Story: What We Call Normal Part IV
Jack was in his office reading SG-16’s latest mission reports when the alarm sounded. “Unscheduled offworld activation.” He made his way to the control room quickly.
“Receiving IDC,” reported Walter. “It’s SG-1, sir.”
“Open the iris.”
Walter did, and Jack stared at the gate. SG-1 was exploring P3X-042, where there were dilapidated buildings and a room giving interesting energy readings which Carter was interested in. Teal’c had identified the trademarks of a Goa’uld who had been dead for three hundred years, which in Jack’s opinion was the best kind of Goa’uld. Jaffa rumors hinted that the snake in question might have been killed by his own Jaffa, which interested Teal’c greatly. Rosnik had been peppering Daniel with questions, because there was strong evidence suggesting this particular snake had been involved in ancient Slavic culture. It was a mission with something for everyone.
Carter came through supporting Daniel, whose left leg was dragging uselessly. Jack’s heart lodged somewhere in his throat and he hurried down to the gate room. When he arrived, Teal’c had come through, carrying Rosnik. All four of them were dirty and bloody. From Jack’s considerable experience, it was a safe guess to say they’d been in an explosion.
“Rosnik is dead, sir,” reported Carter. He recognized that tone of voice; it was the kind that meant she’d ruthlessly pushed aside personal feelings for the moment, taking refuge from the routine of being a soldier. “The room was rigged to explode if anyone got inside. We realized, but not in time to clear the blast radius.” Three of the fingers on her right hand stuck out at odd angles that could only mean they were broken.
“Infirmary,” he ordered, taking over the job of supporting Daniel. Teal’c carefully set Rosnik’s body down before following. He looked to be the least injured, but knowing Teal’c he could have six different internal injuries.
“I can’t feel my foot, Jack,” Daniel whispered. “There was shrapnel. I think it was trinium.”
Jack was just relieved he was alive and hardly knew what to say. It was another of those situations where Daniel would’ve known what to say, but he really didn’t. “Bastard snake,” he finally said.
In the infirmary Dr. Brightman took charge as always. Jack just stood by helplessly while she and her staff examined the three remaining members of SG-1. He thought of Rosnik and wished that the Russian was there as well, muttering curses in his native tongue when he forgot Daniel could understand.
It came as no surprise that Teal’c had two cracked ribs and a gash right over the pouch where Junior used to live. That was the kind of thing the Jaffa wouldn’t bother to mention so long as anyone else was hurt. Carter, in addition to the broken fingers, had a nick taken out of her ear where a piece of shrapnel had barely missed her head and a pulled tendon in her shoulder. But Daniel was undeniably the worst off.
Brightman pulled the curtains so Daniel had privacy when she came to talk to him, which was never good. Jack was glad she knew they were together, because she didn’t ask him to leave. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Jackson,” she began, and Daniel’s face went white. “Your nerves are completely severed. There’s nothing we can do to repair them.”
Jack put his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “I’ll call Thor.”
Brightman kindly left them alone. Once she left, Daniel turned to Jack with a shocked, pale face. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. Jack sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Daniel into a hug.
They could hear Hallowell rushing in to see Carter and Teal’c protesting that he could rest in his quarters, but nothing else in that moment was nearly as important as Daniel’s injury. Jack resolved to contact Thor just as soon as he could leave Daniel.
Daniel’s voice was low and resigned. “Jack, if my foot -”
He cut the rest of the statement off. “The Asgard can do a lot of cool stuff.”
“I’ll try to hold off on the breakdown, then.”
That made two of them, but Jack didn’t think Daniel needed to hear that particular piece of information.
*****
Daniel was incredibly lucky and he knew it. Eleven hours after having his nerves completely severed, Heimdall had him back on both of his feet. Thor had sent her, for which Daniel would be forever grateful. His left foot would never quite be the same. Heimdall warned against expecting more than a 95% recovery. But it was far better than anyone could’ve imagined.
Still, the Air Force had decided that he and Sam were too valuable to risk in the field anymore. They would’ve liked to keep Teal’c safely tucked away as well, but everyone knew he would never go for that and Jack had managed to get him reassigned as co-commander of SG-28, a team that hadn’t even been assembled yet. Jack had also fought long and hard to keep Sam from being sent to Area 51. The Pentagon had agreed to let her expand the research department on the base and occasionally go offworld. This was because 1) they realized that having her close to technology when it came through the gate had saved the day more than once and 2) they didn’t like the idea of never having her around to go offworld and figure out something nobody else could make work. (If there was one way to get the Pentagon to cave, it was pointing out that a Sam who could go offworld was a Sam who might get big guns to work.) Like Sam, Daniel would be able to go offworld once in a while, when there was a promising dig or vexing translation and the situation looked safe. And he would have plenty to do, but it wouldn’t be the same.
So, the day after the explosion, the four of them had confirmed with the Air Force their flight to St. Petersburg for Rosnik’s funeral and gathered at Jack and Daniel’s house. Teal’c was moving carefully because of his ribs, Sam had her fingers splinted and her ear bandaged, and Daniel still felt twinges of pain in his left foot, which didn’t respond quite as fast as it used to.
Jack had even forgone beer in solidarity with those who were on painkillers and not allowed alcohol. He was having a diet Pepsi instead. “They’re retiring our number,” he announced, breaking the silence.
“Is that significant?” asked Teal’c.
Jack was quick to answer, “Your number only gets retired if you’re the best.” Daniel wasn’t entirely sure comparing sports to the military was appropriate, but Jack knew more than him about both.
He leaned against Jack a bit. They were on the couch, leaving the chairs to Sam and Teal’c. “You got used to staying on Earth. We will too.”
“I’m just glad I’m not going to Area 51,” said Sam. “They never get anything when it’s new.”
“Hammond helped a lot there. He knows how valuable you are.”
Sam nodded and sipped her soda. Daniel thought she was taking ‘grounding’ even harder than he was. But there was the part of Daniel that was relieved, thinking he would hopefully not have to kill again, not have to do the things that made him like himself just a little less. And the image of Aleksi Rosnik’s last moment was seared in his mind: a piece of shrapnel shot straight into a good man’s brain, the pool of blood seeping out from where Rosnik’s body fell. There were things he’d never wanted and would not regret. He’d miss going through the gate a couple times a week, certainly. It stung to think he’d never again be one of the first humans to step foot on a planet, or to make first contact with people whose ancestors had been taken from Earth. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure his foot would heal enough to satisfy the Air Force anyway.
“I am pleased that I will be entrusted with a joint command,” said Teal, “but I regret that it requires the dissolution of SG-1.”
“You’ll be great, T.” Jack looked over at Sam and changed the subject, “Carter.” When she looked up, he continued, “We can tell you it wasn’t your fault as many times as it takes until you believe it.”
Daniel couldn’t understand the feeling of losing someone under his command, and it wasn’t something Jack would exactly go into, but his partner knew what Sam was dealing with.
She nodded, “I’ve been asked to say a few words at his funeral. It’s hard because I can’t say anything, really.”
“Captain Rosnik was an honorable man,” offered Teal’c. “He had great potential.”
Potential that would never be realized, now. Daniel felt an aching spike travel through his foot and reminded himself that he’d always decided the risks of gate travel were outweighed by the rewards.
It was the end of an era and they’d lost a teammate, so the mood was melancholy. It was probably for the best that they weren’t drinking alcohol.
*****
After Rosnik’s funeral they tiredly made their way to their hotel room. “I hate funerals,” said Jack. “Whether I understand the language or not.” He’d certainly never thought he’d be attending a funeral in St. Petersburg. Half the time he still thought of the city as Leningrad.
Daniel gave him a disbelieving look. “You fought in the Cold War and never picked up any Russian? I thought it was another one of your acts.”
“I get ‘da’ and ‘nyet.’ My German’s rusty, but better. I can get by with it.” It was also notably East German, he’d been told, although maybe people wouldn’t notice as much anymore.
“Less Soviet Union, more East Germany?”
“Something like that.” He’d spent even more time in South America, but that was neither here nor there.
The Russians, being cheap as usual, had provided the four of them with two rooms. Jack couldn’t say he minded, since Carter and Teal’c automatically took one and left the second for him and Daniel. The twin beds were a pity, but he was sure Carter and Teal’c didn’t think so.
Daniel had been limping noticeably, though he tried to hide it. He sat on the bed with evident relief. “Not a good foot day?” asked Jack.
“The flight didn’t agree with it.” His lover pulled off his shoes and stretched the injured foot. Jack was extremely grateful that Heimdall had done what she could. Daniel could feel his foot and walk on it. The aches were supposed to fade away, leaving him with a useable foot that just responded a little slower to his brain than it used to. Brightman was astonished. Jack was still sorry that Heimdall couldn’t entirely fix the nerves.
But Daniel would be alright, even if his foot was never as good as it had been. Jack had known from the minute Daniel was leaning on him, walking around Heimdall’s infirmary. Because, while Jack was still focused on Daniel, his lover had found an opportunity to learn and asked Heimdall about the Furlings.
All she’d said what that the Asgard had been unable to determine what happened to their former allies. Jack didn’t even care, because he’d been so filled with relief that Daniel was going to make it through this ordeal just fine.
Now he carried that knowledge with him, holding it close when he needed it for strength to be strong for Daniel. He sat down on the same bed. “Turn around,” he told Daniel. When they were facing each other, he picked up Daniel’s foot, pulled off his sock, and started rubbing the sole of his foot. “Better?”
“Mmm. You’re good at this.”
He’d learned to give a decent foot massage when Sara was pregnant and her feet killed her, but had never done it for anyone else. It was too intimate, somehow.
“It’s hard,” Daniel ventured after a moment, “because we can’t tell his family that he died doing something meaningful, or that he got to see amazing things in the months he was with us. When I talked to his mother, she was just so lost.”
“I’m used to it.” He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but Jack had always been one to accept the state of things. “Did you see that woman who was obsessed with Teal’c’s tatoo?”
There was really no way to cover Teal’c’s forehead that wouldn’t be disrespectful at a funeral, and as always the gold symbol of Apophis attracted attention. “She had to be one of the people who speaks English,” replied Daniel. “But you know Teal’c. He said that it’s the symbol of a false god he once worshipped, and that was it.”
Once Teal’c decided he’d said enough, there was no way to make him speak another word. On the other hand, his brief but sincere statement about Rosnik’s skills had apparently suited Russian sensibilities. Carter had, with Daniel’s help, mastered a couple sentences of Russian which also pleased Rosnik’s friends and family. Jack hadn’t been asked to speak, to his relief
He’d pulled out his dress uniform for the first time since his retirement. After all, he was still entitled to wear it to occasions where appropriate, and Captain Rosnik’s funeral was certainly an appropriate occasion.
“Is it me, or do the Russians have long funerals?”
Daniel shrugged. “It might be the jet lag.”
“Maybe,” he said, but he wasn’t convinced. He’d always thought Catholic ceremonies were long - and they were - but the Russian Orthodox Church seemed to take even longer. Jack hadn’t needed to understand the language to feel the solemn, ritual-filled nature of the funeral. He couldn’t decide whether being unable to comprehend what was being said made it more or less depressing.
Daniel opened his mouth, but a knock on the door cut him off. Jack stood up and looked through the peephole.
“Hey, Teal’c.” He opened the door, letting their friend in. Teal’c had already changed into more casual clothes.
The Jaffa nodded slightly. “I am going to take this opportunity to see more of your world before our flight tomorrow. Colonel Carter and I intend to witness the ‘White Night.’ Captain Rosnik referred to the phenomenon fondly. Would you like to join us?”
Jack himself would’ve passed, but Daniel tugged his sock back on while saying, “He told us we should see the White Nights of St. Petersburg. Let’s.”
As always, he had a hard time saying no to Daniel. Only Daniel could get him to play tourist in Russia.
*****
They’d decided on breakfast for dinner, and Daniel was making pancakes when the doorbell rang. “I’ve got it,” called Jack.
“Jack!” It was Cassie. “Where’s Daniel? The two of you can face down big, bad aliens but have Sam do your coming out for you - honestly, it’s absurd!”
“I told you we should’ve told her ourselves,” he reminded Jack as the two of them came into the kitchen.
“Back for the weekend?” asked Jack while Cassie hugged Daniel.
“My summer job is at a day camp, so it doesn’t start until next week.”
“Ah,” said Jack.
“So, congratulations!”
Daniel pulled out a chair for her and went to flip the pancakes. “Thank you.”
Jack dug around in the cupboard until he found a bottle of sparkling grape juice. It was Cassie’s favorite so Jack kept some around, because he had a huge soft spot for her. (Sometimes, it was hard to believe he managed to so thoroughly convince people that he had no soft spots.) Eventually he found his quarry and set about pouring three glasses.
She asked, “Now, when are you going to tell Sam she can call you Jack?”
The look on Jack’s face was priceless. Daniel wished his camera was handy. “I thought she didn’t want to,” said Jack.
“Men.” Cassie sighed theatrically. “You need to give her permission.”
“I told her to drop the ‘sir,’” protested Jack.
“Not the same.”
It was a good thing Cassie tended to be blunt. Sometimes, they just needed someone to tell it like it was.
“Oh.”
“Pancakes?” offered Daniel.
“No thanks. I just ate.”
“What are you doing at the camp?” Having never been to a summer camp, he didn’t know what working at one would involve.
“Making sure eight-year-olds don’t kill themselves or each other.”
“No small task,” noted Jack. “I hope they pay you well.”
Cassie eyed him critically. “You save the world from megalomaniacal aliens and are worried about me not getting paid enough?”
“I get great benefits.”
“Speaking of work,” she said, “How’s the new job, Daniel?”
Sam really kept her in the loop, at least as much as she could without mentioning classified details beyond what Cassie knew. “It’s good. Not the same, but good.”
“I haven’t gotten Sam’s voicemail recently. It’s hard to imagine the two of you with regular hours.”
“Regular is an overstatement,” said Jack, “especially with Carter.”
Cassie gave him a knowing grin. “She is a workaholic, isn’t she? Of course, now you don’t have to worry about Daniel every time he goes through the gate.”
“I never wanted -”
She interrupted his protest. “Of course not.”
“You are entirely too perceptive.”
Daniel put a plate full of pancakes on the table and changed the subject. “Sure you don’t want any?”
“Oh, they’re blueberry. Maybe just one.”
Jack grabbed silverware. Cassie continued, “You look good, Daniel.”
“Thanks.” He felt pretty good, too; the aches in his foot weren’t as bad, and if he didn’t try to move too fast the limp wasn’t noticeable unless someone was looking for it. And while he missed going through the stargate, he had more time to devote to fascinating research.
“Plus, you two are such a cute couple.”
Only Cassandra could get away with using ‘cute’ to describe Jack O’Neill.
*****
Jack had read the report, but he looked at it again for the catch he was sure it had to hold. “This is too good to be true.”
At the other end of the briefing room table Commander Evans shook his head. “We might not think that when we’re trying to get three hundred and ten head of sheep through the gate, sir.”
“True.” It was going to be an interesting requisition order, too.
“For two naquadah boulders the size of this table, I’ll gladly play shepherd,” said Major Ashburn.
“Even better, they’re open to further trade.” MacDonald had been crucial to formalizing the trade and was justly pleased with the result.
“If they like our sheep?” asked Jack. Now the requisition form would be even more interesting. In the interest of future trade with the Hegmanki, please provide quality merino sheep.
“And us,” she added. “It might be a good idea to give them an extra gift as a goodwill gesture.”
“Bonus sheep?”
MacDonald shook her head. “I’m not certain, but based on my observations, I recommend against that. It might be seen as an attempt to renegotiate the deal.”
Since that would be bad, sheep were out. Which was fine, because Evans was right about getting sheep through the gate. “What do you suggest?”
“Gifts in Hegmanki culture tend to be ornamental or decorative, not practical. A nice framed photograph - a large one, of somewhere on Earth - would be appropriate.”
It occurred to Jack that whoever got his requisition orders probably looked forward to them. At least SGC requisitions were interesting. “So I need to order a framed landscape picture?”
“It’s cheaper than jewelry, which is my other idea.”
“A picture it is.” He wrote a note down for himself about that. “Do we have any idea why the Goa’uld didn’t grab these naquadah boulders?” It was a glaring question, since the Goa’uld had been the one who spread humans throughout the galaxy.
“Nothing but guesses at this point. I talked with Daniel, and we haven’t found any indication that the Asgard were involved. I’m hoping to learn more when we go back. There are probably clues in folk stories and legends.”
“Keep me updated.”
“Of course.”
Turning to Singh, he asked, “This naquadah is useable?”
“It’ll need to be refined, of course, but absolutely.”
That was good, and there were people at the Pentagon, including of course Hammond, who would be very happy. Jack was happy too. The Unas mine on P3X-403 was drying up, so finding new sources of naquadah was a high priority.
“Alright. Do we need to sign any papers for this deal?”
“It’s not a literate society,” MacDonald told him.
Evans was smiling. “Request permission to return to Hegmank and inform them that we have your approval.”
“Granted. Tell them it’s going to take a little time to gather up the sheep.” He looked at the gate travel schedule, which he’d taken to bringing with him to all briefings. “You leave at 1300 tomorrow. Keep up the good work.”
Recognizing the dismissal, the members of SG-27 stood up. Jack reflected that he was grateful he didn’t have to determine who got the naquadah. Competition among various projects for scare naquadah got heated. Fortunately, SGC almost always got a fair amount.
“Jack!” Daniel burst into the briefing room, his limp barely noticeable, while SG-27 was filing out. “I just got an email from Steven Rayner.”
“Your old colleague?” That couldn’t be good. “Don’t tell me. He’s not buying that half-baked cover story anymore.” It hadn’t been one of their better cover stories - something about decades-old research into chemical warfare. Its main selling point had been that it fit neatly with the view, widespread in academic circles, that the military was and always had been reckless and careless with human life.
“I was never sure he bought it, but that’s not it. He found a smashed hand device on a dig in southern Egypt. He’s terrified it’s contaminated by chemicals.”
“Great,” Jack muttered. “Just what we needed.” One day, he knew, some archaeologist was going to find something that couldn’t be covered up. Jack hoped it was after he’d retired for good.
“He wants the Air Force to send someone to come take care of it.”
“I’ll book you and a couple of airmen for flights.”
“Actually, I think it’d be better if I didn’t go.”
He hadn’t expected that. “You do?”
“Yes. For one thing, it doesn’t really make sense to have an archaeologist deal with chemical warfare experiments. It was hard enough to explain my involvement last time.”
That made sense. “And?”
“And what?” asked Daniel.
“You said ‘for one thing,’ which usually means there’s at least one more thing.”
“Right. He’ll try to get more information out of me. Send airmen, and he’ll want as little to do with them as possible. Less questions, less chances for silence to confirm anything.”
“Okay.”
“Someday we won’t be able to make this just go away.”
“I know.” He repressed a sigh. “I just hope I’m gone by then.”
Daniel gave him a wry smile. “Rumor around has it that you’re never actually going to leave.”
*****
Daniel found Teal’c in his quarters reading Air Force regulations and happy to have a reason to take a break. “Did you have a pleasant weekend, Daniel Jackson?”
“Yes, thanks. How was whitewater rafting?”
“Sergeant Zimmerman was correct. It is indeed an invigorating activity. I intend to go again. Perhaps you would like to accompany me.”
That was more Sam’s kind of thing than his, so his reply was a noncommittal, “Maybe when the water’s warmer.”
His Jaffa friend nodded and sat back down. Daniel took that as his cue to sit in the extra chair. Teal’c never invited anyone to sit. In Jaffa culture, a guest’s willingness to sit indicated his or her level of trust in the host.
“So, have you and Colonel Dinsmore found a linguist yet?”
“We have not.”
He’d suspected as much. There was a shortage of qualified candidates. Jack said if SG-28 was going to be a good team, they needed someone who could tell Asgard from Ancient. There weren’t many people who fit that description. Even among his small staff, most were content to stay in the relative safety of the mountain. “You might want to talk to Nyan.”
“He has had opportunity to learn from you,” said Teal’c. “You have confidence in his abilities?”
“Yes.”
“I will confer with Colonel Dinsmore.” Teal’c paused before informing him, “She has told me in no uncertain terms that I must stop seeking a candidate with your talents. I will miss your presence offworld.”
Teal’c was sparing with his compliments but always sincere. “Thank you. I miss it, too. But Nyan is good.”
“Colonel Carter says that she is now less a solider and more a scholar. I do not know if she believes the change to be positive or negative.”
“Probably both. At least, that’s how it is for me.”
He’d asked Jack how he coped with his sudden ‘grounding.’ Apparently Jack had only been half surprised, but he’d said, “I follow orders, Daniel. I go where the Air Force says I’m needed.” He wondered if the same was true for Sam.
“Dr. Brightman cleared me to go offworld in low-risk situations.” Which in particular meant situations where his inability to run properly wouldn’t be a liability.
“That is good news.”
“So keep an eye out for potential dig sites.”
Teal’c raised an eyebrow slightly but agreed. “Very well. I trust that the situation with Steven Rayner’s discovery has been rectified?”
“More or less. He sent me another email asking, and I quote, ‘how the hell early twentieth-century American military experiments get mixed in with Middle Kingdom artifacts.’”
“A fair question.”
“I know,” he sighed. “And since we can’t stop his dig, I’m afraid we might have to tell him the truth.”
“Do you believe he is trustworthy?”
“I don’t know.” Because he didn’t want to think about Steven any more, he changed the subject. “I don’t envy you reading those regulations.”
“The Air Force has an unreasonable amount of regulations. However, I must follow them.”
“Jaffa warriors don’t have regulations?”
Teal’c gave him a look that implied the answer should be obvious. “There is only one rule: please your god.” Glancing at his ready, he added, “Numerous as they are, Air Force regulations are preferable.”
Nobody could argue with that.
*****
Rayner had discovered one of the Goa’uld healing doohickeys and was not buying the ‘experiments with chemical warfare’ story anymore. In a few days he’d arrive in Colorado Springs. Nobody was particularly happy about that, but according to Daniel it was pretty obvious that hand devices and healing doohickeys weren’t Egyptian. Jack took his word for it.
The upcoming visit had Daniel working harder than ever, which was really saying something. Since dinner Jack had read National Geographic cover-to-cover without hearing so much as a peep from Daniel, who was holed up in his study.
Deciding that his workaholic boyfriend needed a break, Jack set his reading glasses and magazine on the coffee table and headed to the study.
“Daniel?”
Unsurprisingly, that got no response. He went for the more direct approach and combined it with one of Daniel’s favorite words. Leaning over so his arms were around Daniel’s shoulders, Jack said, “Hey, cariad.”
That earned him an only slightly distracted, “Hi Jack.”
Excellent. His plan was working. “Let’s go get ice cream.”
“I’m in the middle of -”
“Working yourself to death. I noticed. You do know we don’t get paid for overtime, right?”
“We’d bankrupt the Treasury if everyone at SGC got paid overtime. Sam alone would be a millionaire.” Even as he spoke, Daniel was clicking to enlarge a picture of old writing on his laptop.
“Please.”
Daniel gave an exaggerated sigh. “I guess a break would be alright.” He saved his work and put the laptop on standby. Like their phones, Daniel’s laptop was heavily encrypted. He’d also insisted on an alarm system when he moved in, due to Jack’s past experience with unwanted visitors.
Dairy Delights was only a few minutes from their house. It had just opened that summer, and the homemade ice cream was delicious. Since it was a warm summer evening, Jack hadn’t been the only one thinking of ice cream. They ended up in line behind a group of teenagers. One of the boys looked so much like Siler that Jack would’ve bet money he was the sergeant’s son.
He could hardly believe his eyes at the dish of ice cream one little girl got. In fact, he couldn’t even see any ice cream beneath all the sprinkles. It looked sickening.
Jack decided to try a scoop of butterscotch. He always got vanilla for his second scoop, because he was sure to like it. Daniel got mocha and mint chocolate chip, which did not sound like they would taste good on the same cone. At least he’d warmed to the ice cream break considerably.
They found a bench and sat down to their treats. After a few licks, Daniel asked, “Jack?”
He swallowed, deciding he really liked the butterscotch. “Yeah?”
“What do you think about taking a vacation?”
It certainly sounded appealing. “We’re both due for some leave. It would be nice to actually take it.”
“How about going out of the country?”
He wasn’t opposed on principle. “Depends which country.”
“I don’t suppose you have a great desire to visit Egypt.”
“Not really.”
“I’d like to see the Great Wall of China.”
“China? I don’t think so.” First, he disliked the Chinese generally. Well, the Chinese government anyway; he had nothing against the Chinese people per se. Moreover, he had professional concerns. “I’d rather not bring myself to anyone’s attention over there. Wouldn’t put it past them to try something for more influence.”
“Oh,” said Daniel, disappointed. “Do you really think they would?”
“I’d rather not find out. How about a safari?” He’d always wanted to go on a safari.
“Getting up close and personal with creatures that would happily kill me? Doesn’t sound like much of a vacation.”
It was probably a lost cause, but Jack felt compelled to point out, “Most of them don’t want to kill anyone.”
“Still. Maybe Greece? The Parthenon is always great, and -”
“Daniel, I don’t want to go anywhere where the main attractions are old buildings and museums.” He figured there had to be decent fishing in Greece, but if they ended up doing separate things, it defeated the point of taking a vacation together. In that case, he might as well talk Teal’c into taking the safari while Daniel showed Cassie the remains of ancient Earth cultures.
“Why am I not surprised?”
“I’ve never been to France.” It sounded promising enough. Any country with good food and sandy beaches was an alright destination in Jack’s book. There was history to entertain Daniel but not as much history so ancient he’d end up dragging Jack from ruin to ruin. History that was more recent and well-preserved was always less fascinating to Daniel, for some reason. On the other hand, Jack thought any country where coffee was an art form would suit his lover.
“When are we looking at, the end of August?”
“Middle. I’ve got an in with the guy who does the schedule.”
“France is out. Practically the whole country goes on vacation for the month. Service is bad, beaches are crowded, you get the picture.”
He did, and it wasn’t a good one.
“How about Australia?” asked Daniel.
Jack considered this for a moment. “They do have the Great Barrier Reef.”
“Is there a good season for that? I’ll have to look it up at home.”
“So, we have a destination?”
“I think so,” said Daniel with a grin.
“Cool.” He went back to his ice cream cone, very pleased that he’d insisted on getting out of the house.
...continued: ent-alter-ego.livejournal.com/7527.html
“Receiving IDC,” reported Walter. “It’s SG-1, sir.”
“Open the iris.”
Walter did, and Jack stared at the gate. SG-1 was exploring P3X-042, where there were dilapidated buildings and a room giving interesting energy readings which Carter was interested in. Teal’c had identified the trademarks of a Goa’uld who had been dead for three hundred years, which in Jack’s opinion was the best kind of Goa’uld. Jaffa rumors hinted that the snake in question might have been killed by his own Jaffa, which interested Teal’c greatly. Rosnik had been peppering Daniel with questions, because there was strong evidence suggesting this particular snake had been involved in ancient Slavic culture. It was a mission with something for everyone.
Carter came through supporting Daniel, whose left leg was dragging uselessly. Jack’s heart lodged somewhere in his throat and he hurried down to the gate room. When he arrived, Teal’c had come through, carrying Rosnik. All four of them were dirty and bloody. From Jack’s considerable experience, it was a safe guess to say they’d been in an explosion.
“Rosnik is dead, sir,” reported Carter. He recognized that tone of voice; it was the kind that meant she’d ruthlessly pushed aside personal feelings for the moment, taking refuge from the routine of being a soldier. “The room was rigged to explode if anyone got inside. We realized, but not in time to clear the blast radius.” Three of the fingers on her right hand stuck out at odd angles that could only mean they were broken.
“Infirmary,” he ordered, taking over the job of supporting Daniel. Teal’c carefully set Rosnik’s body down before following. He looked to be the least injured, but knowing Teal’c he could have six different internal injuries.
“I can’t feel my foot, Jack,” Daniel whispered. “There was shrapnel. I think it was trinium.”
Jack was just relieved he was alive and hardly knew what to say. It was another of those situations where Daniel would’ve known what to say, but he really didn’t. “Bastard snake,” he finally said.
In the infirmary Dr. Brightman took charge as always. Jack just stood by helplessly while she and her staff examined the three remaining members of SG-1. He thought of Rosnik and wished that the Russian was there as well, muttering curses in his native tongue when he forgot Daniel could understand.
It came as no surprise that Teal’c had two cracked ribs and a gash right over the pouch where Junior used to live. That was the kind of thing the Jaffa wouldn’t bother to mention so long as anyone else was hurt. Carter, in addition to the broken fingers, had a nick taken out of her ear where a piece of shrapnel had barely missed her head and a pulled tendon in her shoulder. But Daniel was undeniably the worst off.
Brightman pulled the curtains so Daniel had privacy when she came to talk to him, which was never good. Jack was glad she knew they were together, because she didn’t ask him to leave. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Jackson,” she began, and Daniel’s face went white. “Your nerves are completely severed. There’s nothing we can do to repair them.”
Jack put his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “I’ll call Thor.”
Brightman kindly left them alone. Once she left, Daniel turned to Jack with a shocked, pale face. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. Jack sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Daniel into a hug.
They could hear Hallowell rushing in to see Carter and Teal’c protesting that he could rest in his quarters, but nothing else in that moment was nearly as important as Daniel’s injury. Jack resolved to contact Thor just as soon as he could leave Daniel.
Daniel’s voice was low and resigned. “Jack, if my foot -”
He cut the rest of the statement off. “The Asgard can do a lot of cool stuff.”
“I’ll try to hold off on the breakdown, then.”
That made two of them, but Jack didn’t think Daniel needed to hear that particular piece of information.
*****
Daniel was incredibly lucky and he knew it. Eleven hours after having his nerves completely severed, Heimdall had him back on both of his feet. Thor had sent her, for which Daniel would be forever grateful. His left foot would never quite be the same. Heimdall warned against expecting more than a 95% recovery. But it was far better than anyone could’ve imagined.
Still, the Air Force had decided that he and Sam were too valuable to risk in the field anymore. They would’ve liked to keep Teal’c safely tucked away as well, but everyone knew he would never go for that and Jack had managed to get him reassigned as co-commander of SG-28, a team that hadn’t even been assembled yet. Jack had also fought long and hard to keep Sam from being sent to Area 51. The Pentagon had agreed to let her expand the research department on the base and occasionally go offworld. This was because 1) they realized that having her close to technology when it came through the gate had saved the day more than once and 2) they didn’t like the idea of never having her around to go offworld and figure out something nobody else could make work. (If there was one way to get the Pentagon to cave, it was pointing out that a Sam who could go offworld was a Sam who might get big guns to work.) Like Sam, Daniel would be able to go offworld once in a while, when there was a promising dig or vexing translation and the situation looked safe. And he would have plenty to do, but it wouldn’t be the same.
So, the day after the explosion, the four of them had confirmed with the Air Force their flight to St. Petersburg for Rosnik’s funeral and gathered at Jack and Daniel’s house. Teal’c was moving carefully because of his ribs, Sam had her fingers splinted and her ear bandaged, and Daniel still felt twinges of pain in his left foot, which didn’t respond quite as fast as it used to.
Jack had even forgone beer in solidarity with those who were on painkillers and not allowed alcohol. He was having a diet Pepsi instead. “They’re retiring our number,” he announced, breaking the silence.
“Is that significant?” asked Teal’c.
Jack was quick to answer, “Your number only gets retired if you’re the best.” Daniel wasn’t entirely sure comparing sports to the military was appropriate, but Jack knew more than him about both.
He leaned against Jack a bit. They were on the couch, leaving the chairs to Sam and Teal’c. “You got used to staying on Earth. We will too.”
“I’m just glad I’m not going to Area 51,” said Sam. “They never get anything when it’s new.”
“Hammond helped a lot there. He knows how valuable you are.”
Sam nodded and sipped her soda. Daniel thought she was taking ‘grounding’ even harder than he was. But there was the part of Daniel that was relieved, thinking he would hopefully not have to kill again, not have to do the things that made him like himself just a little less. And the image of Aleksi Rosnik’s last moment was seared in his mind: a piece of shrapnel shot straight into a good man’s brain, the pool of blood seeping out from where Rosnik’s body fell. There were things he’d never wanted and would not regret. He’d miss going through the gate a couple times a week, certainly. It stung to think he’d never again be one of the first humans to step foot on a planet, or to make first contact with people whose ancestors had been taken from Earth. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure his foot would heal enough to satisfy the Air Force anyway.
“I am pleased that I will be entrusted with a joint command,” said Teal, “but I regret that it requires the dissolution of SG-1.”
“You’ll be great, T.” Jack looked over at Sam and changed the subject, “Carter.” When she looked up, he continued, “We can tell you it wasn’t your fault as many times as it takes until you believe it.”
Daniel couldn’t understand the feeling of losing someone under his command, and it wasn’t something Jack would exactly go into, but his partner knew what Sam was dealing with.
She nodded, “I’ve been asked to say a few words at his funeral. It’s hard because I can’t say anything, really.”
“Captain Rosnik was an honorable man,” offered Teal’c. “He had great potential.”
Potential that would never be realized, now. Daniel felt an aching spike travel through his foot and reminded himself that he’d always decided the risks of gate travel were outweighed by the rewards.
It was the end of an era and they’d lost a teammate, so the mood was melancholy. It was probably for the best that they weren’t drinking alcohol.
*****
After Rosnik’s funeral they tiredly made their way to their hotel room. “I hate funerals,” said Jack. “Whether I understand the language or not.” He’d certainly never thought he’d be attending a funeral in St. Petersburg. Half the time he still thought of the city as Leningrad.
Daniel gave him a disbelieving look. “You fought in the Cold War and never picked up any Russian? I thought it was another one of your acts.”
“I get ‘da’ and ‘nyet.’ My German’s rusty, but better. I can get by with it.” It was also notably East German, he’d been told, although maybe people wouldn’t notice as much anymore.
“Less Soviet Union, more East Germany?”
“Something like that.” He’d spent even more time in South America, but that was neither here nor there.
The Russians, being cheap as usual, had provided the four of them with two rooms. Jack couldn’t say he minded, since Carter and Teal’c automatically took one and left the second for him and Daniel. The twin beds were a pity, but he was sure Carter and Teal’c didn’t think so.
Daniel had been limping noticeably, though he tried to hide it. He sat on the bed with evident relief. “Not a good foot day?” asked Jack.
“The flight didn’t agree with it.” His lover pulled off his shoes and stretched the injured foot. Jack was extremely grateful that Heimdall had done what she could. Daniel could feel his foot and walk on it. The aches were supposed to fade away, leaving him with a useable foot that just responded a little slower to his brain than it used to. Brightman was astonished. Jack was still sorry that Heimdall couldn’t entirely fix the nerves.
But Daniel would be alright, even if his foot was never as good as it had been. Jack had known from the minute Daniel was leaning on him, walking around Heimdall’s infirmary. Because, while Jack was still focused on Daniel, his lover had found an opportunity to learn and asked Heimdall about the Furlings.
All she’d said what that the Asgard had been unable to determine what happened to their former allies. Jack didn’t even care, because he’d been so filled with relief that Daniel was going to make it through this ordeal just fine.
Now he carried that knowledge with him, holding it close when he needed it for strength to be strong for Daniel. He sat down on the same bed. “Turn around,” he told Daniel. When they were facing each other, he picked up Daniel’s foot, pulled off his sock, and started rubbing the sole of his foot. “Better?”
“Mmm. You’re good at this.”
He’d learned to give a decent foot massage when Sara was pregnant and her feet killed her, but had never done it for anyone else. It was too intimate, somehow.
“It’s hard,” Daniel ventured after a moment, “because we can’t tell his family that he died doing something meaningful, or that he got to see amazing things in the months he was with us. When I talked to his mother, she was just so lost.”
“I’m used to it.” He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but Jack had always been one to accept the state of things. “Did you see that woman who was obsessed with Teal’c’s tatoo?”
There was really no way to cover Teal’c’s forehead that wouldn’t be disrespectful at a funeral, and as always the gold symbol of Apophis attracted attention. “She had to be one of the people who speaks English,” replied Daniel. “But you know Teal’c. He said that it’s the symbol of a false god he once worshipped, and that was it.”
Once Teal’c decided he’d said enough, there was no way to make him speak another word. On the other hand, his brief but sincere statement about Rosnik’s skills had apparently suited Russian sensibilities. Carter had, with Daniel’s help, mastered a couple sentences of Russian which also pleased Rosnik’s friends and family. Jack hadn’t been asked to speak, to his relief
He’d pulled out his dress uniform for the first time since his retirement. After all, he was still entitled to wear it to occasions where appropriate, and Captain Rosnik’s funeral was certainly an appropriate occasion.
“Is it me, or do the Russians have long funerals?”
Daniel shrugged. “It might be the jet lag.”
“Maybe,” he said, but he wasn’t convinced. He’d always thought Catholic ceremonies were long - and they were - but the Russian Orthodox Church seemed to take even longer. Jack hadn’t needed to understand the language to feel the solemn, ritual-filled nature of the funeral. He couldn’t decide whether being unable to comprehend what was being said made it more or less depressing.
Daniel opened his mouth, but a knock on the door cut him off. Jack stood up and looked through the peephole.
“Hey, Teal’c.” He opened the door, letting their friend in. Teal’c had already changed into more casual clothes.
The Jaffa nodded slightly. “I am going to take this opportunity to see more of your world before our flight tomorrow. Colonel Carter and I intend to witness the ‘White Night.’ Captain Rosnik referred to the phenomenon fondly. Would you like to join us?”
Jack himself would’ve passed, but Daniel tugged his sock back on while saying, “He told us we should see the White Nights of St. Petersburg. Let’s.”
As always, he had a hard time saying no to Daniel. Only Daniel could get him to play tourist in Russia.
*****
They’d decided on breakfast for dinner, and Daniel was making pancakes when the doorbell rang. “I’ve got it,” called Jack.
“Jack!” It was Cassie. “Where’s Daniel? The two of you can face down big, bad aliens but have Sam do your coming out for you - honestly, it’s absurd!”
“I told you we should’ve told her ourselves,” he reminded Jack as the two of them came into the kitchen.
“Back for the weekend?” asked Jack while Cassie hugged Daniel.
“My summer job is at a day camp, so it doesn’t start until next week.”
“Ah,” said Jack.
“So, congratulations!”
Daniel pulled out a chair for her and went to flip the pancakes. “Thank you.”
Jack dug around in the cupboard until he found a bottle of sparkling grape juice. It was Cassie’s favorite so Jack kept some around, because he had a huge soft spot for her. (Sometimes, it was hard to believe he managed to so thoroughly convince people that he had no soft spots.) Eventually he found his quarry and set about pouring three glasses.
She asked, “Now, when are you going to tell Sam she can call you Jack?”
The look on Jack’s face was priceless. Daniel wished his camera was handy. “I thought she didn’t want to,” said Jack.
“Men.” Cassie sighed theatrically. “You need to give her permission.”
“I told her to drop the ‘sir,’” protested Jack.
“Not the same.”
It was a good thing Cassie tended to be blunt. Sometimes, they just needed someone to tell it like it was.
“Oh.”
“Pancakes?” offered Daniel.
“No thanks. I just ate.”
“What are you doing at the camp?” Having never been to a summer camp, he didn’t know what working at one would involve.
“Making sure eight-year-olds don’t kill themselves or each other.”
“No small task,” noted Jack. “I hope they pay you well.”
Cassie eyed him critically. “You save the world from megalomaniacal aliens and are worried about me not getting paid enough?”
“I get great benefits.”
“Speaking of work,” she said, “How’s the new job, Daniel?”
Sam really kept her in the loop, at least as much as she could without mentioning classified details beyond what Cassie knew. “It’s good. Not the same, but good.”
“I haven’t gotten Sam’s voicemail recently. It’s hard to imagine the two of you with regular hours.”
“Regular is an overstatement,” said Jack, “especially with Carter.”
Cassie gave him a knowing grin. “She is a workaholic, isn’t she? Of course, now you don’t have to worry about Daniel every time he goes through the gate.”
“I never wanted -”
She interrupted his protest. “Of course not.”
“You are entirely too perceptive.”
Daniel put a plate full of pancakes on the table and changed the subject. “Sure you don’t want any?”
“Oh, they’re blueberry. Maybe just one.”
Jack grabbed silverware. Cassie continued, “You look good, Daniel.”
“Thanks.” He felt pretty good, too; the aches in his foot weren’t as bad, and if he didn’t try to move too fast the limp wasn’t noticeable unless someone was looking for it. And while he missed going through the stargate, he had more time to devote to fascinating research.
“Plus, you two are such a cute couple.”
Only Cassandra could get away with using ‘cute’ to describe Jack O’Neill.
*****
Jack had read the report, but he looked at it again for the catch he was sure it had to hold. “This is too good to be true.”
At the other end of the briefing room table Commander Evans shook his head. “We might not think that when we’re trying to get three hundred and ten head of sheep through the gate, sir.”
“True.” It was going to be an interesting requisition order, too.
“For two naquadah boulders the size of this table, I’ll gladly play shepherd,” said Major Ashburn.
“Even better, they’re open to further trade.” MacDonald had been crucial to formalizing the trade and was justly pleased with the result.
“If they like our sheep?” asked Jack. Now the requisition form would be even more interesting. In the interest of future trade with the Hegmanki, please provide quality merino sheep.
“And us,” she added. “It might be a good idea to give them an extra gift as a goodwill gesture.”
“Bonus sheep?”
MacDonald shook her head. “I’m not certain, but based on my observations, I recommend against that. It might be seen as an attempt to renegotiate the deal.”
Since that would be bad, sheep were out. Which was fine, because Evans was right about getting sheep through the gate. “What do you suggest?”
“Gifts in Hegmanki culture tend to be ornamental or decorative, not practical. A nice framed photograph - a large one, of somewhere on Earth - would be appropriate.”
It occurred to Jack that whoever got his requisition orders probably looked forward to them. At least SGC requisitions were interesting. “So I need to order a framed landscape picture?”
“It’s cheaper than jewelry, which is my other idea.”
“A picture it is.” He wrote a note down for himself about that. “Do we have any idea why the Goa’uld didn’t grab these naquadah boulders?” It was a glaring question, since the Goa’uld had been the one who spread humans throughout the galaxy.
“Nothing but guesses at this point. I talked with Daniel, and we haven’t found any indication that the Asgard were involved. I’m hoping to learn more when we go back. There are probably clues in folk stories and legends.”
“Keep me updated.”
“Of course.”
Turning to Singh, he asked, “This naquadah is useable?”
“It’ll need to be refined, of course, but absolutely.”
That was good, and there were people at the Pentagon, including of course Hammond, who would be very happy. Jack was happy too. The Unas mine on P3X-403 was drying up, so finding new sources of naquadah was a high priority.
“Alright. Do we need to sign any papers for this deal?”
“It’s not a literate society,” MacDonald told him.
Evans was smiling. “Request permission to return to Hegmank and inform them that we have your approval.”
“Granted. Tell them it’s going to take a little time to gather up the sheep.” He looked at the gate travel schedule, which he’d taken to bringing with him to all briefings. “You leave at 1300 tomorrow. Keep up the good work.”
Recognizing the dismissal, the members of SG-27 stood up. Jack reflected that he was grateful he didn’t have to determine who got the naquadah. Competition among various projects for scare naquadah got heated. Fortunately, SGC almost always got a fair amount.
“Jack!” Daniel burst into the briefing room, his limp barely noticeable, while SG-27 was filing out. “I just got an email from Steven Rayner.”
“Your old colleague?” That couldn’t be good. “Don’t tell me. He’s not buying that half-baked cover story anymore.” It hadn’t been one of their better cover stories - something about decades-old research into chemical warfare. Its main selling point had been that it fit neatly with the view, widespread in academic circles, that the military was and always had been reckless and careless with human life.
“I was never sure he bought it, but that’s not it. He found a smashed hand device on a dig in southern Egypt. He’s terrified it’s contaminated by chemicals.”
“Great,” Jack muttered. “Just what we needed.” One day, he knew, some archaeologist was going to find something that couldn’t be covered up. Jack hoped it was after he’d retired for good.
“He wants the Air Force to send someone to come take care of it.”
“I’ll book you and a couple of airmen for flights.”
“Actually, I think it’d be better if I didn’t go.”
He hadn’t expected that. “You do?”
“Yes. For one thing, it doesn’t really make sense to have an archaeologist deal with chemical warfare experiments. It was hard enough to explain my involvement last time.”
That made sense. “And?”
“And what?” asked Daniel.
“You said ‘for one thing,’ which usually means there’s at least one more thing.”
“Right. He’ll try to get more information out of me. Send airmen, and he’ll want as little to do with them as possible. Less questions, less chances for silence to confirm anything.”
“Okay.”
“Someday we won’t be able to make this just go away.”
“I know.” He repressed a sigh. “I just hope I’m gone by then.”
Daniel gave him a wry smile. “Rumor around has it that you’re never actually going to leave.”
*****
Daniel found Teal’c in his quarters reading Air Force regulations and happy to have a reason to take a break. “Did you have a pleasant weekend, Daniel Jackson?”
“Yes, thanks. How was whitewater rafting?”
“Sergeant Zimmerman was correct. It is indeed an invigorating activity. I intend to go again. Perhaps you would like to accompany me.”
That was more Sam’s kind of thing than his, so his reply was a noncommittal, “Maybe when the water’s warmer.”
His Jaffa friend nodded and sat back down. Daniel took that as his cue to sit in the extra chair. Teal’c never invited anyone to sit. In Jaffa culture, a guest’s willingness to sit indicated his or her level of trust in the host.
“So, have you and Colonel Dinsmore found a linguist yet?”
“We have not.”
He’d suspected as much. There was a shortage of qualified candidates. Jack said if SG-28 was going to be a good team, they needed someone who could tell Asgard from Ancient. There weren’t many people who fit that description. Even among his small staff, most were content to stay in the relative safety of the mountain. “You might want to talk to Nyan.”
“He has had opportunity to learn from you,” said Teal’c. “You have confidence in his abilities?”
“Yes.”
“I will confer with Colonel Dinsmore.” Teal’c paused before informing him, “She has told me in no uncertain terms that I must stop seeking a candidate with your talents. I will miss your presence offworld.”
Teal’c was sparing with his compliments but always sincere. “Thank you. I miss it, too. But Nyan is good.”
“Colonel Carter says that she is now less a solider and more a scholar. I do not know if she believes the change to be positive or negative.”
“Probably both. At least, that’s how it is for me.”
He’d asked Jack how he coped with his sudden ‘grounding.’ Apparently Jack had only been half surprised, but he’d said, “I follow orders, Daniel. I go where the Air Force says I’m needed.” He wondered if the same was true for Sam.
“Dr. Brightman cleared me to go offworld in low-risk situations.” Which in particular meant situations where his inability to run properly wouldn’t be a liability.
“That is good news.”
“So keep an eye out for potential dig sites.”
Teal’c raised an eyebrow slightly but agreed. “Very well. I trust that the situation with Steven Rayner’s discovery has been rectified?”
“More or less. He sent me another email asking, and I quote, ‘how the hell early twentieth-century American military experiments get mixed in with Middle Kingdom artifacts.’”
“A fair question.”
“I know,” he sighed. “And since we can’t stop his dig, I’m afraid we might have to tell him the truth.”
“Do you believe he is trustworthy?”
“I don’t know.” Because he didn’t want to think about Steven any more, he changed the subject. “I don’t envy you reading those regulations.”
“The Air Force has an unreasonable amount of regulations. However, I must follow them.”
“Jaffa warriors don’t have regulations?”
Teal’c gave him a look that implied the answer should be obvious. “There is only one rule: please your god.” Glancing at his ready, he added, “Numerous as they are, Air Force regulations are preferable.”
Nobody could argue with that.
*****
Rayner had discovered one of the Goa’uld healing doohickeys and was not buying the ‘experiments with chemical warfare’ story anymore. In a few days he’d arrive in Colorado Springs. Nobody was particularly happy about that, but according to Daniel it was pretty obvious that hand devices and healing doohickeys weren’t Egyptian. Jack took his word for it.
The upcoming visit had Daniel working harder than ever, which was really saying something. Since dinner Jack had read National Geographic cover-to-cover without hearing so much as a peep from Daniel, who was holed up in his study.
Deciding that his workaholic boyfriend needed a break, Jack set his reading glasses and magazine on the coffee table and headed to the study.
“Daniel?”
Unsurprisingly, that got no response. He went for the more direct approach and combined it with one of Daniel’s favorite words. Leaning over so his arms were around Daniel’s shoulders, Jack said, “Hey, cariad.”
That earned him an only slightly distracted, “Hi Jack.”
Excellent. His plan was working. “Let’s go get ice cream.”
“I’m in the middle of -”
“Working yourself to death. I noticed. You do know we don’t get paid for overtime, right?”
“We’d bankrupt the Treasury if everyone at SGC got paid overtime. Sam alone would be a millionaire.” Even as he spoke, Daniel was clicking to enlarge a picture of old writing on his laptop.
“Please.”
Daniel gave an exaggerated sigh. “I guess a break would be alright.” He saved his work and put the laptop on standby. Like their phones, Daniel’s laptop was heavily encrypted. He’d also insisted on an alarm system when he moved in, due to Jack’s past experience with unwanted visitors.
Dairy Delights was only a few minutes from their house. It had just opened that summer, and the homemade ice cream was delicious. Since it was a warm summer evening, Jack hadn’t been the only one thinking of ice cream. They ended up in line behind a group of teenagers. One of the boys looked so much like Siler that Jack would’ve bet money he was the sergeant’s son.
He could hardly believe his eyes at the dish of ice cream one little girl got. In fact, he couldn’t even see any ice cream beneath all the sprinkles. It looked sickening.
Jack decided to try a scoop of butterscotch. He always got vanilla for his second scoop, because he was sure to like it. Daniel got mocha and mint chocolate chip, which did not sound like they would taste good on the same cone. At least he’d warmed to the ice cream break considerably.
They found a bench and sat down to their treats. After a few licks, Daniel asked, “Jack?”
He swallowed, deciding he really liked the butterscotch. “Yeah?”
“What do you think about taking a vacation?”
It certainly sounded appealing. “We’re both due for some leave. It would be nice to actually take it.”
“How about going out of the country?”
He wasn’t opposed on principle. “Depends which country.”
“I don’t suppose you have a great desire to visit Egypt.”
“Not really.”
“I’d like to see the Great Wall of China.”
“China? I don’t think so.” First, he disliked the Chinese generally. Well, the Chinese government anyway; he had nothing against the Chinese people per se. Moreover, he had professional concerns. “I’d rather not bring myself to anyone’s attention over there. Wouldn’t put it past them to try something for more influence.”
“Oh,” said Daniel, disappointed. “Do you really think they would?”
“I’d rather not find out. How about a safari?” He’d always wanted to go on a safari.
“Getting up close and personal with creatures that would happily kill me? Doesn’t sound like much of a vacation.”
It was probably a lost cause, but Jack felt compelled to point out, “Most of them don’t want to kill anyone.”
“Still. Maybe Greece? The Parthenon is always great, and -”
“Daniel, I don’t want to go anywhere where the main attractions are old buildings and museums.” He figured there had to be decent fishing in Greece, but if they ended up doing separate things, it defeated the point of taking a vacation together. In that case, he might as well talk Teal’c into taking the safari while Daniel showed Cassie the remains of ancient Earth cultures.
“Why am I not surprised?”
“I’ve never been to France.” It sounded promising enough. Any country with good food and sandy beaches was an alright destination in Jack’s book. There was history to entertain Daniel but not as much history so ancient he’d end up dragging Jack from ruin to ruin. History that was more recent and well-preserved was always less fascinating to Daniel, for some reason. On the other hand, Jack thought any country where coffee was an art form would suit his lover.
“When are we looking at, the end of August?”
“Middle. I’ve got an in with the guy who does the schedule.”
“France is out. Practically the whole country goes on vacation for the month. Service is bad, beaches are crowded, you get the picture.”
He did, and it wasn’t a good one.
“How about Australia?” asked Daniel.
Jack considered this for a moment. “They do have the Great Barrier Reef.”
“Is there a good season for that? I’ll have to look it up at home.”
“So, we have a destination?”
“I think so,” said Daniel with a grin.
“Cool.” He went back to his ice cream cone, very pleased that he’d insisted on getting out of the house.
...continued: ent-alter-ego.livejournal.com/7527.html