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PART TWO
By 0750, Daniel wished he was anywhere but on base.
Teal'c was incommunicado, Sam wouldn't pick up her phone and Jack wouldn't put
his down. The general called to remind Daniel that he and Colonel O'Neill had an
orientation session with their three new team leaders at 0800 and got his head
bitten off.
Daniel could now add an afternoon meeting with the general - and Jack - to his
regularly scheduled post-traumatic stress counselling session, which today, oh
joy, was group. Which apparently meant he had to reassure Dr. MacKenzie, Janet
Fraiser - and Jack - that he didn’t hate their guts or his own for them drugging
him to the eyebrows and tossing him all alone into Mental Health just because
they leaped to conclusions about the invisible Goa'uld in his closet.
Dr. MacKenzie - who ran these sessions - described this kind of labelling as
'unhealthy'. He was concerned Daniel wasn't moving on.
Daniel thought he'd move on a lot quicker if they'd leave him the hell alone and
stop lecturing him about blame the whole time!
As in, 'don't blame me!'
Dr. MacKenzie didn't think his attitude was healthy either.
After this he had his annual weapons re-qualification. With Jack.
Then, just to round out the perfect day, he also had his performance evaluation
with his commanding officer. Who was Jack.
The absolutely infuriating thing was that most of these innocuous activities had
been scheduled for weeks and until he found himself in hell, Daniel had been
quite looking forward to a lazy day bumming around the base with Jack
outrageously pulling rank on everyone just because he could and Daniel liked to
see him do it.
Now he was terribly afraid they were falling in love and there wasn't a damned
thing he could do about that.
At 0755 he bolted for the elevator and the briefing room, wishing he could
remember more than the 'Hello, I'm Dr. Daniel Jackson' portion of his carefully
prepared presentation. There didn't seem to be anything he could do about that
either. He was going to have to wing it.
Like Jack.
Daniel sighed.
He walked into the briefing room and was hit right between the eyes by two
near-identical expressions of sympathy and concern, which he guessed meant he
wasn't going to receive the customary lecture for being thirty-two seconds late.
Bestowing a fleeting wince of a smile on General Hammond and Jack, Daniel turned
to survey a wall of smugly assured 'seen it all, done it all, made it here and
don't even need the damned T-shirt' khaki.
It kind of annoyed him.
He walked up to the table, took hold of the back of the nearest chair and broke
the ice with a little of the very beautiful and poetic language of the Ancients.
He offered a courteous good morning to the three officers, asking if the SGC and
its Stargate were living up to their expectations.
They looked to the general for guidance. Hammond merely settled back in his
chair and smiled blandly at them.
Encouraged by this evidence of indulgence, Daniel went on in the same language
to introduce himself, the general and a fascinated Jack, then told the attendees
a little of what they would be covering in the orientation.
He was greeted by fidgeting-beginning-to-be-pissed silence.
"Tough room," Daniel commented to no one in particular, switching fluently to
English. "I think this neatly illustrates my first point about the importance of
communication in all its forms. You can't travel across Colorado Springs without
meeting people who speak other languages, so how do you communicate with them?
How do you make yourself understood? Is your reliance wholly on verbal
communication or are you aware of the impact of facial expressions and gestures?
Body language. Your stance, even the way you carry yourself. It's possible to
appear non-threatening while holding a very big gun equipped with lots of
bullets, although I have to admit this is a stretch for Colonel O'Neill on a
good day."
On cue, every head swivelled towards Jack.
"Me?" Jack enquired, sitting up straighter. He seemed quite pleased by Daniel's
tribute and by all the attention. "Dr. Jackson is a linguist and philologist as
well as an archaeologist," he brightly informed the room at large. "He speaks
twenty-three languages, only one of which is English." He smiled at the three
khakis. It wasn't nice. "Not this one, obviously."
Hammond's lips twitched.
Jack pointed to his chest. "O'Neill," he repeated. "And that's Jack, by the
way." He winked at Daniel.
Daniel looked wryly at the three officers. "See? Classic example." He shook a
reproving finger at Jack and paced a few steps. "You'd think friendly non-verbal
communication would work, and on every planet but P3B-933 it probably would."
His own smile wasn't exactly sunny. "On 933, interrupting the Ghanee would get
you staked out in the sun for one rotation before your heart was cut - still
beating - out of your chest and stuffed down your throat."
"This isn't a random example," Jack interjected helpfully, his extremely
unpleasant smile widening.
"Personally, I think there are less extreme ways to deal with being rudely
interrupted but for you - yes, you!"
Daniel stalked around the table and prodded khaki #3 sharply in the chest. This
wasn't a random example either. A mesmerised hermaphrodite Veree general had
prodded Sam's breasts with great good humour and curiosity on P2R-195.
"For you, I'd make an exception."
Khaki #3 appeared to take this personally. Sam hadn't. Or if she had, she
certainly hadn't shown it. Not to the Veree general, at least.
"You're free to respond in any manner you determine is appropriate, Major,"
Hammond advised his subordinate calmly, his relaxed hands clasping neatly
together on the table as he leaned forward to observe.
Daniel took khaki #3 by the ear and began to touch his hair.
Khaki #3, who was obviously ready for anything, took Daniel by the wrist and
forced him slowly and exceedingly painfully to his knees.
"Now, see!" Daniel gasped, immediately irritated with himself for giving khaki
#3 even this small satisfaction. "You're assuming this was an aggressive gesture
as opposed to, say, a grooming ritual designed to deepen social and familial
bonds, or just plain old curiosity. You're assuming I'm human, that I understand
the concept of personal space or appreciate your touch taboo." Was it too unkind
to mention the dandruff? "You're assuming I can vocalise."
"I couldn't miss that," khaki #3 responded gently, tightening his grip where he
believed it couldn't be seen by the others. "You haven't stopped vocalising long
enough to draw breath. I'm assuming there was some point to this little
demonstration?"
"You're also assuming he's alone," khaki #2 added matter-of-factly, observing
the oblique approach of a severely pissed-off colonel about to respond in a
manner he considered entirely appropriate.
"Gentlemen," Hammond drawled warningly. "And Colonel O'Neill!" he added rapidly
and, wise in the ways of Jack's very choosey selective hearing, at greatly
increased volume.
Khaki #3 freed Daniel with more haste than dignity then prudently assisted him
back to his feet.
Failing to appreciate textbook survival instinct in action, Jack sat menacingly
next to khaki #3, swivelled his chair around and looked fixedly at him.
Daniel was still annoyed and now his wrist hurt.
"Now that you have everyone's attention, Daniel, why don't you get started on
the orientation?" Jack suggested, smiling sleekly at khaki #3.
It was exhausting for Daniel to fight Jack as well as himself. Jack wormed his
way through Daniel's defences without even trying, and when he did try, like
now, Daniel found him almost impossible to withstand. Jack was force majeure
personified, the itch which could not be scratched.
Jack, he - he'd kissed Daniel as he'd never been kissed before, as if he were
everything in the world to Jack. Daniel wasn't prepared in any way for what Jack
was doing to him. It wasn't just his sexuality he was being abruptly forced to
question, but his feelings, their whole history together as friends. His life.
Right now, he didn't know who he was, who he would be and he - he couldn't stop
thinking about the kiss.
The general had to call his name before Daniel was able to pull himself
together. He dragged his eyes away from Jack and walked thoughtfully around to
the head of the table to assume his customary briefing position.
Needing every second to compose himself, he took time to look at the three
officers, all eyeing him warily now, possibly re-evaluating their first
impressions of him. Daniel thought this at least was a positive sign of a
necessary skill in the field. Jack certainly never rested. Daniel also thought
this was a lacklustre group of men and wondered by what criterion they made the
grade for team leader in the SGC. Khaki #3 was the only one to make an
impression on him so far and not for any good reason.
He hated the unthinking 'orders are orders' military mindset, very aware of how
spoiled he was to work with Jack and Sam.
Khaki #3 was bold enough to try to twist Daniel's arm off in front of the
general.
Ruthlessness had its place, he couldn't deny that, but here it wasn't tempered
by any kind of receptivity or openness to new experience which made it possible
for Daniel to find common ground so successfully with Jack.
Jack had the capacity to be a stone-killer, Daniel never fooled himself about
that, but Jack also had the assurance not to lean on his rank, not to bluster,
threaten or bully. While he might be the only off-world experienced officer
here, Jack was also the only one to take action against khaki #3. It was part of
who Jack was, not a product of training.
Daniel could admire discipline and he benefited daily from the rigorous Air
Force education and training, but he looked for more and the SGC needed more.
"I'm curious, gentlemen," Daniel said softly, arms slipping comfortingly across
his chest as he spoke.
He'd radically affected the dynamic of the session but felt strongly he needed
to finish what he'd started. The Air Force had selected these three men,
accepting them as suitable for the exigencies of off-world exploration. Daniel's
opinion of their suitability was widely at variance with the official Air Force
assessment but then his criteria were different. He wasn't disposed to give the
three a second chance because it wouldn't be granted to them by the alien
cultures they would encounter and they would not be the only ones who suffered
for it. Each would be leading a team trusting them to make decisions. Trusting
them with their lives.
"You could see that the major," he went on with quiet determination, nodding in
the direction of khaki #3, whose name still escaped him, "was hurting me, yet
neither of you intervened. May I ask why not? Is securing your command here more
important than the welfare of a civilian employee?"
Glowering, khaki #3 crossed his arms over his chest with slow deliberation in a
transparent attempt to intimidate the civilian employee.
The civilian in question watched him mildly, unmoved by the implicit threat.
"Answer the question, Locke," Jack fired at khaki #3. "Baird, Hartley," he
barked. "All of you."
"General!" Khaki #2 - Baird - protested heatedly.
"It's a legitimate concern," Hammond calmly backed up Daniel and Jack. "Go on,
Dr. Jackson," he invited graciously.
"It worries me that in a situation which was after all only a minor departure
from the norm, from what you were trained for, " Daniel went on, "one of you
reacted with overt physical aggression and neither of the onlookers felt the
need to intercede on my behalf."
He glanced momentarily at the general, who was keenly observing their inductees.
Jack was more interested in observing Daniel, naturally, and he seemed to be
enjoying himself very much. Daniel was flustered by Jack's obvious appreciation.
Well, obvious to him.
The khakis were oblivious; angry, defensive in posture and clearly attempting to
disassociate themselves from their fellows.
"Is violence an appropriate response to miscommunication?" Daniel probed. "I
mean, correct me if I'm wrong?" He looked to Jack. "But aren't you trained to
assess a threat?"
"You're not wrong," Jack affirmed pleasantly.
"Which begs the question. What threat did I pose, exactly, except to your
dignity in front of the general?" Daniel had a definite sense of gathering
momentum here. "You assessed me the moment I walked in the room...as what? A
geek?" he distastefully uttered the hateful epithet. "Your focus was wholly on
impressing General Hammond and Colonel O'Neill. I interfered with that agenda
and you reacted accordingly."
"What's your point?" khaki #3 - Locke - demanded.
"My point, Major Locke, is that every situation you encounter off-world will be
outside your experience. Everyone you meet will deviate from what you understand
to be the norm."
Daniel felt this was a self-evident truth. Seriously, he was going to have to
speak to the general about this, see if he couldn't get involved a tad earlier
in the selection process.
He looked at the khakis, who seemed to be hating him quite a lot right now.
Kindergarten, maybe.
"This was an artificial situation," Major Baird argued smoothly.
"In the Senior Psychological Operations course at Hurlburt," Jack interjected
with an oddly whimsical smile, "I had to make friends with a lemon."
"Did it work?" Daniel asked, instantly diverted by this beguiling image.
"We bonded over pancakes."
"Psychological Operations?"
"Senior Psychological Operations," Jack corrected him, modestly buffing his
pristine nails on the sleeve of his BDU jacket.
Jack looked - good - in blue, Daniel realised, utterly disconcerted. He - er -
good.
Good.
God.
Did he look good in blue too? Was this why Jack was staring?
"What was my point?" Daniel asked blankly.
"These boys won't cut it off-world," Jack supplied helpfully, eyeing a
distracted Daniel complacently.
"I'm afraid I agree," General Hammond announced. "This base has barely recovered
from an alien incursion in which our own personnel were compromised,
incarcerated and impersonated. Dr. Jackson is correct in his judgement of the
ineffectiveness of your threat-assessment in this situation."
"Also of their, um, rigidity," Daniel offered.
"I passed Cross-Cultural Communication too," Jack said proudly.
"I can tell. That whole 'me Jack' thing." Daniel tapped his chest in respectful
reminder.
"Works like a charm."
"Except on 933," they said together.
"Yes." Daniel - and the general - felt they were wandering from the point.
Daniel ruthlessly dragged them back to it. "Gentlemen, you made no attempt
whatsoever to determine what my purpose was and if you can't handle an
archaeologist who's actually on your side and here to help you?" He shrugged
eloquently. Who – and what - could they handle?
"Archaeologist cum linguist," Jack reminded the khakis a trifle smugly.
"Anthropologist. And philologist."
"How could you handle the Ghanee or a village full of angry Tobians?" Daniel
went on, ignoring Jack's 'he's mine, all mine!!' interpolations.
"They shed like you wouldn't believe," Jack supplied on a point of information.
"Talk about fur-balls."
"Lame jokes about 'The Howling' aside," Daniel picked up the thread.
"Lame?" Jack objected with a curl of his lip. "Isn't one of your functions at
the SGC supposed to be diplomacy?"
"Jack didn't once make the error of anthropomorphising the Tobians," Daniel
projected effortlessly above the whining. "They were not human." He scowled at
Jack. "And that was the diplomatic description of your attempts to meld
anthropological and schlock-horror humour."
"They were perfectly friendly," Jack once again felt the urge to share, shooting
Daniel a look that suggested Jack's sense of humour and Daniel's tact or lack
thereof had been added to a rather long list of things they needed to discuss.
"After we established our position up the food chain and off the menu." He fixed
the khakis with a hard, unpleasant stare. "Perhaps a training programme, Sir?"
he suggested cheerfully.
"I was about to make that very suggestion, Colonel," Hammond agreed jovially.
"Would you be willing to assist Dr. Jackson in bringing these gentlemen up to
speed for off-world operations?"
"I wouldn't make any final judgements just yet about whether they get off-world
or not," Jack advised Hammond. "Leave it to me. And to Daniel." He smiled nicely
at Daniel.
Daniel stiffened. Shouldn't the question be: was Dr. Jackson willing to be
assisted? He frowned at the general. Hello? Pissed archaeologist in the room
here!
"I passed Crisis Response, Revolutionary Warfare and Dynamics of International
Terrorism," Jack happily informed Daniel of his credentials. "I passed
everything." There was a certain gung-ho attitude there which suggested whatever
scores the khakis thought they had, Jack had scored better.
Trying very hard not to be amused with his co-trainer, which only encouraged
him, Daniel thoughtfully regarded his trainees and performed his own threat
assessment. They were extremely unhappy and wouldn't hesitate to share. He
foresaw hours of fun with them attempting to make his life a living hell to pay
him back for embarrassing them on their first day. Basically, they had dumb-jock
geek-torture written all over them.
Hmm.
While it was going to be fun watching Jack happen to them, Daniel felt he should
also contribute fully to their re-education.
He turned decidedly to the general.
"Could we send out for lemons?"
"I have nothing to say, Jack."
Sam froze in the doorway as Daniel's voice rose. She was tempted to back out of
earshot but she really needed to know he was okay and he sounded anything but.
His voice was quick and pitched high with emotion. She glanced into the lab and
saw him sitting slouched at his desk, leaning heavily into a wearily propping
arm, tense fingers clenched in his hair, the phone cradled in his shoulder.
Her heart constricted at his evident exhaustion.
"No, no, you listen! What can I say?" Daniel demanded in an urgent under-voice.
"I didn't ask for any of this, I wasn't prepared for any of this and I don't
know how to deal with any of this."
Stifled and guilty, Sam pushed cold hands under her armpits.
"We have to be able to work together, Jack, that's the most important thing. The
rest is - no, Jack, you've had your say and now it's mine!"
Yesterday, Sam had known she would pay for the wrong she'd done, but she hadn't
been in any fit state to understand she wasn't the only one. She had betrayed
her friends and teammates and refused to sugar coat this now she was staring at
the consequences of her actions. Daniel didn't know how to deal with what had
happened and now he and the colonel were fighting. All her fault.
"I don't know where this leaves our friendship! I just don't know. You know and
I know that Sam is upset and she needs you. I don't," Daniel lied proudly. "Go
do your job, Jack. You’re the one who's responsible, remember?" He listened for
a few moments more and then he hung up.
The phone rang again immediately. Daniel picked it up, held onto it for a second
then hung up again, then he laid the handset down on top of a stack of books and
took off his glasses. He folded his arms on his desk and buried his face in
them.
"I'm here," Sam announced herself quietly.
Daniel's head jerked up and his face flamed. "Sam!" he gasped. "Are you okay? I
was worried!"
"I'm sorry!" Sam blurted out, rushing forward as Daniel got clumsily to his
feet. She pulled up short as he balked without even realising it, backing into
his desk as his arms wrapped around his body in that terribly familiar sign of
distress he had. "I heard everything," Sam said so he wouldn't have to ask or
worry about it.
Daniel nodded vaguely and leaned against his desk, staring at nothing. Tense
silence crowded as he waited for Sam to talk, too much on his mind for him to
take the lead for once.
Sam couldn't think of anything to say except she was sorry and it sounded so
insincere after the fact.
Her mother used to say if you were sorry, you wouldn't have done it. You would
have thought.
Sam hadn't thought at all. She'd just reacted.
It was no excuse she didn't even realise how threatened she'd felt, how screwed
her judgement was by her crushing need to know what her true feelings for Jack
O'Neill were and what they meant.
It was never really about the colonel or even about Daniel. It was all her.
An endless, sleepless night was enough for her to know that. It didn't help she
understood too late she'd lost to Daniel, that there was no point to her deceit.
Nothing good could come of it. And it seemed nothing had.
"I was so wrong, Daniel," Sam whispered, stricken. "I'm so sorry. I must have
been insane!"
"Sam?" Daniel asked in concern, standing back up. He reached out a hesitant
hand, looking hurt when Sam flinched away from him in self-disgust.
"What did the colonel say to you?" Sam demanded tightly.
She would tell Daniel the truth of course, as much as he wanted - needed - to
hear from her. It was going to be very bad but she had to try to talk. Daniel
was the only one who could maybe understand she didn't know what had driven her
to this. She had found out exactly what she'd needed so terribly to know, but
the answers were giving her no peace and the price was too high.
Sam had lost more than the colonel; she felt as if she was losing herself. The
fact she could even have done something like this, when her loyalty and
integrity were so important to her, terrified her. She was scared thinking what
her alternate selves had to be compromising to be with their Jacks when they
didn't know one another at all.
"I don't know what I'm doing anymore," she confessed shakily, tears biting as
Daniel reached out to her again. He did it so rarely, so reluctantly, he
deserved her response. She fumbled for and patted his hand, a reassuring weight
on her shoulder.
"I can't bear to see you like this," Daniel sighed. "What's wrong, Sam? Tell me,
please."
"I lied," she said simply, struggling for an explanation when nothing made
sense. "To myself most of all. I didn't know, Daniel. I had to know. I had to,"
she said again, helplessly. Daniel was nodding sympathetically, as if this made
sense to him. "I lied to myself and I lied to the colonel, but I can't - I won't
lie to you."
"You lied to Jack?" Daniel asked, straightening up to frown at her. "I'm sorry,
Sam, you're losing me."
"I went to his house last night," Sam faltered.
"You did what?"
They both jumped at the curt voice, turning to face an angry Colonel O'Neill
looming at the open door.
Sam was familiar with the killing look on his face though it had never been
directed at her. She swallowed hard, even more afraid than she had been. The
colonel was not going to forgive her. She was sure of it.
"I came to see you last night, Sir."
"When?" the colonel asked, baffled. "I was out for a few hours," he went on,
looking edgily at Daniel, who dropped his head to stare at the floor. "After I
saw you at Daniel's."
"You came over?" Daniel asked her, glancing up startled. "Sam, I'm sorry, if I'd
known you needed me!"
"You had your hands full," the colonel snorted with darkly sardonic humour.
Daniel flushed miserably and looked furious with the both of them for it.
"Sir, I was the reason you went over to Daniel's place," Sam insisted, raising
her head proudly. Her Dad expected her to take it on the chin, whatever life and
her own choices threw at her. She agreed with him wholeheartedly. Fairness was
important to them both.
"Carter," the colonel began impatiently.
As he was speaking, Sam took the alien device from her pocket and touched it to
her skin. Daniel jerked back abruptly as Sam turned to him, then came eagerly
forward again, reaching out in fascination to touch her. She was staring at the
colonel though, watching his expression darken as realisation dawned. The man
wasn't a fool even if he acted like one at times. He knew he'd been ambushed,
that the facsimile of Daniel was a feint to lure him from cover. If she thought
he was angry before, he was murderous now. Sam couldn't blame him. She found her
own behaviour unforgivable and she knew it wasn't anything like as calculating
as it looked.
The colonel didn't have the luxury of her insight.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" he hissed with quiet, barely controlled
venom.
"Jack," Daniel protested his tone automatically but he was looking from Jack to
his own mirror image and back again, frowning heavily.
"I know." Sam let out an explosive breath as she removed the alien device. Her
body shimmered and she was once again herself.
She was so anxious and upset she was nauseous.
When the colonel held out an imperative hand for the device, Sam handed it over
without protest. The general would want to know the reason for the delay in her
report but she doubted the colonel cared right now. She wasn't sure she cared
herself. Her career was suddenly a small thing compared to the friendships she'd
jeopardised.
"I know what I've done," Sam said again quietly, blinking away at the suspicious
moisture in her eyes. It did her no good to cry.
Her certainty punched through Colonel O'Neill's raw fury. "At least you went
right to him," he retorted icily, his eyes raking her contemptuously.
"'Him' meaning me?" Daniel asked sharply.
Sam desperately wanted to know what had happened between Daniel and Colonel
O'Neill, how much damage she'd done to them and to their team. It might not be
so easy to find out, from either of them, because they obviously didn't know if
they could trust her. They were barely communicating with her now and she knew
neither would rush to confide in her in the future.
"You went to see Jack wearing this device? You made him think you were me?"
Daniel went on, stunned.
He was always quick, too fast for the rest of them, seeing connections they
missed, drawing conclusions too fantastical for Sam. He was so often right too.
"Why, Sam?"
His soft, musical voice was never harsh, no matter how much anger or hurt he was
feeling. Sam could see from his sudden pallor Daniel was hurting, that her lie
was real to him now. He might not understand everything, but even without her
explanation, it seemed he'd learned enough to know how badly she had let him
down.
She took an involuntary step towards him as he looked at Jack, his mouth working
as he tried to say something, then his face wrenched. Eloquent hands flew up
defensively, as if to push Sam and the colonel away from him, then Daniel turned
his back on them both and dashed away.
"Daniel!"
They called out his name in unison but the colonel was already moving.
"This is isn't over, Carter!" he snarled as he jerked her to a jarring halt when
she would have gone after Daniel, pulling his hands away from her as if burned.
"Why, for chrissake?" he demanded, low-voiced and bitter with rage. "You're not
her!"
Sam had no difficulty understanding his oblique reference to her alternate and
it seemed the colonel had no difficulty understanding she and Dr. Carter weren't
all that different.
"I didn't know!" Sam said urgently, "I swear, not until - until it was too late.
It wasn't like that!"
"Like what?" he coldly invited her to explain, his eyes stony. "Like you were
jealous?"
Sam flinched back as if he'd slapped her. "I wasn't thinking about us!"
"There is no 'us', Major," the colonel retorted, brutally direct in his
rejection. "I'm your commanding officer. We're colleagues. Teammates."
"You and Daniel are more."
"My friendship with Daniel is not your concern, Carter," he pronounced flatly.
Sam didn't need to be told the colonel felt threatened by what he'd revealed to
her. In other circumstances he would have been concerned for her but as it stood
he was concerned about her. He no longer trusted what he knew of her and this
was no one's fault but her own. She didn't know any other way to tackle this
except head on. Everyone had to know where they stood before they could begin to
move on.
"You feel more for him than friendship, Sir."
Sam instantly wished the words unsaid because the colonel got right in her face.
Quaking inwardly, she stood her ground.
"That wasn't a threat, Sir," Sam promised. "I don't have any right to-"
"No!" he flared. "You don't."
She deserved that, she supposed.
"Unless you report me to the general for sexual misconduct, Major, you don't get
to say another word. You don’t get to know. "
"I would never!" Sam stuttered, horrified that he could even think she would...
"Sir, I-"
"This never happened," the colonel ordered curtly. "You don't ask and you sure
as hell don't tell. And that isn't about you or about me. It's about Daniel. He
cares about you and I don't want him knowing what you did to him or why. You
won't make it any harder on him to forgive you than it is right now or you and I
will get into it."
"I wanted to make it right," Sam whispered, appalled at his interpretation of
her motivation.
"You can't," the colonel retorted dismissively. "You don't get to hurt him,
Carter, not so you can ease your conscience." His confident voice purred menace
and finality. "Suck it up."
He blanked her then and swiftly walked away, leaving her floundering and alone.
Jack could not believe what Carter had done. Her reasons if anything made it
worse as far as he was concerned. She must have been out of her mind. He
couldn't come up with any other explanation than her jealousy of his
relationship with Daniel, whether she'd admit it or not.
He was at a loss to understand where this came from.
Carter was one of the most loyal people he knew, but from time to time, she got
blinded.
Even so, this was from so far out of left field, it floored him. Nothing could
justify her prying or deception. Nothing. If she really did think Jack was
guilty of sexual misconduct, she should’ve tackled him head on or gone to
Hammond. Everything he knew of her character led him to expect her to come to
him first.
Carter had lost more than perspective here. She'd lost control and now, maybe,
she'd lost everything. Jack knew her and despite his anger and disappointment,
had enough respect for her to know she wasn't going to shake this off. It was
hitting her maybe as hard as it was hitting Daniel. She had to know the risk
wasn't worth the consequences to her personally and certainly not to the team he
knew she valued so much.
Even recognising this, he wasn't disposed to let her squirm off the hook. If it
was just about him, he could take it, he'd shrugged off worse, but what she'd
done to Daniel was unforgivable. Daniel would never, ever hurt Carter, not this
way.
You saw Daniel coming. If he was upset, if he was angry, he got in your face.
But then, to be fair, this wasn't Carter either. Jack couldn't fathom this out,
not why, not yet.
Back there in the office, Daniel had heard enough to realise it was Carter's
impersonation which had brought Jack hotfoot over to molest him. Now he was off
hiding somewhere, no doubt trying to understand why she would do such a thing,
trying not to be angry with her because of what had happened afterwards between
Jack and him. Part of Daniel also had to be wondering what the hell Carter had
done to spark off this reaction in Jack, and why she'd done it looking like him.
Jack hated he'd been such an easy mark, that Carter knew now he was in love with
Daniel. He hated losing his privacy and being forced into an action he wouldn’t
ever have chosen voluntarily to take.
He thought not, anyway.
Hurting Daniel was the last thing he'd wanted to do but he was feeling he'd done
exactly that.
This mess wasn't his fault, but it was his responsibility.
His own feelings were complex. He couldn't deny his relief Daniel finally knew
how he felt about him and what he wanted from their relationship but the way
Daniel found out couldn’t have been any worse, could it?
He was sorry for putting him through all this painful self-realisation but he
knew - he truly had no doubt that Daniel would be with him at the end of it.
Maybe Jack was a selfish bastard for using Daniel's confusion to his advantage
but at the core he wanted what was best for him. He was going to help Daniel
accept that Jack was exactly who he needed. Jack had no doubt on this. Neither
of them was any good without the other.
It wasn't like Jack hadn't been in love before. Sara would always be part of him
and he wouldn't change that. What he felt for Daniel wasn't more; it was just
different than anything he'd ever felt before. It wasn't even because Daniel was
a man. That was too straightforward, too easy. He'd thought and thought about
why this was and the only answer he had was that Daniel somehow reached more of
him and touched him in ways he didn’t expect and even after knowing the man all
this time, wasn't prepared for.
It was a cliché and he knew it, but it was also a truth he couldn't avoid; he
was a better person for knowing Daniel.
Jack wanted to be there for Daniel, wanted to help him to understand and come to
terms with his sexuality, his feelings. Daniel himself recognised the
impossibility of them being able to turn away. The ties between them were too
strong, too much a part of them to be broken. They were better together.
He wasn’t sure which reality Daniel was struggling with most; the fact he was in
love with Jack or the fact he wanted to go to bed with him.
Jack kind of understood this confusion, maybe even more than Daniel did. Daniel
needed to be touched but he kept the world at a safe distance. Social contact,
even casual affection wasn't enough for Daniel. Jack often thought Daniel's
parents must have been all over him, that he must have been the centre of their
world.
The boy had lost part of himself when they died. It was an instinctive
protection for the man to hold himself apart. Sometimes the only way to deal
with such a strong drive was to deny it completely.
Jack had been limping along in denial too, but all his pretence had been
stripped away by Carter. He was ravenous. With all his passion and intensity of
touch, Daniel would be an amazing lover; of this Jack had no doubt. He did
understand Daniel needed to commit to him before he would make love with him,
that the people Daniel touched were the ones he loved.
Daniel needed to be soothed and reassured. Persuaded. Petted. He deserved the
utmost care and sensitive handling. Jack should be embarrassed he was looking
forward to it so much.
When Daniel was upset, he came to Jack. When he was upset with Jack, there was
only one place he'd be, because he didn’t confide in anyone else. Confidently,
Jack headed for the elevator and the commissary. Coffee: huge, hot, smooth and
strong. Depending how pissed Daniel was with Jack, maybe chocolate too.
It was nice Daniel wanted to get through this alone. Jack appreciated
independence and admired any man who could stand on his own. Not when it came to
his love life, though. He wasn't about to let Daniel be the one that got away.
They were in the dead time between breakfast and lunch and all the bustle was in
the hallways. The commissary would be quiet, so maybe he and Daniel could talk.
He was thinking of deserting his post and luring Daniel up to the surface for a
romantic walk around the perimeter fence. That was going to take some serious
grovelling, right there.
Jack did have one thing going for him. Daniel liked him. A lot. It was a big
handicap when the boy was trying to stay mad with him.
Anticipation was so far from what he'd been feeling recently, Jack found himself
quite distracted by it now, his feet more or less moving him along on automatic
pilot.
He was expecting Daniel to be difficult, to be tough on him. He was expecting
tricky questions and some fairly embarrassing answers. Arguments about
uncontrollable jealousy and deeply unreasonable behaviour. Daniel would be his
usual deprecating self, but never pushing Jack away. He shared Jack's feelings.
Jack was sure of it. He just had to make him see it would be good for them; that
it was meant to be this way. They were better together.
It wasn't going to be easy. Daniel had just lost his wife and his peach of a
rebound - Jack gritted his teeth reflexively. He didn't want to go there.
Jealousy, no matter the cause, was always ugly.
So was the scene that greeted him when he strolled into the commissary.
The place was practically deserted and Jack was right, Daniel was here, nursing
coffee and – oh, crap! - chocolate cheesecake. He wasn't alone though. With
every other table empty, the space around Daniel was crowded. Three jokers and
an ace, the jokers Daniel had embarrassed so thoroughly in the orientation this
morning. The USAF’s best, taking Daniel three on one.
"Well, isn't that special?" Jack muttered grimly under his breath as he marched
over to the rescue.
Breaking heads would be satisfying - Daniel was talking and they were laughing -
but Jack would restrict himself to pulling rank all over them. Daniel was under
the impression he could take care of himself and publicly proving him wrong now
would hardly be conducive to getting him up to the surface for a romantic
tête-à-tête later or sneaking a predatory fork into that interesting-looking
cheesecake.
Approaching obliquely and wearing his nastiest smile, Jack was almost on top of
them. He opened his mouth to let rip and was upstaged by the PA system.
"Unscheduled off-world activation! All personnel report to duty stations!"
The three losers looked up blankly as Daniel grabbed his Air Force mug with the
ease of long practice and vaulted athletically to his feet. He turned urgently
and walked solidly into Jack, coffee erupting over Baird, the table and Locke.
Ever the gentleman, Jack thoughtfully held tightly onto Daniel, quite enjoying
the sensations while his other half sputtered and hyperventilated.
"Did we cover the whole planetary crisis thing in the orientation?" Jack asked
the three dripping airmen unpleasantly. "Or did you gentlemen want to hang here
for a while and finish your coffee first?" He looked at Major Locke. "Colonel
Makepeace is particularly enthused by dawdlers."
That shifted them.
Watching them broodingly as they accelerated out the door, Jack was a little
surprised Daniel didn’t kick him in the shin or anything. He seemed to be in
about that mood and Jack was really pushing it with the supportive clutch.
"Get. Off. Me."
Yep. Daniel was in exactly that mood. Regretfully, Jack let go and gallantly
encouraged Daniel to precede him, so he could admire his ass as he stalked out.
“I can’t believe you were so rude!” Daniel snapped accusingly over his shoulder
as he stormed down the hallway towards the elevator.
“I was rude?” Jack demanded incredulously. “They were laughing at you!”
“That would be because I said something amusing.” His face wintry, Daniel
punched the down button to call the elevator.
“You did?” Jack couldn't entirely silence his amazement at this notion.
“They seemed to think so, yes.”
The elevator doors opened and they found SG-2, sans their C.O., waiting for
them. After several seconds of tense mutual eyeballing, Ferretti's men made
themselves very small and carefully made room for the archaeologist. A
surprising amount of room in a very cramped space. Grateful for the generosity
and consideration they were also about to extend to a superior officer, Jack
crowded in comfortably next to Daniel.
"For your information, there was some revision of unfavourable first
impressions," Daniel informed him, his tone of voice still in the deep
midwinter. "An indication of willingness to learn."
"Learn what?" Jack asked, honestly curious.
"Communication."
"Ah."
"Combat."
"Huh?"
"Apparently, you don't know everything they know."
"I beg your pardon?"
“In fact, you’re losing your touch,” Daniel commented with deceptive casualness.
“How so?” Despite sundry insulting insinuations from a very sore loser, Jack
figured he was ahead of the game at this point. He'd managed to cuddle Daniel
against his will right there in front of everyone in the commissary and if
pushed he would willingly talk about it in front of everyone cowering behind
them in the elevator.
“You walked away without the cheesecake.”
Ah, live and let live, that was Jack’s philosophy. What was triple chocolate
chip compared to Daniel’s ass?
“Unlike Major Locke.” Daniel took a long, indulgent drink of his coffee,
listening appreciatively to the sound of airmen being conspicuously silent.
“Good reflexes there.”
Mmm-hmm. Jack waited for the other shoe to drop. The two of them bickered all
the time and it wasn’t like Daniel to be obvious.
“He’s offered to teach me some stuff privately. In fact,” Daniel smirked, "he
twisted my arm."
“What?” Jack froze. Locke was the good-looking, underwear-modelly, 'Made by
Mattel' one! “What stuff?”
Daniel took another gulp of coffee and slid neatly out between the opening
doors, striding off towards the control room.
“I know stuff!” Jack turned around to glare at his audience. “Lots of stuff.”
Ferretti's men were not about to disagree with this. They also weren’t about to
rush past him, even though they needed to take up defensive positions and he was
in their way.
Feeling he had nothing to prove here, Jack made sure they knew he was choosing
to let them be.
When he got into the control room, Carter was sidling into the seat next to the
technician Jack always thought of as Chevron Guy while Daniel was hiding out on
the far side of the general and Teal’c. Curling a lip at these cowardly tactics,
Jack had no hesitation in insinuating himself into the very small space between
the curve of Daniel’s hip and the console. Then he realised Daniel was probably
trying to avoid Carter, not him, and felt slightly guilty, although not guilty
enough to do the honourable thing and move over.
“What’s up?” he asked brightly.
“Unauthorised incoming traveller,” the general responded sharply.
A thud against the iris made them all reflexively snap up their heads.
"Shit!" Jack cringed.
Before anyone could move or otherwise react, the Stargate abruptly deactivated.
"Major?" Hammond enquired of Carter. "Can you determine what caused the impact
event we just witnessed?"
Carter nodded, already reaching for the phone. "Yes, Sir. I'll get a radiation
team in there to analyse the decay signature on the iris."
"Uh, guys!" Daniel called out urgently while Carter was still dialling. "The
iris!"
It took Jack a moment to focus in on what had gotten Daniel so agitated. Then he
saw a stain, a small, ugly, pitted stain on the metal. "Carter!"
"That's impossible!" Carter said blankly. "The iris is pure titanium, less than
three micrometers from the event horizon. It won't allow matter to reintegrate."
"Carter, I hate to rain on your parade, but matter is reintegrating right before
our eyes," Jack corrected her with heavy irony. "Spreading, even."
"This is outside my experience, Sir," she admitted, surprising him.
He was used to her supreme confidence in situations like these, had come to rely
on it. For the first time, he thought to question how much of her trademark
certainty and authority were an act put on for his benefit and for Hammond's. It
was one of the first things they were taught, that it was better to make bad
decisions than no decisions. Why had he never suspected Carter was obeying the
self-same rule?
Hammond leaned over the microphone. "Defence teams withdraw," he ordered
tersely, seeking to ensure their immediate safety. "Where's that radiation
team?"
"I'm on it," the Chevron Guy responded, speaking into his headset.
While Carter typed furiously, raw data from the gate rolling rapidly past on her
monitor, the rest of them watched tensely as the SFs withdrew in good order and
Siler led his team of technicians into the gateroom to begin their scans of the
iris.
"Is that wise?" Jack could see the stain licking at clean titanium, spreading
like wildfire. It didn't look like anything he wanted their men exposed to.
"It's necessary if we want to determine what that substance is," Hammond
responded, turning away to order the base locked down and Level Twenty-Eight
sealed off from the other levels.
On the ramp, Siler looked up from his array of scanning equipment with an
exaggerated shake of the head and helpless shrug. Whatever the substance was,
they couldn't read it. Poorly hiding his dismay, Hammond called their technical
sergeant back to the control room to make his report.
"The alien substance does not appear to be causing physical damage to the
Stargate or its iris," Teal'c observed. "Nor is it spreading beyond the
Stargate."
"There's no increase in temperature in the gateroom," Carter reported briskly.
"No rise in radiation levels, no evidence of a signal having been sent through."
She was going through the motions, telling them everything this wasn't because
she had no more idea of what it was than the rest of them.
Siler trotted up the stairs to join them. "The iris is maintaining structural
integrity," he backed up Teal'c's assessment.
Hammond relaxed a trifle.
"Our scans can't determine what the material coating the iris is," Siler went
on. "It looks like a completely new element, unalloyed with anything our
scanners register."
"Coating?" Carter asked keenly, pouncing on the smallest bit of data from which
to hypothesise.
"Yes, Ma'am," Siler nodded. "If I had to liken it to anything, I'd say it was a
type of paint."
"Paint?" Daniel frowned, peering out inquisitively at the leprous Stargate. He
began unconsciously to edge towards the stairs. "You mind if I?" he asked
vaguely, visibly distracted.
"Yes." Jack snagged his arm and tugged him back. "I mind." Then it hit him.
"Paint?"
"Yes, Sir," Siler confirmed.
"Like paint on a target?" He didn't need to see the faces change, the slow
horror as realisation dawned, to know he was right. "Paint!" he yelled, smacking
a balled fist off the console. "How in God's name do we counter an electronic
signature we don't even know how it got it there, let alone what in hell it is?"
he demanded angrily.
"It's not electronic," Carter corrected him pedantically. She physically shrank
back from him when he impetuously rounded on her.
"Does it occur to you that Jack uses laymen's terms to ensure as many personnel
as possible follow the sense of what he's saying, if not the precise scientific
meaning, and can respond appropriately without being distracted by irrelevant
vocabulary corrections? Rapid, relevant response during a crisis is more to the
point than wasting precious time insisting we call a doohickey an 'instrument'."
This cool, measured criticism, directed at Carter by an unsmiling Daniel,
stunned the control room into complete silence.
"Dr. Jackson?" Hammond hesitated, unsure what he could or should say to Daniel.
It was only under extreme emotional duress Daniel had ever gotten even mildly
personal, an extraordinary event the general had witnessed first hand recently
when Daniel had launched into his defence of Linea's rights, using Teal'c's past
as justification. And with the Stargate under possible attack, it was hardly the
time for Daniel to get personal or for Hammond to tackle him about it.
Well aware he was the cause of Daniel's extreme emotional duress, Jack groaned
inwardly. He really did have perfect, frickin' timing, didn't he? Heaping crisis
upon crisis. While Carter buried her burning face over her keyboard and Daniel
avoided Teal'c's sudden, searching gaze, Jack shot his C.O. a vexed, meaningful
look. Let it be.
He couldn't take his own advice, though. He was remembering with difficult
clarity the nasty scene Daniel had embroiled them in over Linea. "Who do you
trust most?" Daniel had asked him, barely hesitating before announcing in a
clipped tone he wouldn't mind if it wasn't him.
Daniel put on his game face and buried all kinds of deeply-felt injuries. Jack
was even more of an idiot than he'd suspected if he thought he could just ignore
their sometimes difficult history, the expectation and refusal of trust, even of
respect.
What had Daniel said to him right after Jack had kissed him?
"I didn't want to know."
He had plenty reason for feeling this way, for his gut telling him that letting
Jack in even closer was simply opening him up to a world of hurt.
And then light and noise erupted, battering them to the ground, a column of
brutal iridescence punching down from the heights of the silo to pound the
Stargate.
Fighting the urge to puke up his roiling guts, Jack rolled dazedly on top of
Daniel and Carter, huddling protectively over them as Teal'c battled to his
knees, chopped an agonised hand at the console and brought down the blast
shield.
The noise was in Jack's head, in his chest, thumping all through him, all around
him. He tried to fight, to hold on, and then he was gone.
| Part 1 | Part 2 |
Part 3 |
Part 4 |
Part 5 |
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