Files - Part 3
Jack had watched the color and fight fade out of Daniel, and pretty much hated himself. Which was unnecessary, since Daniel must be first in that long line right now. So he watched the security cameras, monitored Daniel heading out of the mountain. He also had a sergeant he could trust tagged to follow Daniel home, in case Maybourne had any other bright ideas. He winced at the damage that had been done-which he'd worried he'd just made worse-and he kept his hands in his pockets and his fingers out of sight so no one could see he'd crossed them.
Damnit, he wanted to punch Daniel for going this stubborn. For deciding to come after everyone with that slice-and-dice tongue of his, which could shred you before you even saw it coming. And he just hoped that since Daniel had thought his way into this bag, maybe if the guy had enough downtime, he'd get himself out again.
Oh, yeah, like that ever happened.
Well, hell, maybe it wouldn't hurt for Daniel to get a taste of what walking away to go solo was like. Then they could try this again.
And didn't that all sound like just a crap plan?
But it was all he had right now. Hell, maybe a couple of days and he'd come up with something better.
Besides, it wasn't like he'd hadn't had Daniel go this pig-headed before.
Back on Ernest's planet, when that castle by the sea had been falling to pieces, Daniel's insistence on staying had shaken Jack. Not just for the sheer stupidity, but because he'd thought he'd tagged the guy's number.
He'd figured so long as Daniel had Sha're to find, Daniel would do just about anything. But it seemed like meaning of life stuff put Sha're out of Daniel's head. Right now it also seemed like high ethics did just about the same thing. But that didn't fit with what Jack knew about Daniel, which started up the worries.
Had he been wrong about Daniel? About the guy having a practical side to him? Was it always going to be this much fight to have him on any team? He was going to trust not-he was going to trust what he did know. Because Daniel had let slip something back awhile ago.
Daniel had let loose a frustrated comment after getting nowhere with Ernest's notes on all the information they'd lost.
“The knowledge is out there,” he'd said, half muttering the words. At the time, Daniel had been looking at a photo of Sha're that Feretti had snapped right before she'd been taken. In the photo Sha're was smiling. Looking at it, Daniel wasn't. Desperation haunted his eyes and tightened his face, and something had clicked for Jack.
Daniel wanted to fix things with what he knew; if he learned enough, he'd figure out where his wife was and how to get her home. So, yes, back in that falling down castle, Daniel had been thinking about the meaning of life, but he'd also been thinking beyond to everything they could do with that stuff. He had been focused on still fixing things.
So Jack hadn't gotten it wrong-he just hadn't gotten it complicated enough. Which seemed to be about the same case again here. Damnit, he should have known Daniel would pull a one-eighty on him. And he wasn't really sure how Daniel would come out of this latest round of complications.
Back on Ernest's planet, Daniel had opted to stay alive, to come back with Jack. He'd accepted the setback. He'd even been practical although he hated the need.
What Jack worried now wasn't that Daniel wouldn't come back to work-the guy would. Daniel had no choice for that part. All the rest had Jack sweating. Because he wasn't sure anything he did would be enough to get back the guy he'd come to think of as a friend.
#
As futile rebellious gestures went, this was right up there. He'd show them what-that he knew how long his leash was, just how tight it could be stretched? That would do a hell of a lot. Daniel was still doing it anyway.
He'd headed south and west since wandering into a desert seemed appropriate for lost souls and fools. Jack's words went with him, and he knew there was something else in there he should have heard, should pull out and piece together, but he couldn't get past the idea of unwilling compensation.
Sha're for his career? My god, what else had he unthinkingly swapped? Had the loss of his parents given him something in return?
He didn't want to know if it had, but he thought about his college years, how he'd had funds from their life insurance left in trust. And his foster parents had left him their estate, which hadn't been much, but he hadn't needed much. So he'd stayed in school. And stayed.
His career had found him because of that, really. He'd been offered that research spot by Doctor Jordan. And was it all due to the fact that he'd had the luxury of as much schooling as he wanted in exchange for not having his parents alive?
Oh, hell, he hated this line of thinking. And he couldn't stop now he'd started. Damnit, what else had Jack-oh, forget it, stop it. But he was back to Sha're again. Back to wondering.
Knowing the outcome, would he have done the same thing-made the swap? His career for her? Did that mean he'd opened the Stargate again because on some level he'd wanted his career back? So he had to lose her?
Eyes burning and head pounding, he stopped, bought gas and coffee. And he tried to stop thinking. With the sun sinking in the west, fatigue nipping at him, he burned his tongue on bitter, hot liquid. He put his focus on the black stretch of tarmac and stared at a sign that listed the mileage to Taos and beyond.
And he recognized the name.
Taos. He remembered then about the Pueblo, the oldest continually inhabited structure in North America. And while it wasn't quite up there with Nagada for longevity, it was close. Right now he needed the comfort of things that had survived long eons. God, he needed something.
Briefly, he considered turning around, driving back to Denver and an airport. He could be in New York in a few hours and then bury himself at The Met for a couple of days. Odd that, over the years, the place where his parents had died had become a place of comfort. But he'd always been drawn to the ties between the living and the dead crafted by the ancient Egyptians-how the next world was only a better extension of this one. He'd always felt close to his parent in that place; it had seemed as if they could be near, living in the lands of the west.
All of that was now tainted.
How much had the Egyptians celebrated life and the afterlife-and what had been a mimicry of Goa'uld technology that really could restore the dead? Had Ra revived his favorites sometimes? Had others seen that? What was real, and what had been myth? He no longer knew.
And he hadn't been back to The Met since the disaster of his last lecture; they might not welcome him as they once had. That was true for almost everyone he'd known-something else he could thank Maybourne and the military for-and he was battered enough at the moment that he didn't want to test the waters.
Better to head to a place where he wasn't known. And if he couldn't have the comfort of Hapshephut's granite calm, of her sphinx-certainty, then he'd take the next best thing and head to something else that could endure the burden of centuries.
Before he got into his car, he glanced back once. He couldn't even see the shape of Cheyenne Mountain. But he could still hear Jack's words-you got Sha're...that worth it? Oh, god. Then he lost her and got back a new career.
And was he now making another unwilling stupid mistake of a choice?
#
Jack looked at his options and decided he wasn't sitting on his thumbs for three days. He also wondered if Daniel would figure out that mention of Daniel being tossed out on his ass hadn't been mentioned. The guy had looked poleaxed when he’d left, and that set off even more worries. But he wasn't going there-Daniel would find his own way back, the man always did. So Jack put in for leave, since he had to do something, and got a reluctant grant of a couple days from Hammond.
He also got a knowing look from the man, but he got out of the mountain before he could get anything else, like more flak from his team. Hopping a flight was easy, and he went with a light duffle. He didn't plan on staying. Military transport also meant he could take his sidearm.
So he had the Beretta in his hand when he knocked on the door, then he had the weapon in Maybourne's face.
Maybourne's eyes went wide, just about crossed to stare down the muzzle. But the man had to have been on the wrong end of a gun before because he faked a smile and said, “Funny way to say hello, O'Neill.”
“Actually, I'm hoping more for some good-byes.” He motioned Maybourne inside and shut the door behind them. Then he glanced at Maybourne's bags. “Vacation?”
Maybourne's mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “Inventory of mothballed aircraft in the Mojave. For a start. Thought you might have heard about my new assignments. Come to see me off?”
“Not so much. Just dropped by to tell you if you come near Daniel again-hell, you come near any of my team-it'd better be with a presidential order and a goon squad.”
Maybourne kept his face steady, but Jack caught the twitch at the corner of one eye. Time to make double-sure the guy understood there wasn't anything idle about these threats. “Come after them, you get me, Harry. Got that now?”
Maybourne glanced at the gun, then back up again. “I take it there's been some trouble with your team? With Doctor Jackson? Hardly surprising-the man has no place in that program.”
Jack started to tell Maybourne just how wrong he was when he caught the inflection in those words. And a few more pieces fit into place. Of course. This wouldn't be simple. As bent as Maybourne was, the guy had to have more angles going than a circus contortionist. “That program?” Jack said, dragging the words out slow. “Which means you’ve got a this in mind, Maybourne?”
The man licked his lips and his eyes cut away and Jack thought-bingo. “It wasn't just about cutting Daniel out of SG-1, was it? It was about picking him up after. What-you were going to see any transfer request he put in ended with him at that resort you set up for the Tollan? Or just stash him someplace until you could make him over into the NID expert on everything he can dig up on the Goa'uld?”
Maybourne shrugged. “We would have put him where he belongs, O'Neill. Behind books. He'd have been happy enough. Eventually.”
“Maybourne, you're not a good enough liar that I buy you believe any of that crap. You took a chance. Don't try for another. I hear you can walk without toes, but they'll probably discharge you anyway for shooting yourself in the foot.”
Maybourne's eyes narrowed and his back stiffened. He glanced at the Beretta, then at Jack. “You wouldn't.”
Jack smiled. “Think of it as not so much losing body parts as making things a better fit for your mouth, Maybourne.”
Turning away, Maybourne zipped an already zipped bag. His fingers weren't quite steady, but he kept his voice gruff and even. “Done with the posturing? I have a flight to catch.”
Jack thought about just shooting the man anyway-he already regretted not doing that sooner. But in DC, the fallout would be harder on everyone-Hammond included-and Jack had made his point.
Flipping the safety on, Jack slipped the nine mil back into the holster under his shirt, tucked at his lower back. “Don't forget your sunscreen.”
Maybourne looked up, then he did smile, small and tight, about as pleasant as grease congealing. “I am glad you stopped by, Jack. Nice to know some things are going the way I thought they would. Terrible when a team member no longer trusts his own people, though, isn't it?”
“Better catch that flight, Harry. While you can run for it.”
Maybourne at least knew when to shut up. He did now, but not without a last glance back. Jack followed him out and didn't bother to lock the door behind him.
Thoughts of setting up Maybourne for a new career singing castrato got Jack through the flight home. But the next day he walked onto the base and found the rest of his team waiting for him. Carter had her arms crossed, and Teal'c had the stone face going, and Jack wondered if this was what it was like for Hammond when Jack hung around to pounce on the man at the elevators.
He nodded to both of them. He was not going to tell either of them where he'd been or what he'd been doing. Carter didn't need any more ideas about pushing the regs. She was a general's daughter; she already had her own bad habits. And Teal'c would give him a pile of silent warrior crap for not shooting Maybourne anyway.
He flashed a stiff smile, didn't get the flicker of one back. And he started walking.
Carter fell in at his side and Teal'c at his heel. He walked them into the cafeteria and got some coffee. It was early-morning shift, so no luck on anyone else hanging out who could interrupt. “Keeping busy?” he asked his team or what was left of it.
Teal'c lifted an eyebrow. “We were discussing Daniel Jackson.”
Jack resisted the urge to mutter 'carry on' and find someplace else to be. If they were going to say something, they might as well get it said. He led them to a corner and got them settled. Carter had a mug of coffee gripped tight enough to murder it. Teal'c didn't bother with the pretense of anything. “We have been unable to contact Daniel Jackson.”
Jack glanced at his watch. “Yeah, well, he's not due back 'till tomorrow.” He'd also heard from Sergeant Hillman that Daniel seemed to be touring the Southwest, and he didn't get what that was about. After that blow-up, Daniel was sightseeing? That didn't make any sense, but that was pretty much par for Daniel.
“Sir?”
Jack glanced up at Carter and realized she'd been talking at him. He shook his head. Right now he wanted a deep pool he could jump into with enough water to close over his head. Even without having heard the rest of her words, he knew what she was asking. And he was bone-weary of it. “I don't know, Carter. This could-I might have had more luck talking to Daniel's office walls than I did to him.”
Teal'c lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing. Carter glanced at her coffee. She hadn't put any milk in it and she never drank it black. She looked up and put her stare on him. He really wished then that she'd go back to glaring at her coffee. “Sir, did you tell Daniel?”
“Tell him what? What you did for him? Oh, yeah, he sure appreciated that effort. Next time, just-”
“Sir!”
“O'Neill, Captain Carter is referencing an explanation to Daniel Jackson about your participation, or lack thereof, in General West's meeting.”
Jack had to process that one, and then his temper lifted, bright as an open sky. “What? I'm supposed to explain myself to Daniel, and then explain myself to you two?” And he was damned if he'd mention how Daniel had thrown that offer of anything back in his face.
“Sir-did you?”
“Captain,” he said, stressing her rank, so she'd remember she had one, and so did he. “I account for myself-when necessary-to my commanding officer.”
“And you will also do so to Daniel Jackson when necessary.”
Jack turned, glared at Teal'c. He got a glare back, then Carter waded back in. “Sir, Teal'c is right. We all know Daniel needs explanations-understanding. It's part of who he is.”
“So now I'm supposed to act like he's my-”
“Yes, sir.”
“Indeed.”
He started to swear and bit it off. He swapped his stare from one supposed subordinate to the other. Why in hell had he ever asked for this team? “And your enquiring minds want to know, too? That the bottom line here?”
“Sir, I wouldn't-I asked, but-honestly, sir, it's not any of my business.”
“It is, however, very much Daniel Jackson's business.”
Looking away, Jack shook his head. Giving Daniel the idea that decisions always got full justifications-that would just help them so much in the field.
“Sir, I just think you should consider the possibility. If Daniel comes back-”
“When, Carter. When Daniel comes back.”
Carter and Teal'c swapped uneasy stares, and Jack's temper hit Mach Five. Damnit, Daniel was coming back. And he had Sergeant Hillman as back-up just in case. But he knew Daniel at least well enough to know Daniel wasn't giving up on Sha're like that. No, Daniel would be back. Damn straight he would.
“Sir, when Daniel comes back, it's possible he might come back willing to work with anyone other than us. Unless we're honest enough with him to admit this was a mistake-a bad one.”
The hard gleam in her eyes said all of it had been wrong, especially his handling of it.
“And next time we have to do something to keep this program quiet? You think about that, Carter? What do we tell him then? 'Oh, yeah, sorry we have to keep lying, and you can believe us this time when we say we're sorry, but we're going to keep doing this crap to others like we did to you?'“
Carter's stare dropped back to her coffee, and even Teal'c looked away at that one. And, yeah, now they finally got the full story. They couldn't apologize to Daniel. That'd only be one more lie.
But Carter looked up again, eyes sharp as broken glass. “Sir, Daniel asked me if, to keep the Stargate, we have to become like Maybourne. Do we? Do we have to put security ahead of everything? Everyone? Is that what the 'gate's going to take from us? Because I have to tell you, sir, Daniel's never going to be that person. And I don't want to become that, either. And if we don't recognize the truth about this, maybe we deserve to lose whatever respect Daniel had for us.”
Shaking his head, Jack pushed up from the table. “No, Carter. That's not happening.”
#
Go to Part 4
Damnit, he wanted to punch Daniel for going this stubborn. For deciding to come after everyone with that slice-and-dice tongue of his, which could shred you before you even saw it coming. And he just hoped that since Daniel had thought his way into this bag, maybe if the guy had enough downtime, he'd get himself out again.
Oh, yeah, like that ever happened.
Well, hell, maybe it wouldn't hurt for Daniel to get a taste of what walking away to go solo was like. Then they could try this again.
And didn't that all sound like just a crap plan?
But it was all he had right now. Hell, maybe a couple of days and he'd come up with something better.
Besides, it wasn't like he'd hadn't had Daniel go this pig-headed before.
Back on Ernest's planet, when that castle by the sea had been falling to pieces, Daniel's insistence on staying had shaken Jack. Not just for the sheer stupidity, but because he'd thought he'd tagged the guy's number.
He'd figured so long as Daniel had Sha're to find, Daniel would do just about anything. But it seemed like meaning of life stuff put Sha're out of Daniel's head. Right now it also seemed like high ethics did just about the same thing. But that didn't fit with what Jack knew about Daniel, which started up the worries.
Had he been wrong about Daniel? About the guy having a practical side to him? Was it always going to be this much fight to have him on any team? He was going to trust not-he was going to trust what he did know. Because Daniel had let slip something back awhile ago.
Daniel had let loose a frustrated comment after getting nowhere with Ernest's notes on all the information they'd lost.
“The knowledge is out there,” he'd said, half muttering the words. At the time, Daniel had been looking at a photo of Sha're that Feretti had snapped right before she'd been taken. In the photo Sha're was smiling. Looking at it, Daniel wasn't. Desperation haunted his eyes and tightened his face, and something had clicked for Jack.
Daniel wanted to fix things with what he knew; if he learned enough, he'd figure out where his wife was and how to get her home. So, yes, back in that falling down castle, Daniel had been thinking about the meaning of life, but he'd also been thinking beyond to everything they could do with that stuff. He had been focused on still fixing things.
So Jack hadn't gotten it wrong-he just hadn't gotten it complicated enough. Which seemed to be about the same case again here. Damnit, he should have known Daniel would pull a one-eighty on him. And he wasn't really sure how Daniel would come out of this latest round of complications.
Back on Ernest's planet, Daniel had opted to stay alive, to come back with Jack. He'd accepted the setback. He'd even been practical although he hated the need.
What Jack worried now wasn't that Daniel wouldn't come back to work-the guy would. Daniel had no choice for that part. All the rest had Jack sweating. Because he wasn't sure anything he did would be enough to get back the guy he'd come to think of as a friend.
#
As futile rebellious gestures went, this was right up there. He'd show them what-that he knew how long his leash was, just how tight it could be stretched? That would do a hell of a lot. Daniel was still doing it anyway.
He'd headed south and west since wandering into a desert seemed appropriate for lost souls and fools. Jack's words went with him, and he knew there was something else in there he should have heard, should pull out and piece together, but he couldn't get past the idea of unwilling compensation.
Sha're for his career? My god, what else had he unthinkingly swapped? Had the loss of his parents given him something in return?
He didn't want to know if it had, but he thought about his college years, how he'd had funds from their life insurance left in trust. And his foster parents had left him their estate, which hadn't been much, but he hadn't needed much. So he'd stayed in school. And stayed.
His career had found him because of that, really. He'd been offered that research spot by Doctor Jordan. And was it all due to the fact that he'd had the luxury of as much schooling as he wanted in exchange for not having his parents alive?
Oh, hell, he hated this line of thinking. And he couldn't stop now he'd started. Damnit, what else had Jack-oh, forget it, stop it. But he was back to Sha're again. Back to wondering.
Knowing the outcome, would he have done the same thing-made the swap? His career for her? Did that mean he'd opened the Stargate again because on some level he'd wanted his career back? So he had to lose her?
Eyes burning and head pounding, he stopped, bought gas and coffee. And he tried to stop thinking. With the sun sinking in the west, fatigue nipping at him, he burned his tongue on bitter, hot liquid. He put his focus on the black stretch of tarmac and stared at a sign that listed the mileage to Taos and beyond.
And he recognized the name.
Taos. He remembered then about the Pueblo, the oldest continually inhabited structure in North America. And while it wasn't quite up there with Nagada for longevity, it was close. Right now he needed the comfort of things that had survived long eons. God, he needed something.
Briefly, he considered turning around, driving back to Denver and an airport. He could be in New York in a few hours and then bury himself at The Met for a couple of days. Odd that, over the years, the place where his parents had died had become a place of comfort. But he'd always been drawn to the ties between the living and the dead crafted by the ancient Egyptians-how the next world was only a better extension of this one. He'd always felt close to his parent in that place; it had seemed as if they could be near, living in the lands of the west.
All of that was now tainted.
How much had the Egyptians celebrated life and the afterlife-and what had been a mimicry of Goa'uld technology that really could restore the dead? Had Ra revived his favorites sometimes? Had others seen that? What was real, and what had been myth? He no longer knew.
And he hadn't been back to The Met since the disaster of his last lecture; they might not welcome him as they once had. That was true for almost everyone he'd known-something else he could thank Maybourne and the military for-and he was battered enough at the moment that he didn't want to test the waters.
Better to head to a place where he wasn't known. And if he couldn't have the comfort of Hapshephut's granite calm, of her sphinx-certainty, then he'd take the next best thing and head to something else that could endure the burden of centuries.
Before he got into his car, he glanced back once. He couldn't even see the shape of Cheyenne Mountain. But he could still hear Jack's words-you got Sha're...that worth it? Oh, god. Then he lost her and got back a new career.
And was he now making another unwilling stupid mistake of a choice?
#
Jack looked at his options and decided he wasn't sitting on his thumbs for three days. He also wondered if Daniel would figure out that mention of Daniel being tossed out on his ass hadn't been mentioned. The guy had looked poleaxed when he’d left, and that set off even more worries. But he wasn't going there-Daniel would find his own way back, the man always did. So Jack put in for leave, since he had to do something, and got a reluctant grant of a couple days from Hammond.
He also got a knowing look from the man, but he got out of the mountain before he could get anything else, like more flak from his team. Hopping a flight was easy, and he went with a light duffle. He didn't plan on staying. Military transport also meant he could take his sidearm.
So he had the Beretta in his hand when he knocked on the door, then he had the weapon in Maybourne's face.
Maybourne's eyes went wide, just about crossed to stare down the muzzle. But the man had to have been on the wrong end of a gun before because he faked a smile and said, “Funny way to say hello, O'Neill.”
“Actually, I'm hoping more for some good-byes.” He motioned Maybourne inside and shut the door behind them. Then he glanced at Maybourne's bags. “Vacation?”
Maybourne's mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “Inventory of mothballed aircraft in the Mojave. For a start. Thought you might have heard about my new assignments. Come to see me off?”
“Not so much. Just dropped by to tell you if you come near Daniel again-hell, you come near any of my team-it'd better be with a presidential order and a goon squad.”
Maybourne kept his face steady, but Jack caught the twitch at the corner of one eye. Time to make double-sure the guy understood there wasn't anything idle about these threats. “Come after them, you get me, Harry. Got that now?”
Maybourne glanced at the gun, then back up again. “I take it there's been some trouble with your team? With Doctor Jackson? Hardly surprising-the man has no place in that program.”
Jack started to tell Maybourne just how wrong he was when he caught the inflection in those words. And a few more pieces fit into place. Of course. This wouldn't be simple. As bent as Maybourne was, the guy had to have more angles going than a circus contortionist. “That program?” Jack said, dragging the words out slow. “Which means you’ve got a this in mind, Maybourne?”
The man licked his lips and his eyes cut away and Jack thought-bingo. “It wasn't just about cutting Daniel out of SG-1, was it? It was about picking him up after. What-you were going to see any transfer request he put in ended with him at that resort you set up for the Tollan? Or just stash him someplace until you could make him over into the NID expert on everything he can dig up on the Goa'uld?”
Maybourne shrugged. “We would have put him where he belongs, O'Neill. Behind books. He'd have been happy enough. Eventually.”
“Maybourne, you're not a good enough liar that I buy you believe any of that crap. You took a chance. Don't try for another. I hear you can walk without toes, but they'll probably discharge you anyway for shooting yourself in the foot.”
Maybourne's eyes narrowed and his back stiffened. He glanced at the Beretta, then at Jack. “You wouldn't.”
Jack smiled. “Think of it as not so much losing body parts as making things a better fit for your mouth, Maybourne.”
Turning away, Maybourne zipped an already zipped bag. His fingers weren't quite steady, but he kept his voice gruff and even. “Done with the posturing? I have a flight to catch.”
Jack thought about just shooting the man anyway-he already regretted not doing that sooner. But in DC, the fallout would be harder on everyone-Hammond included-and Jack had made his point.
Flipping the safety on, Jack slipped the nine mil back into the holster under his shirt, tucked at his lower back. “Don't forget your sunscreen.”
Maybourne looked up, then he did smile, small and tight, about as pleasant as grease congealing. “I am glad you stopped by, Jack. Nice to know some things are going the way I thought they would. Terrible when a team member no longer trusts his own people, though, isn't it?”
“Better catch that flight, Harry. While you can run for it.”
Maybourne at least knew when to shut up. He did now, but not without a last glance back. Jack followed him out and didn't bother to lock the door behind him.
Thoughts of setting up Maybourne for a new career singing castrato got Jack through the flight home. But the next day he walked onto the base and found the rest of his team waiting for him. Carter had her arms crossed, and Teal'c had the stone face going, and Jack wondered if this was what it was like for Hammond when Jack hung around to pounce on the man at the elevators.
He nodded to both of them. He was not going to tell either of them where he'd been or what he'd been doing. Carter didn't need any more ideas about pushing the regs. She was a general's daughter; she already had her own bad habits. And Teal'c would give him a pile of silent warrior crap for not shooting Maybourne anyway.
He flashed a stiff smile, didn't get the flicker of one back. And he started walking.
Carter fell in at his side and Teal'c at his heel. He walked them into the cafeteria and got some coffee. It was early-morning shift, so no luck on anyone else hanging out who could interrupt. “Keeping busy?” he asked his team or what was left of it.
Teal'c lifted an eyebrow. “We were discussing Daniel Jackson.”
Jack resisted the urge to mutter 'carry on' and find someplace else to be. If they were going to say something, they might as well get it said. He led them to a corner and got them settled. Carter had a mug of coffee gripped tight enough to murder it. Teal'c didn't bother with the pretense of anything. “We have been unable to contact Daniel Jackson.”
Jack glanced at his watch. “Yeah, well, he's not due back 'till tomorrow.” He'd also heard from Sergeant Hillman that Daniel seemed to be touring the Southwest, and he didn't get what that was about. After that blow-up, Daniel was sightseeing? That didn't make any sense, but that was pretty much par for Daniel.
“Sir?”
Jack glanced up at Carter and realized she'd been talking at him. He shook his head. Right now he wanted a deep pool he could jump into with enough water to close over his head. Even without having heard the rest of her words, he knew what she was asking. And he was bone-weary of it. “I don't know, Carter. This could-I might have had more luck talking to Daniel's office walls than I did to him.”
Teal'c lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing. Carter glanced at her coffee. She hadn't put any milk in it and she never drank it black. She looked up and put her stare on him. He really wished then that she'd go back to glaring at her coffee. “Sir, did you tell Daniel?”
“Tell him what? What you did for him? Oh, yeah, he sure appreciated that effort. Next time, just-”
“Sir!”
“O'Neill, Captain Carter is referencing an explanation to Daniel Jackson about your participation, or lack thereof, in General West's meeting.”
Jack had to process that one, and then his temper lifted, bright as an open sky. “What? I'm supposed to explain myself to Daniel, and then explain myself to you two?” And he was damned if he'd mention how Daniel had thrown that offer of anything back in his face.
“Sir-did you?”
“Captain,” he said, stressing her rank, so she'd remember she had one, and so did he. “I account for myself-when necessary-to my commanding officer.”
“And you will also do so to Daniel Jackson when necessary.”
Jack turned, glared at Teal'c. He got a glare back, then Carter waded back in. “Sir, Teal'c is right. We all know Daniel needs explanations-understanding. It's part of who he is.”
“So now I'm supposed to act like he's my-”
“Yes, sir.”
“Indeed.”
He started to swear and bit it off. He swapped his stare from one supposed subordinate to the other. Why in hell had he ever asked for this team? “And your enquiring minds want to know, too? That the bottom line here?”
“Sir, I wouldn't-I asked, but-honestly, sir, it's not any of my business.”
“It is, however, very much Daniel Jackson's business.”
Looking away, Jack shook his head. Giving Daniel the idea that decisions always got full justifications-that would just help them so much in the field.
“Sir, I just think you should consider the possibility. If Daniel comes back-”
“When, Carter. When Daniel comes back.”
Carter and Teal'c swapped uneasy stares, and Jack's temper hit Mach Five. Damnit, Daniel was coming back. And he had Sergeant Hillman as back-up just in case. But he knew Daniel at least well enough to know Daniel wasn't giving up on Sha're like that. No, Daniel would be back. Damn straight he would.
“Sir, when Daniel comes back, it's possible he might come back willing to work with anyone other than us. Unless we're honest enough with him to admit this was a mistake-a bad one.”
The hard gleam in her eyes said all of it had been wrong, especially his handling of it.
“And next time we have to do something to keep this program quiet? You think about that, Carter? What do we tell him then? 'Oh, yeah, sorry we have to keep lying, and you can believe us this time when we say we're sorry, but we're going to keep doing this crap to others like we did to you?'“
Carter's stare dropped back to her coffee, and even Teal'c looked away at that one. And, yeah, now they finally got the full story. They couldn't apologize to Daniel. That'd only be one more lie.
But Carter looked up again, eyes sharp as broken glass. “Sir, Daniel asked me if, to keep the Stargate, we have to become like Maybourne. Do we? Do we have to put security ahead of everything? Everyone? Is that what the 'gate's going to take from us? Because I have to tell you, sir, Daniel's never going to be that person. And I don't want to become that, either. And if we don't recognize the truth about this, maybe we deserve to lose whatever respect Daniel had for us.”
Shaking his head, Jack pushed up from the table. “No, Carter. That's not happening.”
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