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It shouldn’t have taken him so long to notice. In fairness, they’d all been distracted. Teal’c and Drey’auc were fussing over their son, as they had every right to, and Janet kept popping by to join them. Sam was running blood samples, making sure they hadn’t missed anything else Apophis tried to leave them. Daniel himself was cataloging some of the words the three Jaffa had said to each other, trying to sort out Drey’auc’s song into something he could translate. So it made sense, in a way, that Daniel was too distracted at first to notice. But it still took him too long. “Sam,” he says, skidding to a stop in the doorway to her lab.
She glances up with wide eyes. “What’s wrong now?”
“Nothing--no--what? No, nothing’s wrong.”
She narrows her eyes. “Then what’s got you running around?”
“I just--” he fidgets. It’s stupid, but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s left this for far too long. “Have you seen Jack?”
“Uh, no, last time I saw the Colonel was just after we broke Ray’c out of the brainwashing. Why?”
“Xara,” he swears under his breath.
Sam obviously hears the meaning of the Abydonian even if not the exact translation as she steps away from her computer. “Daniel?”
“I’m gonna--if--” he pauses, takes a breath, and looks at her with all the composure he can muster. “Sam. If you see him, let me know? And if he’s still on base for the love of god don’t let him drive.”
Sam opens her mouth, undoubtedly to question why he’s asking her that, but Daniel is already gone. He tries not to sprint, but Jack hadn’t been in the barracks SG-1 usually claims, or his tucked-away office, or the infirmary, or the labs, or just standing around in the control room, and apparently no one’s seen him. He’s lucky to catch his last-ditch attempt just entering his own office. “General!”
Hammond turns sharply. “What’s wrong, son?”
“Can I talk to you--in private, sir?”
Hammond studies him for a moment. Daniel tries not to look as worried as he is. Eventually Hammond opens his door and gestures Daniel in after him. “Did we miss something else?”
“No--well, I don’t think so, but Sam didn’t seem concerned a few minutes ago, so--no. Have you seen Jack?”
Hammond frowns, but relaxes slightly and sits down in his chair. “Not recently. Why?”
“I need you to check if he left base. Please. And if he did I need to request a few days off for him. Maybe even if he didn’t.”
“Doctor Jackson--”
“Please, sir.” He doesn’t think he’s been this polite about chain of command in his entire time at the SGC. Hammond must realize this too, because he reaches out and picks up his phone to dial the entrance guard shack.
“Reynolds, has Colonel O’Neill left base? Right, thank you. No, no need to keep an eye out, I’ll call him.” Daniel’s heart sinks. Hammond puts down the phone. “He has, indeed, signed out, and his truck isn’t in his spot.”
“Naakyiniik,” Daniel hisses. He turns to leave, but Hammond holds a hand up.
“Doctor Jackson, I think I need a little explanation, especially if you’re the one asking for O’Neill’s days off.”
Daniel hesitates by the door. It’s not really his to bring up, but… he thinks he’ll be forgiven, in a few days. “We spent the anniversary on Chulak.” Hammond gets it, by the way his shoulders slump. “And given--everything with Ray’c--”
“I’ll give him the rest of the week off. You too, son.”
Daniel blinks, then points to himself. “Me?”
“You are going to check on him, aren’t you?”
“Well…yes, but--”
“I think we’d all rather he not be home alone right now. SG-1 is on Earthside duty anyway while Teal’c sorts out what he needs to.”
“...thank you, sir.”
“Just make sure Jack’s alright.”
Sara’s just putting her shoes on when her cellphone rings. She pulls it out automatically, expecting it to be Chris, and instead pauses with her thumb over the answer button. Jack O’Neill blinks at her. If it were any other day, she’d call him back later. But today… today she picks up the phone. “Jack?”
“Sara,” he says. He doesn’t sound… rough isn’t exactly the right word for it, but he certainly doesn’t sound okay. She wasn’t expecting him to, not if he’s calling her this week, but it’s still startling to hear. His voice just sounds so… flat. None of that sarcastic streak she fell in love with so long ago, none of the pride, none of the love for his country and family. Exhausted. Fraying.
“You sound tired.”
“Been busy,” he mumbles.
“With?”
“You wouldn’t believe me even if you signed another NDA.”
Something in her heart hurts at that. She knew, from the start, that his job was never going to be something he could share with her, and yet even the little scraps he used to give her to assure her he was okay are gone now. Even when he came back from the Gulf War, visibly not okay, she’d gotten something out of him. “Out of the country?”
He snorts, but even that sounds exhausted. “Yeah. Real out of this world mission.”
“Explains why I didn’t see you.”
“I went on my way home today.”
She hums in acknowledgment. They sit in silence for a minute, recalling what might as well be a past life. Sara spares a glance at the clock, realizes she’s at least going to be late, and decides that she can call Chris and apologize as soon as Jack hangs up. She won’t be the one to hang up on him. Now, years out, she can appreciate the need to not be alone when remembering.
“How do you deal with it, Sara?”
“Jack…”
“Every time--” he croaks, voice breaking, “every time I think I’m dealing with it, something happens.”
“I don’t,” she blurts. “I really don’t, Jack. I don’t--I don’t think this is something you even can deal with.”
He’s silent. Sara can picture him, sitting on his couch, trying desperately not to cry because years of military training to shove his emotions aside are not easily dismissed. He’ll have his hand pressed to his eyes, hunched over himself. She sits down on her own couch, presses her own hand to her face. She’s already cried this week more than she wants to. Part of her wants to hang up, push the reminder of everything she’s lost away and go on her quiet date. Wants to leave Jack alone to wallow, to break, to fall into that abyss once again. It was his fault, some part of her still whispers.
But as much as that may be partially true, she knows that Jack blames himself more than she ever will. And she still loves him, even if their relationship is irreparable. “What happened?”
“I can’t…”
“Dress it up, then. I don’t need details, Jack.” Just enough for him to talk about it. Just enough for him to not fall into that abyss again. She can’t watch him go through that.
“T--one of my teammates--his son…” Jack pauses, words stuck. Sara’s heart hurts. “I knew it was too easy, I knew something was wrong, but we couldn’t find anything, and I--I hate being right, Sara. I hate it.” His voice breaks, just on the verge of crying. Sara hugs herself.
“Is he…”
“The kid’s alive,” Jack croaks. “T and the wife are with him.”
“That’s good.”
“I just--” Jack cuts himself off, and Sara thinks she might hear the echo of a doorbell. “Fuck, go away, please, Daniel,” he mutters. Daniel? Sara thinks. She has a vague remembrance of a face to a name, floppy hair and glasses, the least military looking member of the team behind Jack in that hospital. Then, louder, “Go away, Daniel. I’m fine.” Sara almost snorts, because this is such classic Jack. “Daniel, don’t… Sara. Wh--” there’s the sound of a minor scuffle, the phone changing hands, a mildly affronted “Hey!” and then a new voice comes through the speaker.
“Hello, Sara. He’s not being an ass, is he?”
“No,” she says, and finds that somehow she’s smiling. “Actually, I’m very glad someone’s with him right now.”
“I’m not leaving.”
Daniel says the words to her, but she knows he’s really saying them to Jack. She knows because she’s said those words to Jack before, in that exact tone, trying to express that desperate feeling that she will not let him stay in that dark place. She’d said it to him over and over in the aftermath of the Gulf War, dragging him back from where he’d been left in that prison. She hadn’t been able to say them later, after Charlie. “Good,” she chokes out. “Please take care of him for me.”
“I will. I promise.”
Sara hears a frantic knock at her own door. Shoot, that must be Chris, worried about her being late. She stands and heads for the door. “Hold on a moment, please?” He hums an okay, and Sara opens her door. “Hey,” she whispers, covering the mic with her hand. Chris is indeed at the door, a worried expression on her face melting into relief, then back to worry when their eyes meet. “Jack.” Chris nods in understanding and gently pushes Sara back in the door. “Daniel,” she says into the phone again, “can you give me back to Jack?”
Chris’s arm gently wraps around her waist. She leans into it as the phone on the other end shuffles hands again. “Sara?”
“Hey. You’re going to be okay.”
“...I don’t know if I am.”
“Then let Daniel take care of you, okay? For me? And if not for me, then--then for your friend’s boy. I think he’d love a cool uncle, especially one who helped save his life.”
Jack makes a noise just the wrong side of a sob. Sara squeezes her eyes shut. “Okay,” he croaks.
“Okay,” she whispers back. “Goodnight.”
“I love you,” Jack chokes out.
“...me too.”
She hangs up, and immediately turns around to bury herself in Chris’s arms. Chris holds her close, strong arms stroking her spine. “He okay?”
“Horrible, horrible timing.”
“Do we need to go over there?”
“He’s got a teammate with him.”
Chris hums, then moves her hands so they’re cupping Sara’s cheeks. “You okay?”
“I--I don’t know. Can we just stay in tonight?”
“Of course, honey.”
Chris kisses her. Sara knows that Charlie’s death is something she’ll never really be able to deal with. But having a girlfriend who understands helps a little.
Daniel breathes a sigh of relief when he sees Jack’s truck parked safely in his driveway. He pulls his little sedan in next to it, shuts the engine down, and pulls his keys. Then he leans against the steering wheel for a minute, wondering what the hell he’s trying to do here. “You’re the best person to check on him, come on, Daniel,” he mutters to himself. The car door slams behind him as he practically runs up Jack’s steps. The light in the living room is just visible behind the curtains. He rings the doorbell, even though he still has a key. “Jack?” he calls. He gets only silence. Daniel fidgets with his keys, looking between the light in the living room and the door. “I’m coming in,” he calls, and turns the key.
“Go away, Daniel, I’m fine.”
Daniel turns into the living room and realizes all at once that Jack is, in fact, not fine. He’s huddled on the couch, hunched over on himself, one hand pressed against his eyes, the other holding his cell to his ear. What little Daniel can see of his face is blotchy with the remnants of tears, and the knees of his fatigues are stained with mud. “Jack,” he sighs.
“Daniel, don’t--”
Daniel sits down on the coffee table in front of him. “Are you on the phone?” At Jack’s nod, he adds “With?”
“...Sara.”
Daniel huffs and leans forward, plucking the phone from Jack’s grip to a “hey!” that sounds like it was once affronted, ten years and one death ago. “Hello, Sara, he’s not being an ass, is he?”
“No, he’s not. Actually, I’m very glad someone’s with him in person.”
He looks at Jack, at the way Jack’s trying to glare at him. The effect is lost in the way he’s hugging himself, in the tear tracks on his cheeks, in the dead look in his eyes that can’t quite meet Daniel’s. For a moment, Daniel is horribly reminded of the first time he met Jack, the dead-eyed Colonel willing to go on an almost guaranteed suicide mission for the simple reason of he didn’t have to remember. He doesn’t really mean to say his next words, but he knows them to be truth the instant he hears them. “I’m not leaving.” Jack lowers his eyes to the ground. That alone, the lack of fight, has Daniel more scared than he’d like to admit.
“Good,” Sara chokes out after a moment. “Please take care of him for me.”
“I will. I promise.”
“Hold on a moment, please?” Sara asks. He hums an acknowledgement, only half listening to her having a whispered conversation. Most of his attention is on Jack. Jack, staring at his own boots, picking idly at the mud dried on his pants. Jack, eyes dead inside. His heart hurts. “Daniel,” Sara says into the phone again, “can you give me back to Jack?”
Daniel shifts, holding the phone out. Jack blinks at it for a moment, then slowly holds it back to his ear. “Sara?...I don’t know if I am.” Jack makes a noise just the wrong side of a sob. Daniel squeezes his eyes shut. “Okay,” Jack croaks. “I love you.”
Daniel opens his eyes again. Jack’s eyes are closed, both hands pressed to his face even with the phone still in them. “Jack--”
“No, Daniel.”
“I’m not leaving. I just told Sara that, and I intend to stick by it. She sounded really worried.” He hesitates on his next words, but soldiers (hah) on. “I’m worried.”
Daniel can tell that was the exact wrong thing to say by the way Jack drops his hands and his face shutters back into perfect military calm. Even with the tear tracks still on it. “You don’t have to be worried, Daniel. Go back to base and tell whoever sent you that they’re jumping at shadows.”
“No one sent me, Jack.” Daniel has to try very hard not to snap at that, because he’s definitely not jumping at shadows, not when the man in front of him holds a grief too heavy to let go and has a known-if-not-written-down history of utterly suicidal tendencies when lost in it.
“What, the General didn’t send you to check on his 2IC?”
“I had to beg Hammond to give you a few days off.”
“You what?”
And oh, that’s the big angry Air Force Special Forces Colonel voice. Which might, actually, be progress. At least he’s showing an emotion. “Jack, we’re Earthbound anyway while Teal’c and his family are getting checked over after--everything, and we figure out whether they’re staying here or not. Might as well spend it somewhere other than the Mountain.”
“That still doesn’t give you the right to come butting into my life--”
“Jack O’Neill. Please, for the love of god, just accept that I am not leaving you alone right now.”
“I’m not a risk.”
“Are you?”
Jack thumps his hand into the couch so hard that Daniel jumps. His glare is furious, threatening to melt Daniel right where he sits. “I’m not, Daniel. I know damn well what you’re implying and I’m not going to go get my gun or do something reckless in my car or drink myself to fucking death, okay? I’m--I’m dealing. I’m not going to kill myself over a stupid fucking emotion and a horrible mission with horrible, horrible timing. I’m not. I just--” Jack deflates, all of a sudden, a balloon popped and the force of his anger is gone, drained into the tears threatening the corners of his eyes. He buries his face in his hands again, hiding from Daniel’s concerned gaze. “It’s stupid,” he whispers.
Daniel leans forward. “It’s not stupid.”
“It is, it--it won’t change anything, but I just--”
“Jack.”
Jack takes a deep breath and looks up at him, finally meeting Daniel’s eyes. “Why does Teal’c get to save his son and I don’t?”
A sob forcibly tears itself from Jack’s throat, and Daniel’s heart breaks. He gets off the table and pulls Jack into a hug from next to him, completely incapable of doing anything else. Jack goes with it, another sob ripping out of him. Daniel holds him close, eyes shut and face twisted in sympathy as Jack breaks down. Tears stain his shirt, wrinkled from Jack’s grip on his back. He runs a hand up and down Jack’s spine, trying to soothe the heart-wrenching noises coming from his mouth. Jack clings tighter, his fingers digging into Daniel’s back. Eventually Daniel makes out two words in the sobs: “I’m sorry.” He holds Jack tighter. He holds Jack until the sobs quiet, until he slumps fully against Daniel, exhaustion winning out. Only then does Daniel attempt to pull back. Jack feels him doing it and pulls back himself, pushing away and wiping at his face. “Sorry,” he whispers. His voice sounds destroyed.
“Hey, don’t be sorry,” Daniel soothes. “You seem like you needed that.” Jack looks away, gaze distant, shrug only half there. Daniel sighs and pushes himself off the couch. “I’ll get you some water.” He dips into the kitchen and comes back with a glass. Jack takes it mechanically, but doesn’t sip it. Daniel sits back down next to him. He doesn’t talk, doesn’t touch, just sits there, present.
“Danny?”
Daniel blinks at the nickname, but “Yeah?”
“I… I don’t…” Jack trails off, then visibly forces himself to continue, voice quiet. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be alone tonight.”
Daniel rests a hand on his shoulder and repeats “I’m not leaving.”
“I’m not a risk,” he mumbles.
“But there’s a part of you that is.”
Jack hesitates. Nods. Nods like even that is breaking something in him. Daniel squeezes his shoulder. “Sounds like pizza and a good movie.”
“Princess Bride.”
Daniel raises an eyebrow. “Don’t think I’ve heard of that one.” Just from the name it doesn’t sound quite like Jack’s usual wheelhouse.
Jack manages a smile. “It’s got swashbuckling pirates, a damsel in distress, and a healthy amount of comedy. Every kid’s favorite.”
Daniel understands a lot from that short explanation. “You find it, I’ll order pizza.”
They sit on the couch closer than they maybe ever have, pizza on the table in front of them. Jack is quiet, where he’d normally be yelling at the screen. Daniel glances over and finds a sad smile just touching the corners of his lips. Daniel quickly finds himself muttering about marriage customs and challenges undertaken for a lover. The only thing Jack says the entire movie is “twu wuv, Danny, twu wuv” when Daniel’s in the middle of a ramble about reasons for marriage. This is, of course, before they get to the priest, leaving Daniel a little concerned about Jack’s slurred speech until the priest starts talking. “Oh.” Jack snorts.
They end the movie in silence. Jack is listing in his seat toward Daniel’s shoulder, an emotional day ending an emotional mission leaving him utterly drained. Daniel can see it in his half-closed, unfocused eyes. He reaches out and pulls Jack the rest of the way to lean against him. “Hey. Bedtime?” Jack nods, but doesn’t move off the couch. Daniel nudges him. “Come on. It’s been a very long few days. Sleep will help.”
Daniel finally gets Jack moving into a slow, shuffling nighttime routine. He cleans up to the accompaniment of the bathroom sink, the plodding of feet against carpet. Jack comes back down the stairs and finally drinks the water. There’s a little more life in his eyes than when Daniel had first come in. The flannel pajama pants and ratty old air force shirt make him seem almost human. “Daniel?”
Daniel turns from where he’s about to head up the stairs to find Jack holding his keys out. Daniel blinks at them. “Jack?”
“Just in case.”
Daniel takes them wordlessly and tucks them into his pocket. He knows one of the keys is the front door, one is his truck, and one is the basement, where Jack keeps most of the alcohol and all of his gear that doesn’t stay on base. Including the single gun he still has. It’s touching, in a way, that Jack trusts him with the keys. Trusts Daniel to prevent him from doing something stupid, trusts him to fight him off if need be, if the urge to do something stupid becomes too much to ignore. He thinks about a storage closet, a gun, and warm, strong arms as he changes into a spare set of pajamas he finds in Jack’s guest room and brushes his teeth with the toothbrush he left here… months ago. Why hasn’t Jack thrown it away? Oh well, matter for another time. Attired for the night, he peeks his head into Jack’s bedroom. The other is already lying down, on his side with his back to the door. Daniel doesn’t think he’s asleep. “Jack?”
“I’ll be fine, Daniel.”
“Okay. Let me know if you’re not. And turn your alarm off, Hammond did give us a few days off.”
Jack turns onto his back to look at him. Then he sighs and reaches for the alarm clock. “I’ll wake up early anyway.”
“But this way it’ll be pleasanter."
“Goodnight.”
“Night.”
Daniel settles down in the guest room and tries to sleep. He doesn’t do a very good job.
“Hey.”
“Hi, Jack, I just… wanted to check in.”
Jack sighs and leans against his kitchen counter. He’s got toast toasting and eggs scrambling and coffee brewing, but it almost feels like someone else is making them. He’s been up for hours, as he predicted, and most of them he hasn’t quite felt awake. He’d have gone for a run since that usually woke him up when he felt like this, but when he peeked into the guest room Daniel had been sleeping the sleep of someone who stayed up all night. Jack had felt too bad about being most of the cause of that to wake him and ask him for his keys back. So instead he puttered around the house, cleaning the living room a bit, taking stock of his groceries for a run later, making a note to ask Daniel if he’s on definitely-not-suicide-watch for the entire time they’re on leave, or just last night, and does that mean he needs more groceries. Sara calling seems to finally be snapping him out of it. “I’m better. Sort of. Thank you for picking up. I know I’m… not easy to deal with this time of year.”
“Daniel still with you?”
“Yeah. I think he stayed up all night.”
He can picture Sara biting her lip in worry. He reaches to stir the eggs again. “Do you…”
“The General gave my team a few days off so T can sort stuff out. I think Daniel’s staying for most of that.”
Sara’s quiet for a moment. “Are you, uhm. Is he--you know--”
Jack sighs. The toast dings. He reaches to grab it. He’s pretty sure he knows what Sara’s implying. His life has made him very particular about who has keys to his house, and Daniel had made it in while he was still on the phone with her. “We’re looking for his kidnapped wife.”
Sara sighs. “Oh, Jack.”
“It’s not like it’d be a good idea anyway, Sara.”
“I know, I just want you to be happy.”
Jack looks down at his two plates of scrambled eggs and toast, his two mugs of steaming coffee. He finally hears movement around upstairs. “I think I’m about as close as I get these days. Apart from the hell that was this week.”
“You sure?”
“Are you?”
“Chris’s full name is Christine,” Sara blurts. Jack blinks at his salt shaker, then snorts half a laugh.
“God, we really ruined each other, didn’t we?”
“Maybe a little. Hey, listen, I’m glad you’re better, and I’m glad he’s with you right now.”
“...me too.” Footsteps pad down the stairs, faster than Jack thought they would. He looks up to find Daniel half-dressed at the foot of the stairs, a frantic look in his eyes. He blinks at the plates of breakfast, at Jack still in pajamas, at the phone in his hand. Jack holds out one of the mugs of coffee with a raised eyebrow. Daniel stares at it for a moment, then relaxes. He takes it with a small smile. “Hey, Sara, would it be okay if I… if I gave T’s kid something of Charlie’s?” Daniel almost drops his mug and his eyebrows shoot up his face. Jack looks away. “It’s just--I gave Cassie the dog we were planning on giving Charlie, and Janet was so mad at me but it’s also given her an excuse to drag me into babysitting on the rare occasions she needs it and it’s not my fault, and I feel like--like maybe I should… I don’t know, give T an excuse to do that too. If he needs it. Or another excuse to go visit. I’m not making sense, am I.”
“No,” Sara manages, “it makes sense. I’ve been--sort of thinking the same thing. With Chris’s nephew. I don’t--I don’t think I could handle parenting another child myself.”
“Me either,” Jack whispers. He’s looking out the kitchen window, studiously ignoring Daniel behind him, absolutely not eating his eggs. “But I can be the cool uncle.”
“What…what do you want to give him?”
Jack thinks for a moment, about what he knows of Teal’c traditions, about what he could give a warrior child to let them still have fun. “T’s…father’s been teaching the kid about sports a lot. Something from the baseball stuff, I guess. A practical piece. The glove.”
Sara’s silent for a long moment. Jack’s eyes aren’t seeing the window anymore, but a laughing Charlie in the backyard, catching every throw Jack gives him. “That’s fine with me. I think Charlie’d like that someone else got to play with it. Can I give Chris’s nephew the signed baseballs?”
“Not the one from the world series game we went to,” Jack blurts, memories assaulting his ears of the roar of the crowd, Charlie’s cheer when he caught the ball. Jack and Sara both holding him up to the railing, the joy in her eyes and Jack’s heart. It’s the first time he remembers feeling actually happy after Iraq.
“Definitely not that one,” Sara says, and he’s relieved they’re on the same page. “Do you want it? I have so many of his things, I think I can part with that one.” The unspoken it probably means more to you is still heard.
“Yeah,” he croaks. “Thank you. I’ll come pick it up… soon. Daniel?”
Daniel looks up from where he’s finally eating his eggs. “Yeah?”
“When did Hammond give us off to?”
“Monday. Although if you’re trying to give something to Ray’c it’s probably better to pick it up sooner than later. I doubt he’ll be staying here for very long, given he and Drey’auc are a lot harder to hide than Cassie.”
“You have orders to keep me here, or can we head over to Sara’s?”
Daniel points at him with his spoon. “They’re not orders, Jack, and sure, I’d be happy to head over there with you.”
“I mean, they’re kinda orders.”
“The only thing Hammond told me was to make sure you’re okay. Once he realized why you’d disappeared he was pretty concerned too.”
“Great,” Jack mutters, “my own boss is worried.”
“It’s his job, Jack.”
Jack sighs. “You get any of that, Sara?”
“Later today?”
“Yeah. I’ll text you when we’re on our way.”
“Alright. I’ll see you later.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
Jack puts his cell down and sits at the kitchen table across from Daniel. He just stares at his eggs. Daniel nudges him. “Hey.”
“I want other people to remember him,” Jack finds himself saying. “Not just Sara and her dad and me. People who never met him, will never get the chance. People who enjoy the same things he did, will get the same enjoyment from the pieces of him I’m ready to share.” He pokes at the eggs. Daniel’s gaze is boring into him. Jack tries not to feel like a bug on display, something for the anthropologist to dissect like an alien culture they’ve just run into.
“I enjoyed the Princess Bride,” Daniel eventually says. “I can see why Charlie liked it. A brave and dashing hero, willing to do anything for the people they love. Rather like his dad.”
Jack feels a smile spread across his face. “Are you calling me Westley or Inigo?”
“I was thinking Westley. I swear I’ve heard you quote that last speech of his.”
Jack’s smile grows and he finally scoops up his eggs. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Three days of I-swear-this-isn’t-an-ordered-suicide-watch-Jack-honest later, Jack finds himself staring at the spot where the Stargate’s wormhole just was. Sam and Daniel are on either side of him, also staring. This is the first time he’s been back on base since they finally snapped Ray’c out of the brainwashing. He feels… strangely light. Daniel is looking at him, and Sam is looking at Daniel, then looking at him. He manages a smile, shooting for reassuring but not sure he gets there. Giving Ray’c the glove felt like giving something up, and he’s not sure if it’s a good giving up or a bad one. But he knows that, either way, he had to do it. Besides, Ray’c will enjoy it, even if just as a strange hat.
Footsteps sound behind them, and the three members of SG-1 turn to find Hammond approaching. “Sir.”
Hammond nods. “Earthside duty for three days, you three. Unless you need more time off, Colonel…?”
Jack takes a deep breath. He inhales the dust of the past week, and releases it into the air, where the wormhole can destroy it next time it comes into being. “No, sir, I’m good now.”
Hammond looks at him, and for a moment Jack sees the father and grandfather he is, instead of the General he should be. “Alright. I’m sure you’ve got a mountain of paperwork to get through anyway.”
Jack groans good-naturedly. “Ah yes, paperwork, the true output of the entire US military.” But honestly? A little boring paperwork is just what he needs right now. And if he does it in Daniel’s office… well. No one said he had to be easy to find for the next three days. The fact that Daniel visibly relaxes when Jack shows up at his office door, computer and mountain of paper forms in hand, that doesn’t hurt either. Neither does Sam strolling in with a question for Daniel on the purpose of some doohicky or other and ending up staying in silent company.
And Jack thinks, maybe, with these people around him, he doesn’t have to deal with horrible missions with horrible timing all alone.