TITLE: Listen To Me
AUTHORS: Moonie and Lost
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Jack and Daniel come to terms with what happened on P3H-826
CATEGORY: Missing Scene, Need
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. We have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the authors.
ARCHIVE: Please ask.
SPOILERS: Need
It was late. Way too late to be wandering the echoing corridors of the SGC, and Jack O'Neill was just pissed enough to keep walking until he could find his target. He'd had enough sleepless nights that he could lay entirely on the shoulders of one civilian albatross and he was determined to at least pare them down to a manageable level.
The mission on P-whatever had gone bad from the first step on alien soil and it was his job to make sure that none of the mistakes and insubordination that nearly killed all of them ever happened again. He'd put it off long enough. Not that he'd had much choice about the delay. He could hardly verbally assault Daniel while he was trapped in the painful throes of withdrawal from the insidious sarcophagus, but Frasier had finally given Jackson a clean bill of health and there was no sense in waiting for the inevitable soldier/scientist clash to erupt.
This time... this time, Daniel WOULD listen to him. O'Neill had one ace up his sleeve and he wasn't about to feel guilty about playing it.
Finally!
A quick glance into the mess hall ended his search. Daniel, still a little pale, a bit gaunt but moving under his own power, was sitting way off in a corner of the nearly deserted room, hunched over a table, his hands cradling a nearly full cup of coffee.
He didn't look up when O'Neill came to a halt across from him.
"Hi, Daniel. What are you up to?" Okay, it was inane but suffering in silence wasn't Jack's intention.
Clearly not up to overtly ignoring the clumsy conversational opener, Daniel didn't look up from his intense study of the cold coffee clasped between his hands. "Up to? I'm not up to anything, Jack."
Oh, great, O'Neill silently groused in a pique of exasperation. Usually he couldn't shut the geek up; now, when they needed to talk, it was going to be one of their teeth-pulling sessions. O'Neill slumped into the hard plastic chair. "I can see that. Doc Frasier tells me that your whatevers are back to normal. So... how do you feel?"
Daniel didn't look up from his contemplation of the inky brown liquid sitting neglected in his cup. "Fine. I feel fine."
"Right." O'Neill didn't bother to cut the sting of sarcasm. "Well, we need to talk."
Whatever way Daniel read that simple statement, it sure caused an instantaneous response. He bolted to his feet, nearly knocking over the cup. If he was pale before, he was linen-white now. And the stutter-the stutter was back. "I don't have time right now, Jack, got some stuff in the lab that I need to go over right away. You know, too much time... away... from things." He shrugged helplessly.
Jack barked, "Sit down, Daniel!" even though he had no expectation of the order being followed. In fact, that was the crux of the problem.
"I'd really like to, Jack, but, like I said..." Daniel's right hand made an expansive gesture while his left saved the cup from shattering on the tile floor. He was already edging away from the table.
O'Neill was having none of it. "We can talk here or in my office, Danny. But we are going to talk, now!"
Cutting an embarrassed glance around the room at their unintentional audience, Daniel still tried for a graceful exit. "I'm sorry, Jack, but I have responsibilities... well, I think I still have responsibilities around here."
Jack didn't grace that with an answer, offering only a mere lift of his eyebrows.
Daniel either missed the non-answer or ignored it. "Soooo... you see, I'll look you up later and we can... talk."
"*Now* Daniel. We'll talk now."
Daniel dropped back into the chair, wearing his defeat in his expressive face. "Okay, Jack, just get it over with." Without waiting for a response, he fired the first volley, "I know you can't forgive what I did and I know I'm off the team and it doesn't matter if I apologize for the rest of my life..."
Trying to stem the tidal wave of words, Jack brought both hands up in a defensive gesture. "Daniel! Do you have any idea what I'm angry about?"
"Of course I do. I'm not stupid, Jack."
There was enough confusion in his voice to answer the question, which didn't help Jack out at all. He heaved a weary sigh. "I don't think so. In fact, I don't think you have a clue! Do they give out PhDs on common sense?"
Daniel sidestepped the jibe. "Do we really have to go over it all anyway? Okay, okay. I should never have gotten into that sarcophagus. I should have insisted that Shyla let you guys out instead of letting her blackmail me. I should have seen how bad it was for you and Sam and Teal'c and instead I just took care of my own needs. I screwed around while you guys were dying in that mine. Is that good enough for you? Can I go now? I'm not going to apologize, Jack. You can't... won't accept it. I know that. Besides you never wanted a civilian on the team in the first place. Now you get your wish."
"See!" Jack nearly shouted, frustration reddening his face. "That's not it! You really don't know what you did, do you? I spend all this time trying to get you up to par, and the first time we get in a situation where I need you to listen to me, you go off without thinking! And it's not the first time!"
"You weren't exactly 'there', Jack. That's the whole point. I was on my own and I nearly managed to get all three of you killed." Daniel's voice had fallen to a near whisper, a perfect counterpoint to Jack's bellow.
O'Neill didn't even bother to see if the few other occupants of the room were being made unwitting witnesses. "I'm not talking about the mine! I'm talking about the cliff!"
"The-the-cliff... I'm not, I don't, what the hell are you talking about?"
"You remember, the place where you stopped the *princess*, and I'll use that term loosely, from jumping! The whole, 'saving her life' thing!"
A flush of shock replaced the pallor on Daniel's face. "She was going to kill herself! What did you want me to do, watch? Just let her kill herself?"
Another pair of raised eyebrows left him to answer his own questions.
"Is that what you would do?" Daniel laughed, a short, almost hysterical sound. "Just let her die?"
Jack simply stared at him, that knowing, I'm seeing right through you, look that he had perfected and used so effectively on Daniel.
"You don't mean that."
"Who did you think she was?"
Daniel was obviously lost now. "Who? What do you mean who did I think she was? What does that matter?"
With an obvious effort, Jack kept his tone reasonable. He was talking to an intelligent adult-make that very intelligent adult; surely he could get his point across. "Daniel, we were in a hostile situation, following what we thought were Jaffa from the gate. What would that make her?"
"If I just sat there and watched, Jack, that would make her dead."
Damn, Danny was picking up on some of his own worst habits. "And your point?" he shot back, his own tone just as sarcastic as Daniel's had been, but O'Neill carried it off better.
"My point?" Frustration laced its way back into Daniel's voice. "My point is that she was a human being and she was going to kill herself. Even if she was a Gao'uld, there would have still been an innocent host trapped in that body." He hesitated just long enough to make the inevitable more painful.
Don't say it, Jack protested silently.
"Just like Sha're."
You just had to go and say it. "Oh for crying out loud! We can't save every host in the galaxy!"
"One, Jack. She was just one person. And we *could* save her. We *did* save her."
Finally, Jack thought, maybe we'll get somewhere after all. Daniel had set himself up nicely. "And endangered every person on the team and on Earth."
"What!? How the hell did you get to that conclusion?"
"What do you think we're doing here, Daniel, playing explorers? We're looking for intelligence on the Gould. If Shyla had been a snake head, she could have..."
"She *wasn't*! She was just... desperate and alone."
"She was a probable Gould! And here's a little hint, Danny boy. If you happen to find yourself in the situation where a probable Gould is going to kill themselves. WE WANT THE ENEMY TO JUMP OFF CLIFFS. It saves bullets!"
"I didn't think our directive was to go out there into new civilizations and try to up the body count, Jack."
Now there was something Jack felt sure about-mission, objective, the eternal search for that crucial advantage over potential enemies. "Then you don't understand our objective. Our *mission* was to bring back intel and not get caught! When we're out in the field, we're responsible for the protection of every man, woman, and child on Earth! I'm responsible for it. You can't keep running off and disregarding my orders, dammit!"
"I don't remember you ordering me to watch someone die when I could prevent it."
"And when did I order you to save Goulds?"
"You didn't know she was a Gao'uld, Jack. And she *wasn't*! If you think our objective is to just watch things happen out there, then why did you bother to save Cassie?"
Boy, that one had come out of left field, and Jack could almost see Daniel's quicksilver mind racking up one point. "That was different! She wasn't hanging around with Jaffa!"
"Soooo... you're judged by the company you keep? Cassie was a victim, and so was Shyla."
Jack snorted. "Some victim! If she were anymore a victim, we'd be dead!"
But Daniel was off on another tangent. "So we set ourselves up to judge the worth of the people we encounter? If that's the case why didn't you just blast Teal'c with his own staff weapon on Abydos?"
"Not their worth, Daniel. Their affiliations. And Teal'c proved his when he fired on the other Serpent Guards. Is any of this getting through to you?"
Daniel was unable to prevent the telltale shake of his head. "If you mean am I sorry that I tried to save another human being's life, then no, it's not getting through to me. But it's kind of a moot point anyway, isn't it? I mean, you're not going to let me go through the Gate again. I'm a liability. Just like you've been saying all along."
Jack leaned over the table. "This is it in a nutshell." He rubbed absently at the bridge of his nose. There was a headache lying in wait there, right behind his eyes. "You either follow orders or you stay behind. I won't argue this point any longer." He stood. "Think about it."
Daniel leaned back in the chair. Finally he met Jack's eyes and his told a tale of weary defeat and raw sorrow. "So, that's it?"
"That's it, Daniel. I won't have the team jeopardized every time you get an attack of conscience."
"Your way or no way? I thought I was a part of this, Jack. I thought what I was contributing to the team was important."
O'Neill wasn't going to fall into that trap. He pushed his chair back and stood. He held Daniel's eyes, knew he had only dug the breach between them deeper. Knew that Daniel wasn't just being stubborn about this, well, no more than usual. Knew that this might be the wedge that ended it all.
He could only say it again. "Think about it."
He did a commendable about face and left the room.
He's wrong.
Dead wrong.
He'll never admit it.
Jack never thinks he's wrong. It's just a part of him. That unbowed head, stiff upper lip, walk into the Valley of Death, I'm okay you're full of shit military mindset. He'd be the one behind the camera watching baby antelopes get eaten without lifting a finger to prevent it. And then he'd justify his actions with something straight out of the rule book. Well, guess what, Jack? There's no soul in the rule book.
But, then... I'm wrong too. And my wrong almost got them all killed.
And not just on Shyla's world. Even here, home at least for the moment, Jack didn't bother to mention the gun-the one I almost shot him with in the storage room. Things are so fuzzy that I would never have known if Sam hadn't told me. And even then, I had to practically beg her for the truth. And Janet-tiny Janet who has given me nothing but comfort and caring. Well, seems I repaid that with a headlong toss across the isolation room bed and into the far wall. She's still wearing a sling and still telling me it's okay, I didn't mean it, I couldn't help myself, it was all the sarcophagus' fault, not mine. Then there's Sgt. Jenkins who spent three days in the infirmary with a concussion because I tried to beat him to death.
And let me not forget the other side of Jack-the one that kept him at my bedside, riding out the awful withdrawals as my body was turned inside out and I thought I would die-wished I would die-just to make it end. Every time I managed to open my eyes and get a blurry focus to stop tilting the room on edge, he was there doing his rough version of Florence Nightingale.
No, Jack would never desert me. Even though I did just that to him. I left them-all of them, Jack, Sam, Teal'c--there, in that filthy, reeking mine while I did the diplomatic dance with Shyla.
Even now, even here in the mess hall with Jack's parting words searing into my soul, I'm feeling sorry for myself. If I'm off the team, I'll never be able to find Sha're, and even more selfish, I'll never be allowed to step foot on worlds full of intrigue, the sheer ecstasy of discovery, proof even of my wildest theories. I'll lose everything that gives meaning to my life.
Damn. Could I be anymore selfish and self centered?
For God's sake, Jack almost *died*! I could see how weak he was when the guards brought him to me in the throne room at Shyla's worlds. I could see the dirt etched into his too pale skin. I heard his cry of pain when the guards hit him in the back of his knees to drop him to the ground out of misguided respect. And none of it mattered... it didn't even register in my besotted brain.
I don't know what to do. I could try to lie to him, but I've never managed to get away with a lie to Jack. It's as if I'm transparent to him. I never was very good at deceit anyway and Jack's the last person I'd try it on.
There's just a basic difference between us: Jack looks at the big picture, the final outcome. Sometimes it's like he has a unique form of tunnel vision, spotlighting the results, and totally obscuring the minor tragedies along the way. It's one of the reasons he's such an effective soldier, a skilled and dedicated commander. He's able to step over a few bodies when he has no other choice, and even though some of those bodies develop faces that visit him in dreams, he knows-he just knows that he's done the best he could do.
Me? I'm condemned to see each individual step of the way, each face that gets ground underfoot, left behind to perish by a vicious and cruel enemy. With Shyla, all I could see was a woman going to her death willingly, a human being who had to be rescued. I heard Jack demanding that I stop-I know he thinks I don't even hear him when he tries to rein me in, but I do. I guess I just ignore it.
And now, with my career, my very life on the line, I still can't manage to see his point. I don't understand how to walk away, how to chalk deaths up as acceptable losses. I don't know if I will ever understand that. But if I can't accept it or at least give lip service to understanding it, then my life here at the SGC is over.
I'm sorry, Jack. I'm sorry I'm selfish. I'm sorry I drive you crazy. And I'm sorry that I can't even imagine the loneliness of not being your friend.
I just don't know what to do.
What an amazing waste of time that conversation was. He's all big blue eyes and not an ounce of common sense! You'd think with all of those letters after his name, he could spare some brain cells for me. Hell, I could see his mind go off on the tangent the minute I began speaking. Well the absent minded professor routine isn't going to fly this time! This time he is going to listen to me. This time he is going to HEAR me or he's off the team. Hammond will back me up on this. I'm sure of it. But is it what I really want?
No!
But the guy just doesn't get it!
Does he think I like it? That I get my rocks off by killing? Shit, he must think I'm some kind of monster. It's not like that. I'm not like that.
Am I?
//Is that what you would do? Just let her die?//
Oh yeah.
I would let Her Majesty do a ten point swan dive off the cliff. I'd even find her a higher one if she asked nicely! We weren't there to save the beautiful princess. We were there to gather intel. Period. And what a peach he picked to save! Any more gratitude and we would have come home in a bag, if we came home at all. As it is, I'll be limping for weeks and I didn't think my knees could get any worse!
//I didn't think our directive was to go out and there into new civilizations and try to up the body count, Jack.//
It isn't.
But if that body count consists of Snake Heads, then that's OK by me.
//Even if she was a Goa'uld, there would have been an innocent host trapped in that body. Just like Sha're.//
And Skaara.
Shit. Skaara. Don't think about it, O'Neill. There's nothing you can do about it so just put it away. At least I chose Daniel over the kid in Apophis' ship. I didn't choose the host over my team. I shot that mother…Gould four times. If there had been any more shells in the clip, he would have gotten all sixteen. Skaara would have wanted it that way. I would too. Make sure I stay dead. None of this sarcophagus crap for me.
//I thought I was part of this, Jack. I thought what I was contributing to the team was important.//
And he is.
It's just not enough to balance the other stuff. Like running off even after I call him back! What the hell was he thinking? Doesn't he know what will happen if we get taken by the Snake Heads? That everything we know becomes theirs the minute we get Goulded? Everything I know? Command codes. Defenses. Shit!
Balanced against stuff like pointing a gun at me! Like launching the Doc! Like arguing with me when it was time to leave P3 whatever after we rescued Ernest. Like disobeying orders and running off without thinking. Like climbing in and out of that sarcophagus like he was throwing back shots. Like leaving us starving and working to death in the Naquada mine while he played blind dentist with the princess.
Dammit! He abandoned us! And I'm supposed to forget that and go back to business as usual?
Take a breath Jack boy-o. Stay calm. This isn't helping. You've got to stay calm for that meeting with Hammond.
That's right. Sit down and work on the paperwork. There's enough of it to paper several small countries and it's not going to complete itself.
Daniel's good at this stuff. He doesn't seem to mind paperwork. Like after the Antarctica trip. He must have filled out mountains of paperwork to get the search for us going. Then there's the Argos trip when I turned into my grandfather in under two weeks. He must have filed another mountain on that one just to remain behind with me. And there was that Alternate Reality thing where he brought back the coordinates for the ships launching the attack on Earth.
OK. So the kid was loyal… and brave. Brave enough to stay behind and cover our sixes on Klorel's ship after he had been shot with a staff weapon. Brave enough to take on Ra in defense of my team.
And he does make allowances for my limited diplomatic skills. Aw hell. My total lack of them.
It still doesn't change things. Does it? Can I really back him up if he goes running off again?
Do I want to?
TBC - Tomorrow, hopefully.
(Daniel)
I can't believe he would have kept me on the team if he didn't think I had anything to offer. I was the one who opened the damn Stargate in the first place. There wouldn't *BE* a Stargate Command if I hadn't translated it and figured out how to operate it. Jack O'Neill would be sitting on his ass at home, cradling his service revolver in his hands and wondering if he had the guts to swallow it.
Oh, God... I can't believe I even thought that.
Jack, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that. I didn't even mean to think that.
Maybe he's right. Maybe I should have never stepped foot off this planet. That's what Hammond had in mind anyway before I blackmailed him into letting me on SG-1. He didn't have much of a choice when you think about it and Jack had even less of an option once he rec'd his orders.
What the hell did I think I was doing anyway? I don't give the team any more help than any other linguist or translator could offer. I'm hardly indispensable. That old 'if you die we would replace your ass ASAP' thing and this time they would be sure to have a military scientist available for the position, someone who wouldn't give Jack more grey hair than he already has.
I'm willing to grovel, beg, plead, promise anything just to stay with SG-1, surely Jack knows that. He's sitting there with that 'I'm a soldier, dammit, none of this is touching me' look on his face. He hasn't even looked at me. I know he's pissed and I don't really blame him but I just can't agree with him on this one.
Sure I was an idiot to let Shyla keep blackmailing me to get me into the sarcophagus but I didn't know what else to do. She wasn't kidding around about keeping them there in the mines and I couldn't take the chance that she'd give in to her father and have them killed. I believed her when she said she had given her guards orders to treat them well. Of course I should have seen it the two times I was allowed to go see them, but by then I wasn't aware of anything but the sarcophagus.
I had to go back there to Shyla's world, if for no other reason than to see if I could come back without giving in to the siren song of the sarcophagus, and I did go back and I did insist that she destroy it. It was hard, harder than a lot of things I have been forced to do in my life. But I... did... it. I thought I'd proved something to Jack; but obviously I didn't or he wouldn't be sitting here stone-faced and looking anywhere but at me. I wish General Hammond would get here so we could start the briefing.
If Jack would just thaw enough to at least talk to me, to listen to me... I could tell him that I would never let it happen again...
Only, that's not true, is it? The one thing he needs from me, I can't give.
He would have stood back and let Shyla soar off that cliff and be glad that a suspected Goa'uld had gone willingly to her death. He would have stood there-in fact he probably would have helped her take that last step. And I know what he wants from me, but I can't promise it. It's not in me to stand by and watch people die.
I can't lie to him. He knows that.
And I can't tell him the truth.
I'm screwed.
(Jack)
Why does he keep staring at me like that? I'm not up to playing these games. What the hell does that look mean?
I wish I had brought a cup of coffee with me. Is there anything more boring than these debriefings? We've been sitting here for 20 minutes and the General has yet to put in an appearance. I can see him through his office window, on the phone and gesturing with sharp, concise hand slashes. It must be funding related because he doesn't get this agitated unless the committee is playing with our budget, again.
My eyes are itching and I could use at least another 4 hours sleep. This has been a bad month. Between the Naquada mine and the vigil in the infirmary, I feel like I've been running on all of my cylinders for too long. It feels like forever since I've been home. When this is over, maybe I can talk Daniel into coming by and watching the game.
What the hell am I thinking? He won't come over. He won't even talk to me except to discuss the mission to P3R-636. I have to admit, I was a little worried about taking him back there but the kid performed like a trooper.
Damn, he's doing it again. What does that look mean?
Oh great. Now Carter is doing it too. Maybe if I ignore her, she'll leave me alone. She never seems to grasp the concept that I like being quiet. Carter always seems to be bursting with something or another. Me, I'd rather listen and work things out in silence. I don't need to be talking to work through a problem.
Hammond looks like he's wrapping things up. He's almost screaming into the phone. Any minute now he'll slam the receiver down and we can get this over with. Then I can head home for another fun filled weekend of my own company.
Daniel's angry. He thinks I didn't want him on the team, but he's wrong. Dead wrong.
I was worried that I'd be making the wrong decision based on our friendship or what used to be our friendship. I don't think he'll ever forgive me for threatening him. I'm not sure I'll ever forgive myself for it. But it needed to be said! I couldn't just stand by this time and let him off with a stern talking to.
This time we almost died.
The next time it might be him.
I'm not angry anymore. Just tired. Tired of the argument that never ends. Tired of having to explain why I can't give in on this issue. He's back on the team, but I don't feel the cohesion we once had. The timing that was such an integral part of SG-1. We're back to being strangers.
I miss my friend. I even miss the impromptu lectures on ancient civilizations. But I can't give in. I can't have the team jeopardized again. I have to look out for all of my kids. Not just him.
He's promised me that he would make more of an effort to hear me. I have to accept that if he says it, but I'm still worried.
If he lies to me, I'll know it.
Then what?
I am so screwed.
"OK people. Sorry to keep you waiting." Hammond said from his doorway. Taking his seat at the front of the table, he addressed himself to O'Neill. "Colonel, are you ready to report?"
"Well, sir, we returned to P3R-636 and managed not get imprisoned this time." The Colonel began, "In between destroying the sarcophagus and breaking off Daniel's engagement, we managed to get a commitment from *her majesty*, for access to whatever Naquada remains in the mine. "
"What about the potential threat from the Goa'ulds if the shipments cease?"
Jack smiled at the question. "Actually, General, we planned on keeping the tribute going through the gate."
That's reasonable for the time being. What about our part in the treaty? What do they need from us?
Jack turned. "Daniel?"
"Uh. We, uh, set up a cultural liason--Dr. Allison--she's quite well versed in this form of society. She'll ship out tomorrow. Then there was a need for an engineering team so that Shyla can see that the mining can continue without enslaving an entire race of people."
"And ordinance, Sir." Jack added. "She's requesting military advisors too."
"We can do that." Agreed the General. "Were there any difficulties regarding the sarcophagus or the need to free the miners, Dr. Jackson?"
"Shyla destroyed it right after we arrived. As for the miners, she's promised to free them as soon as the mining equipment arrives."
"And she's such a lady of her word." Jack quipped under his breath.
"I believe her." Said Daniel, looking up. "She honestly wants to free her people. She just hasn't had the resources before now. I think she'll do what she said."
"Captain, is that your assessment as well?"
"We were pretty clear in what kind of commitment we wanted, sir." Sam stated. "I can't imagine she would endanger the treaty by keeping those unfortunate people in the mine any longer when there's no reason anymore. Especially given the fact that Daniel insisted it be written into the treaty. That was the primary demand in return for our assistance."
Hammond digested this latest piece of information and gazed at Jack thoughtfully, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Colonel, what is your recommendation?"
"General, I would send the liason officer suggested by Daniel, to keep tabs on Her Majesty. I'm not entirely comfortable with the princess' word on the matter, but as long as we're sending advisors, we can pretty much ensure she lives up to the treaty." Jack said, leaving the senior officer to draw his own conclusions.
"Well if there's nothing else...."
"There's one more thing, Sir." Jack interrupted. "Daniel did a hell of a job hammering out the treaty and I'd like him to head up the eval team when the reports start to come in."
"Dr Jackson, any objections?"
"No sir." He said without making eye contact. "I'll head up the.... Um...team."
Hammond glanced over at Daniel, taking in the dejected slump of his shoulders and the eyes fixed on the table. "Glad to hear it, son. Frankly, we were worried about you making this trip. But no one is happier than I am that it has resolved itself so satisfactorily."
"Is there anything else, Colonel?"
Jack stared at Daniel for a moment and turned back to the General. "No, Sir."
"Good work SG-1. It's good to see you functioning as a team again." Smiling, he stood and gathered his papers. "Enjoy your time off people." Hammond added as he entered his office.
Jack stood and collected his files, "OK kids, have a nice weekend. Be rested and ready for a new mission briefing at 0700 Monday."
As the weary group collected their papers and made for the stairway, Jack put a restraining hand on Daniel's arm. "Daniel, if you'd remain a moment I'd like a word with you."
Daniel turned and tugged his arm free. "You don't need to say it, Jack. I know I won't be expected to attend the briefing."
Jack snorted. "What the hell are you talking about? Of course you're expected to be there. On time I might add. I was just going to ask what you're doing this weekend?"
Puzzled blue eyes searched steady brown ones. "Nothing. Well not exactly nothing, I mean I have to feed the fish but that's about it. Why?"
"I just wanted to know if you want to come over and watch the Blackhawks game."
"Oh....sure. OK. Blackhawks. That's basketball....right?"
Jack grimaced and put a hand in the center of Daniel's back, prodding him towards the stairway. "Basketball? Basketball? You'd compare the sport of Kings with Basketball? It's Hockey! A sport played by artists like Gretzky and Messier!"
"Ok Jack, it's Hockey....Who's Gretzky?"
Their voices trailed off as the two men disappeared around the landing of the stairwell. Ah, the sounds of a well oiled machine.
Hammond smiled and closed his office door.
"He shoots, he scores! And that's the game. The Blackhawks defeat The Flames, 3 Goals to 1." The announcer yelled to the ecstatic fans as the United Center erupted in cheers.
Jack ran down the few steps from the kitchen, stopping in front of the TV, his face animated with his enjoyment of the game. "Who scored?" He was staring at the Budweiser commercial that was preventing him from seeing the playback. Who wanted to see frogs?
"Um....I'm not sure. It sounded like the ketchup company." Daniel said.
"Which ketchup company?" he prompted, wondering why he was surrounded by Hockey illiterate friends.
"DelMonte maybe."
Jack shook his head, smiling. "Tony Amonte?"
"Yes, well that could be it."
"Sweet." Jack smiled. "Kid's a helluva Right Wing. Against Calgary at any rate." He took in Daniel's lack of comprehension and grew suspicious. "What have you been doing besides watching the game?"
"Nothing. Just a little reading." Daniel shifted in his seat.
"Reading?" Jack asked with interest. "Reading what?"
"It's nothing, Jack. Just a book. Nothing you would be interested in."
Jack's curiosity was piqued now as Daniel tried to shove the small book between his thigh and the side of the couch cushion. He advanced on Daniel, moving deceptively slowly.
"Well you never know, Daniel. I'm interested in a lot of things." With a sudden lunge, he grabbed the book and flipped it over to read the title.
"Jack!"
He read the cover aloud. ""Combat Leader's Field Guide' by James J. Gallagher. A little light reading?"
Daniel stared at the carpet, mortified at having been caught. "I've been meaning to read up on those anyway." He waved in the general direction of the offending paperback. "With all of the combat situations we find ourselves in, I figured...." his voice trailed off as he looked at Jack. "Well you know. I figured you wouldn't mind." He finished miserably, his eyes dropping back to the carpet.
"Daniel, you can borrow anything of mine, anytime. I'm just a little confused as to your choice of reading material. Since when do you read military field guides?"
Hesitating with his answer, Daniel got up and began to prowl the small room, his hands punctuating each statement.
"Generally speaking, I * don't * read them, but I was checking out your....uh ....bookshelf and this book was so dog-eared, it caught my eye, so I started reading it and...."
"And you couldn't put it down?" Jack interrupted dryly.
"I was hoping it would explain some things."
Jack immediately dropped all trace of sarcasm, sensing they were about to venture through some uncomfortable questions. "What kind of things?"
Daniel pushed his glasses up a little higher, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the new angle. "You know, the entire P3H-636 situation. I wanted to understand why you reacted the way you did."
Jack sat down heavily on the couch, propping his feet on the coffee table and taking a long pull from his beer. "And did it help?" he asked quietly.
"No." Daniel answered truthfully, resuming his seat.
Jack stretched out tired muscles, searching for words that wouldn't cut through either of them. "Well," he finally offered, "that's honest." Another long pull on the beer. "Honest is a good place to start."
"I can't...." Daniel lost the word, stuttered, then tried again. "I can't judge if another person should live or die, Jack. I can't do that."
"But, Daniel. That's exactly what you did. You prevented her from dying without any Intel to go on. What if she had been a Goa'uld? What if your saving the life of the princess had cost other lives? What if Teal'c or Sam or even me... what if we died as a result of your actions?"
Daniel finally lit on the arm of a well-worn chair, staring blankly at the night-shadowed yard. His face had taken on an expression Jack couldn't read, and that was not a good sign. Usually O'Neill could read every nuance of emotion on Daniel's face. Now, he couldn't do anything but wait.
"I've never belonged out there, have I?"
Jack almost bought it. Almost. But the truth, if they were going to go the honesty route here, wouldn't allow him to get sidetracked. "Give it up, Daniel." He let his voice go hard. "You've had your time for self pity. Now it's over. Buried. Done. We're past analyzing each and every step. Now … now, we figure out, together, how to live with this."
We hope you enjoyed our first collaborative effort. We welcome any feedback. Just warn us if you plan to throw rotten vegetables because we'd appreciate the time to duck.
::smile::
Lost and Moonie
(Partners in Crime)
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