“I know he’s never really dealt with what happened to Cromwell,” said Daniel flatly. “And I know having Cromwell’s former second in command here is going to stir up some muddy waters. What I
don’t
know is what to do about it.”
She leaned across her lab bench. “You do
nothing
, Daniel.
We
do nothing. It’s none of our business.”
Daniel kicked the bench, gently. “Yeah. I guess.”
“
Stay out of it
,” she said, nerves making her severe. “Please. For all our sakes, Daniel. Leave it alone.”
With a flickering secretive smile Daniel started tidying together
her scattered sheets of readout. “Yeah. Okay.”
“
Daniel
…”
He held up his hands as though surrendering. She wished she could believe the gesture. “I said okay, Sam,” he protested. “And now I’m going home. Don’t work too late. Have a good day off tomorrow, and I’ll see you Thursday.”
“Yeah. Thursday,” she said, and watched him leave.
Dammit, Daniel. Don’t you do anything stupid…
Halfway through Fall the late afternoon sunshine contained a particular grandeur. All around, the leaves of the turned trees burned fiery in its golden glow. Colorado was a beautiful state full of wonders and miracles. Daniel slumped in his car, scowling at nature’s glory even as his fingers still clutched the wheel and his shoulders ached from sitting too long in one place. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe he shouldn’t have come. But on the other hand…
It’s never too late to do more harm than good.
He nearly jumped through the roof when his cell phone erupted into life. Fumbling, heart banging his ribs, he yanked the damn thing out of his pocket.
“Yeah? Hello. Yeah?”
“
Hey, Daniel
,” said Jack’s radiophonically distorted voice. “
Watcha doin?
”
Oh crap. He scrunched down in the driver’s seat, wincing as a kneecap collided with the dash. “Hey, Jack. Nothing much. You know, just… hanging out. What about you?”
“
You’re not busy?
” said Jack, ignoring the question. So typical.
Heart still booming Daniel risked another look at Jack’s house, which he could comfortably see despite being parked four doors back. “Ah — no. Not so much. A whole day’s stand-down. Time to relax.”
“
Uh-huh
,” said Jack. “
Yeah. Only you’ve been sitting out there for nearly half an hour. I was thinking you might need to pee
.”
Daniel dragged his free hand down his face. “Oh. Yeah. About that…”
One of Jack’s front curtains twitched aside and there was the man himself, phone pressed to his ear. He waved, smiling. It was how sharks smiled, sizing up lunch.
“Yeah. Okay,” he sighed, defeated. “I’ll see you in a minute.”
Jack’s front door was unlatched when he reached it. He pushed it open and went inside. Jack was in the sunken living room, sneaker-clad feet propped on the coffee table, perusing a newspaper like a titled man of leisure.
“Oh, look,” he said, not taking his eyes from the front page. “It’s Daniel Jackson, Secret Agent. Who just scored a big fat
zero
on his surveillance assignment. Tsk tsk.”
He folded his arms. “I wasn’t surveilling you.”
“No? You could’ve fooled me. You know, if you were any good at it.”
“Jack, I wasn’t spying on you! I was — I was — ”
Now Jack looked up. His eyes were glinting. “I’m all ears, Daniel. Do tell. You were
what?
”
Daniel dropped into the nearest armchair. “Working up the nerve to knock on the door.”
Jack blinked. “Why? Did you think it was going to bite?”
“No, but I thought you might.”
Another sharky smile. “Good thinking, 99.”
Okay. Yeah. So this was a bad idea… “Actually, I think I would like to pee. Do you mind?”
Jack looked back at the newspaper. “
Mi casa es su casa
.”
He returned from the bathroom to find that Jack had abandoned the newspaper and was standing by the French doors, staring into the garden, a cold beer in hand. He lifted it. “Did you want one?”
“No. No, I’m good.”
Jack sighed. “What you are, Daniel, is a pain in the butt. Don’t tell me, let me guess. You drew the short straw. Again.”
“No, actually. No straws this time. Just me.”
“Being you,” said Jack. “So. What do you want?”
He didn’t sound very friendly. Surprise, surprise. Sometimes it felt like simple friendliness wasn’t a big part of their friendship. At least not the kind of easy, uncomplicated camaraderie that other people enjoyed. Him and Sam. Him and Teal’c. Even
Jack
and Teal’c.
They
got along like bread and butter.
But me and Jack? We’re bread and barbed wire.
At least that’s what it felt like sometimes. Whenever they butted heads over their diametrically opposed life philosophies, or he was getting in Jack’s face for Jack’s own good. Like now, for example. So. Ask a blunt question, get a blunt answer.
“I’m worried you’re going to end up going medieval on David Dixon’s ass.”
Jack choked on a mouthful of beer, nearly spewing it into the air. “
What?
”
“You heard me,” he said, and sat down again. “Look. Can we talk about this? Like grownups?”
Jack kept his back resolutely turned. “Says the man who skulked in his car for half an hour, too afraid to knock on my door.”
“Yeah. Okay. That was dumb.”
“Ya think?”
“I was formulating an approach. Working out the best strategy to get the conversational ball rolling.”’
“There is no ball, Daniel. There is no rolling. There’s nothing to talk about.”
Daniel let his head fall back against the chair. “Yeah, Jack, there really is. I might not’ve been here for the actual black hole-sucking-the-earth-down-its-gullet extravaganza but I was around for the sequel. And having seen that movie once, I gotta tell you I’m not particularly interested in a rerun.”
Jack threw a scorching glance over his shoulder. “Daniel, you’re full of crap.”
“Am I?”
“Didn’t I just say so?”
“I don’t care what you said. It’s what you
don’t
say, Jack, that gets you into trouble.”
“Okay,” said Jack, and turned away from the French doors. “Did you, I don’t know, fall over in the driveway and give yourself concussion?”
“Not that I noticed. Jack, please don’t stand there and tell me the idea of Colonel Dixon joining SG-1, no matter how briefly, hasn’t rattled you. Please don’t tell me that one point five seconds after Hammond told you he was coming you didn’t flash back to the moment Frank Cromwell died. Don’t stand there and tell me that because I have known you too long and saved your ass one time too many to put up with that kind of insult.”
Slowly, so slowly, Jack lowered the beer bottle from his mouth. “Daniel…”
He leaned forward, relentless. “I’m not asking you to spill your guts, Jack. I’m not that stupid. I just want you to face up to what you’re feeling. In the privacy of your own head, admit that Dixon’s secondment to the team is going to stir up some really bad memories. Admit it and deal with it. Because we both know what happened the last time you went trekking in the Land of Despair.”
The crucible of Abydos. A Jack hell-bent on self-destruction. Pain like a supernova, scorching everyone in his orbit and obliterating his world. Okay, Cromwell wasn’t Charlie… but he’d been the next worst thing.
A muscle leapt along the side of Jack’s jaw. “That was a long time ago, Daniel.”
“And this year the leopard’s looking good in stripes,” he retorted. “Jack, how you deal with things is your business. I’m not telling you how to live your life.” He stopped and thought about that. “Yeah. Okay. I am.
But
— ” He raised a finger. “Only because what you do these days affects me and people I care about, oh, and the universe at large, and I’m not interested in getting caught in the crossfire between you and Dixon. And because, God knows why, I care what happens to you.”
Jack took another slug of beer. “There is no crossfire, Daniel.”
“Give it time.”
“You sound damned sure.”
“Ah —
how
long have I known you?”
“Right now I’m thinking
too
long,” said Jack. His smile was brittle. “Daniel, you’ve wasted your afternoon. I have no problem with David Dixon. In fact I’m grateful he’s coming, given how short-handed we are.”
He felt himself blink. “You’re grateful?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not worried he’s going to try and talk to you about Cromwell? About what happened last year? You’re not worried he might have… I don’t know…
issues?
”
With an impatient sigh Jack put down his half-emptied beer bottle on the nearest side table. “No, Daniel. David Dixon is a professional soldier.
I
am a professional soldier. Professional soldiers live in the present. We focus on life-and-death matters of immediate concern. We leave the navel-gazing and the hand wringing and the frolicking down Memory Lane to people like
you
.”
Well, it wasn’t surprising but still, it stung. “People like me?”
“Yeah.
Academics
.”
He said the word as though it were an obscenity. And to Jack it usually was, particularly at times — like this one — when irritation became anger. Swallowing resigned disappointment, Daniel stood.
“Okay. I had something to say and I’ve said it, so I’ll go. Unless there was anything you wanted to add?”
“Right now,” said Jack, “the only thing I feel like adding is my boot to your butt.”
He shook his head. “Yeah. This went well. I’m really glad I dropped by. Have a nice evening, Jack. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at the memorial.”
Was that a cheap shot? He couldn’t tell. He was too busy being pissed at Jack, who refused to recognize a helping hand when it was shoved in his face.
But then he did feel bad, because the combative light was gone from Jack’s eyes. Instead he looked tired and sad. “The memorial. Yeah.”
Daniel pulled a face. “Way too many.”
“Yeah. So Daniel, when I say I welcome help from any quarter believe I mean it. Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.” He headed for the door, but stopped and looked back when Jack spoke again.
“I’m fine, Daniel. Honestly. But… thanks for asking.”
It was a huge concession. Not one Jack made lightly or often. It was his ability to admit fault in the midst of utter bastardry that kept their volatile friendship alive.
He nodded. “You’re welcome, Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jake Andrews had been a popular man. Gregarious, cheerful, the first to volunteer and the last to give up. The gate room was crowded for his memorial service. At least one representative from every available team and every SGC department stood strictly to attention in immaculate dress uniform, stoically determined not to break down. Some were more successful than others. The service was piped through the base for those who couldn’t physically attend.
Janet Fraiser, representing the medical staff, pristine in her dress blues, held her grief at bay as General Hammond spoke briefly, eloquently, on the making and receiving of great sacrifices. So many services of late, yet he always found something important to say. Ariel Lee, on crutches, delivered the eulogy and with Lieutenant Esposito sent a wreath through the shimmering, hungry wormhole.
A small distance away Janet could feel Jack’s muted angry sorrow, Sam’s struggle for composure. Close beside Sam stood Daniel. How must he be feeling, yet another funeral service so soon after burying Sha’re? Teal’c betrayed nothing, but she knew he felt Jake’s loss keenly.
We can’t kee
p doing this. We can’t keep saying goodbye. Either we’ll go numb… or we’ll fall apart. Either way it’s disaster
.
To her surprise and cautious approval Colonel David Dixon attended the service, standing at the rear of the gathered group. Discreetly watching him, Janet wondered if he was having sec
ond thoughts about his temporary assignment to the base. It was
impossible to say. Nothing but sorrow showed in his expression. A tall man, physically imposing, he had a nice face. Not handsome, not precisely, just… nice. Steadfast. Dependable. Something unexpectedly gentle in his eyes.
Interesting. Not what she’d expected from a man who’d chosen Special Forces as his life. She was sorry she’d missed out on conducting his preliminary physical. Bill Warner had taken care of it while she’d been on shift at the hospital.
Still. There’ll be time to talk with him sooner or later. And I will. I want to know what makes him tick. I want to know if he’s holding a grudge over Cromwell
.