J/D ficathon story: The Empty Well
Written for kormantic. Her requests: banter and sharp characterization. (No pressure there, right? *g*) Post-Moebius (with team); spoilers for season eight, about 6600 words. And maybe a poke or two at a couple of cliches. Thank you to Sal and SEF for their terrific notes on the early draft, and to TWM, Brighid and Barkley for their always-amazing beta reading.
The Empty Well
By Destina Fortunato
By the time Jack sat down to clean the fish, Carter had a new obsession.
She had managed to contain herself all day, through an afternoon bacchanal of fishing that included consumption of several six-packs of beer, through Teal'c declaring that fishing was a torture equivalent to anything the most deviant Goa'uld could devise - even through Daniel imitating a multi-hoofed labyrinth-dwelling thing he'd seen on P88-987 and falling in the pond. She seemed to have temporarily forgotten her issues, though, when Daniel stripped out of his wet clothes and hung them all on the tiny dock, and revealed himself to be a man with godawful taste in civilian briefs.
"Are those...clouds?" Jack asked incredulously, staring at the blue shorts with puffy clouds imprinted all over them.
"They were a gift," Daniel said, moving his hands from his frontside to the back as he edged toward the cabin to change his clothes. "She said they brought out my eyes."
"Oh, they bring out....something, all right," Carter said, and then cleared her throat and stared out at the pond, ever the good soldier.
But later, when Daniel had dressed again, and Jack had grabbed the basket of tiny fish - their pitiful dinner had been caught entirely by Teal'c, go figure - Carter couldn't help herself. "You know, sir, I'm still worried about the fish."
"I knew it," Jack accused. "I knew if you noticed, you would not be able to let it go."
"You thought I wouldn't notice?" she said, wounded, but still looking at the basket. He transferred the fish into a bucket; like a lure, it drew all her attention.
He ducked his head down, down, lower, and when he was nearly in her line of sight, he said, "Carter!" Her head snapped back up in a gratifying way. "I meant what I said - it's close enough. Everything doesn't have to be perfect."
"But sir, I disagree. Who knows what differences there may be in the timeline we've been living in, now that this one thing has changed? The entire ecosystem of the -"
"Ah!" Jack said, and threw up one hand to interrupt her. "What little appetite I have left is going to shrivel and die if you keep that up. They're just fish, Carter. Or dinner, as I like to call them."
Her eyes narrowed, and Jack knew he hadn't heard the end of it. "It's not like we even know what we're missing!" he called after her.
As it turned out, Teal'c was a champion fish cleaner. He had a simple one-two-three method: chop their heads off with the knife - with a savage little twist for emphasis; flay the fish open and gut it; and scrape the scales with quick, fluid strokes. It was the ease of technique that attracted Jack, the practiced violence in economical motion.
Meanwhile, perched on the deck rail while the fish sizzled on the barbeque , Carter regaled them all with a half hour's worth of possible permutations for their timeline, tale after tale of worlds worse off than theirs and futures that were never meant to be. Jack's headache expanded exponentially with every permutation. Daniel's facial expressions evolved through the entirety of his catalog of intellectual emotion: wide-eyed interest, narrow concentration, eyes half-closed when picking over a problem, distant star-gazing mode. His hand gestures were animated by the rise and fall of Carter's voice.
"So you see how, in the final analysis, it would be self-defeating to conclude that everything is the way it should be," Carter said, and Daniel stopped in mid-swig, the beer bottle poised on the brink of settling against his lip. A slow half-grin emerged, not unlike the shy grin the Daniel of old used to unleash every so often. This grin was different, though. It had aged and become broader, a little more tooth, a little less hesitancy.
"Maybe this is the universe where university professors get paid ten times more than football players?" Daniel suggested.
"Maybe this is the universe where overpaid linguists get their asses kicked for not paying attention," Carter answered. She whisked the beer bottle right out of his hand. He made a grab for it, but missed.
"No backwash!" he said, as she took a long swallow and handed it back. Then they snickered at each other for a moment before diving merrily back into rapid-fire geek-speak.
Jack stared at the tuft of hair sticking out over Daniel's left ear, and at the rip in the hem of Carter's sweatshirt, and at Teal'c watching them both with some fish guts on his boots, and then he smiled down at his knee.
*****
It didn't take long to get dinner ready. Jack piled the plates high with steaming hot fish and vegetables, and brought a round of beer to the table, pressed carefully between his arm and his chest. He sat down, picked up his fork, and had a bite poised to go down the hatch before he noticed Daniel hadn't picked up the cutlery. Instead, he was staring at the fish, as if its well-cooked presence offended him.
"Daniel?" Jack asked, around a mouthful of fish. "I promise you, this is not like offworld cookouts. It's edible."
"No, it's not that." Daniel picked up his fork and poked at the fish, then wrinkled his nose. "It's...it's what it represents. It's..."
"An alternate timeline fish," Carter said, mouth full. She'd already eaten about half her own fish, Jack noticed.
"It's not bothering Carter," Jack pointed out, waving his fork in her direction.
"Just doing my best to eradicate any evidence that this timeline isn't right, sir," she said cheerfully, and proceeded to scarf down the vegetables.
"Right," Daniel said, still looking distracted. He poked at the fish once more, then abruptly set his fork down and pushed the plate away. "Nope, can't."
Teal'c stretched out an arm and with one smooth motion, traded his empty plate for Daniel's full one. As it passed by, Carter scooped off some of the broccoli onto her own plate. Jack stared at Daniel. "You are going to pass up unburned fish because Carter put the scientific whammy on you?"
"There's still a bucket of guacamole in the fridge," Daniel said.
"And chips," Carter supplied helpfully, as she polished off Daniel's broccoli.
"So I won't go hungry."
"But isn't that alternate timeline guacamole? Made from alternate timeline avocados?" Jack smiled nastily at Daniel. "Never thought of that, did you?"
"Well, for all I know, those avocados were always there. But the fish weren't."
"I cannot believe I'm having this conversation," Jack said to the remnants of his fish. He put his fork down. "So it's just these particular fish that are bugging you?"
"Now that you mention it, no." Daniel was frowning. "How do we know that there aren't a thousand things wrong with this timeline that we just aren't privy to because they didn't have time to mention them on the tape?"
"Oh, here we go." Jack glared at Carter, who swallowed hard and said,
"I didn't say there were. Just that there could be."
Something in Jack's head went tilt. Really, it was too much. To be surrounded by gigantic brains at his own dinner table, and then to be thrust into this kind of a discussion before he'd digested any of his suspect fish...not acceptable. "Because we never had it to miss?"
"But maybe we did have it, and the only reason we don't miss it is because we don't know that we should be missing it."
Jack blinked. That almost made sense to him. He sat back in his chair and threw his napkin on the table. "Are you thinking of anything in particular, or just the whole of human experience?" he asked, a bit more testy than he would have liked. But really, the fish were innocent, and he couldn't see blaming them for Daniel's gigantic paranoia.
"No," Daniel said quickly. He glanced over at Teal'c, and then back down at Teal'c's empty plate. "Nothing in particular. I just...wonder."
"O-kay," Jack said. "You know what I wonder? Whether or not the game will come in on the rabbit ears. And who's doing the dishes."
"It definitely ought to be the person who talked the most during dinner," Carter said.
"Teal'c," Daniel and Jack said in unison.
*****
Daniel scooped out a giant chip-full of guacamole and stuffed the chip in his mouth, then washed it down with coffee. "Morning," he said, when Jack reached past him for the chip bag. It was a better breakfast than most mornings - the best possible, actually.
"You planning to live on a steady diet of guacamole?" he asked, as he pushed Daniel's chip out of the way with his own and speared a mushy hunk of avocado before Daniel could get to it.
"I offered eggs," Carter said, from her seat at the table opposite Teal'c. She shuffled the deck of cards she was holding with a flourish worthy of a Vegas dealer.
"Well, there you go. And there aren't any eggs in my pond," Jack said.
Daniel rolled his eyes and hopped down from his perch on the countertop. He passed off the plastic container of guacamole to Jack and pulled out a chair at the table. "Deal me in."
"I already started dealing," Carter said, with a look at Daniel that could have melted paint off an arctic shed. With one sweep of his arm, he gathered up all Teal'c's cards and patted them neatly into a pile before handing them to her with a sweet smile. Jack grinned. Daniel was never subtle when he wanted something.
"Fine," she said, giving the deck another cursory shuffle. She distributed all the cards evenly, then said, "Go!" Cards hit the table so fast they were a blur, and Jack glimpsed the edge of the jack of spades before three hands thundered down on top of it.
"Got it!" Daniel crowed, and drew the pile to him.
"Go," Carter said, and they began again. This time, Teal'c's hand crushed Carter's, making her pay for her prize. She gave it a good shake when he moved his fingers out of her way.
"There is no apparent skill to this game," Teal'c said, after he had collected the last six jacks. "It is instead a game of aggressive target acquisition."
"I know, isn't it great?" Carter grinned.
"Indeed it is," Teal'c said, and smiled at her.
"And to think this is how we teach our kids our competitive values," Daniel said, sucking on his pinkie where Carter had slammed the edge of her palm into his.
Jack opened the refrigerator door and surveyed the contents. Three beers of varying quality, a pitcher of Kool-Aid, one bottle of apple juice, an orange, two stalks of celery, a bowl of eggs, and leftover taco lettuce on a plate. "Uh, we're running a little low on supplies, kids," he said. The beers looked lonely; he wondered briefly if 9AM was too early to keep them company, then decided against it.
"We have made a list," Teal'c said. "On the counter."
Jack picked it up. Under 'beer' and 'chips', Carter's neat handwriting detailed a whole host of healthy things like carrots and chicken. He sighed. She really wasn't getting into the spirit of the thing. He crossed off the carrots and wrote BORING and WRONG over top of it, then passed it to Daniel, who added a miniature list of things like English muffins and unsalted butter. Jack was momentarily afraid that everything else Daniel wrote down would be things Jack would not be caught dead eating, but then he wrote 'salsa', so it was all good.
Ten minutes later, Carter was borrowing Jack's truck keys. "Be back soon," she promised, and handed the keys to Teal'c. His smile was one of the most evil things Jack had ever been privileged to witness, but they were out the door before he could object. With a sigh, he turned to Daniel, who was walking around with a Ziploc bag full of ice on his hand and rummaging in his backpack. A moment later, his journal and some loose paper popped out.
Jack frowned. "Didn't we all agree not to bring work with us?"
"Not really, no. You and Sam agreed. I told you I wanted to review some of the material found with the tape."
"Yes, I heard that part. I also heard the part about me ordering you to leave the work anyway."
"Huh. Didn't hear that." Daniel was showing the mock-innocent face, the one he knew damn well didn't fool anyone, least of all Jack.
Jack followed Daniel to the couch and sat down next to him. Daniel put his feet up on the rickety garage-sale-quality coffee table and propped his hand on the arm of the couch. Jack set the bag of chips between them. "So what's so fascinating?" Jack asked.
"The tablet. I think I carved it. Or some version of me, anyway."
"Really?" Jack picked up one of the photos and stared at it. "How come you didn't carve it in English?"
"Probably so I wouldn't contaminate the timeline if it was found early, or by the wrong people." Daniel pointed to the hieroglyphs. "I really have no idea what this is about, anyway. That version of me was apparently pretty cryptic."
"And this version of you isn't?"
Daniel took the photograph back and stared at it. "I think - though I wouldn't put money on it or anything - that I was trying to depict an old parable about the empty well."
"Never heard of it."
"It's pretty simple. A man goes to an empty well and drops a bucket in, and when he pulls it out, the bucket is full."
"The point being?"
"Just that sometimes when we go to the well expecting nothing, we are given more than we hoped for." Next to him, Daniel suddenly went very still. "I don't think I wrote this about the program," he said softly.
"Nobody else would get the damn thing," Jack said. He turned his head to look at Daniel, who was frowning at the photo.
"No, what I mean is...this is for me, but it's about...something else."
Jack frowned. Maybe it was the lack of food, or lingering brain cell death from too much beer, but Daniel was making less and less sense as the conversation continued. "Care to elaborate?"
"Not yet. I just...need to go work on this for a little while." Abruptly, Daniel flipped his hand and dumped the icepack on the couch, then gathered up the photos and stuffed them into his journal. "I'll be out on the dock."
"Careful of the timeline-devouring fish," Jack called after him, and then he was all alone in the cabin for the first time since they'd arrived. He picked up Daniel's discarded icepack and tossed it idly from one hand to another. When he'd suggested the trip and invited them all to come along, it hadn't been a spur-of-the-moment decision. He'd been thinking about it for the better part of a year. The trick had been to make it seem casual, like something off the top of his head, just in case they didn't want to waste their leave hanging around a tiny cabin beside a tiny pond in the middle of nowhere. But they did, and he knew why, and he felt the same way.
He sat up on the couch and looked around the room. They were a tidy bunch, his kids, used to keeping items together in a controlled way on missions, but they'd already scattered their possessions around in a semi-proprietary way. Daniel's jacket was folded neatly over the back of a chair; Sam's book was splayed open on the hearth of the fireplace, and Teal'c's miniature supply of candles was stacked in a box by the woodpile. All signs they belonged in this space, that they owned a piece of it now. Impossible to remove those bits and pieces and still have the space seem whole, much like the way his team owned pieces of his heart and his mind. And his better judgment.
Which was why he was going to have to retire.
Not that he had completely made up his mind, yet. It seemed more and more likely, though. Every time he thought about the choices he had made, and was going to make again and again regarding their safety, he knew he was too close to be objective. In the one area where he excelled, he was falling down on the job, and he had to step back. Just as soon as he figured out which direction to go.
When he went to the screen door and pushed it open, he could see Daniel sitting at the end of the dock, feet dangling down near the water, staring off into the thick line of trees surrounding the pond. Jack knew that posture very well.
He closed the door quietly and headed back to the couch. Never too early for a little nap, especially with a bag of chips under his arm, at the ready for when he woke up.
*****
"No offense, Carter." Jack pushed open the bedroom door and ushered her in. Which is what he would have done the previous night, if it had occurred to him that she wouldn't be wearing BDUs and combat boots to bunk down in the living room with Daniel and Teal'c. "It's just easier if we bunk down on the floor and you take the bedroom."
"Oh, none taken, sir," she assured him. "Because just between you and me, I'd rather not see any of you in your pajamas ever again. I prefer a little mystery."
Jack smiled a pained smile. "Good night, Carter."
"Good night, sir."
As soon as the door swung closed, Daniel said, "I don't mind seeing Sam in her pajamas."
"Nor do I," Teal'c said.
Jack moved a little closer to the couch and pointed to the bedroom. In a lowered voice, he said, "There's no bathroom in there. She'll have to come out sometime."
"Clever," Daniel said, without a hint of sarcasm, and began pulling and tugging his blankets out over the couch Carter had slept on the night before.
"Whoa, there," Jack said. "Who said you were taking the couch?"
"I'm a guest," Daniel pointed out. "And Teal'c is too big for it."
"I would prefer to kel-no-reem before attempting sleep," Teal'c said. "I would only disturb you both."
"Have at it," Jack said. "I'm going to sit out on the deck a while."
"I'll join you," Daniel said, as he yanked a blue sweater-jacket over his head. When his hair appeared on the other side of the neckhole, it was standing straight up, ruffled into a quivering mass of static electricity. Daniel patted the top of his head absently, then looked over at Jack. "Ready?"
"I was ready five minutes ago," Jack said, then frowned. "Is that my jacket?"
"Don't know - found it right here on the chair. Probably." Daniel flexed his arms and smiled. "Yep, it's too tight."
"Show off," Jack muttered, and shoved open the screen door.
Together they unfolded the chairs Carter had stacked neatly at the side of the deck and pulled them away from the windows.
"Cooler's still out here," Daniel said, and began rummaging around in it.
"Saves time," Jack told him, and accepted a bottle from Daniel's outstretched hand. "What, you didn't open it?"
"Twist top," Daniel said. "I think you still have the strength."
Jack pitched the bottle cap in the general direction of Daniel's head, then stretched out in the deck chair, folded his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes. There was just enough bite in the air to make the night breeze sting as it passed over his face. Jack loved this time of year, with the crisp hints of winter turning over into spring. He opened his eyes and watched the stars glittering overhead in the clear, cold sky. "Did you figure out whatever it was you were working on today?" he asked.
"Maybe. I think so." Daniel's voice next to him seemed very soft. "Have you ever noticed that in every other universe, you and Sam have a thing?"
Jack had noticed several alternate Carters ago, but a part of him had hoped no one else had. "What does that have to do with the price of fish in Denver?"
"You have to admit, it's a little strange."
Jack eyed the contents of Daniel's bottle and compared: he'd had five, and Daniel had sprinted past him hours ago. A big night for Daniel, by any standard. It made Daniel even more analytical about certain things, if that was possible. "I don't think it's that strange. Why is it strange? Carter's an attractive woman."
"Oh, she is that. But you see, you're missing my point." Daniel threw his arm over the back of Jack's chair and tilted his head back, looking at Jack through the bottom half of his glasses. "Why has it been that way everywhere but here?"
"It's a big universe, Daniel. 'Everywhere' might be a bit of an exaggeration."
"Well, now, we only know what we've seen so far. Don't we?" Daniel wagged the bottle at Jack. "And what we've seen is you and Sam, together."
"And everywhere else, Teal'c is still First Prime."
"And the alternate me is dead."
Jack winced. "You and Carter really know how to perk up a conversation."
"Don't you think it's fascinating? I mean, think about it. All the ways in which this world is different than all those others contribute to our world successfully fighting against the Goa'uld."
"Starting with the fact that Carter and I...haven't..." Jack snorted. "That's your theory?"
"Only part of it." Daniel parked the half-empty bottle between his legs, snug between his thighs. "I mean, in those universes, there are circumstances that make it okay for you and Sam to, you know. Be...together. Maybe if things were different here - for instance, if she wasn't military, or wasn't assigned to the program - then the parallels would be more apparent here, too."
"Oh, I don't think so." Jack stared at the beer bottle for a minute, then looked over at Daniel's face. There was something curious there, something on the verge of being open; a question Daniel wanted to ask, maybe. So Jack cleared the decks. "Carter and I aren't. Won't. Whatever."
"I wasn't asking that."
"No?" Jack watched Daniel carefully.
"No." Daniel bit his lip, and then said, "For all we know, there might just as easily be a hundred timelines or universes where some version of me is sleeping with a version of you."
Jack's eyebrows climbed. Wherever Daniel was headed, this wasn't where he'd expected him to go. He cleared his throat. "Or maybe there are a hundred universes where you're a mortician, and Carter's married to the President, and I'm sleeping with Teal'c. You know, we're close."
"Like brothers."
"Like you and me."
"No, no...not exactly. I wouldn't say our relationship is like yours and Teal'c's. You two do have things in common I'll never understand, though." Daniel chuckled. "Like a fondness for weapons."
"Don't tell me you aren't fond of your Beretta. I've seen the way you clean that thing after a long mission."
Daniel nodded, but said nothing, and they both fell silent. Jack knew, though, that this was Daniel regrouping for part two of whatever he'd come out here to say. Sometimes Daniel made him uncomfortable on the serious subjects. Not the same way Carter sometimes did - the issues hanging over the two of them were mostly resolved, and he wanted it to stay that way. But with Daniel, there was always...something. An undercurrent. Things not said.
"I've been thinking about the stargate program," Daniel said. "About the reasons we started going through the gate."
"We each had different reasons," Jack said. He could still picture Daniel's face that day seven years ago, when they were just back from Chulak with Teal'c in tow.
"Yes. But all of them are resolved, now." Daniel emptied his bottle in a long, long swallow. "No more enemies left to fight." He didn't mention Sha're. Jack knew, even after all these years, the mention of their failure to save her still cut Daniel in places too deep for anyone else to see. Jack was all too familiar with the feel of blood seeping up to the surface late at night, just when he thought the worst of the wounds had scabbed over.
"There's still plenty to do. Places to go, aliens to meet. Lots of old stuff for you to bring back and stare at for weeks on end," Jack said.
"There's Atlantis," Daniel said.
Jack sighed. So that was it. Daniel was relentless, and Jack's ice was thin, now that they had a ZPM. Daniel obviously thought that his contributions there would make a difference, somehow. It wasn't like he didn't want Daniel to be happy. And hell, if he did retire, it wasn't like he'd need Daniel to be his intermediary between Jack's impatience and all things diplomatic. Even so, he wasn't going to sign the order. He had his limits, and he didn't feel a need to examine them, or offer explanations.
"We've talked about this," Jack said. "The answer's no."
"Why, Jack?" Daniel's voice was so, so soft.
"Because I need you here." Now it was Jack's turn to upend the bottle and polish it off.
"So you've said. But there's no urgency to our missions, anymore. And we have a ZPM. It won't be an extended trip." Daniel was giving him that peculiar x-ray vision stare. "Why do you need me here?"
Jack got up from the chair and plucked the bottle from between Daniel's legs. "Want another one?"
"Yes, please. And don't change the subject."
"Was there a subject?" Jack started walking so he wouldn't have to hear the reply.
Daniel was wise to his ways, though. Jack heard the footfalls behind him as he fished out two beers from the sloshy remains in the cooler, and then Daniel said: "What do you suppose the universe would be like where you might choose me over Sam?"
Jack stood up slowly and turned to stare at him. Aside from the fact that the conversation was switching tracks faster than Jack could keep up, that question was slightly insane. Okay, more than slightly; it was far, far out in left field. His surprise must have shown on his face, because Daniel took the beer from Jack's hand and backed away a little. Jack slammed the lid shut and popped the cap on his beer. "What kind of question is that?"
"An honest one," Daniel said, looking far too amused. "A curious one, I suppose."
"I'd never favor one of my team over another."
"We're not really your team anymore, are we? Not your only team, anyway." Daniel looked out at the pond. "And that's not what I meant."
"Well, then - what the hell do you mean?"
Daniel looked thoughtful. "If all these other universes are so alike, and yet so different - you said it yourself - there might be one where you and I were more, uh. Compatible, sort of. Than you and Sam."
Jack stared at him. He opened his mouth to unleash some sarcasm, and what popped out was, "You're a man."
"We're speaking hypothetically here, Jack." Daniel waved a hand impatiently at him.
"You're hypothetically not a man?" Daniel just looked at him. Jack sighed. "That's impossible to answer."
"Think outside the box."
"I like the box."
"Challenge yourself."
"What is this about, anyway?"
"I told you, I'm curious."
"That's an all-purpose excuse for you." Whatever had Daniel curious, whether it was about Jack, or about himself, Jack was one hundred percent sure it was not a line of questioning either of them should pursue. And yet Jack had his own curiosity, and it was just strong enough to stop him from being cautious. They'd known each other a long time. Maybe Daniel had secrets.
Maybe Daniel had figured out Jack's secrets.
Jack felt his whole body go still; his stomach tightened itself into a hard knot.
"We were talking about compatibility," Daniel said, apparently incapable of taking the hint.
Jack drank about half the beer down without ever taking his eyes off Daniel. "Compatibility? Someone always correcting me, telling me I'm wrong, disagreeing with every word I say..."
"Sounds like you're describing Sam."
"She corrects me with respect."
"I don't respect you?"
"You annoy me."
"You respect that about me."
"What were we talking about?"
Calmly, Daniel said, "I'm only pointing out that the basis of any relationship is mutual respect and trust - and we have that - plus friendship, and we have that, too. And we like each other."
Jack covered his eyes with his hands on the pretense of rubbing them, but actually - his head was starting to hurt, and images were crawling through his mind like some sort of strange infection. Sara, telling him he was an uncommunicative, selfish bastard; Sara, sitting alone in Charlie's room, waiting for him to share his pain with her and knowing he never would. "How does this connect even remotely to you wanting to go to Atlantis?"
"You never answered the question."
"Daniel." He didn't know why, but he felt like warning him, giving Daniel a preview of the imminent explosion of his head. "It's late."
"Jack."
"It's late," Jack said again, more firmly. "I'm turning in."
"That's not really an answer," Daniel chided him.
Jack looked him in the eye. "No, it's not."
Daniel nodded, clearly disappointed. "Fair enough." He uncrossed his arms, unfolding himself into the larger space of the universe. "It's just that...I guess I'm wondering what things are like, in that universe where there are no fish in your pond."
Jack's mouth went dry. Daniel hadn't been totally honest when he said he didn't know how to fish; he could compete with the best of them. The beer bottle in his hand was empty; he turned to the pond and tossed it in. It hit the surface with a loud splash and then sank quietly in the darkness, until not a trace of it remained. Silence lengthened between them, until Daniel stretched and yawned, breaking the spell. "You're right. It is late."
Jack watched Daniel walking away, watched him open the screen door, and thought of all the times he'd noticed Daniel without noticing, and the way he'd trained himself never to think about it. Compartmentalization was a beautiful thing. "Daniel." When Daniel paused, Jack said, "I don't ever want to talk about this again."
"Sorry," Daniel answered, with a small and completely unapologetic smile. "Never again. I promise." He caught the screen door with his foot and said, "It was just a simple question, Jack."
"Like anything with you is ever simple," Jack called after him.
The door clacked shut in response, banging twice gently against the frame before closing completely.
"Not simple," Jack informed the door.
It had no snappy comeback for him.
*****
"Batman," Jack said decisively.
"Oh, you're kidding," Daniel said. "Superman would kick his ass."
"That's not the point. Superman is an alien. Batman's just a guy in tights."
"With an incredible array of psychological problems."
"Well, he fits right in with the rest of us, then, doesn't he?"
"Speak for yourself," Daniel said, and reached over to switch off the radio. Jack lowered the driver's side window and smelled the air. Rain, and lots of it, but it was behind them; they'd been driving away from it all day. Carter and Teal'c had left a few hours before Jack and Daniel hit the road, but he doubted their conversation was as scintillating as his and Daniel's.
It was a weird thing. All this talking they'd been doing. It wasn't like they never talked, before, but all of a sudden there was small talk, which usually only happened if Daniel was drunk or high on pain medication. The small-talk portion of Daniel's brain usually seemed buried too deep beneath the intellectual contemplation thing.
At least when they were talking about Batman, they weren't talking about Atlantis. Or about Daniel going to Atlantis, or how valuable he'd be on Atlantis, or how crazy Jack was to hold him back from going. But he should have known it wouldn't last.
"So, Jack." Daniel was watching the road sign come closer in the dark, the one that said they were less than 15 minutes from Colorado Springs. "About my future with the program."
"Give it a rest, would you?" Jack's fingers curled around the steering wheel. "Listen, when I retire, you can request any damn assignment you want, and I'll make sure you get it as my parting gift." It took him a moment to realize he'd spilled a hell of a lot more than he'd meant to, because Daniel's silence was eloquently stunned. Jack turned the radio back on, then turned it down. He glanced sideways at Daniel. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean for it to...fly out that way."
"You're seriously thinking about it this time?" Daniel asked quietly.
"Have been, for a while," Jack said.
When Daniel turned the radio off again, Jack left it alone.
For the rest of the drive, Daniel was silent. Jack glanced his way once or twice, but his face was turned toward the dark blur of scenery shooting by, and Jack couldn't see his expression. The quiet was awkward this time, not comfortable, and Jack kicked himself for blurting it out. Not his best move.
He pulled up in front of Daniel's house and put the truck in park, and for the first time since Jack had opened his big mouth, Daniel looked at him. "Please come in, for a minute," he said. "There's something I want to show you."
Jack looked at his watch, then at Daniel's face, and then he turned off the truck.
Daniel's house smelled a little stale; two weeks of fossilized artifacts being locked up could do that to a place. "Want me to open a window?" Jack asked, after Daniel had sneezed three times in a row.
"No," Daniel said, and pointed toward the living room. "Make yourself at home." Only Daniel could make it seem like an order. Jack settled into the middle of the big brown sofa. Much more comfortable than the furniture at the cabin.
After a moment, Daniel came into the room with his journal and that same stack of photos of the carving he'd been going over at the cabin. He sat down next to Jack and passed the pictures to him. "These won't mean anything to you, but look at them anyway."
Jack obligingly took the glossies and skimmed through them. Figures at a well, with buckets. Figures standing together, with a bucket. Figures laying together -
He glanced up at Daniel with a half-grin. "You carved porn for yourself?"
Daniel sighed impatiently, like Jack was supposed to read his mind, and said, "Not exactly, no. I told you this was the parable of the empty well."
"Drop in the bucket, dry well, get water. I was listening. So?"
"So, that's our lives. We all came to the program needing something, expecting nothing. And it gave us everything. Each other. Families. Peace and security. Freedom." Daniel paused.
"Which doesn't explain this," Jack said, tapping the picture.
"No." Daniel went to the window, then slid it open. "Those are something else. A message to me, from the other me. About what he was doing, there, and who he was with. So I would know that you were...interested." Daniel swallowed, and then he hesitated, and the last part took a long time coming. "In me. I think."
Jack stared at him in disbelief. It made sense, all of a sudden. Of course it did. They were talking about another version of themselves, after all. And that Jack would have 5000 years between him and don't ask, don't tell. Oh, christ. "Daniel," he said, then stopped, completely at a loss for words. Some things were just not meant to be known. Not now. Or ever, maybe. A surge of irrational anger at Daniel - this version, any version - passed over him, then faded. What right did he have to share those secrets? To put it out there in the open, where any passing archaeologist might catch on?
"You can't blame them," Daniel said, looking not at Jack. "They had nothing but each other."
"Okay, I really can't take another explanation of how they aren't us, or were us, or...whatever," Jack said. He turned the picture over on the table; he couldn't bear to look at it, because those little figures weren't any of his business. Their resemblance to him was purely superficial. "This was what all the questions were about the other night, isn't it?"
"I want to go to Atlantis, Jack." Daniel shoved the photos aside and sat down in front of him on the coffee table. "I can be useful there. But I don't mind staying, if I know why it's so important to you."
Jack's gaze traveled down Daniel's face, tracing his serious expression, then back up again. He wasn't used to looking so closely at Daniel. It was unnerving. "I want people around me I can trust. Being in charge isn't all it's cracked up to be."
"I understand that." Daniel was looking at him. Looking hard. "But you're retiring."
"Maybe," Jack amended.
"Maybe you should make up your mind," Daniel said. "Because I have."
This isn't about you, Jack thought, but of course that was a big fat unacknowledged lie, and he didn't have time to say it aloud anyway because Daniel was touching him. Nothing too dangerous, just a hand to his face, a palm cupped around his cheek. But Jack had decided a long time ago that this was the line they weren't going to cross, that this was -
-- yeah, scratch that. Daniel had really insistent lips, and he already had his tongue in Jack's mouth, and the time for prudent conversation and boundaries was pretty much over. Daniel seemed intent on making his point with visual aids.
"You're a manipulative son of a bitch," Jack gasped, right as Daniel's hands found their way underneath his shirt. He stared at Daniel's lips - they were shiny, oh, god, shiny with spit, from Jack's kisses, and he was so far past making up his mind that he'd blown right by the road sign and not even noticed.
"You're an empty well," Daniel informed him, making crazy nonsense sound totally rational, and then they were kissing again, pushing against each other as though they could climb inside each other, and Daniel gave up his analogies and his parables and just got down to business, and that was what Jack really wanted, because of all the things that Daniel could say about him now, being empty wasn't one of them; the well was full, but only for Daniel.
Jack hooked one hand around the back of Daniel's neck and pulled him closer, and Daniel added something new to the equation by slipping his fingers right into Jack's fly, and Jack yanked him even closer, and that was that.
Question answered.
~end~
The Empty Well
By Destina Fortunato
By the time Jack sat down to clean the fish, Carter had a new obsession.
She had managed to contain herself all day, through an afternoon bacchanal of fishing that included consumption of several six-packs of beer, through Teal'c declaring that fishing was a torture equivalent to anything the most deviant Goa'uld could devise - even through Daniel imitating a multi-hoofed labyrinth-dwelling thing he'd seen on P88-987 and falling in the pond. She seemed to have temporarily forgotten her issues, though, when Daniel stripped out of his wet clothes and hung them all on the tiny dock, and revealed himself to be a man with godawful taste in civilian briefs.
"Are those...clouds?" Jack asked incredulously, staring at the blue shorts with puffy clouds imprinted all over them.
"They were a gift," Daniel said, moving his hands from his frontside to the back as he edged toward the cabin to change his clothes. "She said they brought out my eyes."
"Oh, they bring out....something, all right," Carter said, and then cleared her throat and stared out at the pond, ever the good soldier.
But later, when Daniel had dressed again, and Jack had grabbed the basket of tiny fish - their pitiful dinner had been caught entirely by Teal'c, go figure - Carter couldn't help herself. "You know, sir, I'm still worried about the fish."
"I knew it," Jack accused. "I knew if you noticed, you would not be able to let it go."
"You thought I wouldn't notice?" she said, wounded, but still looking at the basket. He transferred the fish into a bucket; like a lure, it drew all her attention.
He ducked his head down, down, lower, and when he was nearly in her line of sight, he said, "Carter!" Her head snapped back up in a gratifying way. "I meant what I said - it's close enough. Everything doesn't have to be perfect."
"But sir, I disagree. Who knows what differences there may be in the timeline we've been living in, now that this one thing has changed? The entire ecosystem of the -"
"Ah!" Jack said, and threw up one hand to interrupt her. "What little appetite I have left is going to shrivel and die if you keep that up. They're just fish, Carter. Or dinner, as I like to call them."
Her eyes narrowed, and Jack knew he hadn't heard the end of it. "It's not like we even know what we're missing!" he called after her.
As it turned out, Teal'c was a champion fish cleaner. He had a simple one-two-three method: chop their heads off with the knife - with a savage little twist for emphasis; flay the fish open and gut it; and scrape the scales with quick, fluid strokes. It was the ease of technique that attracted Jack, the practiced violence in economical motion.
Meanwhile, perched on the deck rail while the fish sizzled on the barbeque , Carter regaled them all with a half hour's worth of possible permutations for their timeline, tale after tale of worlds worse off than theirs and futures that were never meant to be. Jack's headache expanded exponentially with every permutation. Daniel's facial expressions evolved through the entirety of his catalog of intellectual emotion: wide-eyed interest, narrow concentration, eyes half-closed when picking over a problem, distant star-gazing mode. His hand gestures were animated by the rise and fall of Carter's voice.
"So you see how, in the final analysis, it would be self-defeating to conclude that everything is the way it should be," Carter said, and Daniel stopped in mid-swig, the beer bottle poised on the brink of settling against his lip. A slow half-grin emerged, not unlike the shy grin the Daniel of old used to unleash every so often. This grin was different, though. It had aged and become broader, a little more tooth, a little less hesitancy.
"Maybe this is the universe where university professors get paid ten times more than football players?" Daniel suggested.
"Maybe this is the universe where overpaid linguists get their asses kicked for not paying attention," Carter answered. She whisked the beer bottle right out of his hand. He made a grab for it, but missed.
"No backwash!" he said, as she took a long swallow and handed it back. Then they snickered at each other for a moment before diving merrily back into rapid-fire geek-speak.
Jack stared at the tuft of hair sticking out over Daniel's left ear, and at the rip in the hem of Carter's sweatshirt, and at Teal'c watching them both with some fish guts on his boots, and then he smiled down at his knee.
*****
It didn't take long to get dinner ready. Jack piled the plates high with steaming hot fish and vegetables, and brought a round of beer to the table, pressed carefully between his arm and his chest. He sat down, picked up his fork, and had a bite poised to go down the hatch before he noticed Daniel hadn't picked up the cutlery. Instead, he was staring at the fish, as if its well-cooked presence offended him.
"Daniel?" Jack asked, around a mouthful of fish. "I promise you, this is not like offworld cookouts. It's edible."
"No, it's not that." Daniel picked up his fork and poked at the fish, then wrinkled his nose. "It's...it's what it represents. It's..."
"An alternate timeline fish," Carter said, mouth full. She'd already eaten about half her own fish, Jack noticed.
"It's not bothering Carter," Jack pointed out, waving his fork in her direction.
"Just doing my best to eradicate any evidence that this timeline isn't right, sir," she said cheerfully, and proceeded to scarf down the vegetables.
"Right," Daniel said, still looking distracted. He poked at the fish once more, then abruptly set his fork down and pushed the plate away. "Nope, can't."
Teal'c stretched out an arm and with one smooth motion, traded his empty plate for Daniel's full one. As it passed by, Carter scooped off some of the broccoli onto her own plate. Jack stared at Daniel. "You are going to pass up unburned fish because Carter put the scientific whammy on you?"
"There's still a bucket of guacamole in the fridge," Daniel said.
"And chips," Carter supplied helpfully, as she polished off Daniel's broccoli.
"So I won't go hungry."
"But isn't that alternate timeline guacamole? Made from alternate timeline avocados?" Jack smiled nastily at Daniel. "Never thought of that, did you?"
"Well, for all I know, those avocados were always there. But the fish weren't."
"I cannot believe I'm having this conversation," Jack said to the remnants of his fish. He put his fork down. "So it's just these particular fish that are bugging you?"
"Now that you mention it, no." Daniel was frowning. "How do we know that there aren't a thousand things wrong with this timeline that we just aren't privy to because they didn't have time to mention them on the tape?"
"Oh, here we go." Jack glared at Carter, who swallowed hard and said,
"I didn't say there were. Just that there could be."
Something in Jack's head went tilt. Really, it was too much. To be surrounded by gigantic brains at his own dinner table, and then to be thrust into this kind of a discussion before he'd digested any of his suspect fish...not acceptable. "Because we never had it to miss?"
"But maybe we did have it, and the only reason we don't miss it is because we don't know that we should be missing it."
Jack blinked. That almost made sense to him. He sat back in his chair and threw his napkin on the table. "Are you thinking of anything in particular, or just the whole of human experience?" he asked, a bit more testy than he would have liked. But really, the fish were innocent, and he couldn't see blaming them for Daniel's gigantic paranoia.
"No," Daniel said quickly. He glanced over at Teal'c, and then back down at Teal'c's empty plate. "Nothing in particular. I just...wonder."
"O-kay," Jack said. "You know what I wonder? Whether or not the game will come in on the rabbit ears. And who's doing the dishes."
"It definitely ought to be the person who talked the most during dinner," Carter said.
"Teal'c," Daniel and Jack said in unison.
*****
Daniel scooped out a giant chip-full of guacamole and stuffed the chip in his mouth, then washed it down with coffee. "Morning," he said, when Jack reached past him for the chip bag. It was a better breakfast than most mornings - the best possible, actually.
"You planning to live on a steady diet of guacamole?" he asked, as he pushed Daniel's chip out of the way with his own and speared a mushy hunk of avocado before Daniel could get to it.
"I offered eggs," Carter said, from her seat at the table opposite Teal'c. She shuffled the deck of cards she was holding with a flourish worthy of a Vegas dealer.
"Well, there you go. And there aren't any eggs in my pond," Jack said.
Daniel rolled his eyes and hopped down from his perch on the countertop. He passed off the plastic container of guacamole to Jack and pulled out a chair at the table. "Deal me in."
"I already started dealing," Carter said, with a look at Daniel that could have melted paint off an arctic shed. With one sweep of his arm, he gathered up all Teal'c's cards and patted them neatly into a pile before handing them to her with a sweet smile. Jack grinned. Daniel was never subtle when he wanted something.
"Fine," she said, giving the deck another cursory shuffle. She distributed all the cards evenly, then said, "Go!" Cards hit the table so fast they were a blur, and Jack glimpsed the edge of the jack of spades before three hands thundered down on top of it.
"Got it!" Daniel crowed, and drew the pile to him.
"Go," Carter said, and they began again. This time, Teal'c's hand crushed Carter's, making her pay for her prize. She gave it a good shake when he moved his fingers out of her way.
"There is no apparent skill to this game," Teal'c said, after he had collected the last six jacks. "It is instead a game of aggressive target acquisition."
"I know, isn't it great?" Carter grinned.
"Indeed it is," Teal'c said, and smiled at her.
"And to think this is how we teach our kids our competitive values," Daniel said, sucking on his pinkie where Carter had slammed the edge of her palm into his.
Jack opened the refrigerator door and surveyed the contents. Three beers of varying quality, a pitcher of Kool-Aid, one bottle of apple juice, an orange, two stalks of celery, a bowl of eggs, and leftover taco lettuce on a plate. "Uh, we're running a little low on supplies, kids," he said. The beers looked lonely; he wondered briefly if 9AM was too early to keep them company, then decided against it.
"We have made a list," Teal'c said. "On the counter."
Jack picked it up. Under 'beer' and 'chips', Carter's neat handwriting detailed a whole host of healthy things like carrots and chicken. He sighed. She really wasn't getting into the spirit of the thing. He crossed off the carrots and wrote BORING and WRONG over top of it, then passed it to Daniel, who added a miniature list of things like English muffins and unsalted butter. Jack was momentarily afraid that everything else Daniel wrote down would be things Jack would not be caught dead eating, but then he wrote 'salsa', so it was all good.
Ten minutes later, Carter was borrowing Jack's truck keys. "Be back soon," she promised, and handed the keys to Teal'c. His smile was one of the most evil things Jack had ever been privileged to witness, but they were out the door before he could object. With a sigh, he turned to Daniel, who was walking around with a Ziploc bag full of ice on his hand and rummaging in his backpack. A moment later, his journal and some loose paper popped out.
Jack frowned. "Didn't we all agree not to bring work with us?"
"Not really, no. You and Sam agreed. I told you I wanted to review some of the material found with the tape."
"Yes, I heard that part. I also heard the part about me ordering you to leave the work anyway."
"Huh. Didn't hear that." Daniel was showing the mock-innocent face, the one he knew damn well didn't fool anyone, least of all Jack.
Jack followed Daniel to the couch and sat down next to him. Daniel put his feet up on the rickety garage-sale-quality coffee table and propped his hand on the arm of the couch. Jack set the bag of chips between them. "So what's so fascinating?" Jack asked.
"The tablet. I think I carved it. Or some version of me, anyway."
"Really?" Jack picked up one of the photos and stared at it. "How come you didn't carve it in English?"
"Probably so I wouldn't contaminate the timeline if it was found early, or by the wrong people." Daniel pointed to the hieroglyphs. "I really have no idea what this is about, anyway. That version of me was apparently pretty cryptic."
"And this version of you isn't?"
Daniel took the photograph back and stared at it. "I think - though I wouldn't put money on it or anything - that I was trying to depict an old parable about the empty well."
"Never heard of it."
"It's pretty simple. A man goes to an empty well and drops a bucket in, and when he pulls it out, the bucket is full."
"The point being?"
"Just that sometimes when we go to the well expecting nothing, we are given more than we hoped for." Next to him, Daniel suddenly went very still. "I don't think I wrote this about the program," he said softly.
"Nobody else would get the damn thing," Jack said. He turned his head to look at Daniel, who was frowning at the photo.
"No, what I mean is...this is for me, but it's about...something else."
Jack frowned. Maybe it was the lack of food, or lingering brain cell death from too much beer, but Daniel was making less and less sense as the conversation continued. "Care to elaborate?"
"Not yet. I just...need to go work on this for a little while." Abruptly, Daniel flipped his hand and dumped the icepack on the couch, then gathered up the photos and stuffed them into his journal. "I'll be out on the dock."
"Careful of the timeline-devouring fish," Jack called after him, and then he was all alone in the cabin for the first time since they'd arrived. He picked up Daniel's discarded icepack and tossed it idly from one hand to another. When he'd suggested the trip and invited them all to come along, it hadn't been a spur-of-the-moment decision. He'd been thinking about it for the better part of a year. The trick had been to make it seem casual, like something off the top of his head, just in case they didn't want to waste their leave hanging around a tiny cabin beside a tiny pond in the middle of nowhere. But they did, and he knew why, and he felt the same way.
He sat up on the couch and looked around the room. They were a tidy bunch, his kids, used to keeping items together in a controlled way on missions, but they'd already scattered their possessions around in a semi-proprietary way. Daniel's jacket was folded neatly over the back of a chair; Sam's book was splayed open on the hearth of the fireplace, and Teal'c's miniature supply of candles was stacked in a box by the woodpile. All signs they belonged in this space, that they owned a piece of it now. Impossible to remove those bits and pieces and still have the space seem whole, much like the way his team owned pieces of his heart and his mind. And his better judgment.
Which was why he was going to have to retire.
Not that he had completely made up his mind, yet. It seemed more and more likely, though. Every time he thought about the choices he had made, and was going to make again and again regarding their safety, he knew he was too close to be objective. In the one area where he excelled, he was falling down on the job, and he had to step back. Just as soon as he figured out which direction to go.
When he went to the screen door and pushed it open, he could see Daniel sitting at the end of the dock, feet dangling down near the water, staring off into the thick line of trees surrounding the pond. Jack knew that posture very well.
He closed the door quietly and headed back to the couch. Never too early for a little nap, especially with a bag of chips under his arm, at the ready for when he woke up.
*****
"No offense, Carter." Jack pushed open the bedroom door and ushered her in. Which is what he would have done the previous night, if it had occurred to him that she wouldn't be wearing BDUs and combat boots to bunk down in the living room with Daniel and Teal'c. "It's just easier if we bunk down on the floor and you take the bedroom."
"Oh, none taken, sir," she assured him. "Because just between you and me, I'd rather not see any of you in your pajamas ever again. I prefer a little mystery."
Jack smiled a pained smile. "Good night, Carter."
"Good night, sir."
As soon as the door swung closed, Daniel said, "I don't mind seeing Sam in her pajamas."
"Nor do I," Teal'c said.
Jack moved a little closer to the couch and pointed to the bedroom. In a lowered voice, he said, "There's no bathroom in there. She'll have to come out sometime."
"Clever," Daniel said, without a hint of sarcasm, and began pulling and tugging his blankets out over the couch Carter had slept on the night before.
"Whoa, there," Jack said. "Who said you were taking the couch?"
"I'm a guest," Daniel pointed out. "And Teal'c is too big for it."
"I would prefer to kel-no-reem before attempting sleep," Teal'c said. "I would only disturb you both."
"Have at it," Jack said. "I'm going to sit out on the deck a while."
"I'll join you," Daniel said, as he yanked a blue sweater-jacket over his head. When his hair appeared on the other side of the neckhole, it was standing straight up, ruffled into a quivering mass of static electricity. Daniel patted the top of his head absently, then looked over at Jack. "Ready?"
"I was ready five minutes ago," Jack said, then frowned. "Is that my jacket?"
"Don't know - found it right here on the chair. Probably." Daniel flexed his arms and smiled. "Yep, it's too tight."
"Show off," Jack muttered, and shoved open the screen door.
Together they unfolded the chairs Carter had stacked neatly at the side of the deck and pulled them away from the windows.
"Cooler's still out here," Daniel said, and began rummaging around in it.
"Saves time," Jack told him, and accepted a bottle from Daniel's outstretched hand. "What, you didn't open it?"
"Twist top," Daniel said. "I think you still have the strength."
Jack pitched the bottle cap in the general direction of Daniel's head, then stretched out in the deck chair, folded his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes. There was just enough bite in the air to make the night breeze sting as it passed over his face. Jack loved this time of year, with the crisp hints of winter turning over into spring. He opened his eyes and watched the stars glittering overhead in the clear, cold sky. "Did you figure out whatever it was you were working on today?" he asked.
"Maybe. I think so." Daniel's voice next to him seemed very soft. "Have you ever noticed that in every other universe, you and Sam have a thing?"
Jack had noticed several alternate Carters ago, but a part of him had hoped no one else had. "What does that have to do with the price of fish in Denver?"
"You have to admit, it's a little strange."
Jack eyed the contents of Daniel's bottle and compared: he'd had five, and Daniel had sprinted past him hours ago. A big night for Daniel, by any standard. It made Daniel even more analytical about certain things, if that was possible. "I don't think it's that strange. Why is it strange? Carter's an attractive woman."
"Oh, she is that. But you see, you're missing my point." Daniel threw his arm over the back of Jack's chair and tilted his head back, looking at Jack through the bottom half of his glasses. "Why has it been that way everywhere but here?"
"It's a big universe, Daniel. 'Everywhere' might be a bit of an exaggeration."
"Well, now, we only know what we've seen so far. Don't we?" Daniel wagged the bottle at Jack. "And what we've seen is you and Sam, together."
"And everywhere else, Teal'c is still First Prime."
"And the alternate me is dead."
Jack winced. "You and Carter really know how to perk up a conversation."
"Don't you think it's fascinating? I mean, think about it. All the ways in which this world is different than all those others contribute to our world successfully fighting against the Goa'uld."
"Starting with the fact that Carter and I...haven't..." Jack snorted. "That's your theory?"
"Only part of it." Daniel parked the half-empty bottle between his legs, snug between his thighs. "I mean, in those universes, there are circumstances that make it okay for you and Sam to, you know. Be...together. Maybe if things were different here - for instance, if she wasn't military, or wasn't assigned to the program - then the parallels would be more apparent here, too."
"Oh, I don't think so." Jack stared at the beer bottle for a minute, then looked over at Daniel's face. There was something curious there, something on the verge of being open; a question Daniel wanted to ask, maybe. So Jack cleared the decks. "Carter and I aren't. Won't. Whatever."
"I wasn't asking that."
"No?" Jack watched Daniel carefully.
"No." Daniel bit his lip, and then said, "For all we know, there might just as easily be a hundred timelines or universes where some version of me is sleeping with a version of you."
Jack's eyebrows climbed. Wherever Daniel was headed, this wasn't where he'd expected him to go. He cleared his throat. "Or maybe there are a hundred universes where you're a mortician, and Carter's married to the President, and I'm sleeping with Teal'c. You know, we're close."
"Like brothers."
"Like you and me."
"No, no...not exactly. I wouldn't say our relationship is like yours and Teal'c's. You two do have things in common I'll never understand, though." Daniel chuckled. "Like a fondness for weapons."
"Don't tell me you aren't fond of your Beretta. I've seen the way you clean that thing after a long mission."
Daniel nodded, but said nothing, and they both fell silent. Jack knew, though, that this was Daniel regrouping for part two of whatever he'd come out here to say. Sometimes Daniel made him uncomfortable on the serious subjects. Not the same way Carter sometimes did - the issues hanging over the two of them were mostly resolved, and he wanted it to stay that way. But with Daniel, there was always...something. An undercurrent. Things not said.
"I've been thinking about the stargate program," Daniel said. "About the reasons we started going through the gate."
"We each had different reasons," Jack said. He could still picture Daniel's face that day seven years ago, when they were just back from Chulak with Teal'c in tow.
"Yes. But all of them are resolved, now." Daniel emptied his bottle in a long, long swallow. "No more enemies left to fight." He didn't mention Sha're. Jack knew, even after all these years, the mention of their failure to save her still cut Daniel in places too deep for anyone else to see. Jack was all too familiar with the feel of blood seeping up to the surface late at night, just when he thought the worst of the wounds had scabbed over.
"There's still plenty to do. Places to go, aliens to meet. Lots of old stuff for you to bring back and stare at for weeks on end," Jack said.
"There's Atlantis," Daniel said.
Jack sighed. So that was it. Daniel was relentless, and Jack's ice was thin, now that they had a ZPM. Daniel obviously thought that his contributions there would make a difference, somehow. It wasn't like he didn't want Daniel to be happy. And hell, if he did retire, it wasn't like he'd need Daniel to be his intermediary between Jack's impatience and all things diplomatic. Even so, he wasn't going to sign the order. He had his limits, and he didn't feel a need to examine them, or offer explanations.
"We've talked about this," Jack said. "The answer's no."
"Why, Jack?" Daniel's voice was so, so soft.
"Because I need you here." Now it was Jack's turn to upend the bottle and polish it off.
"So you've said. But there's no urgency to our missions, anymore. And we have a ZPM. It won't be an extended trip." Daniel was giving him that peculiar x-ray vision stare. "Why do you need me here?"
Jack got up from the chair and plucked the bottle from between Daniel's legs. "Want another one?"
"Yes, please. And don't change the subject."
"Was there a subject?" Jack started walking so he wouldn't have to hear the reply.
Daniel was wise to his ways, though. Jack heard the footfalls behind him as he fished out two beers from the sloshy remains in the cooler, and then Daniel said: "What do you suppose the universe would be like where you might choose me over Sam?"
Jack stood up slowly and turned to stare at him. Aside from the fact that the conversation was switching tracks faster than Jack could keep up, that question was slightly insane. Okay, more than slightly; it was far, far out in left field. His surprise must have shown on his face, because Daniel took the beer from Jack's hand and backed away a little. Jack slammed the lid shut and popped the cap on his beer. "What kind of question is that?"
"An honest one," Daniel said, looking far too amused. "A curious one, I suppose."
"I'd never favor one of my team over another."
"We're not really your team anymore, are we? Not your only team, anyway." Daniel looked out at the pond. "And that's not what I meant."
"Well, then - what the hell do you mean?"
Daniel looked thoughtful. "If all these other universes are so alike, and yet so different - you said it yourself - there might be one where you and I were more, uh. Compatible, sort of. Than you and Sam."
Jack stared at him. He opened his mouth to unleash some sarcasm, and what popped out was, "You're a man."
"We're speaking hypothetically here, Jack." Daniel waved a hand impatiently at him.
"You're hypothetically not a man?" Daniel just looked at him. Jack sighed. "That's impossible to answer."
"Think outside the box."
"I like the box."
"Challenge yourself."
"What is this about, anyway?"
"I told you, I'm curious."
"That's an all-purpose excuse for you." Whatever had Daniel curious, whether it was about Jack, or about himself, Jack was one hundred percent sure it was not a line of questioning either of them should pursue. And yet Jack had his own curiosity, and it was just strong enough to stop him from being cautious. They'd known each other a long time. Maybe Daniel had secrets.
Maybe Daniel had figured out Jack's secrets.
Jack felt his whole body go still; his stomach tightened itself into a hard knot.
"We were talking about compatibility," Daniel said, apparently incapable of taking the hint.
Jack drank about half the beer down without ever taking his eyes off Daniel. "Compatibility? Someone always correcting me, telling me I'm wrong, disagreeing with every word I say..."
"Sounds like you're describing Sam."
"She corrects me with respect."
"I don't respect you?"
"You annoy me."
"You respect that about me."
"What were we talking about?"
Calmly, Daniel said, "I'm only pointing out that the basis of any relationship is mutual respect and trust - and we have that - plus friendship, and we have that, too. And we like each other."
Jack covered his eyes with his hands on the pretense of rubbing them, but actually - his head was starting to hurt, and images were crawling through his mind like some sort of strange infection. Sara, telling him he was an uncommunicative, selfish bastard; Sara, sitting alone in Charlie's room, waiting for him to share his pain with her and knowing he never would. "How does this connect even remotely to you wanting to go to Atlantis?"
"You never answered the question."
"Daniel." He didn't know why, but he felt like warning him, giving Daniel a preview of the imminent explosion of his head. "It's late."
"Jack."
"It's late," Jack said again, more firmly. "I'm turning in."
"That's not really an answer," Daniel chided him.
Jack looked him in the eye. "No, it's not."
Daniel nodded, clearly disappointed. "Fair enough." He uncrossed his arms, unfolding himself into the larger space of the universe. "It's just that...I guess I'm wondering what things are like, in that universe where there are no fish in your pond."
Jack's mouth went dry. Daniel hadn't been totally honest when he said he didn't know how to fish; he could compete with the best of them. The beer bottle in his hand was empty; he turned to the pond and tossed it in. It hit the surface with a loud splash and then sank quietly in the darkness, until not a trace of it remained. Silence lengthened between them, until Daniel stretched and yawned, breaking the spell. "You're right. It is late."
Jack watched Daniel walking away, watched him open the screen door, and thought of all the times he'd noticed Daniel without noticing, and the way he'd trained himself never to think about it. Compartmentalization was a beautiful thing. "Daniel." When Daniel paused, Jack said, "I don't ever want to talk about this again."
"Sorry," Daniel answered, with a small and completely unapologetic smile. "Never again. I promise." He caught the screen door with his foot and said, "It was just a simple question, Jack."
"Like anything with you is ever simple," Jack called after him.
The door clacked shut in response, banging twice gently against the frame before closing completely.
"Not simple," Jack informed the door.
It had no snappy comeback for him.
*****
"Batman," Jack said decisively.
"Oh, you're kidding," Daniel said. "Superman would kick his ass."
"That's not the point. Superman is an alien. Batman's just a guy in tights."
"With an incredible array of psychological problems."
"Well, he fits right in with the rest of us, then, doesn't he?"
"Speak for yourself," Daniel said, and reached over to switch off the radio. Jack lowered the driver's side window and smelled the air. Rain, and lots of it, but it was behind them; they'd been driving away from it all day. Carter and Teal'c had left a few hours before Jack and Daniel hit the road, but he doubted their conversation was as scintillating as his and Daniel's.
It was a weird thing. All this talking they'd been doing. It wasn't like they never talked, before, but all of a sudden there was small talk, which usually only happened if Daniel was drunk or high on pain medication. The small-talk portion of Daniel's brain usually seemed buried too deep beneath the intellectual contemplation thing.
At least when they were talking about Batman, they weren't talking about Atlantis. Or about Daniel going to Atlantis, or how valuable he'd be on Atlantis, or how crazy Jack was to hold him back from going. But he should have known it wouldn't last.
"So, Jack." Daniel was watching the road sign come closer in the dark, the one that said they were less than 15 minutes from Colorado Springs. "About my future with the program."
"Give it a rest, would you?" Jack's fingers curled around the steering wheel. "Listen, when I retire, you can request any damn assignment you want, and I'll make sure you get it as my parting gift." It took him a moment to realize he'd spilled a hell of a lot more than he'd meant to, because Daniel's silence was eloquently stunned. Jack turned the radio back on, then turned it down. He glanced sideways at Daniel. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean for it to...fly out that way."
"You're seriously thinking about it this time?" Daniel asked quietly.
"Have been, for a while," Jack said.
When Daniel turned the radio off again, Jack left it alone.
For the rest of the drive, Daniel was silent. Jack glanced his way once or twice, but his face was turned toward the dark blur of scenery shooting by, and Jack couldn't see his expression. The quiet was awkward this time, not comfortable, and Jack kicked himself for blurting it out. Not his best move.
He pulled up in front of Daniel's house and put the truck in park, and for the first time since Jack had opened his big mouth, Daniel looked at him. "Please come in, for a minute," he said. "There's something I want to show you."
Jack looked at his watch, then at Daniel's face, and then he turned off the truck.
Daniel's house smelled a little stale; two weeks of fossilized artifacts being locked up could do that to a place. "Want me to open a window?" Jack asked, after Daniel had sneezed three times in a row.
"No," Daniel said, and pointed toward the living room. "Make yourself at home." Only Daniel could make it seem like an order. Jack settled into the middle of the big brown sofa. Much more comfortable than the furniture at the cabin.
After a moment, Daniel came into the room with his journal and that same stack of photos of the carving he'd been going over at the cabin. He sat down next to Jack and passed the pictures to him. "These won't mean anything to you, but look at them anyway."
Jack obligingly took the glossies and skimmed through them. Figures at a well, with buckets. Figures standing together, with a bucket. Figures laying together -
He glanced up at Daniel with a half-grin. "You carved porn for yourself?"
Daniel sighed impatiently, like Jack was supposed to read his mind, and said, "Not exactly, no. I told you this was the parable of the empty well."
"Drop in the bucket, dry well, get water. I was listening. So?"
"So, that's our lives. We all came to the program needing something, expecting nothing. And it gave us everything. Each other. Families. Peace and security. Freedom." Daniel paused.
"Which doesn't explain this," Jack said, tapping the picture.
"No." Daniel went to the window, then slid it open. "Those are something else. A message to me, from the other me. About what he was doing, there, and who he was with. So I would know that you were...interested." Daniel swallowed, and then he hesitated, and the last part took a long time coming. "In me. I think."
Jack stared at him in disbelief. It made sense, all of a sudden. Of course it did. They were talking about another version of themselves, after all. And that Jack would have 5000 years between him and don't ask, don't tell. Oh, christ. "Daniel," he said, then stopped, completely at a loss for words. Some things were just not meant to be known. Not now. Or ever, maybe. A surge of irrational anger at Daniel - this version, any version - passed over him, then faded. What right did he have to share those secrets? To put it out there in the open, where any passing archaeologist might catch on?
"You can't blame them," Daniel said, looking not at Jack. "They had nothing but each other."
"Okay, I really can't take another explanation of how they aren't us, or were us, or...whatever," Jack said. He turned the picture over on the table; he couldn't bear to look at it, because those little figures weren't any of his business. Their resemblance to him was purely superficial. "This was what all the questions were about the other night, isn't it?"
"I want to go to Atlantis, Jack." Daniel shoved the photos aside and sat down in front of him on the coffee table. "I can be useful there. But I don't mind staying, if I know why it's so important to you."
Jack's gaze traveled down Daniel's face, tracing his serious expression, then back up again. He wasn't used to looking so closely at Daniel. It was unnerving. "I want people around me I can trust. Being in charge isn't all it's cracked up to be."
"I understand that." Daniel was looking at him. Looking hard. "But you're retiring."
"Maybe," Jack amended.
"Maybe you should make up your mind," Daniel said. "Because I have."
This isn't about you, Jack thought, but of course that was a big fat unacknowledged lie, and he didn't have time to say it aloud anyway because Daniel was touching him. Nothing too dangerous, just a hand to his face, a palm cupped around his cheek. But Jack had decided a long time ago that this was the line they weren't going to cross, that this was -
-- yeah, scratch that. Daniel had really insistent lips, and he already had his tongue in Jack's mouth, and the time for prudent conversation and boundaries was pretty much over. Daniel seemed intent on making his point with visual aids.
"You're a manipulative son of a bitch," Jack gasped, right as Daniel's hands found their way underneath his shirt. He stared at Daniel's lips - they were shiny, oh, god, shiny with spit, from Jack's kisses, and he was so far past making up his mind that he'd blown right by the road sign and not even noticed.
"You're an empty well," Daniel informed him, making crazy nonsense sound totally rational, and then they were kissing again, pushing against each other as though they could climb inside each other, and Daniel gave up his analogies and his parables and just got down to business, and that was what Jack really wanted, because of all the things that Daniel could say about him now, being empty wasn't one of them; the well was full, but only for Daniel.
Jack hooked one hand around the back of Daniel's neck and pulled him closer, and Daniel added something new to the equation by slipping his fingers right into Jack's fly, and Jack yanked him even closer, and that was that.
Question answered.
~end~