Jeez, why does he have to butt heads with me all the freakin time? I swear to God, one of these times... Why the hell can't he just accept a command decision, just once, without being downright ornery about it? We both know that he'll go with it in the end... okay, maybe under protest, but I AM the guy who gets paid the big bucks to make the decisions, for crying out loud. But no, everything has to be a battle. Every freakin' last thing. Is it my imagination, or has it been worse than usual just recently? I can hardly go to the freakin' bathroom without him trying to tell me to wait, to explore the alternatives, to try to see another side to the problem. Just for once, can't he damned well accept that we're on a winning streak, especially when I spell it out to him? I stand by what I said – the Eurondans get something they want, we get everything we want, and everybody's happy. Yeah, I sure as hell can live with that!
I can so do without the whole civilian/military thing rearing up to bite me just now, there's far too much riding on this to spare the time to head off a pile of idealistic navel contemplating crap. It would sure get those goons in the Pentagon off our backs if just for once SG1 didn't come up empty again. It'd take some of the heat off George; the joint chiefs have been riding him hard since that NID scam, the hawks still seem to have the upper hand, and they want results. It'd get George off my back too. Not that he passes on more than a fraction of the heat that he mops up...it sure will be great to be able to go back with a flourish and hand him what he wants, what the program needs, for a change.
I can't see a problem with this. I really can't. It's not as if we're weighing in with troops or weapons or shit like that. We're really not getting involved here – a little bit of heavy water to power defences, big deal. We don't actually have to give them enough to escalate the war, just enough to stave off defeat until we can broker the peace, and who knows what the other side might have as well? Humanitarian aid on a basic level – saving lives here – hel-lo? As in, this is what we do? Our government's done stuff like this plenty times before. It's a very small outlay for a huge return: controlled fusion energy, cleaner, cheaper, more economical, very desirable. No wonder Carter was salivating. Fraiser would kill for the recipe for that beta-candy stuff, it would make a vast improvement to everyone's lives. And that fighter technology, that we could really use – iron out the bugs... well, one honkin' great bug, actually, but it can't be insuperable, we can sidestep the side effects somehow, maybe, adapt it to what we need... No, every which way you look at this, it's a sweet deal. We're finally going to pull it off, pull off a biggie, finally make a difference.
That's gotta count for a lot, keep the funding coming, shut up the doubters, at least for a while. A feather in all our caps, a job well done, and a decent breathing space for everyone. Maybe even enough space to let Danny off the leash on some of the old ruins we've found, give him a chance to do what he enjoys best as well. Nobody loses, nobody at all, for once... well, hopefully the snakeheads eventually, but that's a good loss, right? That's what we're doing this for.
Shit, I hate being at odds with Danny all the time. Sure, we've always bickered, scored points across each other, but this is... different. Just can't quite put my finger on how, or why. It'll come to me though, most things do, eventually. Maybe it's something to do with the fact that he's never been so way out of line before. I mean, he's a bright guy, he must realise that it's a bad tactic to present anything other than a united front to the opposition, no matter what gets said behind closed doors.
It's hard, being in the field with someone you care about. Someone you love. Although I do remember Danny telling me about some guys, the Spartans, was it? - who used to put pairs of lovers in the same unit as a matter of policy. They figured their guys would fight harder if they had a personal stake in the survival of their comrades in arms. See, I listen, sometimes. I even retain. I'm not sure I agree with that policy, though. It is hard. There're two ways you can go, either too soft on them or too tough, both look equally suspicious, even to the untrained eye. The guy who thought up the frat regs must have been a keen student of human nature, he sure knew what he was talking about. It's so hard to act normal, to even remember what normal used to be, before we started seeing each other. Socially, I mean. Well, fraternising. Hell, fucking like minks is what I really mean. Thought I could handle it, thought we both could ... Mr. Positive, and how!
It's trickier than I ever dreamed. Things have been so abnormal recently, so many tough missions – no, abnormal's not what I mean, not at all. Hell, I hardly know what I mean. Far from normal? Out of the ordinary? More pressured than usual? That what I mean? Whatever.
Wandering, O'Neill, get back on topic. I know what this is; it's the effect of having a quote, guilty secret, unquote. Doesn't matter what you do, or don't do, it doesn't quite ring true. Then you start to wondering if other people are wondering, remarking, making notes. Everything you took for granted before gets turned on its head, every little touch, comment, nuance... it gets so you can't quite get a handle on which end's up. You're so busy figuring how you used to react to any given situation that you can't figure out how to react in the here and now any more.
No wonder things always seem to be that little bit off. Carter's noticed, but what the hell she puts it down to, I shudder to think. PMT is so not an acceptable excuse in my case; she's probably working it up into a full-blown mid-life crisis. She sticks up for me, though, good little soldier that she is, even though she has her own ways of making me aware that she doesn't necessarily approve. But then that brings its own problems, splitting the team, where we used to be so... together. That's something else I'm going to have to nip in the bud.
Guess that's why I kinda overreacted. Which, if I'm honest, and now that I've cooled down a bit, is exactly what I did. Trying to reconcile all these different forces, that ain't easy. Too many balls to try and keep up in the air at once as it is, then someone throws another one at you anyway. Bound to fray a guy's temper. Bound to. Hell, I'd better make the time to find Danny and apologise for getting so mad. He'd better apologise to me too, though, for being so way out of line...
First things first, though. Time to make nice with the natives again. Can't do any harm to convince them of our willingness to help them out.
"Use a couple more
pilots?"
GOD! Why is it that he NEVER listens! I'm busy trying to do my best here, to do what I'm PAID for, to find out about the culture and motivations of these people, but Colonel 'I Know Best' just can't take the time to LISTEN, to listen to what are quite reasonable and logical concerns. Oh no, he just sees the carrot, and goes after it like the ass he is.
Something is off here, I just know it, I feel it right down in my gut. My gut's at least as capable of feeling things as the back of his neck. There are too many loose ends lying around. Loose ends have always bugged the hell out of me; I have to find out what they join up to. Yeah, it's called an enquiring mind, Colonel Prick! DAMN! Where does he get off, lecturing me as if I was a wayward child! I'm 35 years old, for god's sake, and despite what he seems to think at the moment, I can find my ass – with either hand!
Okay, deep breaths, Jackson, this is doing you no good. Venting is one thing, a tantrum is quite another. Oh, yeah. Think calm thoughts, think ocean waves, think whale music. Sure, Jack's being a prick about this, but hey, what's new? No, no, forget I said that, that was a low blow. I am so not going to go down to his level. Calm... calm... Better.
Have to think about this. What is Alar trying to hide? I know, I just know that he hasn't put all his cards on the table. He's desperate, and making no effort to hide it, not even trying to bargain from a position of strength. Nobody does that if they can avoid it, not if they've got any brains at all. And I get the impression that whatever Alar is lacking, it's not brains. So... what is making him unable to avoid it? What exactly could be pushing him into this course of action? Sure, he's desperate to protect the stasis chamber, that's quite understandable, but why is he so grimly determined to hang on to a poisoned ball of rock when we can offer him the alternative of a fresh start?
He's hiding something. I'm certain of it, as certain of it as I've ever been of anything in my life. But what, exactly? Something to do with the war, certainly. I haven't got enough information to posit a working hypothesis. Okay, I'll just have to get more. Dig around, ask a few more questions. If I get the chance, of course. If our exalted CO gives me the chance. If I'm allowed to, after being sent through the gate again like a naughty kid sent off early to bed.
What is it with him, anyway? He's so desperate to broker a deal that all common sense, all moral sense, seems to have flown out the window. I mean, this is taking pragmatism to ridiculous lengths. I've never seen him so determined not to listen to sense. He's been edgy since we started up the ramp in the gateroom. Wonder if it was something the General said to him after the briefing? Something's certainly sent him into full-blown Colonel mode.
Maybe he feels it too, that something's not quite right, here. Maybe he's trying not to feel it in the interests of... no, wait, that makes no sense. He's never put a mission above the team, above our safety, and I don't think he's capable of doing that, not ever. He's got a strict pecking order – team preservation, self-preservation, mission completion – actually, those last two seem to be fairly interchangeable. Which does nothing for my nerves on a more or less regular basis.
Maybe he's come up with
another angle to all this. Blast it, I wish we'd all had a chance to talk before
that damned dinner. I'm kinda starting to regret pushing so hard... maybe I
should've shut up, I knew perfectly well that he wanted me to. Stupid, Jackson,
really stupid... you really should learn not to show your one-track mind in
public quite so often. Bear in mind that what works in academic circles isn't
necessarily the best way forward in the field. I shouldn't have lost my temper
like that either, it sure didn't help. I'll apologise if – when - we get a
chance to talk. He probably will too, I know his MO – quick flare up, quick cool
down.
Man, I've got a bad feeling about this all of a sudden. A nasty prickly feeling at the back of my neck, a feeling that I've learned to trust over the years. A feeling that's kept me alive plenty of times when I should've been dead. Don't know where it's coming from, but something is off here; something's starting to smell rotten. It's making it difficult to concentrate on flying this crate. Whoa, careful – I don't know what would actually happen to me if I crashed these gizmos, but I'm not real keen to find out. Steady... that's better. Flying sweet now. Where's that target...? Yeah, got it, one o'clock. Same sort of biplane thingy as the last one... careful... easy... yeah! Target locked... FIRE!
Ho-lee shit, what the fuck? Faces, faces staring out of the cockpit... oh shitshitSHIT, so much for not getting involved, that baby was manned! And nobody thought to mention that small detail? What in hell's going on here? Let me outta this thrill ride.
"What the hell was that?"
"The lead aero fighter in your formation struck an enemy bomber head on."
"I saw people in that thing! You said they were unmanned!"
"I said the reconnaissance craft was an unmanned drone. It presented an easy target and therefore a suitable demonstration. But their bombers are manned. You have killed several of our enemy, Colonel, and we are grateful."
Yeah, I'll just bet you are, lady. Shit, that was an elementary mistake to make, not even asking if these enemy craft operated on the same principles as the ones I was flying. But, I'm wondering though... why did nobody mention the fact to me or Teal'c? The blonde, what's'er name... Farrah? Fella?... was quick enough to let me know that the recon drone was unmanned first time round. And we've been at pains to stress the humanitarian angle rather than military support. Teal'c's mind's obviously working along the same lines too... that was a significant look, Jaffa style, if ever I've seen one...
Wait up, though, it
could just have been an honest mistake in the heat of the moment. Don't have
quite enough intel to go on to decide one way or the other, and I'm not about to
blow this whole deal on the strength of a hunch. There's no way I could write
that in a mission report, no matter how creative I can be when I have to. Nah,
we'll play along a bit longer, see what's going down. I've overreacted more than
enough for one day. Now it's time to just go with the flow and see what happens.
Stick with the mission briefing, try to negotiate the best possible deal. Never
lose sight of what's at stake here, the chance to get an edge on the damn snakes
at long last. Still and all, though, that prickly feeling's still
there...
At least Hammond was prepared to listen. Although it was touch and go at one point. We're lucky to have him. Jack's right, he is a good man. It's a miracle that he has managed to rise so high in the hierarchy and still retain his idealism, his sense of right and wrong, his morals. Or maybe not, thinking back to what sort of man he was when he was younger... we would certainly have been sunk back in 1969 if he'd been any less of a man. Maybe there is hope for this man's Air Force after all, if the cream can still rise...
Alar was acting strange when we came back through with the deuterium. He was the jumpiest I've yet seen him... wonder if we've missed anything important while we were away? He still seems on edge, even now that the defence field generator has been refuelled. No, not on edge... not the right description at all. Predatory. Dangerous, but hiding it, smiling, staying polite, but...
That's it. I don't like this man and I sure as hell don't trust him. I didn't manage to supervise digs without learning to weed the sheep from the goats, and he reminds me of one particular goat, a labourer I met in Giza. What was his name? Don't remember, doesn't matter, he was as twisty as a corkscrew. First chance I get, I'm asking all the questions I can. Whether Jack likes it or not, we can't make a decision to get involved with these people without full information. We're supposed to be the good guys here. We can't go jumping into bed with just anybody for the sake of expediency. If I get a chance to tell Jack what Hammond wants, all well and good. If not, I'll just have to grab the ball and run with it, find out what we really do need to know.
Oh now, what's this? Some sort of ceremony? Oh, a toast as a prelude to negotiations. A toast to his father... does it strike anyone else as strange that Alar's so... intense about his father? And what's with Teal'c? He looks... singularly unimpressed, even for a Jaffa.
Whoa, that's some demand. Enough to end this war 'once and for all'? What does that mean? Wait, let me do the math. Alar said the amount of heavy water we brought through today was enough to keep the shield at full strength for several hours, say by several, he meant what, seven, eight hours? That would be a fair interpretation of 'several'. More? Possibly, if he's feeding us a line. We reckoned that we could have the next consignment of that size through in five and a half hours, max. So they're already in the black. Now Alar's wanting three or four times that amount on a daily basis. Days here are, let's see, twenty-one hours long or thereabouts. Damn, wish I could double-check the fuel requirement figures with Sam. Three times the amount we just brought through should be more than enough to keep the shield going on a daily basis, shouldn't it – so what does he want the extra for?
That's a good question. Now he's trying to railroad us into signing up. Okay, Jackson, now would be a good time to put your debating skills into action. Tufek. It's just come to me, the name of the guy in Giza. Tufek...
"Uhm-uhm. Uh, before we
do that, I have a question."
Oh for crying out loud, here we go again. I was just starting to get somewhere, and Twenty Questions Boy starts up again. Christ, can he never keep his yap shut? What's Carter saying?
"General Hammond would also like to know sir."
Oh. Okay, then, we'll go with this for a while. See where it gets us. Yeah, just where I thought. Nowhere really fast. There's something about this Alar guy, though, something that just doesn't quite... fit. He reminds me of someone, the way he's fencing with Danny – and that look he was giving Teal'c earlier, that was weird. I'd have thought that in his position he'd be happy with all the help he could get. You know, never look a gift horse in the mouth, and all that crap. So what's with all the veiled hostility garbage? Getting the opposite of the warm fuzzies here, there're some bad vibes floating around... Wish to god Danny would just shut up, give us a chance to fend off making a decision here and now. We need some time for a talk about what's going on here. I've had no intel from the rest of the team for way too long, and none of us has any idea of developments elsewhere... Christ, I always hate flying blind. Always makes me tetchy. Lack of intel screws up more missions than virtually anything else...
One thing I do notice though: Alar sure isn't making a great shot at answering Danny's questions, in fact, quite the reverse, he's just ducked that last one... trust Daniel to try to push it...
"Colonel O'Neill, do we have an agreement?"
Huh? On what? Hell, he's waiting for a reply. What the hell was the question? Agreement? Okay, I can run with it for now, until we get back to base and debrief with Hammond, try to draw all the threads together. If Daniel will just take the hint I'm trying to send him to drop it for now. The tension level in the room has just shot off the scale. I can feel it, why can't he?
"We do."
"Jack?"
"Daniel... shut up! Is that clear enough?"
Ouch! Harsh, Jack, way too harsh. He looks hurt. And mutinous, but mostly hurt. Sorry, Danny, no time to sugarcoat it. Ah, hell, Carter and Teal'c are both giving me killer looks as well, seems like I've managed to piss off just about everybody now. It's great to know that I'm still good at what I've always done best. My prickly feeling is growing all the time, but the Eurondans have all visibly relaxed. Still, I'm beginning to wonder how... if... we're going to get out of here. Which is strange, 'cause Alar's given me no cause to actually worry quite yet. But still, it never hurts to be sure...
Alar's looking smug, as well he might. He thinks he's just been handed everything he wants on a plate. Yep, we're on the move again. What's that? Shoot down another bomber?
"Ohh, I don't think so."
"Well, if you are concerned about lives lost, remember they are your enemy now. I look forward to your return. Which reminds me... perhaps it would be best if the Jaffa did not return."
Say what? "Teal'c... why? He hasn't said a word."
"It's not what he said. It's what he is."
"Well, he's... different, I'll grant you that."
"Not... like us."
"Right."
Is this guy for real? Is
he getting at what I think he's getting at? What the hell is that supposed to
mean? Whoo, boy, that feeling at the back of my neck has just intensified a
hundred times. There's definitely more to this than meets the eye. Lots and lots
of little things, insignificant things, but they're all piling up into a honkin'
huge heap o' shit. Intel, I need intel. Lots of intel; I'm sick of boxing in the
dark here. I really need to figure out where this asshole's coming
from.
Oh, I don't believe this. I so don't believe it, it flies against all common sense. "We have an agreement"? Just like that? How can he overlook all the odd things about this situation, all the little bits and pieces that don't add up? And "Daniel, shut up!"? Snide, I can deal with, out and out pissy I can deal with, but rude?
I'm hurt. I can't help it. And angry. That was uncalled for. God, I thought I'd earned my place on this team, now I'm starting to doubt it. I just want to get home. Get some space, think things through, get reassigned, tender my resignation, something. Anything rather than just trail along like excess baggage. Go and do something remotely useful, somewhere. For god's sake, I'm paid as a consultant, I would expect that somebody would want to consult me. This has to have been the most miserable, benighted mission I have ever had to put up with. Everyone's been out of sorts, off their game, Jack especially. It all seems to be coming from him. At least, I don't think I've changed the way I operate since... well, since we became involved. It isn't easy though being... lovers, just use the word, Jackson - and doing what we do.
Thank god, there's the DHD. A couple more minutes and I am so out of here. Let's see now, first glyph, second... huh? What now?
"We're not going."
"Why?"
"Teal'c and I are going to have a look round first. You... ask questions."
"I...I thought you told me to..."
"I know what I said, Daniel. It was rude, short sighted and I'm sorry."
"Well, uh, thank you for recognising..."
"Now I'm saying this. Go ask questions. Lots of questions."
O-kaay. What just
happened here? I'm used to Jack going off at a tangent, but that was quite a
180, even for him. Something that Alar said to him – shame I was too far behind
to hear. Fine, questions the man wants, questions he gets. It probably won't do
any good since he refuses to listen to the answers, but at least I'll get the
pleasure of satisfying my curiosity. Maybe we'll even manage to make sense of
this culture at long last. I think I'll start with Farrel. She might be easier
to get to open up with Alar out of the way, she doesn't strike me as much of a
politician. Hope Sam can keep Alar occupied for a while, give me a chance to
find out something.
"They did it. They started the war. I don't know how they did it, but they did."
Danny is completely certain. Okay, that's good enough for me, taken with what Teal'c and I have just seen in that goddamned stasis room and Alar's crack about Teal'c earlier. I don't need Carter's report just to confirm what I'm now sure of. This guy, and all that he stands for, is poison. Pure and simple.
Damn it to hell, you've been suckered, O'Neill, suckered but good, pushed into making one honkin' great big mistake! You really should know better than get involved in politics, or diplomacy come to that, they're not your strong suit. Better to stick to what you know. Which right now is how to get us all out of here in one piece. I doubt these bastards will let us waltz out of here without a fight – we're too far outnumbered to put up much of a one anyway, even though they're preoccupied with fighting off the current attack.
Alar's standing yammering on about the next consignment of heavy water. Okay, there's no need to tell this bozo that we've not been back through the gate yet. Stall him while you figure out what you can use here to get your team home in one piece. Standard survival training: what have you got, what do you need? Yeah, got it. We need those bombers; they would give us an ace in the hole. And I think I know how to get them too.
"We just have to buy a little time. Teal'c and I can help fight them off until it gets here."
"Do it!" Alar's so panicked, he's almost screaming at me.
Dumb fucker's desperate enough to hand it to me on a plate. Maniac, maybe, war leader supposedly, but no tactical sense at all, not when you come right down to it. No time to tell Teal'c what I'm thinking here, just gotta hope he picks up on it and that Carter and Daniel have the sense, and the luck, to mop up the opposition when they realise what I intend to do, before the opposition mops me up. Got faith in 'em all though, they've all got the smarts. Team Rocket, or what?
"Stay on my wing, Teal'c."
Yeah, these babies are just as fast and as smooth as I remember. I'll be sorry not to have a chance to fly them again, it's a really sweet feeling – 'bout the only sweet feeling left in this whole sorry mess. Okay, concentrate now, where's all the action? Yeah, got it. A wing of fighters chasing the bombers. Okay, closer... closer...fire! Yeah, got the bastard. And another. Teal'c's got a kill too, and for the right side. That's three fighters down... make that four. Yep, Teal'c's got it, he's following the script. Hope the bombers get it too...bail out, Teal'c, I'll take it from here. I'm reasonably sure that if I crash this crate, nothing much is going to happen to me, didn't last time, anyway, but it's my risk to take, nobody else's. Oh yeah, that's gonna do some damage, time to get outta here, collect up my kids, and hightail it back to the gate.
Shi-it! Did I do all that? The place is falling down around their ears – should be a big enough distraction to buy us enough time to get back to the gate and out of here for good, especially now that the bombers have followed my lead. And it can't come quick enough for me, I can tell ya. I can't wait to shake the dust of this dump off my feet.
Hell, the little lowlife
rat bastard's nowhere near as smart as I thought, he's gonna try to follow us!
After I warned him too! No way, pal, you're not getting anywhere near my home,
my people. We've been there, done that, bought the tee shirt – no way are you
getting to start all that shit up again. Good, Daniel and Teal'c are away, just
leaves me and Carter now...
Come on, come on... this bit always seems to take an age, waiting for the other two to come through, waiting to know that they're safe too... yes! That's Sam... Jack? Where's Jack? Come on, Jack, shake your tail... oh yeah. Safe. Thank you, God.
God, what's happened? I've never seen a look like that on his face before. What's Sam waiting for? She looks like she's expecting something to come through... something not very desirable, she's ready to fire...
"Close the iris."
Oh hell, this is bad, whatever it is, it's bad. His hands are still, that's the worst sign, and that look still on his face...
Oh, shit. I think I
know. Looking at Sam, looking at Jack, I'm sure I know. I hope I'm wrong, but
I'm pretty certain I'm not. Oh, shit.
Well, as debriefs go, that wasn't so bad. Fairly bland, noncommittal, unincriminating. The bare facts and nothing but. I think Hammond knows something's up. No, I'm sure Hammond knows something's up. But the kids covered my ass – even Carter, which, having seen the look on her face as the iris closed, surprised the hell outta me. Still, I guess I'll have to talk with her eventually - 'fess up to Hammond too. Probably not fair not to. Maybe not to Hammond until the noise has died down some, though, not much point in making his life more difficult than it has to be. Guess I'm not going to be Mr. Popular in certain circles for a while though. Guess I can live with it too.
I just want to get away from here, kick back and try to wind down, before I have to write my report. I've got more to worry about than that. Plus, I've got a hot date with a bottle of whiskey, and I don't intend to be a no-show. I've got me some serious thinking to do. Real meaning of life type shit.
Geeze, it's a great sound, the sound of my key in the lock to my door. Never thought I'd say that again, coming back to an empty house, but this time it's true. It's great not to have anyone here, not to have anybody wanting me to make a decision, not to have anybody yapping at me. Gives me time to think, to process, to decide what comes next.
First things first – glass, bottle, shoes off and sprawl. The house is really, really quiet, just what I need at the moment if I'm going to get all this shit sorted out. First off, the mission. The whole gig was off-kilter, right from the get go, and if I'm going to be really honest, my performance was less than stellar. Right from the start I got sucked in by the whole technology thing – got greedy, I guess, and tried hard to justify it. Tried to suppress my instincts and do the politics thing, and let's face it, soldiering is what I'm best at, not that other stuff.
And by soldiering, I don't mean blindly following orders. Hell, I know our standing orders are important, but are they so important that we have to compromise our integrity? I suppose my answer to that would be yes, I'm enough the good soldier to be able to live with that, but only up to a point. Alar passed that point, left it so far behind that it was only a dot on the horizon. I've spent too much of my life fighting against all that he stood for to be able to take kindly to allying with someone like him, no matter what the gain.
Do I regret closing the iris? No, I can't really say that I do. Can't really say that I wouldn't do it again, either. That bozo was bad news. Irrelevant, anyway, it's done now. Shit happens, and if shit drops on me from a great height because of this, well, them's the breaks. Good call, bad call, it was MY call, and I can live with it – as if I had a choice.
I need a refill. Oh yeah, that's good, that's really hitting the spot. Now for the biggie, you can't really put it off any more. The team. Yeah, the one that seems to be falling apart right in front of your eyes. Putting this right is up to you and nobody else. I said to Danny right at the start of all this that I wouldn't allow the team to suffer – didn't manage to keep that up for too long, did ya, O'Neill?
We've always all cared for each other way more than we should, since we've really gotten to know each other – but that's always been a strength, not a weakness. Actually, I'm not really convinced that there is such a thing as caring more than you should, in the normal way of things. All the best teams work as a team simply because all their members care about each other. That's something that happens when you spend so much time together, come under fire together, haul each other's asses out of the flames. All the best teams end up closer than family. Sure, it's tough when somebody goes down, but it's a good trade off. You might end up getting hurt, physically and emotionally, but the fact that you relate makes the whole more than the sum of its parts.
The difference is loving one of your team, not just caring for them, being in love. And acting on it, and having love returned. It throws the whole thing off balance, even before you have to worry about having to hide it. Trying too hard to hide it? Maybe that's what this is, a part of it, anyway.
This hiding crap should really be a breeze for a special ops colonel, but it's not, it's different, difficult... it's too personal. I've been "under" before, many times, but always with an identifiable cover, something to relate to, to learn by heart, to hang on to. This time my cover is just... me. Us. Daniel and me as we were before. And what we were before bears absolutely no relation to what we are now.
What we are now is so awesomely bigger, it's damn near impossible to remember what we were then. Things were certainly a whole lot simpler before, though. Guess I must be one of the ones that lean towards being too tough rather than too soft to try to cover our tracks. No surprises there. Always thought I could at least be fair, though...
My glass is empty again, time for another. Getting dark, too. Time to turn the lamps on. Might as well do it just now, I'm moving anyway. God, this is good, this is... soothing. Just peace and quiet.
Who'm I kidding? It sucks. Even with a good bottle of whiskey. Last time I came home after a mission, I wasn't alone. Last time, Danny was with me. Last time, we made love, twice. Last time, I got to watch him as I fucked him, got to watch him as he came all over my belly, got to stroke him and gentle him through the aftershocks, got to feel him over me, round me, in me. Last time...
Look at that label: JackDaniels. That's a laugh. Or it might be if my sense of humour hadn't been lobotomised. Jack is Daniel's, but is Daniel Jack's any more? I dunno. Seriously, I have no clue. Just a nasty, honkin' great suspicion that I might have really managed to push him away this time. Always figured that would happen eventually – it's a natural talent I have. That, and feeling sorry for myself. Always been real good at that too. Christ, listen to yourself. Feeling sorry for yourself because you're good at feeling sorry for yourself! Have a drink and figure out what you can do to turn things around, make them right again.
Hell, stop kidding yourself for once. You know exactly what you have to do, to put things right with him at least. You have to explain all this stuff to him, you have to let him get close. Not physical, close. You have to break the habit of an adult lifetime, fight all that has got you this far and kept you sane, and make yourself vulnerable. Even if the very idea does give you the shakes and makes you feel hot and cold all over. You really don't want this relationship to go down the tubes the same as your marriage.
But that's going to be hard, the hardest thing of all. I mean, I got to middle age and found all of a sudden I wasn't as straight as a die. That was hard enough to swallow, but getting to middle age as a straight-laced, buttoned up poster boy for the stiff upper lip, then finding out that there was no virtue in it, none at all, that's the double whammy. You finally realise that it might be okay to show your emotions to someone that matters enough – something that you never learned with Sara, much as you loved her, something that you were starting to learn with Charlie, before... Yeah, well, then you find out you have to go back to doing the opposite in order to keep everything else together. Huh, steep learning curve. Ironic might well be the mot juste.
I knew this would get... complicated, just didn't quite appreciate how complicated. Thought I could handle it, still think I'll be able to eventually. In a lot of ways it's like starting out with your first command all over again. That period of adjustment, as you find out what works and what doesn't, settle into a style. Yeah, that's it, it's a matter of finding the style again, getting the balance back. Learn to put your feelings into a box again and sit tight on the lid when you have to.
Opening the line of communication is going to be tricky though. Or maybe... not. That's the sound of his key in the lock, and the door quietly closing as he stands just inside it, looking slightly wary.
"Hey."
"Hey. Come on in. Want a drink?"
"Uhh, no, better not. I'm driving."
"Oh. Not staying, then."
"Probably not tonight."
Shit. I wave vaguely towards the couch. "Sit down anyway, take the load off for a while."
He does, peeling off his jacket, and for once, taking the time to lay it down reasonably tidily, fussing over it quite uncharacteristically, not quite willing to meet my eyes despite little glances in my direction. Time to take the bull by the horns, I guess. Some situations don't get any better with waiting.
"So, who starts?"
"Pardon?"
"I figured, since you're not staying over, you came here to talk. And you're probably right this time, we do need to talk. I made you a promise, after all. So, who starts?"
"Guess I do." A pause, a deep breath, then he looks me right in the eye.
"You killed him. Alar, I mean. You knew he was right behind you and you deliberately murdered him."
As opening gambits go, that's a surprise. I expected him to want to deal with the shit I dished out to him first. Might have known he'd go for the bigger picture.
"I prefer to think of it as justice."
"Not your decision to make, Jack. Especially not out of revenge for making you look like a fool."
"That what you think it was? Not a very flattering assessment."
"What would you call it then?"
"Pragmatism, Daniel, I'd call it pragmatism. And for once mixed with a dash of idealism. Alar would have been a huge problem on Earth, not his technology, that would have been a great asset, but Alar himself. His politics without his technology. Fascism, eugenics, genocide and fanaticism all nicely wrapped up in a persuasive package. He was a madman, Daniel – not a slavering psycho, I'll grant you, but the worst sort of madman, a reasonable madman. The type that I've seen a dozen times before, in 'Nam, in Afghanistan, in Iraq, hell, even sometimes in the government. Trust me, Daniel, the world's a better place without him. Shit, the Universe is a better place without him. People like that suck the good guys in, change them into bad guys before they realise what's hit them."
"I think you're kidding yourself calling it pragmatism, Jack. It sounds like an emotional response to me. Or justification after the fact. But regardless, it still wasn't your decision to make."
"Hell, I call 'em as I see 'em. That's what command is all about. Your tax dollars at work, saving all your other tax dollars that would be wasted on a trial."
"Don't try to be flippant. I know you don't really believe that, not deep down. That would make you no better than him."
"Actually, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but this time I do. Really believe that we're better off without him, I mean. And it's not justification after the fact either: I thought he was a threat then, and I do still – just not the sort of threat that I intend to put into my mission report. I can live with it, and I can't really say that I'm sorry about it. I'm a lot sorrier about all the other stuff that happened on this mission. Stuff between you and me."
His face is unreadable, for once. It usually telegraphs exactly what he's feeling. But now, when I could really use the help... nada.
"Uh hmm. That's, uh, that's something else I've been wondering about too."
Dammit, he's not helping me out at all here. Just sitting on the couch, leaning forward, elbows on knees, peering at me over the top of his glasses. Still, you started it, Jack m'boy, you started all the temperamental stuff, so suck it up and try to put it right again.
"Daniel, I... don't really know... I mean, I'm sorry. I meant what I said back there by the DHD. I WAS shortsighted, I was concentrating too much on pulling off a coup, getting the things we needed. I was under pressure from the brass and I caved in. And I was rude. Regardless of the flak I was taking, I should have given you your place on the team. I am sorry. Really."
The pause between us stretches out.
"Okay, apology accepted. As long as you'll accept mine too, for pushing you. Which I did." And he flashes me a brilliant smile, albeit a short-lived one. Yes! Three hearty cheers for academic balance.
But then he spoils the whole moment by throwing up one of his hands.
"However... that only deals with the effects. I'm more interested in the causes. I guess what I'm saying is, is this going to happen on a regular basis, or was it just a one-time thing? 'Cause I'm not sure I want to waste my career being your whipping boy." He shoots a quick glance at my face, adding sternly, "And please don't do anything other than take that last unfortunate turn of phrase at face value."
Well, we're not completely washed out here, even if I'm not quite off the hook yet. His sense of humour's still functioning. There's still a chance if I choose my words carefully. No BS here, no wisecracks, O'Neill, or you'll blow it. You promised him a while ago that you would try to talk about stuff, and you told him the exact same thing not ten minutes ago. Now's the time to put your money where your mouth is. I chew my lip for a moment before taking a deep breath. Okay, for him, I can do this. I can. I need another swallow of my drink, though. Guess when it comes right down to it, breaking the habits of a lifetime can be tough. Daniel leans back in the couch, arms folded, and waits, watching me gravely.
"I was thinking, when we were on Euronda, just after our first... disagreement... that this is really hard. It's tricky, being in love with someone on your team. There're two ways to go – too hard, or too soft. Normal doesn't seem to be an option at the moment, not for either of us, I'd guess. This thing... us... our relationship... is still too new. And it means too much, at least to me it does. Neither of us is acting like we used to, at least, I don't think it's just me. You push too hard, I react too loudly. You push harder, I get louder. It comes off as odd, 'cause it's got an edge to it, it's much more personal now."
"What, you're saying that people are gossiping about us?"
"No, I'm not saying that. Sure, Carter and Teal'c have noticed that something's up, neither of them are stupid, but I don't think it's got any further than them. And I don't think they have any idea exactly what's up. I'm not saying that it won't happen again, either. I am saying that I think it will happen less, that it's got to, that we'll find a balance, now that we both know what's happening. It's a different kind of pressure, one we've... one I've not figured out how to deal with yet. But we will. I will."
"Ya think?" The unconscious mimicry makes me grin a little. But he soon wipes that one off my face.
"I've been thinking how we could make it easier. I've been thinking I should ask for reassignment for a while, take some of the pressure off. Maybe go to SG5 for a bit."
I make an instinctive gesture of protest, and he adds hurriedly, "Don't worry, I'll think of some convincing explanation."
Over my dead body! No way does he go through that 'gate on a regular basis without me watching his back. I don't do noble and self-sacrificing, at least not very often. I do possessive, at least with my archaeologist, and I pride myself on doing it very well. Can't say that to him, though. He's way too smart to accept being possessed. He might give himself, but he won't allow himself to be taken.
"What do you think? Would that help? Just until we find our feet?"
"It's your decision. I would rather you didn't, I think we could work this thing out, but I wouldn't block you." Much. No, squash that thought – if he decides to re-ass, you can't let yourself do a damn thing about it as his CO or as his lover. Not if you really want this thing to last. You can only hold on by letting go. You don't have to like it much though.
He flashes another small, quick smile, little more than a twist of the lips. "Thank you for that. I haven't decided to do that for sure, you understand. It's just something I was leaning towards, just one of several... options."
"The others being..?"
"Oh, same old, same old – you know, resign from the program, finish with you..."
"No!"
"... but I discounted the second one pretty quickly, once I'd cooled down..."
Thank you, thank you God! Wait up – you haven't discounted the first yet?
"... and I don't think resigning from the program is much of a choice either. Not for either of us. So it's pretty well coming down to SG1 or SG5. Whether I think we can work this thing out or we can't, when there's so much at stake."
"We can try."
"We have been trying, we just don't seem to be getting anywhere."
"We can try harder then. Neither of us ever thought it was going to be easy."
"True."
Another long pause. I want to know what he's deciding, but I'm really scared to ask – guess I have a good idea which way he's going to jump.
"We still good?"
"Umm, sorta... Getting there maybe."
"Daniel."
"Jack?"
"Bed? Not sex, just... holding? " He's interested, considering. I can tell that much just by looking. When he answers his voice is firm and quiet, but regretful.
"No, Jack. Not this time. I need some time to think some more, and..." he gives a lopsided little grin, "... I can't really think properly when you're anywhere near me and naked."
"Oh. Okay."
Abruptly, he stands and picks up his jacket, quickly shrugging himself into it. "Yeah, well. I should go. I'll let myself out. See ya."
"Yeah."
Say something, for crying out loud. Say something to stop him from leaving, you moron. You know you really don't want to be home alone tonight. Aah, crap, that's the front door shutting quietly behind him. Too late. Okay, just me and the bottle it is then. You're never alone with a bottle, and it doesn't talk back.
God, this house is quiet.
Time for another drink.
FINIS