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For the third time that hour, Janet firmly but kindly pushed the colonel out of her way. “Sir, respectfully, you’re getting in the way of my nurses doing their jobs.”
The colonel—bloody, bruised but in one piece—scowled. “How can I be in the way, doc? All I’m doing is standing here, off to the side, minding my own business. I haven’t made a peep the entire time.”
“You’re hovering,” she snapped. All afternoon, the colonel had been pacing, peering, wandering the wing. He fiddled with the IV bags, checked the charts, got tangled up in the EKG leads. It was driving her, and the staff, crazy.
“I’m not hovering. I’m here to check on the health and well being of one of my team members, which, you may have noticed, is part of my job.”
“Sir, like I said before, we’ve got him under heavy sedation. He won’t even be awake for another few hours. Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”
An annoyed, borderline hostile expression flashed across his face. It was as if Janet had asked him to walk to the moon. “You trying to get rid of me, doc?”
“Yes!”
“Too bad!”
“Sir—” she took a deep breath, ready to have him hauled out of her infirmary, but deflated at the pinched, worried expression behind his eyes. The colonel was a hard man to ruffle, but he was clearly shaken. “Sir, Daniel is going to be fine.”
“Really? He almost got blown to bits by a staff weapon. You weren’t there but a lot of parts that should have been inside his body were outside his body.” His eyes skipped over her face and settled on Daniel, wan and pale, lying in bed. Crisp white sheets covered the damage, but it was like the colonel could see through the blankets to the giant hole in his side.
Janet didn’t know the details, but SG-1 had gated back early this morning after a mission with the Tok’ra had gone “unbelievably sideways, General.” Sprinting into the gate room, she’d seen the colonel stagger down the ramp, Daniel’s head lolling against his shoulder. He had a tight hand pressed over the wound on Daniel’s left side. Blood ran through his fingers like water out of a tap.
“You got him here in time,” she said with a gentle hand on his arm. “We patched up the worst of the damage and what we couldn’t fix, well, we had some help.” It had taken two hours and a Tok’ra healing device to stitch Daniel’s liver and kidney back together. During that time the colonel had debriefed the general and allowed a cursory medical examination but not much else. He kept pacing along the edge of Daniel’s bed, like if he took his eyes off of him, the worst would come to pass.
“Colonel—” she was tempted to try again, but the hard set of his jaw changed her mind. Waving to a nurse, she had a chair brought over and placed unobtrusively by the headboard. After a moment, she nudged the colonel to sit. This time, he didn’t push her away and slumped into the seat.
“What happened?” she asked, taking the opportunity to roll up his sleeve. If he wouldn’t eat, at least she could put some fluids into him.
“An ambush. We were being set up the entire time. I should have figured it out from the start. We got through the gate, trekked to the site of the base, and it all started.” He rubbed a hand across his face and his shoulders dropped with fatigue. With minimal fuss, he allowed an IV into his arm. When she was through, he looked up at Janet and held her eyes. “I usually keep Daniel on my flank. He ran out ahead with Carter this time.”
Janet didn’t bother to say that it wasn’t the colonel’s fault or that the Tok’ra should have provided better intelligence, or that Daniel had become surprisingly skilled in the field. If the colonel was good at anything, it was self-recrimination.
“He’ll be back on duty in no time, Colonel,” she tried, but the weariness across his face persisted.
“Yeah,” the colonel sighed. “I’m sure he’ll bounce right back.”
Janet left him in the chair and made her rounds, making sure the nurses and airmen on duty gave the colonel a wide berth. An alert from the gate room took her down to surgery for a couple of hours and she was surprised to find Daniel blinking awake when she got back. She grabbed her stethoscope to check his vitals, but stopped short in the doorway.
“Jack?” Daniel mumbled, eyes half-lidded.
“Yeah, I’m here.” The colonel leaned in, placed a hand across Daniel’s chest.
“What happened?”
“You got shot, Daniel.”
Whether he heard the colonel or not, Janet couldn’t tell. He was drifting in and out, the pull of the sedative likely still strong.
“Jack?”
The colonel responded by rubbing lightly along Daniel’s chest, a reassurance that he was still there. Daniel’s eyes stayed shut and Janet hung up her stethoscope, waiting.
“You ok?” Daniel mumbled.
“I’m fine.”
“Sam? Teal’c?”
“Sam bruised a few ribs but she’s ok. Teal’c’s fine.”
“Jack?”
The colonel waited, and Janet watched, her heart constricting at the look on his face.
“I’m tired.”
He exhaled a short laugh. “Yeah, you gotta go back to sleep, Daniel.”
With his permission, Daniel sank back under and the colonel exhaled. Quietly, she crossed the room and made her rounds, her focus shifting to each case that was in front of her. A long time later, Daniel’s monitor beeped and she looked up. When she glanced across the room, she caught the colonel leaning over Daniel’s bed, brushing a hand through his hair.
***
Sam had been drifting in and out of a light doze when the rustle of a sleeping bag woke her. She tensed, alert for danger, and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. PFY-6634 had two orbiting moons but they were both waning and the only light around their sparse campsite came from the fire. From her sleeping bag, she watched as Daniel slid out of his bed roll and made his way towards the colonel.
“Hey.”
He sat gingerly on a stump next to the colonel, who tensed at his presence. “You should be getting rack time, Daniel.”
He shrugged. “Can’t really sleep.”
“Then don’t. Just lying down with your eyes closed is enough.”
That was an old military tactic. It had been drilled into her from an early age too, way before she joined the Air Force. “Your body needs rest, Sam,” her father had said. “I don’t care if you’re sleeping, but when I get up there you better be lying down with your eyes shut, young lady.” It had worked on her, but Daniel didn’t bite.
“I could just lie there, but I thought you might like some company.”
She heard the colonel let out a long, frustrated sigh. He’d been doing that a lot this mission.
“What I’d like is for you to get some sleep,” he said. “We’ve got a long hike tomorrow, you should rest.”
They were in the middle of a two day trek to check out a valley that supposedly had untapped naquadah resources. It had been an exciting discovery, to find such a large deposit on a planet not already scouted by the Goa'uld, but the colonel had grumbled more than usual since they’d arrived.
“Jack, I’m fine.”
“Are you? Three weeks ago you had a giant hole blown out of your left side. You hide it well, but you’re still favoring your right.” He threw some kindling into the fire and the blaze jumped with new heat, lighting up both their faces. They stared silently into the flames for so long that Sam began to drift again, relaxing into the warmth of her sleeping bag.
“Jack.”
Even though she couldn’t see him, she felt the colonel’s back tighten at Daniel’s tone. It was his way of getting the colonel’s attention, the one that implied he was digging in for an uncomfortable line of questioning.
“Don’t start, Daniel.”
“You know, you’ve been kind of a jerk all day. I mean, you’re always kind of a jerk, but today, today you out did yourself.”
Sam winced, her stomach crawling up into her chest. Only Daniel could talk to the colonel like this. While she usually appreciated his willingness to speak this mind, it was late and nothing good could come from a shouting match. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes, expecting to see the colonel’s face twisted in anger, but he wasn’t even looking at Daniel. With his knife, he sliced at the kindling in his hand, long shavings dropping onto the ground.
“You always yell at me,” Daniel continued, “but Teal’c and Sam got caught in the crossfire today.”
Before they’d left the mountain the colonel had protested loudly over Daniel being cleared for duty too soon. As they walked up the ramp, he’d antagonized Teal’c over not cleaning his staff weapon. By the time they were a few hundred feet into their trek, he’d barked at Sam for taking too long to adjust her gear.
“They’re soldiers, Daniel. They can take it.”
“Jack,” he twisted to face the colonel, the blue green fire reflecting off his glasses. “If something’s wrong, I wish you would just tell me.”
The steady movement of his knife stilled and she mentally willed Daniel to not push him any further. They’d talked about this before, over and over again. The colonel was a private man, she’d told him. He didn’t share. He wasn’t the feelings type.
“It’s got nothing to do with you Daniel, just leave it alone.”
“I didn’t say it had to do with me.”
“What do you want me to say, Daniel? I told you, I’m fine. I’m just having a bad day.”
Daniel peered at him, his face as open and unguarded as it always was. “No, I know when you’re having a bad day. That’s not it.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Because I know you.”
The colonel put down his knife and threw the rest of the shavings into the fire. Again, the flame erupted upward, blue with heat.
“I mean it, Jack. Your bad days are routine. Maybe you yell a little more than usual, but you don’t lash out, you’re not quiet. I don’t think you’ve said more than two words to any of us all day.”
“Not everyone lives to share their feelings all the time,” the colonel hissed. “A bad day is a bad day. The reason doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter,” Daniel insisted. He inched closer, turning fully towards the colonel so Sam only saw the side of his face. “You can’t just keep everything to yourself, Jack. I’m just…I’m trying to help.”
For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Sam could have rolled over or tucked her head under the lip of the bag but she kept her eyes on the colonel. He stared into the fire and the hardness around his eyes and mouth dropped for the first time all day. He caught Daniel’s eye and something undefinable and intangible passed between them, a wordless communication that Sam wasn’t privy to.
“What’s wrong, Jack?”
“It’s opening day,” the colonel sighed. “Back on Earth, I mean. Today was opening day.” He paused and brushed dirt off his hands. “I always took Charlie to the Rockies game. He took the day off from school, I always made sure I was home from work. It was a little tradition.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry, Jack.”
He shrugged. “It’s funny, I can handle the birthdays and Father’s Day and Christmas and the rest, but I always forget about opening day. That one always catches me by surprise.”
“It must be a special memory,” Daniel said softly.
The colonel nodded, staring at his hands. “I don’t even think Charlie liked baseball as much as he just liked eating junk food and getting a day off of school. Sill, every year, the day pops up and I—” he paused, clearing his throat.
Daniel’s hand curled around the colonel’s shoulder and, out of respect, Sam shut her eyes. She didn’t dare look. For so long, she assumed the colonel didn’t lean on anyone. She’d cast him in the same mold as her father and the other SFs she knew. The strong, silent types who curdled at the mere mention of feelings. Maybe, she realized now, he was just that way in front of her. Maybe rank always got in the way.
“Jack, it’s ok.”
The soft familiarity with which Daniel said his name caught in her throat. He was always the colonel to her and no matter how much she wanted, she wasn’t sure he’d ever be Jack. She kept her eyes closed and eventually, long after she’d drifted off, Daniel made his way back to bed.
***
From his office, George heard the whir of the gate coming to life. Every few minutes someone was coming and going, but thankfully, today, everyone was coming and going in one piece. Despite heavy activity, the day had been smooth enough that George thought about leaving the mountain at a decent hour and meeting his granddaughters for dinner. Since Mary Anne had died there was always an open invitation at his daughter’s table, and he decided today would be a day to take her up on it.
It was just inching past five and George had one hand on his jacket, ready to leave, when Lt. Harriman announced an unscheduled gate activation. It was SG-1’s signature and suddenly the easy evening George had imagined began to vanish. An unscheduled gate activation was never a good sign but doubly so when it was Jack’s team. He made his way into the control room just as the team filled through the portal, all of them walking under their own power. George took that as a win, right up until he saw the look on Jack's face. Darker than black thunder, he whirled on Dr. Jackson.
“What the hell were you thinking, Daniel? That was asinine, impulsive behavior. You’re lucky I don’t drag you to the brig right now!” He jammed a finger in Dr. Jackson’s face, spittle flying out of his mouth.
“Me? I was being impulsive?” Dr. Jackson threw down his hat. “Are you even listening to yourself? Jack, what exactly do you think happened back there?”
“I know what happened. You ignored about 10 different direct orders.”
“Orders? Are you kidding me? You’re going to pull rank on me now?”
Behind them, Major Carter and Teal’c looked like they'd rather be anywhere else. The colonel and Dr. Jackson, though, seemed oblivious to anyone else in the room. They kept arguing, their raised voices turning into a full on shouting match as George jogged down into the gate room. “Colonel! Dr. Jackson! In my office, now.”
He strode back up stairs, both of them a few steps behind as they paused to shed their gear and weapons. Before the door to his office was even shut, Jack started up again.
“Daniel, so help me god, if you ever, ever do anything like that again, I will kick you off SG-1 so fast—”
“That’s not really your call is it, Jack? Last time I checked you don’t make the team assignments do you?”
“Like hell it’s not my call. I mean it, Daniel, one more reckless—”
“Reckless?” Dr. Jackson sputtered, practically hopping in frustration. “ I was the one being reckless? You were the one who—”
“I have training, Daniel. Like, twenty years of training! If anyone is going to risk their life—”
“Oh my god, this again. It’s always the same—”
“Gentlemen!” When he wanted to, George could quiet a room down fast. They both turned to look at him. “Can someone tell me, calmly, what is going on here?”
In unison, they both opened their mouths. George held up his hand. “Colonel, you first.”
“We got into a skirmish with the local population, sir. Turns out the natives—” he held up his hand as Dr. Jackson prepared to correct him. “Sorry, the ‘indigenous population’ weren’t happy to see us and they have some pretty fancy weaponry. They pinned us down at our camp about a day after we’d arrived. The only way out of it was to let them take one of us hostage while the others made a break for it.”
Dr. Jackson jumped in. “In his infinite wisdom, Jack volunteered.”
“I negotiated,” Jack snapped. “Figured they could take me while the rest of the team went for backup, but Daniel, Daniel always seems to have other ideas.”
“Jesus Christ, Jack. They didn’t want you as a hostage, they wanted a sacrifice. General, this is a tribe that believes the land around the gate is sacred. Any intruders that wander into that sacred ground should be sacrificed to their gods. They weren’t interested in keeping a prisoner alive. They have a very complicated, very painful ritual that involves stringing a person up in a tree and draining all their blood.”
George looked Jack up and down, noticing for the first time the rope burn around his neck.
“We couldn’t just leave him, General,” Dr. Jackson continued. “If Jack had paid attention in the briefing he’d have known that this tribe acts fast. There was no time to run back here and plan a rescue. I made a choice. Frankly, it’s a good thing I did because—”
“Because nothing! You know the rules. Orders are orders. If I say fall back to the gate, I mean it!”
“Colonel!”
“They had him strung up in a tree,” Dr. Jackson said. “Hands and feet, bound. Rope around his neck. His mouth sealed shut. He was barely breathing.” Dr. Jackson tried to keep his voice even but George caught the waver in his tone. It was slight, just barely noticeable but George recognized it as the same delicate tremble he’d heard in Mary Anne’s voice so many years ago, when she tried to hide her fear, her worry over his safety. The familiarly of the memory squeezed his ribcage.
Dr. Jackson cleared his throat, and kept going. “Hundreds of years ago, before the Goa'uld, the tribe on PCX-7743 used knives and blades for their ritual. It seems they’ve modernized. They had sharp, laser-like pulse guns. In a few minutes, they were going to turn them all on Jack.” He glanced at Jack and just as quickly looked away. “There wasn’t any time and we couldn’t just open fire. There were too many of them. I had to do something.”
“What you did was unacceptable, Daniel.” Jack’s voice was quiet, deadly.
“I’d do it again, Jack.”
George waited, letting whatever was unsaid pass between them, the echo of his wife’s voice still ringing in his ears. Dr. Jackson didn’t have to say it, but George had guessed. He’d likely run out into enemy fire, either as a distraction or a way to shield Jack, risking his own life. As a commander, he could see why that was grounds for a court martial. As a friend, he was glad Dr. Jackson had done it.
“You never, never , take a risk like that again, got it?”
Dr. Jackson rolled his eyes. “Jack—”
“That gaping hole in your side is still see-through, Daniel. What, you decided you wanted a few more scars? Maybe you missed spending weeks in the infirmary, getting blood transfusions and skin grafts?”
“That has nothing to do with this.”
“You’re careless!” Jack barked so loudly that even George jumped. Behind Jack’s fury George could see the constant murmur of concern that Dr. Jackson seemed to inspire. Jack worried about all his people, but he was more careful with Dr. Jackson, he always had been.
“I’m careless?” Dr. Jackson raised himself up to his full height. For an anthropologist, he was built like a Marine. “Jack, remind me again who launched himself into a black hole? Or, who got himself impaled by an alien device, right here in the gate room? Or volunteered to sink a Russian submarine?” He was sputtering with rage. “You’re the one that’s always running into open fire, without even thinking about the consequences. God, Jack, you don’t think about what it’s going to mean for you, for the team, for—” he cut himself off but his hands and his voice had started to shake.
Maybe it was because he’d been thinking about his wife more than usual today, but in their shouting, George could hear the echoes of the worst fight he’d ever had with Mary Anne. He was one of the first to hitch up for Vietnam and when he’d told her, she’d let that fiery temper of hers loose on him. Instead of wishing him luck and saying how proud she was, Mary Anne had called him careless, reckless, and accused him of thinking only of himself. It took him far too long to realize her anger came from her heartbreak, that the thought of losing him made her break apart. He swallowed against the lump in his throat, thinking, in gratitude, of the life they’d had. How lucky, how happy they’d been.
“I wasn’t careless,” Dr. Jackson finished. “I knew what I was doing. I was taking a risk, but it was worth it. It was worth it to me, Jack.”
He and Jack, they were military; conditioned to think of death as an inevitability, not as something to shy away from. They were prepared to risk their lives for country, for duty, for honor. Most of the time, that meant not thinking about the heartache they would leave in their wake. Maybe any other day, he would have only seen Jack’s side of the equation and the deep concern he always had for Dr. Jackson. Today, Mary Anne came back to him, so clear that he might as well have seen her just that morning. He saw her steady gaze in Dr. Jackson’s eyes, the determination not to let the fear, the hurt seep through.
“Are you hurt, Colonel?” George asked, coming back to the room.
Jack tore his eyes away from Dr. Jackson’s. “I’m fine, General. Some bruising, a few cuts, but I’ll live.”
Dr. Jackson opened his mouth to disagree, but decided one battle was enough for the day. He waited for George to dismiss him and stormed out of the room, taking deliberate care not to look back.
“It’s only dumb luck that saved him, General,” Jack said, watching him go. “He managed to cut me down before getting shot and then Sam found a way to jam their weapons by using the MALP’s radio frequency. We hightailed it out of there after that.”
George just nodded, wondering if Jack knew that dumb luck ran in both directions and that his people, whether he liked it or not, worried just as much about him.
“Jack.” He turned to leave but George called him back into the room. “It must have shaken Dr. Jackson up to see you like that, knowing your life was on the line.”
“If you’re suggesting he did the right thing…”
“No, I’m not suggesting that. What I am saying is,” he had to pause, could feel Mary Anne’s cool fingers at the base of his neck. “I’m saying you have to be careful. Your team depends on you, the SGC depends on you, and Dr. Jackson…” he trailed off for a long moment thinking about the hell he’d put his wife through. “Dr. Jackson would have a hard time without you.”
The hard, stoic look Jack was so good at hardly left his face, but he nodded, just barely, not yet ready to admit something that they had both known for a long time. He swung open the door, but George called him again. “He’s lost a lot, Jack. I don’t have to tell you what that kind of loss does to a man.”
He left, footsteps thundering down the metal staircase. After a few minutes, George gathered up his files and glanced at his watch, pleased to see he could still make dinner. On his way out, he swung by the infirmary. Glancing inside, he saw Jack perched on a bed and Dr. Jackson, watchful, waiting, at his side.
***
On the surface, Dr. Rothman and Daniel Jackson had many similarities. They were both skilled in their respective fields, both possessed extensive military training, and both often offered lengthy explanations over minor details. Though Teal’c preferred Daniel Jackson’s company, he did acknowledge that Dr. Rothman was perhaps better suited to the SGC. On missions, he followed O’Neill’s orders without question, did not argue back, and rarely raised his voice. Therefore, there was no rational reason that Teal’c could find as to why O’Neill would object to Rothman joining SG-1 on a temporary assignment.
“General, the guy is a nervous, flat footed, uncoordinated geek.” O’Neil paced the length of the briefing room, clearly agitated. Only Hammond, Major Carter and himself sat around the table. Daniel Jackson was conspicuously absent.
“Colonel, I understand he’s not your first choice but I can’t keep SG-1 on standby for four weeks while Dr. Jackson is on a dig in the Yucatan.”
“I’m not saying standby, sir. How about just Earth-side? I know Carter is probably itching to get working on whatever experiments she’s got cooking. Teal’c and I can…well, I don’t know what Teal’c and I can do, but I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Hammond did not seem to appreciate the compromise. “No dice, Colonel. I’m keeping SG-1 in rotation with Dr. Rothman as your fourth. I believe your next mission is to PFX-902 in,” he glanced at his watch, “16 hours.”
“General,” O’Neill did not give up easily. “I’d like to register a formal complaint. I’m not sure why Daniel, a civilian, gets to take a month off SG-1 duty to go play around in the dirt. Now, if I had it my way, I’d take a month off to go fishing, but I’m guessing that wouldn’t be allowed.”
“Jack, you know as well as I do this dig could tell us a lot more about how the Goa'uld came to Earth thousands of years ago. It’s an academic dig, but Dr. Jackson is there as a military advisor.”
“Sir, he’s still recovering from getting his insides shredded by a staff weapon. Do you really think a dig in the desert is the best place for him to be?”
“You’re reaching, Colonel. Dr. Jackson’s been cleared for field duty for over a month.”
O’Neill sighed and turned to him. “Teal’c, back me up here. Wouldn’t adding Rothman disrupt team unity?”
It was true that Teal’c had grown fond of Daniel Jackson over the years, but O’Neill’s reasoning was not accurate. “He would not adversely affect the unity of SG-1, O’Neill. Rothman is a capable soldier. We would adjust.”
He glared at Teal’c as if he’d just been betrayed in the worst manner. Clearly, it was not the response Teal’c was supposed to have given.
“General,” O’Neill continued. “How about a one-for-one trade? They Yucatan can have Rothman and we get to keep Daniel.”
“Colonel, I’m not trading an all-star for a backup.”
O’Neill jumped. “Ha! So you admit it! Rothman is second string.”
From what little Teal’c had observed, these were sports metaphors that he only half-understood, but they perturbed Hammond a great deal. “Jack—” he sighed and turned to Major Carter, looking for help.
“Sir,” she spoke in her most calming, placating tone but her expressive eyes were bright with laughter. “I know you’ll miss Daniel, but Dr. Rothman has proven himself in the field.”
“Miss him? I consider it a lucky break! Four weeks of not having someone question every damn thing I say. That’s a cause for celebration. I won’t miss Daniel. I just don’t want to lug Rothman across the galaxy.”
It was brief, but Teal’c caught a shared look that passed between Hammond and Major Carter, as if they detected a lie behind O’Neill’s words. Teal’c had a thought. “O’Neill, are you displeased with Rothman? Or do you simply not wish to feel the absence of Daniel Jackson?”
A flush of color began to spread across O’Neill’s cheeks, indicating embarrassment. Major Carter and Hammond both seemed to be smiling. He ignored Teal’c’s question. “Rothman’s a geek, Teal’c. Don’t get me wrong, Daniel’s a geek too, but he’s my geek. I mean, our geek. SG-1’s resident geek. I’d rather stick with what we already know.”
“Are you certain? I have observed you over many missions together, O’Neill. It seems you have a fondness for Daniel Jackson.”
Major Carter smothered a laugh behind her hand, but only just barely.
“I don’t have a fondness for Daniel, Teal’c. It’s just that Rothman drives me crazy.”
Determined to find a solution to O’Neill’s resistance, Teal’c tried another line of reasoning. “Have you considered speaking to Daniel Jackson?” he asked. “Perhaps he would not go if he knew you found his absence distressing.”
“Distressing? Distressing?” O’Neill sputtered, his face now a deep red. Behind him, the General and Major Carter no longer bothered to hide their laughter. Hammond’s was low and deep, while Major Carter’s came across as a giggle.
“Have I said something humorous?”
The General cleared his throat and gathered up his papers to leave. “No son, I think you’ve said something very, very accurate.” On his way out, he clapped O’Neill on the back. “Cheer up, Jack. It’s only a month. Dr. Jackson will be back soon.”
Then it was only the three of them in the room. “Shall we wish Daniel Jackson a safe journey?” Teal’c suggested, but O’Neill scowled at him and made his way down the steps.
“Don’t let him get to you, Teal’c,” Major Carter advised and followed O’Neill down the stairs. Alone, Teal’c walked to Daniel Jackson’s office and found him sorting through a tower of books.
“Daniel Jackson, I’ve come to wish you a safe journey.”
“Hi, Teal’c,” he smiled. “Thank you. I’ll be back before you know it. Plus, you’re in good hands with Rothman. He won’t let you down.”
“Indeed, I have no concern over Dr. Rothman joining SG-1. He does not possess your extensive knowledge or expertise but he will be adequate.”
“I’ll be sure to tell him that. He loves to be called “adequate.”
He watched for a moment as Daniel Jackson flipped through the book in his hand, scanning the pages. O’Neill’s objections were still fresh in his mind. “While I have no ill feeling towards Dr. Rothman, Colonel O’Neill was quite insistent you not attend the dig in the Yucatan.”
“Jack doesn’t like change,” Daniel Jackson said, trying to shove a large book into a very small backpack. “He’s a man of routine, and he freaks out if anything upsets that.”
“Major Carter believes he is resistant to Dr. Rothman because he does not wish you to leave. She says he will miss you.”
Daniel Jackson hardly looked up from his next book but gave a dismissive laugh. “That’s not likely to be true, Teal’c. I think Jack’s looking forward to having a break. Four weeks without me around is probably Jack’s dream.”
“Those were his words also, Daniel Jackson. Still, I have learned the Tau’ri often engage in verbal subterfuge to hide their true emotions.”
Daniel Jackson put down his book. A small, wistful smile crossed his face. “I think Jack’s going to manage just fine without me, Teal’c.”
“I believe he will miss your company a great deal, Daniel Jackson. Even more than Major Carter and myself.”
The same embarrassed color rose in Daniel Jackson’s face. He was always at the mercy of his emotions and right now he struggled to contain them. “I doubt it, Teal’c. But still, it’s nice to hear.”
As a Jaffa, Teal’c was used to maintaining control over his emotions but he had rarely denied their existence altogether. He nodded his goodbye to Daniel Jackson and thought over O’Neill’s dark mood at the gym. As he left the locker room, showered and ready for his nightly kelno’reem, he passed O’Neill and Daniel Jackson in the hallway, waiting for the elevator.
“Jack, I don’t need a ride to the airport. I can take a cab, it’s not a big deal.”
With one hand, O’Neill held a large backpack that was likely full of books. With the other, he fixed Daniel Jackson’s twisted coat collar. “No cab in their right mind wants to haul all this stuff to the airport. Come on, my truck’s probably the only thing big enough.” They entered the elevator, waving goodbye to Teal’c. As the doors shut, O’Neill turned to Daniel Jackson. “You got everything? Passport? Allergy medicine? Extra cash? Daniel, you always gotta take extra cash.”
He watched the doors close, puzzled but resolving to put it out of his mind. From experience, he knew that it was sometimes wasted effort to get the Tau’ri to acknowledge something that Teal’c deemed to be obvious.
***
Four weeks turned into six and then eight and finally, though with great internalized resentment that he refused to admit, Jack stopped asking for status updates on when Daniel was due back from the Yucatan. Rothman—and it killed Jack to even think this—was working out fine. He was a pain in the ass in a different way than Daniel but Jack swallowed those complaints too. Carter and Teal’c seemed to like him enough and, to his credit, Rothman wasn’t nearly as stubborn as Daniel, though he also wasn’t nearly as smart.
Eight weeks turned into ten and things continued to stay fine, which was the real problem. Rothman never messed up badly enough for Jack to haul him in front of the general and say, listen enough it enough. He was solid and the team functioned just shy of great. Everything was a low, static buzz of normal and that was starting to crawl under his skin. Stargate travel was never routine but hopping through the event horizon had started to feel as mundane as tying his shoes.
For a while, with Daniel gone, that was a good thing. Jack didn’t yell as much, he didn’t get as angry, he certainly worried a whole hell of a lot less. No one really questioned his orders, hounded him to change how he thought about things or challenged every damn little thing he believed. It should have been great, but Jack kept thinking about the other side of that coin. He didn’t smile as much, didn’t laugh as much, and certainly that very specific, very annoying burst of happiness he had when he saw Daniel, well that hadn’t happened for weeks.
“Colonel?” Carter popped her head into the kitchen and handed him a beer. Right now, there were about 30 people in Jack’s house and he still wasn’t exactly sure how they’d all gotten there. What was supposed to have been a casual, afterwork hangout had morphed into an impromptu party. Pizzas had arrived unannounced, someone was wheeling a pony keg into his backyard.
"What the hell are all these people doing in my house, Carter?” he asked but she just smiled sweetly. “It’s a party, sir,” she answered like she knew something he didn’t. He was about to grill her but the doorbell rang once and then again, in annoying rapid succession. At the noise, her smile turned into a downright shit eating grin. “I think that’s for you,” she said.
Leaving his beer on the counter, he jogged to the door, ready to tell whoever was on the other side that they were at capacity for the night and to please go find someone else’s house to tear up. He opened it, mouth already moving, but clammed up at the sight of two gold stars.
General Hammond stood in the doorway, rocking on his heels. “Sorry I’m late, Jack,” he said. “Had to take a little detour and pick up a friend.”
He stepped to the side, revealing Daniel.
“Hi, Jack.”
It was always surprising to Jack how much Daniel’s face changed when he really, truly smiled. The stern, perpetually disappointed anthropologist disappeared and what emerged was the face of a 12-year-old boy plastered on a linebacker’s body. “Hi,” he said, a little stunned. “Long time no see.”
“Daniel!”
Out of nowhere, Sam barreled past him and flung her arms around their fourth. Daniel picked her up and crushed her close, dropping her just as Teal’c stepped in to shake his hand.
“It is good to see you again, Daniel Jackson.” He barely had the words out before Janet took her turn, grabbing at him around the waist. Soon there was a receiving line to welcome him back and Jack got elbowed out of the way, which was rude considering it was his house and his friend and since when was Daniel this popular in the SGC anyway?
“Well, Jack, it looks like you’re finally free of Dr. Rothman,” Hammond said as they retreated into the kitchen, bypassing the watery beer in the keg and choosing the pilsners from the fridge.
“About time you cut Daniel’s vacation short,” he grumbled. Doing the math in his head, he realized Daniel had been gone almost three months. A damn long time, if you asked him.
“I didn’t have anything to do with this,” Hammond said. “That Yucatan dig could have become a permanent assignment, Jack.” He paused, taking a long swing of his drink. “Dr. Jackson asked to come back.”
Jack looked away. “He did, huh?”
The General nodded. “I got a call a week ago. Dr. Jackson requested to be reassigned, back to SG-1.”
He kicked the kitchen title, like that had something to do with it. “Well, he and Sam have always been close.”
“Uh huh. I’m sure that’s it.”
Hammond left him to his beer and from the kitchen, Jack watched as Daniel held court in the living room talking about whatever it was Daniel liked to talk about. Maybe it was Mayans or Phoenicans or hieroglyphics. Ninety-percent of the time Jack wasn’t even sure what Daniel was rattling on about, he just liked the sound of it. It was soothing, like leaving a ballgame on during a Saturday afternoon. And now, Jack realized, it had been hard going three months without the steady murmur of his voice.
Sensing eyes on him, Daniel glanced up and held Jack’s gaze. For a moment, Jack felt like a teenager, wondering if he should go over to talk to Daniel first or wait for Daniel to come to talk to him, before deciding he was being a total and obvious idiot. Leaving his lukewarm beer on the table, Jack started to make his way over but Silger stopped him, wondering if there was any more ice. After that the keg jammed and then he got roped into a long, annoying discussion about the designated hitter rule. When he did finally look around again, the place had emptied out. Carter, Teal’c, Fraiser and Hammond were the only ones left, lounging around in the living room playing a complicated card game that Jack had no interest in following. For a second he thought Daniel might have caught a ride home, but he was out on Jack’s back deck, staring up at the sky. Instead of going to him right away Jack took a quick detour to the kitchen. It was late, but what the hell.
“Hey.” Jack closed the sliding glass door behind him, shutting out the remnants of party noise.
“Hi.” Daniel kept his face up to the stars only turning when the smell hit him. “Coffee!”
He practically lunged for the cup Jack offered him. “You’re not gonna sleep, but that’s your business.”
“I’m jet lagged anyway,” he said, taking the cup. “This isn’t going to make much difference.” He took a long sip. “Thank you.”
Jack shoved his hands into his pockets, resisting the urge to pat Daniel up and down, to make sure nothing was broken. “So, when did you get back?”
“A few hours ago. Dropped my bags off before I came here.”
“You could have called, I could have picked you up.”
“I took a cab, it’s not a big deal.”
“Cabs are expensive, Daniel. You gotta be smarter with your money.”
He nodded, turning his attention back to his coffee before looking back up at the sky. The light from the living room spilled out over the deck, casting long shadows across the yard. In the dimness, Daniel looked tan and thin, like he hadn’t yet washed all the Yucatan dirt off his skin. Though he knew Daniel could sense it, Jack was having a hard time tearing his eyes away. “So, how was the Yucatan? Everything it was cracked up to be?”
Daniel leaned against the railing and was quiet for so long, Jack wondered if something had gone seriously wrong. “Daniel?”
“Harder than I thought it would be,” he said finally, frowning into his cup.
“Can’t cut it in the field anymore, huh? Well, it’s a young man’s game. Not everyone can take three months of tent life, camp food and outhouses.” He made a gagging noise, which made Daniel smile.
“No, that part didn’t bother me.”
“Well, Hammond said you were with a bunch of fellow geeks, excuse me, academics . That can always wear you down.”
Quirking a half smile, Daniel didn’t take the bait but also didn’t look directly at him. His eyes roamed the deck and grass and the sky, catching the glow of the living room lights. Jack let the silence ride till Daniel turned to him.
“I missed you, Jack.”
He had to turn away, staring straight ahead at nothing. “You missed the SGC. Gate travel gets in your blood.”
“I did miss gate travel, and I missed Teal’c and Sam and Janet and General Hammond but—” he paused, waiting for Jack to look at him. “I missed you, specifically.”
A kick drum started up in his stomach, beating so wildly Jack wasn’t sure it was a good thing.
“Three months away clarifies a lot,” Daniel continued. He put his empty cup on the railing and blew into his hands, to warm them up. All he had on was a thin t-shirt under a thin fleece, barely warm enough for a Colorado spring, much less a Colorado fall.
“I was rough on Rothman,” Jack admitted. “I tried to like him, I really did.”
“Yeah, he mentioned in his emails that he’d come to terms with the fact that, and I quote, ‘Colonel O’Neill thinks about pushing me through a wormhole once a day. ’
“Twice a day,” he muttered.
“Rothman’s a good anthropologist, Jack.”
“I know he is.”
“Smart, dependable. Follows orders.”
“He does.”
“Still couldn’t get used to him?”
Jack kicked a few dry leaves off the deck, making a wide, unnecessary sweep with his leg. He blew out a long breath, ready for a confession. “I wanted you around Daniel, not him.”
Nighttime noises filled in the gaps of their silence. A car turned into the street and the hint of wind blew through the few leaves still on their branches. The faint sound of Janet’s laughter and Hammond’s voice made it through the doors, cutting into the quiet.
“Jack?”
“Hm?’
“Jack.”
“I said, what?” Jack turned to him, that familiar mix of fond annoyance rising up.
“You’re kinda holding my hand.”
He looked down at the palm clasped between his fingers. A line from an old musical his mother listened to came back to him. Your hand feels so grand in mine . Daniel tugged lightly, seeing if Jack would let go. Jack tightened his grip. “Your hands are freezing, Daniel. I’m just trying to warm them up.”
“Is that so?”
“Ice cold.”
He lifted Daniel’s right hand to his mouth and kissed the open palm. A low heat spread through his abdomen as Daniel curled his fingers around Jack’s, squeezing to the point of pain.
“People are going to start talking,” Daniel said.
A cascade of memories and conversations flew through Jack’s mind. “I think they already are.”
***
“Daniel.”
He groaned into his pillow.
“Daniel.”
Grabbing the lump underneath him, he burrowed deeper under the covers, trying to block out the light.
“Daniel.”
He answered with a low, annoyed whine. In response, the pillow under him started to move. Daniel gripped it close.
“You’re heavier than an ox,” Jack grumbled, trying to slide away. “Heavy and sweaty. Jesus, you’re like a furnace.”
“Jack.” He complained into sleep warm cotton, Jack’s t-shirt catching against his dry lips.
“You’re crushing my lungs. Seriously, I’m having trouble breathing,” Jack said, but a hand pushed through his hair.
“It’s early, Jack.”
“It’s past two pm.”
“It’s still five am on Asgard.”
Trying to wedge some distance between them, Jack shoved ineffectually at his shoulder, probably so he could roll over, go to the bathroom, maybe get ready for his morning run, but Daniel’s had a good, comfortable grip. Good luck dislodging him.
“We should get up,” Jack said into his hair, but his fingers stroked and soothed. Daniel curled a hand around his hip, fingers wiggling around till they found bare skin. For the past three weeks, they’d been stuck on an Asgard ship trying to help the aliens escape from a black hole that threatened a fleet of their ships. The Asgard civilization had a lot of things going for it, but they did not believe in comfortable beds or even private sleeping quarters. It was funny how quickly Daniel missed something that he had only recently gotten used to.
“Five minutes,” Daniel bargained, unable to resist the deep, aching comfort of being back in their bed. He wanted Jack close, so he kept him close.
“Daniel,” Jack sighed and kissed the tiny, visible sliver of his face. His fingers found that old, patched over staff wound and traced an outline.
“Another minute,” Daniel asked. After they got up the hardness of the world would worm between them. He’d take this minute, and the next and the one after that, trying to stretch them into forever.