggage. Probably more than most people. I’ll fight for us, Jack, as long as you do too.” In that moment, still reeling from learning that his feelings were reciprocated, Jack realized that Daniel meant he might sometimes have to fight himself. And he also realized that if he was willing to fight himself to be with Daniel, then all the important questions had already been answered.

So, finishing his Australian beer, he told that small stubborn part of himself to enjoy the perfection and remember it next time he had to fight himself.

Daniel sat up and looked around. “Where’s the sunscreen?”

Apparently, Jack had put it on the other side of his own lounge chair. He grabbed the bottle and handed it to his lover.

“Thanks,” said Daniel as he squirted out sunscreen and started coating his ear.

“So you really don’t want to go to the Aboriginal cultural park?” Jack had a hard time believing that, though he personally didn’t mind skipping it.

“I told you, I refuse to participate in the commercialization of indigenous culture. I’m much more interested in Thursday’s discussion.” Jack was still pleased that Daniel had been so happy to learn about that little surprise. It had definitely been worth the work and the calling in of a favor.

There had been a section on Australian history in the guidebook and Australian Aborigines had a rough time of the last couple hundred years. Jack thought that, all things considered, commercialization was probably better than what had been going on before. But Daniel’s idealism was one of the things Jack loved about him. “So, rain forest trip Friday then?”

Not that he minded beach days, but he thought it might be nice to go on another excursion. And they still needed to hit up a souvenir shop, since he’d promised Cassie something from Australia.

“I thought you didn’t like rainforests.”

Offworld, he didn’t like them at all, but he didn’t have to worry about Jaffa hiding in the Australian rainforest. “From a tactical standpoint, they’re a nightmare. From a vacation standpoint, I don’t have any problem with them.”

“Okay,” said Daniel. “I’ll call when we get back to the hotel.”

Jack closed his eyes and went back to the pleasurable business of doing nothing and not even thinking about anything in particular. “No rush there.”

They’d have to take vacations more often.

Daniel wondered how it was Jack seemed not to suffer much from jet lag. It was only 9 pm and usually he wouldn’t be close to tired, but he was falling asleep in front of the television. Jack, on the other hand, had settled back into their regular time zone seemingly without effort.

This consideration of the inequities of the universe was interrupted by a rather frantic knocking on the door. Being more awake, Jack got up to see who was there.

“I’m Kelly Bucklin. The guy my mom had over drank too much wine, and… he’s scaring us.” Daniel leapt up at that. Jack went to the kitchen and grabbed one of his guns. (He had three stashed around the house. That had surprised Daniel, after Charlie, but then again maybe Jack thought he had nothing left to lose.)

“Mom said you might be able to help,” continued Kelly. The poor girl was shaking.

“Oh yes,” said Jack. “Stay here. Did you call the police?”

“No. Mom told me to get out of the house.”

“Alright. Lock the door behind us and wait for us to come back.”

She nodded, and Daniel felt bad about leaving her alone. However, he felt his place was to back Jack up. Hopefully it wouldn’t come down to using the gun tucked in Jack’s waistband.

The Bucklins' front door was wide open, and the troublemaker was loud. “C’mere, you,” he slurred.

“No,” insisted Alana.

“Damn you, woman!”

Jack strode in and asked, “There a problem here?”

Alana nodded, but the clearly drunk blonde man glared at them. “No, and I think you should mind your own friggin’ business.”

“I consider it my business when my neighbors are getting harassed,” said Jack. “Now, we can do this the easy way – that’s you leaving and never coming back – or we can do this the hard way.”

The drunk advanced towards Jack. “Oh yeah, old man? You think you’re scaring me?”

Daniel almost snorted at the absurdity. The drunk had no idea who he was dealing with. Never mind that Jack commanded Earth’s most vital military base, had an odd sort of friendship with the Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet, and decorated his house with his Air Force medals. He was combat-experienced, Special Ops trained, and a crack shot with the gun he’d yet to reveal. There was a reason that the people of at least three planets called him Godslayer.

“I’m not afraid of you. You’re probably a couple of queers anyway.”

Apparently unnoticed by the drunk – but not Alana – Daniel had been easing his way closer during this conversation. Compared to what they’d dealt with offworld, this was nothing. And they were used to teamwork.

Jack leveled his Dangerous Special Ops Colonel glare at the drunk. “Leave. Now.”

“I’ll leave when I damn well please.”

“Call the police,” Jack told Alana. She was level-headed enough to move towards the phone and not question Jack.

“Don’t listen to him!” roared the drunk. He ran over to Alana and pulled his arm back, fist balled up, ready to punch her.

Daniel caught the arm before he could touch Alana. “Bad move.”

The drunk wasn’t out of bravado yet, even as Jack crossed the room and grabbed his other arm. “Go ahead. Call the police. You’ll probably get my brother anyway.”

“What’s your brother’s name?” asked Jack.

“Jerry Kinnel.”

“Thanks. Alana, make sure you speak to another officer.”

While Alana called the police, they set about keeping the drunk under control. After they wrestled him to the floor, Jack grabbed ties from the curtains and used them to tie the drunk’s hands behind his back. “If you have any brain cells, you won’t try anything.”

“Give me one good reason.”

Jack pulled his gun out and held it in front of the drunk’s face. “The bullet in the chamber.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I don’t think you’ve read up on lawful use of a registered firearm.”

“Doesn’t matter. Jerry’ll get me off,” declared the drunk.

Daniel allowed himself a little smirk. “Oh, I don’t think so. Jack, when was the last time you spoke with the President?”

“Let me think. A couple of weeks ago. Talked with the Secretary of Defense today, though.”

The drunk faltered. “As if they’d care about this whore,” he said lamely.

“Of course, you aren’t worth bothering them with.” Jack pretended to think for a minute. “I can just call the police commissioner. He’ll want to look into this talk of corruption, I’m sure. Besides, people like doing me favors.”

“Is Kelly alright?” asked Alana, who was off the phone after assuring the operator that she was safe now.

“Safe and sound in our house,” said Jack.

Daniel added, “With the door locked.”

They could hear sirens approaching. Alana looked about ready to collapse. Since Jack had the drunk under control, Daniel led her over to the couch. “It’s okay. You’re both fine. Do you want me to get her?”

“Please,” she whispered. “I need to give her a hug.”

As he went back to their house, jet lag completely forgotten, Daniel was profoundly grateful it hadn’t been one of the days they’d stayed at SGC really late. Sometimes, coming to the rescue didn’t involve gate travel or aliens.

The next evening Daniel opened the door to find Alana and Kelly. “Hi,” said Alana.

Jack came over after stashing his reading glasses out of sight. He hoped Alana and Kelly were doing alright. For most people, the events of the previous night would be unusually frightening.

“Come in,” said Daniel. “How are you?”

Alana shuddered a little. “Seriously considering never dating again. He was so nice the first two… but we’re fine, thanks to you guys.”

“We made you a pie.” Kelly held out the dessert. “It’s peach-blueberry.”

Jack leaned in and got a tempting whiff of freshly baked pie. “Not necessary, but it looks great.”

“It’s the least we could do,” said Alana, handing him the dessert.

“Well, I never refuse pie. Thanks.” If they didn’t have Chinese on its way, he would’ve been carving into the pie right then. As it was, however, Jack was looking forward to his beef and broccoli.

“Thank you,” echoed Daniel.

“Thank you. I fright to think of what could’ve happened.”

“Mom told me what you did. Do you really talk to the President?” asked Kelly excitedly.

“Kelly!” admonished Alana. “They can’t talk about their work, remember?”

“Oh. Right.”

“We weren’t exaggerating,” said Daniel.

“Wow.”

“And you don’t have to worry about him getting away with it.” Jack had taken care of that with a quick call to the police commissioner. Of course the commissioner had no idea what went on under the mountain, but town officials knew the Air Force considered Cheyenne Mountain extremely important and generally liked keeping the Air Force happy. So a call to mention the previous night’s mention of likely corruption had the police commissioner promising to personally look into the issue. Of course, Jack had just increased the odds that he’d have to attend some kind of function, or give a speech which would be worse. The Air Force also liked to keep town officials happy.

Kelly was busying examining his medals, but Alana was clearly relieved. “That’s good news. You have no idea how glad I was that you were home.”

“Glad to help,” said Daniel.

The delivery car pulled up, and Alana said, “We won’t interrupt your dinner.”

Their meals were interrupted more often than not, but it had been another long day of catching up on the paperwork that had accumulated over the week they were in Australia and he was hungry, so Jack wasn’t about to argue the point too strongly. 

“Thanks for the pie.”

“Thanks for the citizens arrest. It’s good to know there are still neighbors who care.”

Kelly added, “Real live heroes.”

“Take care,” said Daniel while reaching in his pocket to pay for dinner.

While Daniel forked over the cash, Jack took the Chinese into the kitchen and grabbed plates. His lunch had been interrupted by a phone call from the Pentagon and he was in no mood to wait any longer before eating.

“I should learn Chinese,” mused Daniel.

“Don’t you have someone who speaks Chinese?” There were four other linguists and that didn’t count members of SG teams. Someone had to speak Chinese.

“Amanda Wilson.”

Jack tapped his lover’s head. “So let the others worry about Chinese and save your genius for the really hard languages.”

Daniel laughed and kissed him over the container of beef and broccoli. Life was good.  

The answering machine was blinking when they got home. Daniel pressed play and an unfamiliar voice said, “Jack dear, how’s my favorite nephew? Oh, drat, probably still at work. I always forget about the time difference. Call me when you get a chance. Bye!”

Daniel presumed that was Jack’s Aunt Kate. “Favorite nephew?” he asked.

“I’m her only nephew,” said Jack. Then he glanced at the calendar and seemed to realize something. “Of course.”

“What?”

Jack tapped the calendar. “August 29. Anniversary of my dad’s accident.”

Daniel nodded. He knew Jack’s father had died in a car crash when Jack was a captain. So many more years than he’d had with his own father, but not long enough. There was never enough time with people you loved. It hadn’t been enough for Sam when her father died, for him and Sha’re, for Rosnik’s family, or Jack when his mother died shortly before Daniel ascended. Privately Daniel was terrified of losing Jack, but he pushed the thought aside, in the depths of his brain where it was easier to ignore, and gave his partner’s shoulder a squeeze. “Your dad’s sister?” he asked.

“Yep. The baby of the family, as Dad always liked to remind her.”

It suddenly occurred to Daniel that he didn’t know much about Jack’s family. “Any other relatives out there, cariad?”

“Just my cousins. Dad and Kate’s older brother died at Iwo Jima. Mom had one brother, and he died in Korea. Uncle Edgar – Kate’s husband – died in the early 90s.”

Clearly the 40s and 50s hadn’t been good to Jack’s family. Daniel wondered how Jack’s parents had felt about their only child joining the Air Force with that kind of history, but he knew better than to ask. 

Jack looked at the clock, which was a couple of minutes past 6. “Not too late in New Hampshire.”

“I’ll work on dinner.” There was a box of Hamburger Helper hanging around, he was pretty sure.

“Thanks.”

While Jack called his aunt, Daniel dug around for the large frying pan and set about making the Hamburger Helper. He hadn’t expected Jack to make his call in the kitchen, but since his partner was sitting at the kitchen table that was apparently the plan.

“Hi, Aunt Kate… good, you?”

Daniel sniffed the package of hamburger meat, since the use by date was that day. It didn’t smell rancid, so he dumped it into the frying pan.

“I know. Too bad nobody’s figured out a way to avoid it… no, the Air Force doesn’t have a secret fountain of youth.”

Technically, getting older was avoidable. The megalomaniacal side effects were the problem.

“It was great… no, I wasn’t worried about getting left behind and eaten by sharks. Still enjoying your cable?”

That had to be a reference to snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef. They hadn’t even seen any sharks. Some people had been disappointed. Daniel wasn’t especially.

“Yeah, we went on a rainforest tour.”

Daniel found the pepper and added some to the hamburger.

“No, I haven’t… yes, there are plenty of women in Colorado.” Daniel was moving the ice cream to get to the frozen peas when Jack asked, “Are you sitting down? Okay. I went with my boyfriend.”

Not expecting that, Daniel nearly closed the freezer door on his left hand. Jack gave him a weak smile.

“No, Aunt Kate. Not joking.”

It was a good thing the hamburger was starting to smell good, or Daniel might’ve forgotten it until it caught on fire. He’d done that before, years ago, which resulted in a no reading while cooking policy.

“Yes. Very happy… no, I’m a civilian consultant now… uh-huh… okay.”

It wasn’t really his business, but Daniel wished he could hear Jack’s aunt.

“Right. Take care.” With that, Jack hung up.

“Didn’t see that coming,” said Daniel, breaking the silence.

“She asked who I went to Australia with. I get tired of lying, Daniel. Even when it’s my idea.”

“And?”

Jack shrugged. “And I’m still her favorite nephew, but she needs to process this.”

As far as coming out experiences went, it wasn’t terrible. Daniel had been sent packing from his third foster home when he was fifteen and his foster father found him kissing a boy. That, more than anything, had made him decided that he was going to work for emancipation as soon as he turned sixteen. He had concluded that he was tired of other people having so much control over his life.

“You alright?” he asked Jack, who was heading to the fridge.

“Sure. Want a beer?”

“Okay.”

“She adjusted when my cousin Lisa got pregnant at seventeen and refused to marry the father. She’ll adjust to this too.”

He nodded mutely and realized the hamburger was done. Jack watched him put the pasta in before dumping some peas into a bowl. “You planning to drink that beer?”

Daniel did take a drink, but not before rolling his eyes in Jack’s general direction. “If you need -”

“I know.”

That settled, he read the Hamburger Helper instructions for the cooking time. Of course Jack, who loved being a tease, took the opportunity to tell him, “Let’s fuel up. I’ve got some ideas on how we can work off our dinner. Of course, the clothes will have to go…”

It was just a matter of time before he learned how Jack planned to turn dinner into a seductive tease session. Daniel wondered if he could shave a couple of minutes off the cooking time. In the meantime, he set his beer on the counter and pulled Jack in for a kiss. He really loved his life.

It was five days before Aunt Kate called back. She spent ten minutes talking about her book club, but finally asked, “Jack, this boyfriend of yours?”

“Daniel,” he supplied.

“Is it a happily-ever-after kind of thing?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Good. That’s good. I got to thinking. I’m too old to waste time, dear. You’re overdue to come visit, and I want you to bring him.”

“Really?” asked Jack, who hadn’t expected that at all.

“I know you’re very busy doing top secret things out there, but surely you can spare a long weekend for your old aunt?”

He smiled when he said, “How does the beginning of next month sound?”

“My schedule is wide open.”

“I’ll have to get back to you on the exact dates.”

“Of course. Busy Air Force general and all.”

“Civilian consultant now, remember?”

“Oh, yes. Tell your Daniel I’m looking forward to meeting him. If he makes you happy, Jack, that’s really all that matters. Like I said, I’m too old to worry that he’s a he.”

Jack really liked the sound of ‘your Daniel,’ and he was pleased that Aunt Kate was taking his coming out so well. She was an adaptable woman, which is why he’d felt she could handle it.

Daniel came out, blinking sleepily, and headed for the coffee maker. For him on a Sunday, this was getting up fairly early. When he saw Jack on the phone, he gave a nod good morning.

“I will.”

“Oh, Cheryl’s here to take me to the store. My car’s in the shop. I’ve got to run, dear.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

“Do. Bye now.”

Once he hung up, Jack told Daniel, “Aunt Kate wants us to go visit for a long weekend. And I’m supposed to tell you she’s looking forward to meeting you.”    

Daniel stopped looking at the coffeemaker like it held the secrets of the Ancients and glanced his way. “That’s good.”

Jack knew better than to expect more from Daniel before coffee. “I’m going to start on the railing.” Parts of the deck railing needed to be replaced after getting a bit burnt. Teal’c was never going to be allowed to grill again. Burning steak was bad enough, but nearly burning down the house was too much. Jack still wasn’t quite sure how his friend had managed it.

He didn’t even make it out of the kitchen before his cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID; it was SGC. “O’Neill.”

“Sir, we’ve got the Tok’ra here,” said Colonel Fisk without preamble. Jack wasn’t happy. The Tok’ra, he’d decided, were more trouble than they were worth. Except Jacob Carter, but he was gone. “They want us to provide them with two new hosts.”

“No way in hell.” After his experience with Kanan, he thought the Tok’ra had some nerve to even ask.

“They insist on speaking with you, sir.”

“Fine, but the answer isn’t going to change.” The Tok’ra had one big point in their favor, initially, which was that the snakes could heal people. That went out the window once Jack learned from personal, painful experience that the Tok’ra had no problems taking nicely healed hosts deep into Goa’uld territory where they could be tortured and killed over and over. Personally, he had concluded that the Tok’ra weren’t quite as unlike the Goa’uld as they liked to think.

“I’ll put them in the VIP suite.”

“Keep an eye on them, Colonel. I’m on my way.”

“Yes sir.”

Daniel was already pouring his coffee in a travel mug. “What happened?”

“The Tok’ra want hosts and apparently won’t take no for an answer until they see me.”

“I’ll get dressed.”

“You don’t have -”

“I’m coming,” announced Daniel.

Jack preferred having Daniel come, and he knew Daniel knew it, so he didn’t argue. Instead he grabbed a granola bar from the cupboard and set it next to his lover’s coffee. He liked that whatever came up, they faced it together. What they shared was definitely, in the words of Aunt Kate, a happily-ever-after thing