Story: Above and Beyond
Daniel had just finished putting up the new 2007 calendar when his cell phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, which was unusual because very few people had his number. “Hello?”
“Hello, Daniel.”
“Sarah.” He had definitely not expected to hear her voice. It had been two years since she decided that she needed a clean break from anything and anyone who reminded her of Osiris. “How are you?”
“I’ve been worse. You?”
“I’m doing well.”
“Good,” she said. “Listen, I know it’s been a while. But I can’t keep pretending those three years didn’t happen. Can I come see you?”
“Sure. Where are you now?”
“I’ve been teaching in Boston.”
“Just email me flight information.”
“I will. Are you still in the same place?”
“No. I live with Jack now,” he told her matter-of-factly. He’d never hidden his orientation from her.
“The general?” she asked with clear surprise.
“He retired from the Air Force and is the civilian director.”
“I see. Well, congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you, Daniel. You were a good friend when I needed one the most, and then you let me run away.”
“You had your reasons.” Besides, he’d disappeared once.
“Yes. Or so I thought. I was sure that I could bury it all and have a normal life again.”
Daniel could see how that wouldn’t work. She’d been a prisoner in her own body for three years, after all. “I’ll email our address, okay?” They couldn’t have a proper conversation on the phone.
“I appreciate it. Cheers.”
“Bye.”
He was sitting in the living room thinking about Sarah when Jack came out, freshly showered. “I know that look, Daniel. Deep thoughts.”
“Sarah called.”
“Gardner?”
“Yes. She’s coming next week to talk.”
“So, no more pretending nothing happened.”
“Apparently.”
Jack slumped down onto the couch. “The Air Force has kept an eye on her, you know.”
“I know.” He’d purposely never asked what Jack knew. Sarah had wanted a clean break, and he respected that. “Although I suspect it’s more out of self-preservation than concern about Sarah.”
Jack didn’t try to deny it. That was just the way the military worked. “Do you know what she wants?”
“To talk. Other than that, no.”
“If she wants, and you think it’s a good idea, we can use her. Not on a front-line team. As one of your people.”
That made sense. It would make keeping an eye on her easier and take advantage of her knowledge. “Making unilateral hiring decisions now?”
“Trust me, the Pentagon will be thrilled.”
He had no trouble believing that. “I’ll keep it in mind, but she called me as a friend, and my primary concern is her wellbeing.”
“Fair enough,” said Jack. “I can make myself scarce when she comes over.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I’ll see if Teal’c wants to catch a movie.”
A niggling suspicion formed in Daniel’s brain. “I told her about us.”
“I wasn’t doubting you, cariad. Don’t know what you see in an old man like me, but I know you’re not going anywhere.”
“I see you, Jack O’Neill, and don’t you forget it.”
Zelda chose that moment to trot into the living room and drop her favorite rope toy at their feet. Or more precisely, Jack’s feet. It had taken the dog about three days to learn that Jack was much more enthusiastic about tug-of-war than Daniel. On the other hand, Daniel dispensed dog treats more freely.
To Zelda’s annoyance, Jack postponed the tug-of-war in order to give Daniel a kiss. “Don’t plan anything Friday,” he said when they parted.
“Date night?”
“You betcha.”
Daniel fervently hoped that nothing came up Friday at SGC.
*****
The door to Daniel’s office was open, so Sam walked right in. “Hungry?” she asked.
He looked up from something that might have once been a bowl but was presently in many pieces. From the looks of it, Daniel was piecing it back together. Usually those more mundane tasks were delegated.
“Just a second,” he said. “I’ve almost got this.”
It was really thirty seconds later before he looked up. “This broken vase is actually a very sophisticated puzzle,” he shared eagerly. “The way the pieces are broken, at least two could fit in every one spot. The key is to match up the Ancient writing.”
“Why the test?”
“I’m not sure yet. The text is some kind of poem. We think this is older than almost all of the Ancient artifacts we’ve found so far. It could be the key to something we can’t imagine. It could be a puzzle for rainy days.” Daniel shrugged. “I really don’t know.”
She nodded, knowing that he’d be one of the first people she told if it turned out to be something big. “Up for a lunch break?”
“Sure.” He stood up, and they headed towards the mess. “What’s on the menu today, anyway?”
“Beef stroganoff and carrots.”
“Edible,” he said. “So, how was your trip?”
“I had a good time.” The elevator opened, revealing a couple of airmen who snapped to attention. She nodded at them, “At ease.”
They didn’t talk about her trip any more in the elevator. Sam took basic measures to keep her personal life from feeding SGC’s well-developed gossip mill, and elevator talk never stayed in the elevator.
She had, in fact, had a more relaxing time than she’d expected. The idea of meeting Eddie’s family made her nervous. They were all in Phoenix at once: both of his sisters, his brother-in-law, nieces, and mother. It seemed a silly thing to unsettle a decorated USAF lieutenant colonel who had faced down death more times that she could count, but meeting Eddie’s family had been a big deal.
“The worst thing was when his nieces decided to pretend to be each other,” she explained. “They’re identical twins and I had enough trouble telling them apart when they were helping me.”
“So the cover story wasn’t a problem?” Daniel knew she’d been worried about the deep-space radar telemetry cover. Eddie’s brother was a committed amateur astronomer. To prepare, Sam had done her homework and read the latest on actual deep-space radar telemetry.
“No. Eddie did a good job of explaining right away that my work is classified, and his family respected that.”
They had only stayed in Phoenix a few days to celebrate the new year, but she already felt that her boyfriend’s family accepted and liked her. It had her in an exceptionally good mood.
She and Daniel had almost reached the mess when Sgt. Harriman’s voice rang out over the intercom. “Colonel Carter, report to the gate room.”
Daniel followed her back to the elevator. They didn’t try to guess what might await them. That had lost its charm after five years or so.
“You’ve got a visitor,” Jack informed her, indicating a man in Tok’ra clothing standing in front of the gate.
“I am Rowal of the Tok’ra,” said the host. “My condolences on your father’s death. He was my friend.”
“Thank you,” she answered quietly. It had been over a year and a half since her dad died, and more often than not when the Tok’ra IDC came through, her first thought was still a hope that it might be her dad.
“Had I not been undercover, I would have come sooner. We are not in a position to place great value on possessions, Colonel. I understand more than most, which is why your father entrusted me with the task of delivering this to you if and when it was necessary.” Rowal removed a familiar book from his bag and solemnly placed it in her hands. “This was his kev’pel.”
“Final request,” Daniel whispered to Jack. Sam knew before he translated. Sometimes, when they were applicable, Jolinar’s memories came to her as though they were her own. Tok’ra, knowing that they might die at any mission, shared a kev’pel with one other. Though time was not a critical factor, a kev’pel was as binding a promise as a Tok’ra could make.
She blinked back tears as she turned the familiar book over, although she didn’t think she was fooling anyone into believing she was perfectly composed. “Thank you,” she said again, although the words didn’t seem nearly enough.
Her mother’s cookbook. The old, stained Better Homes and Gardens cookbook had been an ever-present sight when she was growing up. It had her mom’s recipe notes, the scribbled-over page where Sam had attempted to prevent any more appearances of cream of mushroom soup, and so many of her childhood memories. She’d always assumed Mark took it, but her father had it all along. Not only that, he even brought it with him after blending with Selmak.
“It is my privilege,” Rowal replied. And she knew that it was a privilege for a Tok’ra to honor a friend by completing their kev’pel, but Sam felt that she was the privileged one. “Jacob once told me that this book held more memories than recipes. Which was fortunate, because his attempts to recreate recipes with alternate ingredients did not satisfy him.”
She hadn’t known that her dad tried to cook offworld. There was still so much about him she didn’t know, and that pained her. At least she knew her father better than she had before Selmak. She was thankful for that.
As soon as she got home, she was going to make a list, go to the grocery store for ingredients, and try to make her mom’s quiche.
*****
When he returned home, Jack was in a good mood. The Avalanche had won an exciting game. And even though he didn’t think Teal’c fully appreciated hockey, the Jaffa liked it alright and was happy enough to leave the mountain. There were worse people to go to a hockey game with. Namely Sam. Once Jack had made the mistake of having team night at a game, and she sucked all the fun out of hockey before the first period was over.
Daniel and Sarah Gardner were still in the living room, with a plate of Sam’s cookies. Sam had been on a cooking and baking spree since she’d gotten her mom’s cookbook. She was a better baker than a cook, but nobody minded that because the last few days she’d been plying people with baked goods.
“Dr. Gardner,” he greeted.
“General. Daniel tells me you’ve authorized him to offer me a position at Stargate Command.”
“Not on an SG team,” he clarified.
“I don’t want that,” she said. “I don’t do violence. That was Osiris.”
Jack figured that made as much sense as anything could for a woman who’d been a prisoner in her own body for three years. “You’d be working for Daniel, and possibly going on offworld digs.” She had Daniel had been colleagues once, plus had their brief romantic history. He needed to know that wouldn’t be a problem for her.
“I have to finish out the academic year, but I want to do something else, so those three years can yield something good.”
“The situation is a lot better than what it was,” he told her. She wasn’t surprised; Daniel would’ve told her that. “But we can still use all the knowledgeable help we can get.”
“Daniel tells me that the Goa’uld threat has been greatly reduced.”
“We’re down to three System Lords that we know of.”
Daniel added, “I told her that we’re interested in her expertise, not just what she learned from Osiris.”
“Right. He’s always telling me how hard it is to recruit qualified archaeologists,” Jack told Gardner.
“I can imagine.”
He didn’t want to cut short her talk with Daniel, so Jack excused himself and went up to the roof. It was a chilly night, but the sky was clear and great for stargazing, so he figured he’d check out the winter sky.
Surprisingly, Jack wasn’t bothered by this reappearance of his boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend. He figured that, after everything Daniel had put up with when they started seeing each other and having to be so paranoid, he had nothing to worry about. He trusted Daniel completely, and it was pretty obvious that Gardner wasn’t trying to get back together with Daniel anyway.
Jack thought she had to be a strong woman, to have made it through three years of Goa’uld control and come out alright. Oh, she was clearly marked by it - damaged, even - but who wouldn’t be? And yet she wanted to come back to SGC. The Air Force had been worried about her for a while, but the last couple of years she’d managed to hold her life together. Daniel would keep an eye on her and make sure she was okay at SGC. He’d grown into his personnel responsibilities as department head, and he cared about his friends.
It pleased Jack to think that, even after everything, Osiris hadn’t managed the victory of completely destroying Gardner’s life.
*****
Paul Davis was very happy with his new position. For one thing, it came with what, in his highly biased view, was a long-overdue promotion. It certainly didn’t hurt that he was getting to be a part of the most exciting program on the planet. He got a bigger office, one prominently placed not far from the general’s. Moreover, General O’Neill’s welcome was sincere; the man was obviously happy to have someone to deal with some of his extensive bureaucratic workload, and Paul got the distinct impression that O’Neill already trusted him. Dr. Jackson was similarly pleased that he would no longer have to wear “the diplomat hat.”
Like everyone else at the Pentagon with the security clearance to know about the stargate program, Paul had learned that O’Neill and Jackson were a couple. Unlike everyone else, he hadn’t been surprised. What had surprised him was the new decoration up in the general’s office, some kind of framed alien writing (Ancient, if Paul didn’t miss his guess) which made Jackson’s place in his life as clear as a picture of the two of them would have. But, Paul figured, more power to them. And maybe, just maybe, knowing that for once he didn’t have a homophobic superior would be enough that he’d get around to entering the dating scene. If he still remembered how.
After his meetings with O’Neill and Jackson, he realized he needed to devote his first morning to reorganizing the diplomatic files so that he could locate things in a timely fashion. Clearly, he and O’Neill had vastly different ideas of what constituted a sensible filing system. (So far, he suspected O’Neill used some kind of method based on his personal feelings about the races in question.) He didn’t need to read the background files, because before he left Washington he’d gone over any he wasn’t already familiar with. Paul was a great believer in being prepared by knowing all the available information.
At the knock on his door, he looked up and saw Carter. “Come in,” he said, reveling in the simple pleasure of not having to call her “ma’am.” Damn, he loved being a lieutenant colonel.
Carter glanced around the office quickly. It had been a rarely-used conference room; now it held Paul’s desk, a bookcase, and a filing cabinet besides a smaller conference table. When her gaze landed on his framed picture - the only truly personal item he had out - she smiled.
“My nieces and nephews,” he explained.
“Seven? Wow, I can barely keep up with two.”
“They are a handful.” But he loved them anyway. Though Paul didn’t particularly want children of his own, he loved being Uncle Paul.
“I just wanted to stop by and say hello,” Carter told him. “And congratulations on the well-earned promotion.”
“Thank you. It’s good to be here.”
“Best posting on the planet,” she said with a grin.
Paul was very pleased with it, that was for sure. Now if he could only figure out what logic O’Neill used to organize files, he’d be all set.
*****
Since he and Jack fought on the way home, Daniel shut himself in his study and buried himself in work. It was 9:10 that night before he emerged.
The fight had started out as a stupid disagreement over whose turn it was to do laundry. Daniel didn’t even know how, but it had escalated until he called Jack a control freak for always wanting to be the one who drove and Jack accused him of neglecting the present because he spent too much time working out the past.
He could hear the laundry tumbling around in the dryer, Jack’s admission that things had careened out of control.
“Hey,” he said.
Jack was watching some Matt Damon movie, and he turned the volume down almost all the way. “Hey.”
Daniel sat on the other end of the couch. “We both had rough days.”
Jack nodded. “Made us kinda stupid, huh?”
“It’s the only excuse I’ve got.”
“Me too. You wanna drive tomorrow?”
Touched though he was, he shook his head. Jack was a good driver and Daniel was not at his best first thing in the morning, so it was nice to sip coffee and relax on the way to work. “Thanks, but I really don’t mind.”
“C’mere, you.”
Happy to oblige, Daniel moved over and leaned onto Jack, who pulled him in close.
“I don’t mind either, Daniel. Your work’s important. I get it.”
Daniel suspected that once in a while all the SGC business he brought home did annoy Jack, just as once in a while he did get irked by his partner’s tendency to assume command of any given situation. But they know those traits long before they got involved. Jack knew he was loved more than artifacts just as Daniel knew they shared a relationship of equals.
He settled in, cuddling up with Jack. “You’re more important, as long as we’re not under attack of course.”
“Naturally.”
“Can we stop being stupid now?” he suggested.
“Good plan.”
It was true that both of them were capable of holding grudges, but they didn’t with each other. They saved them for when it really mattered, for the fate-of-the-planet kinds of situations. Well, mostly. Jack still disliked Russians and communists and Daniel still couldn’t abide Budge. But they didn’t hold grudges over silly spats.
“Daniel,” whined Jack, “since you’ll to be on P7K-325, who am I gonna bring to make that charity dinner bearable?”
One of the local policemen had been shot and paralyzed in the line of duty. The story had made headlines, and a charity dinner was coming up to help with his family’s expenses. Jack, having drawn the police commissioner’s attention during the incident with the drunk at the Bucklin’s house, was apparently expected to attend. Daniel would’ve gone - he was all for supporting the injured man, and it was the kind of event that could yield very interesting people watching - but the dinner fell in the middle of his weeklong dig.
“Sam?” he suggested.
“She’s taking Eddie to meet her brother and family.” Right. Daniel didn’t know how he could forget, because Eddie was nervous and excited while Sam was calm about the whole thing. Her relationship with her brother was, she claimed, ‘alright,’ but she really liked to see her niece and nephew.
“Teal’c is out.” The dinner was a formal affair, which meant ties were required. Teal’c hated ties second only to the Goa’uld and categorically refused to wear them. (Besides finding them uncomfortable, he thought it was ill-advised to wear anything that would allow someone to easily strangle you.) Of course, formal dinners were not something Teal’c enjoyed anyway.
“Yep,” agreed Jack.
“Cassie.”
“Then everyone will think I’m a dirty old man.”
“So introduce her as your goddaughter.” It was true in spirit anyway.
Jack scowled, evidently not happy with that solution.
“Or ask Alana.” Daniel figured Alana was about his own age.
“That could work.”
“Then stop thinking.” There were better things to do.
Jack got the hint. “I can do that,” he replied with a wink, sliding his hand down onto Daniel’s butt. The night was still young, after all.
*****
Jack was doing his rounds again. It was a good way to see what was going on, in the unabridged way reports didn’t quite capture. Of course, some things were better abridged, like whatever the geologists were doing with some kind of almost-coal. Jack rarely had interest in what happened in the geology lab. And really, something either was coal, or wasn’t.
Sam and her people were having a great time with one of their physics journals. Some of them appeared to be in danger of laughing themselves sick. Jack asked, “Do I want to know?”
She held up the journal. “A special issue devoted to space travel, sir.”
“Ah,” he said. That explained a lot.
“I think this is my favorite part,” said Dr. Tellman or Tollhouse or something like that. “‘Most absurd of all is the idea that travel between galaxies is remotely feasible.’ We’ve got to send a copy of this to Atlantis.”
“I’d pay money to hear McKay’s reaction to that!” said someone else through laughter.
Jack left them to their fun. He walked away to an apparently hilarious quote about how nothing that traveled faster than light would arrive in the same molecular configuration as it had left. Personally, he found that more disturbing than amusing, but he figured that he’d have realized by now if his molecules weren’t configured right.
Teal’c was teaching one of his combat classes again. Every now and then when things were slow he would run a class for a month or so, meeting a few times a week. The particular session Jack stopped in for was focused on handicapped fighting. Everyone was paired up, and one person in each pair had an arm tied behind his or her back.
Teal’c was a good teacher. He worked his students hard, and of course sugar-coating anything was against his nature. Comments such as, “That overconfidence could well cost you your life” were not unheard of. Jack suspected that outside the military, most people wouldn’t appreciate Teal’c’s teaching style. But the Jaffa also pointed out what students did well, like, “Sergeant Lovell was prepared for any method of attack. You would do well to emulate her.” Attendance was purely voluntary, but the classes filled so quickly only a limited number of people could participate. The classes were great learning experiences for the students, and Teal’c had once informed Jack that he found it gratifying to share the benefits of his experience.
Showing up in the infirmary had been a mistake. Dr. Brightman’s eyes lit up. “I was just going to call about your annual physical, sir!” And before he could come up with a plausible excuse - not even one patient in the infirmary he could claim to be visiting, dammit! - she dragged him off for a torture session thinly disguised as preventative medicine.
When he finally escaped the clutches of his zealous CMO, he headed to the mess. Instead of the usual large eggs, the latest shipment had been medium eggs. This was throwing everything off and creating an egg shortage. “Why don’t you just skip the boiled eggs tomorrow morning?” he suggested. “Then you’d have enough for everything else, right?”
“But we always serve boiled eggs in the morning!” was the horrified reply.
“I’m sure we’ll survive a day without them.”
He left while the kitchen staff was still mulling over that revolutionary concept.
Daniel and one of his linguists had a chalkboard out and were intently translating a stone block of some kind. It looked to Jack like the base of a statue, but he’d learned a long time ago that what something looked like might or might not actually mean anything. He’d never gotten the hang of telling the difference between when it meant something and when it didn’t, but that was Daniel’s job anyway.
“That’s more than enough time for linguistic shift to alter the grammar structure,” declared Daniel with a frown.
Jack eyed the letters, which even he could tell were Greek. Or at least Greekish. “It’s all Greek to me.”
“Very funny, Jack,” replied Daniel without looking up.
As much fun as he could have along those lines, part of being in charge was moving on, so Jack left them to their deciphering. Next door a couple more of Daniel’s people were having a deep conversation that was their version of the old ‘chicken or the egg’ question. Their version was, ‘which came first, the idea of the god or the Goa’uld?’
Jack had never worried much about chickens or eggs. He figured that as long as there were both chickens and eggs in the present, and would continue to be in the future, it didn’t really matter which came first. So long as the snakes were a dying race, Jack didn’t care much if they stepped into preexisting roles or created the roles. Unless, of course, there was some tactical advantage to be gained to the knowledge, but he seriously doubted that.
The door to the chemistry lab was shut and had a sign taped on: Light-Sensitive Experiment in Progress. DO NOT OPEN DOOR! Jack had a meeting with Davis soon anyway, so he headed back to his office. It was always easier to deal with the diplomatic and bureaucratic aspects of his job after a stroll around the base.
*****
Military history was not Daniel’s favorite subdiscipline, although it wasn’t his least favorite either, because economic history was worse. He’d agreed, all the same, to watch the History Channel program Jack had recorded on the history of fighter jets. This wasn’t because he especially liked jets, but because he enjoyed Jack’s enthusiasm. Daniel wondered if Jack had any idea how sexy he was when his eyes lit up about planes.
Barely a minute into the show the phone rang. Jack grabbed it, since he was closer, while Daniel paused the show.
“Hi Aunt Kate,” said Jack. “Thanks for the warning… no, it’s fine… I will. Bye.”
“Warning?” asked Daniel once Jack hung up.
“My cousin Hugh was in Denver looking at colleges with his daughter. Jill. He called Aunt Kate to get my address so he could say hi.”
“Has it been a while since you last saw him?”
“Mom’s funeral.”
That had been nearly five years ago. Daniel nodded, and Jack continued, “Don’t know how he’ll handle us.”
“Okay.”
He had a pretty good idea what Jack was thinking. Namely, that while Hugh was forcing the timing, they’d be in Jack’s house, on his turf. Sometimes, Jack could be predictably alpha male.
“If you don’t want to be here, that’s fine,” said Jack.
“I’m staying.”
Ten minutes after the fighter jet program ended, Jack had managed not to think about his cousin - how he did it, Daniel would never know - and was enthusiastically situating F-302s in the evolution of fighter jets. With swooping hand motions and gleaming eyes, he was a sight indeed.
The doorbell interrupted his fun and Daniel’s Jack-admiring. Jack answered the door while Daniel waited on the couch, rather uselessly, and listened.
“Hi, Jack.”
“Hugh. Come in. Zelda, sit. This is Zelda.” Of course Zelda was there. She considered greeting and examining visitors to be her job, and she took it seriously.
They entered, and Daniel could hear them scuffing their shoes. “You remember my daughter Jill.”
“A much smaller version.”
“I know, we’re out looking at colleges and it seems like it hasn’t been nearly long enough since her first day of school.”
“Got a major in mind?” asked Jack.
“Art history.”
“Ah,” said Jack, who clearly didn’t know what else to say about the subject.
Hugh asked, “Still working on… what was it?”
“Deep-space radar telemetry.”
“Right. Mom said you retired.”
“From the Air Force. I’m a civilian consultant now. Living room’s this way.”
Hugh was six inches shorter than Jack and looked nothing like him. Jill, a petite brunette, was dressed in a unique style, not the ubiquitous teenage look pushed by commercials. Daniel appreciated that.
“Oh, if you’ve got company…” began Hugh while Daniel stood.
Jack shook his head. “Daniel, my cousin Hugh and his daughter Jill. Hugh, Jill, this is Daniel. My boyfriend.”
Jill stepped forward and shook his hand, unbothered. “Hi Daniel.”
“Nice to meet you,” he replied, liking her all the more.
Hugh was gaping, and Jill prodded him. “Dad.”
“Uh, hello,” managed Hugh.
“Have a seat,” said Jack.
They sat, Hugh still trying to wrap his head around their relationship. When he failed to come up with anything to say, Daniel asked Jill, “So what colleges are you looking at?”
All in all, he thought the morning was going alright. Sure, Hugh was flabbergasted and speechless, but he was sitting in their living room, so he couldn’t be too bothered. Daniel wasn’t very good with this family business. He was the only child of two only children, so he didn’t even have any cousins. It was a bit hard for him to relate. But if he just took things one step at a time, he usually did alright. Like this. He didn’t know a lot about art history aside from ancient pieces, but he knew enough to talk with Jill about her interest.
*****
Daniel and Jill were getting along great. It turned out she had a particular interest in preserving art pieces, and Daniel was all for preserving just about any artifact, from broken pottery to paintings. That was good for them, but it left Jack with Hugh.
“Well, this is a surprise,” his cousin said, finally managing to speak.
Jack’s cell phone rang, giving him at least a temporary reprieve. “Excuse me,” he said, grabbing the phone off the coffee table and walking across the room. “O’Neill.”
“General O’Neill, Secretary Wolfe for you, sir.”
“Thank you.” This couldn’t be good. A personal call from the Secretary of Homeland Security at 1130 on a Saturday did not ever mean anything good.
“O’Neill.”
“Yes, Mr. Secretary.”
“We might have a problem.” He’d gathered, but waited for Wolfe to elaborate. “Internet chatter in Arabic; automated program flagged something from a suspected terror cell.” Daniel’s phone rang, and Jack was pretty sure he knew where this was going. “We don’t have any Arabic translators cleared to know about the stargate, so we’re sending it to Dr. Jackson. If this is real, we’ve got a problem.”
“Yes sir,” replied Jack.
“I trust you’ll coordinate with Dr. Jackson?” said Wolfe. Daniel was already heading to his study.
“Yes sir.”
“Good. I’ll expect a report from you if this is real.”
“Of course.”
“I have to say, O’Neill, you run a tight base. One of the few places I don’t lose sleep over, actually. I have little concern about unauthorized entry.”
That was a pleasant surprise. “Thank you, Mr. Secretary.”
“I am concerned about leaks, but with so many governments in on the program…”
Personally, Jack figured that if any terrorists heard about the gate, odds were good they’d be broadcasting it over al-Jazeera, but he couldn’t be sure and kept that thought to himself. “True.”
“Keep me informed.”
“Will do.”
With that, Wolfe hung up.
“Mr. Secretary, huh?” asked Hugh.
Jack was really not in the mood to make small talk, but then he couldn’t do anything until Daniel finished translating whatever had been picked up. “It’s a living.”
Apparently Hugh decided to take advantage of Daniel’s absence. “So, you and Daniel,” he began.
“Yes?”
“Mom knows, doesn’t she?”
He nodded. “And Lisa.”
“Okay. How long?”
“We’ve been together…” he had to think for a second, because his thoughts were still really on terrorists and Arabic chatter, “over a year and a half now. But we’ve known each other closer to ten.”
“I see,” said Hugh in a way that meant he really didn’t. “You work together?”
“Yes.”
“And you live together?”
“Yes.”
“Well.” Hugh was clearly not entirely comfortable with this, but he wasn’t leaving either.
Jill filled in the silence before it could get too awkward. “I noticed you have a lot of medals.”
“Thirty-four years in the Air Force. I had a lot of time to earn them.”
“It’s an impressive collection.”
“Thanks.”
“Is Daniel Air Force?” she asked.
Jack almost laughed. “No. He’s civilian, always has been.”
Daniel came out, snapping his phone shut. It must not have been a long conversation he had to translate. “Not us,” he reported, to Jack’s immense relief. “But NASA’s going to have some explaining to do.”
“Better them than me,” replied Jack. He suspected Wolfe was going to want some kind of thorough review anyway.
Hugh raised an eyebrow. “Deep space radar telemetry crisis?” he asked skeptically.
Jack shrugged. “It happens.”
*****
It was a short visit; in just under an hour Hugh and Jill were heading out. They spent most of the time listening to Jill describe the trials and tribulations of her college application process. Hugh, it turned out, was also a dog lover, and he liked Zelda very much. She, of course, was inclined to like anyone who would spend fifteen minutes patting her.
Daniel thought things had gone alright, so he was caught off-guard when Jack glanced at Hugh’s retreating car and muttered, “Bastard.”
“Jack?”
“He ignored you, Daniel. Like pretending you weren’t there could make me straight.”
He considered that for a moment and realized his partner was right. “Jill was very nice,” he finally said.
“Yeah. Good kid. Unlike her dad.”
“It’s fine, cariad.” He thought it better not to bring up the fact that he had a lot of practice with people ignoring him. That bothered Jack. So instead he said, “His approval doesn’t matter to me.”
Jack gave a jerky nod, indicating that he conceded the point. “At least I’m back to having you for myself.”
Zelda chose that moment to come racing up to them with a rope toy in her mouth. “She begs to differ,” observed Daniel.
“P-A-R-K?” suggested Jack. Zelda liked the park, and they’d had to stop saying ‘park’ unless they were heading out the door to that very destination. If she realized they were spelling it out, they were going to have to start saying ‘park’ in other languages.
It was the kind of winter weather that Daniel found mostly tolerable and Jack considered decent. Daniel had never really gotten used to cold winters, and he would have a hat and scarf though Jack would likely deem it a gloves-only day. But it was sunny and not too windy, and Zelda adored the park, so he agreed, “Let me just get a drink first.”
His partner followed him into the kitchen. “We can hit the drive-thru on the way.”
“Sure.”
Daniel set the limeade on the counter and before he could get a glass was stopped by a hug from behind. “Jack?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh. Alright then.” He could get behind that. They so rarely got moments of doing nothing in their lives, although those moments were more frequent since they stopped regular gate travel.
After a minute Jack released him and he got to have his limeade. Meanwhile Jack had collected the leash, bag, and pooper-scooper. Zelda was quite pleased, and by the time Daniel went back to the door she was staring at it expectantly.
“Want to go to the park, girl?” asked Jack.
Zelda gave a little bark and immediately started walking in excited circles around them. Daniel had moved in with Jack nearly eight months ago, but sometimes a moment like this still had the power to stop him. This was what they’d fought so hard for: the struggle and the sacrifice, the people they’d lost and the pain they’d endured, all of it was so that the rest of the world could enjoy their lives. Certainly, Daniel was motivated by pure knowledge, but that alone couldn’t convince him to risk his life on a weekly basis for years. Moments like this, with the simple weekend pleasure of him and his partner taking their dog to the park, had a deeper meaning for him than most people.
He grabbed his scarf and Zelda’s toy. “Let’s go.” Neither Jack nor the dog had to be told twice.
Continued: ent-alter-ego.livejournal.com/14149.html
“Hello, Daniel.”
“Sarah.” He had definitely not expected to hear her voice. It had been two years since she decided that she needed a clean break from anything and anyone who reminded her of Osiris. “How are you?”
“I’ve been worse. You?”
“I’m doing well.”
“Good,” she said. “Listen, I know it’s been a while. But I can’t keep pretending those three years didn’t happen. Can I come see you?”
“Sure. Where are you now?”
“I’ve been teaching in Boston.”
“Just email me flight information.”
“I will. Are you still in the same place?”
“No. I live with Jack now,” he told her matter-of-factly. He’d never hidden his orientation from her.
“The general?” she asked with clear surprise.
“He retired from the Air Force and is the civilian director.”
“I see. Well, congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you, Daniel. You were a good friend when I needed one the most, and then you let me run away.”
“You had your reasons.” Besides, he’d disappeared once.
“Yes. Or so I thought. I was sure that I could bury it all and have a normal life again.”
Daniel could see how that wouldn’t work. She’d been a prisoner in her own body for three years, after all. “I’ll email our address, okay?” They couldn’t have a proper conversation on the phone.
“I appreciate it. Cheers.”
“Bye.”
He was sitting in the living room thinking about Sarah when Jack came out, freshly showered. “I know that look, Daniel. Deep thoughts.”
“Sarah called.”
“Gardner?”
“Yes. She’s coming next week to talk.”
“So, no more pretending nothing happened.”
“Apparently.”
Jack slumped down onto the couch. “The Air Force has kept an eye on her, you know.”
“I know.” He’d purposely never asked what Jack knew. Sarah had wanted a clean break, and he respected that. “Although I suspect it’s more out of self-preservation than concern about Sarah.”
Jack didn’t try to deny it. That was just the way the military worked. “Do you know what she wants?”
“To talk. Other than that, no.”
“If she wants, and you think it’s a good idea, we can use her. Not on a front-line team. As one of your people.”
That made sense. It would make keeping an eye on her easier and take advantage of her knowledge. “Making unilateral hiring decisions now?”
“Trust me, the Pentagon will be thrilled.”
He had no trouble believing that. “I’ll keep it in mind, but she called me as a friend, and my primary concern is her wellbeing.”
“Fair enough,” said Jack. “I can make myself scarce when she comes over.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I’ll see if Teal’c wants to catch a movie.”
A niggling suspicion formed in Daniel’s brain. “I told her about us.”
“I wasn’t doubting you, cariad. Don’t know what you see in an old man like me, but I know you’re not going anywhere.”
“I see you, Jack O’Neill, and don’t you forget it.”
Zelda chose that moment to trot into the living room and drop her favorite rope toy at their feet. Or more precisely, Jack’s feet. It had taken the dog about three days to learn that Jack was much more enthusiastic about tug-of-war than Daniel. On the other hand, Daniel dispensed dog treats more freely.
To Zelda’s annoyance, Jack postponed the tug-of-war in order to give Daniel a kiss. “Don’t plan anything Friday,” he said when they parted.
“Date night?”
“You betcha.”
Daniel fervently hoped that nothing came up Friday at SGC.
*****
The door to Daniel’s office was open, so Sam walked right in. “Hungry?” she asked.
He looked up from something that might have once been a bowl but was presently in many pieces. From the looks of it, Daniel was piecing it back together. Usually those more mundane tasks were delegated.
“Just a second,” he said. “I’ve almost got this.”
It was really thirty seconds later before he looked up. “This broken vase is actually a very sophisticated puzzle,” he shared eagerly. “The way the pieces are broken, at least two could fit in every one spot. The key is to match up the Ancient writing.”
“Why the test?”
“I’m not sure yet. The text is some kind of poem. We think this is older than almost all of the Ancient artifacts we’ve found so far. It could be the key to something we can’t imagine. It could be a puzzle for rainy days.” Daniel shrugged. “I really don’t know.”
She nodded, knowing that he’d be one of the first people she told if it turned out to be something big. “Up for a lunch break?”
“Sure.” He stood up, and they headed towards the mess. “What’s on the menu today, anyway?”
“Beef stroganoff and carrots.”
“Edible,” he said. “So, how was your trip?”
“I had a good time.” The elevator opened, revealing a couple of airmen who snapped to attention. She nodded at them, “At ease.”
They didn’t talk about her trip any more in the elevator. Sam took basic measures to keep her personal life from feeding SGC’s well-developed gossip mill, and elevator talk never stayed in the elevator.
She had, in fact, had a more relaxing time than she’d expected. The idea of meeting Eddie’s family made her nervous. They were all in Phoenix at once: both of his sisters, his brother-in-law, nieces, and mother. It seemed a silly thing to unsettle a decorated USAF lieutenant colonel who had faced down death more times that she could count, but meeting Eddie’s family had been a big deal.
“The worst thing was when his nieces decided to pretend to be each other,” she explained. “They’re identical twins and I had enough trouble telling them apart when they were helping me.”
“So the cover story wasn’t a problem?” Daniel knew she’d been worried about the deep-space radar telemetry cover. Eddie’s brother was a committed amateur astronomer. To prepare, Sam had done her homework and read the latest on actual deep-space radar telemetry.
“No. Eddie did a good job of explaining right away that my work is classified, and his family respected that.”
They had only stayed in Phoenix a few days to celebrate the new year, but she already felt that her boyfriend’s family accepted and liked her. It had her in an exceptionally good mood.
She and Daniel had almost reached the mess when Sgt. Harriman’s voice rang out over the intercom. “Colonel Carter, report to the gate room.”
Daniel followed her back to the elevator. They didn’t try to guess what might await them. That had lost its charm after five years or so.
“You’ve got a visitor,” Jack informed her, indicating a man in Tok’ra clothing standing in front of the gate.
“I am Rowal of the Tok’ra,” said the host. “My condolences on your father’s death. He was my friend.”
“Thank you,” she answered quietly. It had been over a year and a half since her dad died, and more often than not when the Tok’ra IDC came through, her first thought was still a hope that it might be her dad.
“Had I not been undercover, I would have come sooner. We are not in a position to place great value on possessions, Colonel. I understand more than most, which is why your father entrusted me with the task of delivering this to you if and when it was necessary.” Rowal removed a familiar book from his bag and solemnly placed it in her hands. “This was his kev’pel.”
“Final request,” Daniel whispered to Jack. Sam knew before he translated. Sometimes, when they were applicable, Jolinar’s memories came to her as though they were her own. Tok’ra, knowing that they might die at any mission, shared a kev’pel with one other. Though time was not a critical factor, a kev’pel was as binding a promise as a Tok’ra could make.
She blinked back tears as she turned the familiar book over, although she didn’t think she was fooling anyone into believing she was perfectly composed. “Thank you,” she said again, although the words didn’t seem nearly enough.
Her mother’s cookbook. The old, stained Better Homes and Gardens cookbook had been an ever-present sight when she was growing up. It had her mom’s recipe notes, the scribbled-over page where Sam had attempted to prevent any more appearances of cream of mushroom soup, and so many of her childhood memories. She’d always assumed Mark took it, but her father had it all along. Not only that, he even brought it with him after blending with Selmak.
“It is my privilege,” Rowal replied. And she knew that it was a privilege for a Tok’ra to honor a friend by completing their kev’pel, but Sam felt that she was the privileged one. “Jacob once told me that this book held more memories than recipes. Which was fortunate, because his attempts to recreate recipes with alternate ingredients did not satisfy him.”
She hadn’t known that her dad tried to cook offworld. There was still so much about him she didn’t know, and that pained her. At least she knew her father better than she had before Selmak. She was thankful for that.
As soon as she got home, she was going to make a list, go to the grocery store for ingredients, and try to make her mom’s quiche.
*****
When he returned home, Jack was in a good mood. The Avalanche had won an exciting game. And even though he didn’t think Teal’c fully appreciated hockey, the Jaffa liked it alright and was happy enough to leave the mountain. There were worse people to go to a hockey game with. Namely Sam. Once Jack had made the mistake of having team night at a game, and she sucked all the fun out of hockey before the first period was over.
Daniel and Sarah Gardner were still in the living room, with a plate of Sam’s cookies. Sam had been on a cooking and baking spree since she’d gotten her mom’s cookbook. She was a better baker than a cook, but nobody minded that because the last few days she’d been plying people with baked goods.
“Dr. Gardner,” he greeted.
“General. Daniel tells me you’ve authorized him to offer me a position at Stargate Command.”
“Not on an SG team,” he clarified.
“I don’t want that,” she said. “I don’t do violence. That was Osiris.”
Jack figured that made as much sense as anything could for a woman who’d been a prisoner in her own body for three years. “You’d be working for Daniel, and possibly going on offworld digs.” She had Daniel had been colleagues once, plus had their brief romantic history. He needed to know that wouldn’t be a problem for her.
“I have to finish out the academic year, but I want to do something else, so those three years can yield something good.”
“The situation is a lot better than what it was,” he told her. She wasn’t surprised; Daniel would’ve told her that. “But we can still use all the knowledgeable help we can get.”
“Daniel tells me that the Goa’uld threat has been greatly reduced.”
“We’re down to three System Lords that we know of.”
Daniel added, “I told her that we’re interested in her expertise, not just what she learned from Osiris.”
“Right. He’s always telling me how hard it is to recruit qualified archaeologists,” Jack told Gardner.
“I can imagine.”
He didn’t want to cut short her talk with Daniel, so Jack excused himself and went up to the roof. It was a chilly night, but the sky was clear and great for stargazing, so he figured he’d check out the winter sky.
Surprisingly, Jack wasn’t bothered by this reappearance of his boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend. He figured that, after everything Daniel had put up with when they started seeing each other and having to be so paranoid, he had nothing to worry about. He trusted Daniel completely, and it was pretty obvious that Gardner wasn’t trying to get back together with Daniel anyway.
Jack thought she had to be a strong woman, to have made it through three years of Goa’uld control and come out alright. Oh, she was clearly marked by it - damaged, even - but who wouldn’t be? And yet she wanted to come back to SGC. The Air Force had been worried about her for a while, but the last couple of years she’d managed to hold her life together. Daniel would keep an eye on her and make sure she was okay at SGC. He’d grown into his personnel responsibilities as department head, and he cared about his friends.
It pleased Jack to think that, even after everything, Osiris hadn’t managed the victory of completely destroying Gardner’s life.
*****
Paul Davis was very happy with his new position. For one thing, it came with what, in his highly biased view, was a long-overdue promotion. It certainly didn’t hurt that he was getting to be a part of the most exciting program on the planet. He got a bigger office, one prominently placed not far from the general’s. Moreover, General O’Neill’s welcome was sincere; the man was obviously happy to have someone to deal with some of his extensive bureaucratic workload, and Paul got the distinct impression that O’Neill already trusted him. Dr. Jackson was similarly pleased that he would no longer have to wear “the diplomat hat.”
Like everyone else at the Pentagon with the security clearance to know about the stargate program, Paul had learned that O’Neill and Jackson were a couple. Unlike everyone else, he hadn’t been surprised. What had surprised him was the new decoration up in the general’s office, some kind of framed alien writing (Ancient, if Paul didn’t miss his guess) which made Jackson’s place in his life as clear as a picture of the two of them would have. But, Paul figured, more power to them. And maybe, just maybe, knowing that for once he didn’t have a homophobic superior would be enough that he’d get around to entering the dating scene. If he still remembered how.
After his meetings with O’Neill and Jackson, he realized he needed to devote his first morning to reorganizing the diplomatic files so that he could locate things in a timely fashion. Clearly, he and O’Neill had vastly different ideas of what constituted a sensible filing system. (So far, he suspected O’Neill used some kind of method based on his personal feelings about the races in question.) He didn’t need to read the background files, because before he left Washington he’d gone over any he wasn’t already familiar with. Paul was a great believer in being prepared by knowing all the available information.
At the knock on his door, he looked up and saw Carter. “Come in,” he said, reveling in the simple pleasure of not having to call her “ma’am.” Damn, he loved being a lieutenant colonel.
Carter glanced around the office quickly. It had been a rarely-used conference room; now it held Paul’s desk, a bookcase, and a filing cabinet besides a smaller conference table. When her gaze landed on his framed picture - the only truly personal item he had out - she smiled.
“My nieces and nephews,” he explained.
“Seven? Wow, I can barely keep up with two.”
“They are a handful.” But he loved them anyway. Though Paul didn’t particularly want children of his own, he loved being Uncle Paul.
“I just wanted to stop by and say hello,” Carter told him. “And congratulations on the well-earned promotion.”
“Thank you. It’s good to be here.”
“Best posting on the planet,” she said with a grin.
Paul was very pleased with it, that was for sure. Now if he could only figure out what logic O’Neill used to organize files, he’d be all set.
*****
Since he and Jack fought on the way home, Daniel shut himself in his study and buried himself in work. It was 9:10 that night before he emerged.
The fight had started out as a stupid disagreement over whose turn it was to do laundry. Daniel didn’t even know how, but it had escalated until he called Jack a control freak for always wanting to be the one who drove and Jack accused him of neglecting the present because he spent too much time working out the past.
He could hear the laundry tumbling around in the dryer, Jack’s admission that things had careened out of control.
“Hey,” he said.
Jack was watching some Matt Damon movie, and he turned the volume down almost all the way. “Hey.”
Daniel sat on the other end of the couch. “We both had rough days.”
Jack nodded. “Made us kinda stupid, huh?”
“It’s the only excuse I’ve got.”
“Me too. You wanna drive tomorrow?”
Touched though he was, he shook his head. Jack was a good driver and Daniel was not at his best first thing in the morning, so it was nice to sip coffee and relax on the way to work. “Thanks, but I really don’t mind.”
“C’mere, you.”
Happy to oblige, Daniel moved over and leaned onto Jack, who pulled him in close.
“I don’t mind either, Daniel. Your work’s important. I get it.”
Daniel suspected that once in a while all the SGC business he brought home did annoy Jack, just as once in a while he did get irked by his partner’s tendency to assume command of any given situation. But they know those traits long before they got involved. Jack knew he was loved more than artifacts just as Daniel knew they shared a relationship of equals.
He settled in, cuddling up with Jack. “You’re more important, as long as we’re not under attack of course.”
“Naturally.”
“Can we stop being stupid now?” he suggested.
“Good plan.”
It was true that both of them were capable of holding grudges, but they didn’t with each other. They saved them for when it really mattered, for the fate-of-the-planet kinds of situations. Well, mostly. Jack still disliked Russians and communists and Daniel still couldn’t abide Budge. But they didn’t hold grudges over silly spats.
“Daniel,” whined Jack, “since you’ll to be on P7K-325, who am I gonna bring to make that charity dinner bearable?”
One of the local policemen had been shot and paralyzed in the line of duty. The story had made headlines, and a charity dinner was coming up to help with his family’s expenses. Jack, having drawn the police commissioner’s attention during the incident with the drunk at the Bucklin’s house, was apparently expected to attend. Daniel would’ve gone - he was all for supporting the injured man, and it was the kind of event that could yield very interesting people watching - but the dinner fell in the middle of his weeklong dig.
“Sam?” he suggested.
“She’s taking Eddie to meet her brother and family.” Right. Daniel didn’t know how he could forget, because Eddie was nervous and excited while Sam was calm about the whole thing. Her relationship with her brother was, she claimed, ‘alright,’ but she really liked to see her niece and nephew.
“Teal’c is out.” The dinner was a formal affair, which meant ties were required. Teal’c hated ties second only to the Goa’uld and categorically refused to wear them. (Besides finding them uncomfortable, he thought it was ill-advised to wear anything that would allow someone to easily strangle you.) Of course, formal dinners were not something Teal’c enjoyed anyway.
“Yep,” agreed Jack.
“Cassie.”
“Then everyone will think I’m a dirty old man.”
“So introduce her as your goddaughter.” It was true in spirit anyway.
Jack scowled, evidently not happy with that solution.
“Or ask Alana.” Daniel figured Alana was about his own age.
“That could work.”
“Then stop thinking.” There were better things to do.
Jack got the hint. “I can do that,” he replied with a wink, sliding his hand down onto Daniel’s butt. The night was still young, after all.
*****
Jack was doing his rounds again. It was a good way to see what was going on, in the unabridged way reports didn’t quite capture. Of course, some things were better abridged, like whatever the geologists were doing with some kind of almost-coal. Jack rarely had interest in what happened in the geology lab. And really, something either was coal, or wasn’t.
Sam and her people were having a great time with one of their physics journals. Some of them appeared to be in danger of laughing themselves sick. Jack asked, “Do I want to know?”
She held up the journal. “A special issue devoted to space travel, sir.”
“Ah,” he said. That explained a lot.
“I think this is my favorite part,” said Dr. Tellman or Tollhouse or something like that. “‘Most absurd of all is the idea that travel between galaxies is remotely feasible.’ We’ve got to send a copy of this to Atlantis.”
“I’d pay money to hear McKay’s reaction to that!” said someone else through laughter.
Jack left them to their fun. He walked away to an apparently hilarious quote about how nothing that traveled faster than light would arrive in the same molecular configuration as it had left. Personally, he found that more disturbing than amusing, but he figured that he’d have realized by now if his molecules weren’t configured right.
Teal’c was teaching one of his combat classes again. Every now and then when things were slow he would run a class for a month or so, meeting a few times a week. The particular session Jack stopped in for was focused on handicapped fighting. Everyone was paired up, and one person in each pair had an arm tied behind his or her back.
Teal’c was a good teacher. He worked his students hard, and of course sugar-coating anything was against his nature. Comments such as, “That overconfidence could well cost you your life” were not unheard of. Jack suspected that outside the military, most people wouldn’t appreciate Teal’c’s teaching style. But the Jaffa also pointed out what students did well, like, “Sergeant Lovell was prepared for any method of attack. You would do well to emulate her.” Attendance was purely voluntary, but the classes filled so quickly only a limited number of people could participate. The classes were great learning experiences for the students, and Teal’c had once informed Jack that he found it gratifying to share the benefits of his experience.
Showing up in the infirmary had been a mistake. Dr. Brightman’s eyes lit up. “I was just going to call about your annual physical, sir!” And before he could come up with a plausible excuse - not even one patient in the infirmary he could claim to be visiting, dammit! - she dragged him off for a torture session thinly disguised as preventative medicine.
When he finally escaped the clutches of his zealous CMO, he headed to the mess. Instead of the usual large eggs, the latest shipment had been medium eggs. This was throwing everything off and creating an egg shortage. “Why don’t you just skip the boiled eggs tomorrow morning?” he suggested. “Then you’d have enough for everything else, right?”
“But we always serve boiled eggs in the morning!” was the horrified reply.
“I’m sure we’ll survive a day without them.”
He left while the kitchen staff was still mulling over that revolutionary concept.
Daniel and one of his linguists had a chalkboard out and were intently translating a stone block of some kind. It looked to Jack like the base of a statue, but he’d learned a long time ago that what something looked like might or might not actually mean anything. He’d never gotten the hang of telling the difference between when it meant something and when it didn’t, but that was Daniel’s job anyway.
“That’s more than enough time for linguistic shift to alter the grammar structure,” declared Daniel with a frown.
Jack eyed the letters, which even he could tell were Greek. Or at least Greekish. “It’s all Greek to me.”
“Very funny, Jack,” replied Daniel without looking up.
As much fun as he could have along those lines, part of being in charge was moving on, so Jack left them to their deciphering. Next door a couple more of Daniel’s people were having a deep conversation that was their version of the old ‘chicken or the egg’ question. Their version was, ‘which came first, the idea of the god or the Goa’uld?’
Jack had never worried much about chickens or eggs. He figured that as long as there were both chickens and eggs in the present, and would continue to be in the future, it didn’t really matter which came first. So long as the snakes were a dying race, Jack didn’t care much if they stepped into preexisting roles or created the roles. Unless, of course, there was some tactical advantage to be gained to the knowledge, but he seriously doubted that.
The door to the chemistry lab was shut and had a sign taped on: Light-Sensitive Experiment in Progress. DO NOT OPEN DOOR! Jack had a meeting with Davis soon anyway, so he headed back to his office. It was always easier to deal with the diplomatic and bureaucratic aspects of his job after a stroll around the base.
*****
Military history was not Daniel’s favorite subdiscipline, although it wasn’t his least favorite either, because economic history was worse. He’d agreed, all the same, to watch the History Channel program Jack had recorded on the history of fighter jets. This wasn’t because he especially liked jets, but because he enjoyed Jack’s enthusiasm. Daniel wondered if Jack had any idea how sexy he was when his eyes lit up about planes.
Barely a minute into the show the phone rang. Jack grabbed it, since he was closer, while Daniel paused the show.
“Hi Aunt Kate,” said Jack. “Thanks for the warning… no, it’s fine… I will. Bye.”
“Warning?” asked Daniel once Jack hung up.
“My cousin Hugh was in Denver looking at colleges with his daughter. Jill. He called Aunt Kate to get my address so he could say hi.”
“Has it been a while since you last saw him?”
“Mom’s funeral.”
That had been nearly five years ago. Daniel nodded, and Jack continued, “Don’t know how he’ll handle us.”
“Okay.”
He had a pretty good idea what Jack was thinking. Namely, that while Hugh was forcing the timing, they’d be in Jack’s house, on his turf. Sometimes, Jack could be predictably alpha male.
“If you don’t want to be here, that’s fine,” said Jack.
“I’m staying.”
Ten minutes after the fighter jet program ended, Jack had managed not to think about his cousin - how he did it, Daniel would never know - and was enthusiastically situating F-302s in the evolution of fighter jets. With swooping hand motions and gleaming eyes, he was a sight indeed.
The doorbell interrupted his fun and Daniel’s Jack-admiring. Jack answered the door while Daniel waited on the couch, rather uselessly, and listened.
“Hi, Jack.”
“Hugh. Come in. Zelda, sit. This is Zelda.” Of course Zelda was there. She considered greeting and examining visitors to be her job, and she took it seriously.
They entered, and Daniel could hear them scuffing their shoes. “You remember my daughter Jill.”
“A much smaller version.”
“I know, we’re out looking at colleges and it seems like it hasn’t been nearly long enough since her first day of school.”
“Got a major in mind?” asked Jack.
“Art history.”
“Ah,” said Jack, who clearly didn’t know what else to say about the subject.
Hugh asked, “Still working on… what was it?”
“Deep-space radar telemetry.”
“Right. Mom said you retired.”
“From the Air Force. I’m a civilian consultant now. Living room’s this way.”
Hugh was six inches shorter than Jack and looked nothing like him. Jill, a petite brunette, was dressed in a unique style, not the ubiquitous teenage look pushed by commercials. Daniel appreciated that.
“Oh, if you’ve got company…” began Hugh while Daniel stood.
Jack shook his head. “Daniel, my cousin Hugh and his daughter Jill. Hugh, Jill, this is Daniel. My boyfriend.”
Jill stepped forward and shook his hand, unbothered. “Hi Daniel.”
“Nice to meet you,” he replied, liking her all the more.
Hugh was gaping, and Jill prodded him. “Dad.”
“Uh, hello,” managed Hugh.
“Have a seat,” said Jack.
They sat, Hugh still trying to wrap his head around their relationship. When he failed to come up with anything to say, Daniel asked Jill, “So what colleges are you looking at?”
All in all, he thought the morning was going alright. Sure, Hugh was flabbergasted and speechless, but he was sitting in their living room, so he couldn’t be too bothered. Daniel wasn’t very good with this family business. He was the only child of two only children, so he didn’t even have any cousins. It was a bit hard for him to relate. But if he just took things one step at a time, he usually did alright. Like this. He didn’t know a lot about art history aside from ancient pieces, but he knew enough to talk with Jill about her interest.
*****
Daniel and Jill were getting along great. It turned out she had a particular interest in preserving art pieces, and Daniel was all for preserving just about any artifact, from broken pottery to paintings. That was good for them, but it left Jack with Hugh.
“Well, this is a surprise,” his cousin said, finally managing to speak.
Jack’s cell phone rang, giving him at least a temporary reprieve. “Excuse me,” he said, grabbing the phone off the coffee table and walking across the room. “O’Neill.”
“General O’Neill, Secretary Wolfe for you, sir.”
“Thank you.” This couldn’t be good. A personal call from the Secretary of Homeland Security at 1130 on a Saturday did not ever mean anything good.
“O’Neill.”
“Yes, Mr. Secretary.”
“We might have a problem.” He’d gathered, but waited for Wolfe to elaborate. “Internet chatter in Arabic; automated program flagged something from a suspected terror cell.” Daniel’s phone rang, and Jack was pretty sure he knew where this was going. “We don’t have any Arabic translators cleared to know about the stargate, so we’re sending it to Dr. Jackson. If this is real, we’ve got a problem.”
“Yes sir,” replied Jack.
“I trust you’ll coordinate with Dr. Jackson?” said Wolfe. Daniel was already heading to his study.
“Yes sir.”
“Good. I’ll expect a report from you if this is real.”
“Of course.”
“I have to say, O’Neill, you run a tight base. One of the few places I don’t lose sleep over, actually. I have little concern about unauthorized entry.”
That was a pleasant surprise. “Thank you, Mr. Secretary.”
“I am concerned about leaks, but with so many governments in on the program…”
Personally, Jack figured that if any terrorists heard about the gate, odds were good they’d be broadcasting it over al-Jazeera, but he couldn’t be sure and kept that thought to himself. “True.”
“Keep me informed.”
“Will do.”
With that, Wolfe hung up.
“Mr. Secretary, huh?” asked Hugh.
Jack was really not in the mood to make small talk, but then he couldn’t do anything until Daniel finished translating whatever had been picked up. “It’s a living.”
Apparently Hugh decided to take advantage of Daniel’s absence. “So, you and Daniel,” he began.
“Yes?”
“Mom knows, doesn’t she?”
He nodded. “And Lisa.”
“Okay. How long?”
“We’ve been together…” he had to think for a second, because his thoughts were still really on terrorists and Arabic chatter, “over a year and a half now. But we’ve known each other closer to ten.”
“I see,” said Hugh in a way that meant he really didn’t. “You work together?”
“Yes.”
“And you live together?”
“Yes.”
“Well.” Hugh was clearly not entirely comfortable with this, but he wasn’t leaving either.
Jill filled in the silence before it could get too awkward. “I noticed you have a lot of medals.”
“Thirty-four years in the Air Force. I had a lot of time to earn them.”
“It’s an impressive collection.”
“Thanks.”
“Is Daniel Air Force?” she asked.
Jack almost laughed. “No. He’s civilian, always has been.”
Daniel came out, snapping his phone shut. It must not have been a long conversation he had to translate. “Not us,” he reported, to Jack’s immense relief. “But NASA’s going to have some explaining to do.”
“Better them than me,” replied Jack. He suspected Wolfe was going to want some kind of thorough review anyway.
Hugh raised an eyebrow. “Deep space radar telemetry crisis?” he asked skeptically.
Jack shrugged. “It happens.”
*****
It was a short visit; in just under an hour Hugh and Jill were heading out. They spent most of the time listening to Jill describe the trials and tribulations of her college application process. Hugh, it turned out, was also a dog lover, and he liked Zelda very much. She, of course, was inclined to like anyone who would spend fifteen minutes patting her.
Daniel thought things had gone alright, so he was caught off-guard when Jack glanced at Hugh’s retreating car and muttered, “Bastard.”
“Jack?”
“He ignored you, Daniel. Like pretending you weren’t there could make me straight.”
He considered that for a moment and realized his partner was right. “Jill was very nice,” he finally said.
“Yeah. Good kid. Unlike her dad.”
“It’s fine, cariad.” He thought it better not to bring up the fact that he had a lot of practice with people ignoring him. That bothered Jack. So instead he said, “His approval doesn’t matter to me.”
Jack gave a jerky nod, indicating that he conceded the point. “At least I’m back to having you for myself.”
Zelda chose that moment to come racing up to them with a rope toy in her mouth. “She begs to differ,” observed Daniel.
“P-A-R-K?” suggested Jack. Zelda liked the park, and they’d had to stop saying ‘park’ unless they were heading out the door to that very destination. If she realized they were spelling it out, they were going to have to start saying ‘park’ in other languages.
It was the kind of winter weather that Daniel found mostly tolerable and Jack considered decent. Daniel had never really gotten used to cold winters, and he would have a hat and scarf though Jack would likely deem it a gloves-only day. But it was sunny and not too windy, and Zelda adored the park, so he agreed, “Let me just get a drink first.”
His partner followed him into the kitchen. “We can hit the drive-thru on the way.”
“Sure.”
Daniel set the limeade on the counter and before he could get a glass was stopped by a hug from behind. “Jack?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh. Alright then.” He could get behind that. They so rarely got moments of doing nothing in their lives, although those moments were more frequent since they stopped regular gate travel.
After a minute Jack released him and he got to have his limeade. Meanwhile Jack had collected the leash, bag, and pooper-scooper. Zelda was quite pleased, and by the time Daniel went back to the door she was staring at it expectantly.
“Want to go to the park, girl?” asked Jack.
Zelda gave a little bark and immediately started walking in excited circles around them. Daniel had moved in with Jack nearly eight months ago, but sometimes a moment like this still had the power to stop him. This was what they’d fought so hard for: the struggle and the sacrifice, the people they’d lost and the pain they’d endured, all of it was so that the rest of the world could enjoy their lives. Certainly, Daniel was motivated by pure knowledge, but that alone couldn’t convince him to risk his life on a weekly basis for years. Moments like this, with the simple weekend pleasure of him and his partner taking their dog to the park, had a deeper meaning for him than most people.
He grabbed his scarf and Zelda’s toy. “Let’s go.” Neither Jack nor the dog had to be told twice.
Continued: ent-alter-ego.livejournal.com/14149.html