Chapter Text
He knew that he was attracting attention. A man in military uniform, whether a private or a general, did not walk aimlessly with a lost expression on his face in the middle of a busy airport, which was precisely what he was doing at the moment. People looked at him curiously if he lingered, or as he wandered with both hands in his pockets, head bent, slowly strolling as if he had not a care in the world. They would then do a double take when they noticed the star on his uniform.
If only he was in a better mood, maybe Jack would be enjoying this. He was consciously aware of always wanting to dumbfound people, actually entertaining the idea to do just that. What would happen if he suddenly jumped around, grinning like an idiot? Would an MP take him into custody for embarrassing the US Air Force? The world was safe from that possibility only because he was now in a foul mood.
He had expected that his interrogation would turn bad, yet, despite his mental preparation, he still felt completely worn out and exhausted anyway. Not to mention extremely pissed off.
A loud noise broke him from his reverie, and he found himself staring at a group of young men laughing aloud in the middle of the corridor.
Mid-twenties, Jack thought when he skimmed their faces. Upbeat and educated, he guessed again. Then he dropped his gaze lower. Nice butts, he chuckled to himself then blushed furiously, Brad and Daniel's images suddenly appearing in his head.
"Dad." Brad would say like he often did when he noticed his father's new 'development', "I'm so proud of you."
Jack did not know whether checking out some guy's butt was a progress that deserved such pride. All he knew was that he had started doing it out of a curious sense of obligation and, strange enough, regard for his best friend and oldest son.
"I don't quite understand why," he had confessed to his son the first time he was caught. "Not that I'm interested or anything."
"I suppose you're just broadening your sense of aesthetic taste, Dad," Brad grinned, trying hard to answer politely.
Did he? Jack had wondered. Was it that simple, or... Or maybe he just wanted to please Daniel?
Please him for what?
For giving him hope? Real hope? False hope?
"I'm trying," Jack suddenly muttered to himself.
//Trying for what?// Trying to show that he did consider seeing a man as a...as a..?.
A dark sense of desolation instantly washed over him. Jack gasped then quickly shut his eyes for a moment, cursing himself and tried hard to redirect his thoughts.
He glanced at his watch. Still an hour to go before boarding to Colorado. A whole *eternity* to go.
Wouldn't he kill for...
"General O'Neill!"
Jack turned quickly, and stared at a deeply tanned young man running boisterously along the corridor.
"Well, well..." Jack's face broke into a smile.
The young man stopped in front of him, gasping for breath.
"Sir," he said cheerfully and stretched his hand to shake Jack's. "It's so *great* to see you again."
"Derek Ashcroft." Jack shook the hand warmly. "Finally coming back to western civilization?"
"And wouldn't you know I did it merely just to see you again?"
Jack raised his eyebrows. "Should I feel flattered?"
"I'm not joking!" Ashcroft looked dismayed. "I did! I heard the aftermath of the scandal, and...and...well, there's some interesting news regarding *you* flying around the Middle East gossip mill, so I just couldn't resist not finding you again."
Suddenly felt disturbed, Jack quickly turned his head around and pushed Ashcroft out of the way toward the nearest gate lounge. He dragged him to sit in a secluded corner.
"I'm worried...and, well, curious, about your well being." Ashcroft wiped the sweat on his forehead, completely oblivious of Jack's sudden distress. He was too excited.
"And what do you know? The first stop to the capital of America, and I see...you!"
"Are you alone?"
Ashcroft froze and suddenly *saw* Jack. *Really* saw him, finally. His excited demeanor abruptly turned serious.
"Yes," Ashcroft answered in a lower tone. "You're in trouble, huh?"
"The walls have ears and the air has eyes." Jack rolled his eyes. "Not that I should be worried or anything... Well, unless you're a very well-known and famous journalist."
"I *am* well known and famous," Ashcroft smiled but his tone was serious. "You and reporters don't mix nowadays, huh?"
"It's like consorting with the enemy," Jack nodded. His back straightened when someone came and stood near them. Alarmed, he watched the man opened a magazine, seemingly decided to read while standing.
"I get the feeling that I must go now," Jack said grimly. "I'll see you around."
"Seriously, Sir. Are you in *deep* trouble?" Ashcroft blissfully ignored Jack's urge to leave and caught his wrist.
"Like you haven't guessed that already. Come on, Ashcroft, you're smart. Get lost quickly or you'll suffer the consequences."
The young journalist turned and eyed the man standing nearby. He glanced to see Jack's grim face. Jack thought he heard the young man's brain ticking inside his head. As he had already expected, the journalist instinct won. The eyes behind the glasses grew round and dark. It showed excitement that screamed 'Bingo!'.
Jack sighed.
Ashcroft leaned closer and whispered, "General, I need to know. The rumor mill out there is killing me."
"You're still alive," Jack answered flippantly. "I really have to go."
"What is a Stargate Project, Sir?"
Jack O'Neill stared at him speechless.
Wrong move. Apparently, his sudden inability to respond had twistedly confirmed something in the journalist's mind.
Though it was impossible, Ashcroft's eyes grew even bigger. "Oh God, you... Is it true? Jesus, the gossip is true!"
"What gossip?" Jack felt his heart pounding and sweat broke out from his forehead. "What Project?"
"I helped you out." Ashcroft's fingers squeezed Jack's wrist hard. "You've got to let me in."
Jack stared at him intently for a long minute, heart racing. Finally, he swallowed, then whispered, "Get lost."
"Sir?"
Jack clenched his teeth. "Get out of here before I'm forced to shoot you."
"General O'Neill!"
Jack stood abruptly and walked away.
//Stupid journalist//, he thought grimly when he heard Ashcroft's pounding feet behind him. He kept on looking around, feeling as if *everyone* was now staring at them.
"Sir..."
Jack sighed and whispered loudly, "It's for your own good, damn it!"
"I'll stay away if you want..."
"Yes! Hell, yes, I want it!"
"Just tell me... Tell me, for God's sake."
"I can't tell you anything."
"Is there a top secret project called Stargate?"
Jack turned and stared at him menacingly. "Go *away*."
"Just shake your head if it's a 'no'."
Watching those intelligent, young eyes melted Jack. He bit his lip then finally patted the man's shoulder. He wanted to shake his head, but he couldn't.
"I can't stay and chat. Go away. Watch yourself, okay?"
Ashcroft stared at him with comprehending eyes. He caught on Jack's inability to say 'no'. "I will. Thank you, Sir."
"Stay away from me. I mean it."
Ashcroft didn't answer.
And that was the last time Jack ever saw him.
**************************
Long before man warred with man, the gods battled among themselves.
Indeed, it was as the Wars of the Gods that the Wars of Man began.
-- Zecharia Sitchin, "The Wars of Gods and Men" --
********************************
The existence of Area 9 had always been a mystery to the residents of Colorado. Miles and miles of wire fence, with large signs that read 'DANGER, DO NOT ENTER' and 'MILITARY AREA' every hundred meters, surrounded what appeared to be unoccupied land. As far as anyone could see from the side of the road, there was nothing behind the fence except rolling hills and forest.
Many had speculated about it, and some had even taken action. The fence had survived the angry protesting of anti-nuclear interest groups, environmental groups and antiwar groups. Pressured constantly by the Federal and State of Colorado governments, it had once been opened to the public, with the curious and the media excitedly turning over every stone in every square inch of the land, in hopes of finding something underhanded or nefarious.
Of course, they went home disappointed. There was nothing of interest to be found. Nothing at all, except what appeared to be a surprisingly normal, however, large and sophisticated military base deep inside the wooded area. If anyone wondered about all the secrecy, they just connected it with the fact that this particular base had many more deluxe amenities than a standard military base. All around consensus then was the rationale that its mysteriousness was directly related to a complete waste of taxpayers' monies.
No one suspected that behind the walls of the military compounds lay a bizarre reality that no one ever expected.
Area 9 was now home to 2,000 interstellar refugees from Abydos.
Trapped inside plush apartments, too afraid to experience Earth life that was way beyond their imagination, the refugees spent their days and nights gawking at cable TV and flushing toilets with child-like wonder.
Comprising of mostly women, children and the elderly, many often wondered whether they would always be confined under these conditions. Not many Abydonian men had survived; therefore, it was a question about their repatriation to Abydos and their ability to continue living there. Many parts of their home world were contaminated, all economic activities were crippled, and there were no longer any leaders.
For most of the refugees, the burden of leadership had automatically fallen to Teal'c and the large Jaffa had somehow realized and accepted it, yet, deep inside, the Abydonian women harbored an enormous feeling of contempt towards him. With their fathers, husbands and sons had been annihilated while Teal'c was standing alive before their eyes sparked within them a feeling of betrayal.
To General Hammond, the refugees were another source of intense headache. The US military would need to spend a quantity of money for a long time, and that would eventually raise suspicions and lead Congress barking on their ass and demanding an explanation. Keeping the Stargate Project properly funded was already a pain, not to mention doubling up the expenditure.
Of course, the money matter was presently the simplest thing concerning the refugees. Grief, desperation, fear, helplessness and the sense of betrayal were etched deeply in each Abydonian eyes he knew that social unrest was just around the corner.
Hammond realized that regarding the interests of the Abydonians, he depended on Teal'c and no one else. Still vaguely unfamiliar and not entirely trusting on each other, it was hard for him to fully accept his dependence on the Jaffa. He had faith in Jack and surely, his oldest friend would never fail him. So far, all of Jack's staff was honorable and trustworthy. Why should it be so difficult for him to rely on Teal'c?
But there were evidences that seriously disturbed him. Clearly before his eyes, he could see that the pressure and responsibility were exhausting the man. Hammond did not doubt that the Jaffa was secretly suffering an emotional breakdown. It was a good thing that Teal'c appeared to be overcoming it, if only Hammond could trust the exterior composure and good judgment, but the risk of burnout was too great.
That and the fact that the Jaffa was now dating Major Samantha Carter.
Hammond had already made up his mind that it would be Teal'c who would lead the Abydonian refugees back to their home world. The capability of leadership was there, reflected clearly in his obsidian eyes. Yet, he knew that the Jaffa's heart wasn't in it. He was hesitating.
Seeing Major Samantha Carter opened up other possibilities for both Teal'c and the Stargate administration: making the Jaffa a permanent member of the SG-1.
It was a pretty interesting possibility for both point of views, yet, Hammond did not know how he should feel about this and all the other potential implications and complications.
It was too soon to consider the fact that Teal'c might truly be in love with his attractive colleague, and maybe he would eventually get over it, but it was having a negative effect on his stability. A stability that was clearly needed at this time.
"There haven't been any regulations crossed, General," Jack had assured him once, too keen in keeping Teal'c. "Technically, Teal'c isn't a US military officer. It's fine for Sam to keep dating him."
"It has never been a good thing for military personnel to be in a relationship with one of their teammates. Especially, if they're in a combat unit. It could overshadow their judgment."
Jack had given him odd look. "What're you gonna do about it, then?" he had asked quietly.
Hammond did not like the tone in his voice, therefore he had answered carefully, "I'm not going to do anything, because like you said, no rules are being broken. But I am going to warn them. If there is any evidence that the relationship is clouding their objectiveness, I'll separate their postings." Curiously, he had watched as sudden sadness appeared in Jack's eyes and continued, "But then again, Teal'c might choose to go back to his home world once everything is done."
Even up until this minute, Hammond had been puzzling over Jack's reaction. The man had been silent for a long time and looked...depressed. It was unlike him to show such a deep despair over the fate of his colleagues. He had wondered if it truly was genuine empathy for Sam and Teal'c or if there was something else related that had bothered him greatly.
Three months had passed since the attack on Abydos, and the Gate had been in stand down for that time. It took an extended month for the individuals at the Pentagon to finish their dealings in Washington; firing several generals closely connected to Maybourne, conducting some cover-ups, deflecting prying Congressmen, trying hard to calm the media and quell the public speculation frenzy. Then, at the start of the second month, the real business with the Stargate Project people began.
The investigation was proceeding very, very slowly but carefully. Hammond knew that part of it was caused by the fact that not much progress had been reached in the public relations department. The media was still hounding them, unsatisfied that there wasn't proper closure over the assassination of Saddam Hussein, the disappearances of the chemical bombs and Maybourne, and the sudden change of command in the Air Force. They never bought into the simple explanation, and their sharp noses had already sniffed out even trickier and more spectacular secrets.
If only they knew.
He had taken multiple journeys to DC, and had already caught on to the tendency for the Pentagon to hastily cover up everything. He didn't like it one bit when the scenario seemed to be pointing to Jack as the scapegoat. He had done all he could to prevent that from happening and so far, it had worked. It was very fortunate that Jack had also thought this over beforehand and had already formed some contingency plans of his own. Like having friends from the media, and using his trump card as a publicly well-known figure in the whole mess. However, the whole game turned out to be much too dangerous for Hammond's liking. How long would Jack be able to use his connections to the media as his safety net? And wouldn't that position make him even more vulnerable? If the military felt like it, they could start unnecessary blood shed.
Gloomily, Hammond forced his mind away from the depressing thoughts.
Scandals, Teal'c and Sam, Jack as a scapegoat, Abydonian refugees... Well, once in a while there was still a diamond in the rough.
Doctor Daniel Jackson.
The young man surprised and delighted Hammond a great deal. He admitted that he had underestimated him. Considering the unique circumstances for his joining SG-1, somehow he thought the man wouldn't live up to the high standards they had placed for his job requirement. He was too young and too emotional, qualities that could lead the man into becoming a hard-to-control, principled pain in the ass.
But he turned out to be the savior of the day.
Daniel Jackson had been helping Teal'c take care of the refugees, but unlike the Jaffa, his 'Tau'ri' background had made him more at ease in guiding them to prepare for the sudden culture shock of living on Earth. Daniel Jackson had the charm and warmth to be a tour guide--Hammond smiled with the analogy--a personal counselor, an objective outsider, and an enthusiastic student. His gestures provoked the feelings of security in the adults, flattery in the elders, and joy to the youngsters. Curiously, he was also the one that was able to bridge the hostility of the refugees towards Teal'c. A role that was somehow too strange to fathom.
Not to mention that somehow he seemed strangely given off vibes of sexual appeal to the Abydonian women, thus making him an interesting attraction all by himself.
Standing silently behind the darkened window glass of Area 9 command room, he watched as Daniel and Teal'c were surrounded by some of the older women, sitting on the grass under the warm spring sun, looking as if he were having the time of his life.
He broke his reverie when the door opened, revealing the rather surprised face of Jack O'Neill.
"So there you are, General," Jack grinned. "Never thought that you'd ever leave the Mountain. I've been looking for you."
Hammond smiled warmly. "Can't help wondering about the refugees, I thought I might have a look."
Jack stood beside him, his eyes quickly caught on the scene Hammond had been secretly watching.
"They're doing fine, I suppose," Jack said quietly.
"Why are you looking for me?"
Jack sighed. One of his hands roughened his hair, a gesture of exasperation. "I'll be going to Washington again tonight."
"So soon? Why didn't you just stay there? It's only been three days since you came back from there."
Jack shrugged. "The Pentagon said some new findings came up and I had to return immediately."
"For how long?"
"Dunno. It depends on the aftermath."
They both stood silently for a long time.
"Geez," Jack finally said, "what a mess."
"Keep me informed," Hammond's tone was quiet. "And don't get any ideas."
Jack glanced at him with a look of attempted humor. "Give me a break, Sir. I'm not a kid."
"I know *you*," Hammond smiled. Then, his face turned serious. "No independent maneuvers. Think about the refugees. Think about your kids."
Jack chewed on his lower lip.
"I've done what I can," Hammond continued. "Therefore I need your cooperation."
Jack nodded and threw him a brief smile. "See you in a couple of days, Hammond."
"Get out of here, Jack." Hammond returned the smile.
Once the door closed, he released a long breath. "Godspeed, O'Neill. Godspeed."
****************************
Of course Daniel always did odd things when he was on his 'high', Jack thought warmly. Today, it seemed that he was in his 'anthropological' mood. Surrounded by his usual, well, this time older, admirers, he was playing a strange music tape from...
"That's Brad's boom box, I believe," Jack said rather loudly.
Daniel raised his eyes and, catching sight of Jack, his whole face brightened immediately, like a sun burst out from the sky.
Jack swallowed. He always had that effect on Daniel. *That* never failed to make him feel warm and flattered. And uncomfortable. *That* always reminded him of difficult, complex thoughts and feelings he hated because he could not afford complex thoughts and feelings when he had so much trouble on his hands.
But of course, he couldn't help himself for returning such a warm welcome. He felt his mouth break into a huge grin.
"Thief." He perched himself to sit beside him.
"I *borrowed* it, Jack." Unconsciously, Daniel scooted closer toward his friend.
Jack watched Teal'c sitting quietly with his eyes closed. Then he realized that the other Abydonian women had also done the same thing, all seemingly undisturbed by his sudden appearance.
"Don't tell me. Keel-no-reem?"
"Jack." Daniel raised his eyebrows, faking a surprise look. "You pronounced it correctly."
"Don't be a smart ass. What the hell is that noise? And why are these people looking as if they've had constipation for a week?"
Daniel bit his lips, trying to stifle his laughter. "This is Charlotte Church's tape. Do you know the Welsh singer?"
"She sings like a banshee."
Daniel again mocked a fake surprise look. "You *know* a banshee? Wow, your vocab had improved tremendously."
Jack glowered at Daniel's laughing face annoyingly, but suddenly was caught with an overwhelming urge to pinch the man's cheeks and...and... Damned him for suddenly remembering the nerve gas-laden underground tunnel in Abydonia and the brief kiss they had shared there.
He quickly slapped Daniel's head playfully, hoping that his friend hadn't seen his sudden blush.
Daniel smiled, oblivious of it.
"It's an experiment. I've been listening to them play their native music, and I just couldn't help but make a little comparison."
"To Charlotte Church?"
"Don't look at me like that. I'll try to explain it to you slowly, okay?"
"What happened to the Rolling Stones? Some people said it's good enough to represent a majority of earth civilizations," Jack continued.
"Jack, I think you're still trapped in the sixties. Man. You're so old."
Jack scowled, "Hey."
"Listen." Suddenly, Daniel reached for his hand.
The contact was so sudden it created a surprising jolt and made Jack's heart skip a bit.
Daniel's palm was incredibly warm and soft, Jack noticed clinically.
Daniel squeezed it softly, and for one brief second, Jack felt as if his senses were overloaded. He watched their joined hands with wonder, then slowly moved his eyes upward.
Daniel was closing his eyes solemnly.
"Dan..."
"Ssshhh..."
Daniel never released his hand.
Jack sat silently, stomach muscles frozen with an irrational fear that his small movement would break whatever confusing moment he was in at the moment and study his friend's face.
This wasn't new to him.
After finally admitting that his friend was...'pretty' //A man isn't *pretty*! Handsome, yes. Good looking, yes. But not *pretty*//, he realized that his senses suddenly blossomed broadly. Everything he had taken for granted now looked, smelt and felt anew.
For example, he never noticed that Daniel's skin was so... *smooth* before. Now, he realized that those face looked like didn't have any *pores*.
//"Movie star skin," Brad had said to him//.
And it looked so...*soft*.
Hell, no man's skin was supposed to look like that, which ridiculously made him to rethink about *those* stereotyping kind of explanation.
//"Do you think that being gay would eventually affect the hormone system, no matter how small it is?" he had asked carefully.
"Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm automatically a hermaphrodite... Or effeminate." Daniel's answer was followed by a week long of cold shoulder//.
Ye God, but the man was so *pretty*.
*Distractingly* pretty.
Jack unclenched his stomach muscles, and again focused his sight to their joined hands.
//He's in love with me//, he thought. As always, this thought was immediately followed by a deep sense of sadness. It was those kind of knowledge that left him confused and helpless. He didn't know what he should do about it.
"Can you feel it?" Daniel suddenly whispered.
"Feel what?" Jack stared back at that flawless skin. One bright blue eye opened with annoyance.
"You're not listening."
With Daniel's palm warming his wrist like that, Jack grudgingly admitted that his mind was nowhere near the songs.
"The soul of the songs, Jack. I chose them for the Abydonians because they reflected our nature."
"Huh?"
Amazing how patient Daniel was with him.
His friend gave him a gentle smile, closing his eyes again.
"Can you hear?" Daniel asked in soft, deep tone. "It's like a singing wind and clouds. I suppose the winds sang to them in Wales and Ireland. It drifts you, making you float on the sky, it brings the sun closer and you feel its warmth as it gently touches your face."
It did not take an effort for Jack to really listen because he was suddenly charmed like a tired baby listening to a lullaby.
"It carries you over the ocean, over the hills and mountains, over the green pastures. It echoes your surroundings, giving you a sense of freedom but never isolation..."
As if a TV was brought up into his mind, the picture was vivid in Jack's imagination.
"Viva, viva...Nebulae..." Daniel whispered solemnly.
Song of the clouds. A woman singing.
And Jack listened.
The woman's voice was eerily haunting. It brought memories of church choirs and horror movies, but instead of disturbing, it gave Jack a sense of familiarity. As if he was truly at home.
"She sounds like an angel," Jack murmured and watched as the gentle smile on his friend's face broadened.
Jack lifted his eyes, watching the blue sky, wondering why the moving white clouds resembled a group of men with gigantic wings.
Flying.
He had been there. Flying. Among the clouds.
He never considered that as romantic.
Not before now.
//Time stopped//.
"Now listen to this, Jack," Daniel slowly turned and gazed at him softly.
The song ended, and Jack suddenly felt trapped by those beautiful eyes. He felt grateful when a short moment later a new song began, giving him a chance to glance at the boom box, escaping the eyes that conveyed love and faith to him.
Feeling disappointingly back to reality.
//What did I do to deserve such love? It'll burn him// Jack felt a sudden urge to cry. //It'll burn *me*//.
"Now, it's singing water and rain," Daniel said gently. He squeezed Jack's hand tighter, still refusing to release it.
A sound of a drop of water echoed, followed by familiar noises.
"There's that trickling sound," Jack said sincerely, but immediately felt stupid.
But Daniel didn't laugh.
"Yes." His eyes swept gently across Jack's face. "Water. It surrounds your aching heart, dousing the fires in your soul with its gentle coolness. Giving an oasis to thirsty souls. Giving life to the land, rejoicing birth to seeds and seedlings."
Water.
Ocean.
"Even the rock of Gibraltar was crumbled by the sea waves," Jack mumbled, entranced by the realization of beauty in Daniel's words. Oh, he could picture them. Clearly. Vividly.
Blue ocean waves. Gently brushing the tip of the sandy land.
Even the rock of Gibraltar had surrendered...
"Yes. Gently, Jack. The waves didn't destroy. They took it down. Slowly."
Daniel stopped for a moment, then whispered, "Persistently. Eternally. Small piece by small piece."
Jack closed his eyes.
"Just like love, Jack. Patience. Faith," Daniel's voice faltered a little. "Even the rock of Gibraltar stumbled."
Jack snorted sadly, "And they said that it was impossible."
"Nothing is impossible."
"They...they say that the rock of Gibraltar is steep and sharp."
"Yet, after thousands of years it was smoothed and mellowed."
"By the ocean waves."
"By the ocean waves, indeed."
And Daniel's voice... Daniel's voice was like a soft gentle wind to Jack's ears. Ocean waves. Gentle. Breezing. Cool. Sweet.
Daniel's voice was had a music of its own.
Both men were so caught up with the sounds of Charlotte Church praising rain and river flowing that neither of them realized Teal'c had opened his eyes and was watching them closely.
The Jaffa saw the beautiful seduction of Daniel Jackson, and he could not help but smile to see the General had been caught, entranced and helplessly unable to prevent himself from not falling into the trap.
He might be a warrior, but he had poetry in his soul. He admired beauty, and to him, this courting was the most exquisite he had ever seen in the Tau'ri. It was just a matter of time before the General succumbed to the incredible charms of Daniel Jackson.
Once he won his battle with his own demons.
And what of Daniel Jackson?
The man also harbored demons of his own, and Teal'c sadly wondered when they would all be released from them.
"General O'Neill!"
The moment broke.
Not only did Daniel and Jack lose their moment, even some of the Abydonian women opened their eyes, annoyed.
Jack caught sight of a private running toward him, and sighed.
"I have to go," he said apologetically. He didn't miss the sudden disappointment on Daniel's face and berated himself for that.
"See you tonight?"
"I'm afraid I have to go back to DC tonight."
"Again?" Daniel's voice was dismayed, yet, full of worry. "Why?"
Jack gave him an exasperated look. "Why else? Anyway, I have to go. See you. Teal'c."
Teal'c nodded.
Daniel bit his lip and turned off the tape.
Jack straightened his stance and walked quickly away from them, all too aware of the sudden deafening silence.
Suddenly, one of the oldest among the women said something to Jack and it made the General stop.
"What did she say?" Jack looked at Daniel puzzlingly.
"She wished you back soon to be the sun and brighten Daniel Jackson's day," Teal'c answered immediately.
"Oh."
Daniel's face was as red as a beet.
Jack bit his lips sheepishly, feeling himself blushing awkwardly. He fidgeted a little then smiled crookedly toward the woman.
"Tell her, I will." He turned quickly and went to the private waiting for him.
And Teal'c had never expected to see that Daniel's beaming face could ever eclipse the sun.
**************************
Daniel sat up abruptly. Still caught up on some lingering cobweb of his nightmare, he reached for the glass of water perched on his bedside table and gulped it down in one long swallow.
Trembling, he stood and stumbled into the bathroom. It took a long moment before he could stare at the face in the mirror above the sink. Reflected back at him was the faint shadow of sleeplessness, fear showing in the dilated pupils of his eyes, and the sweat drenched locks of his hair.
He wondered why after all this time the nightmare had returned.
He thought he had moved passed this.
He remembered the first month after his return from Abydos--the constant nightmares, his depressing guilt, his self-loathing. And he had wondered at that time, why no one else had noticed.
Not that he wanted anybody else to notice his psychological problems or anything, but he secretly entertained the thought of being rescued from what he felt was quicksand, slowly swallowing him little by little.
He drank endless cups of coffee when the nights began to fade but mornings were still in hiding. He would jump at the littlest thing and caught himself losing attention all day. He had tried hard to bury himself in old scrolls and journals, and had started losing patience in teaching Teal'c to speak English.
So, God bless him, it was a miracle that he had come to live with an ex-Special Forces *General*.
His hero.
*Nothing* would be missed by him.
It was a good thing that Jack seemed to understand that he didn't need *this* to be articulated out in the open. He showed his care in his own charming way. A questioning glance here and there, a simple morning greeting like '...you 'kay?' after another rough night, and a piece of chocolate cake delivered to his room during his hardest days. Oh, Jack cared all right and thoughtfully so.
And the funny thing was, it was enough for Daniel.
The General simply knew that Daniel needed to face his demons on his own.
And that was what was hard. Boy, it was hard. The nightmares. The constant torment of guilt. The horrifying memory.
Then one day, Jack told him, "If it helps, you can try the church."
Despite himself, he had gone there and made himself sit inside the claustrophobic confessional booth, all the time wondering why he was there. Until he finally said the words, "I killed someone."
Then, it had gotten better.
The night after the confession, realizing what he really needed to now do, he found Jack and made the most difficult but also the most important request of his life.
"I want to go back and bury Sha're for good."
Jack was silent for a long moment, before he sighed. "Her body might not be there any longer."
"Maybe," Daniel nodded. "But I need a proper closure."
Jack understood of course. But there were logistics that needed to be worked out. "The lifting of the 'gate travel ban might take a while."
"I'm not going anywhere," Daniel said sincerely.
Then he smiled.
Life had turned easier after that.
So, it surprised him when he realized he had been wrong, that what he thought he had consciously buried from the past was still there. Hidden deep inside his subconscious, curled in hiding like a venomous snake, waiting for the right moment to uncoil and strike.
Daniel forced himself to abandon his quiet musing and exited the bathroom.
He stood forlornly in the darkened hallway, looking at the empty bedroom of his friend.
It had only been a few hours, but never before he missed him as much as he had felt at the moment.
****************************
There was something akin to terror when it came to unfinished military business. With it came complex, extensive, but deadly cover-ups, that one could envision leaving thick trails of blood on the ground. It also left a trail of once articulate people suddenly turning mute, once keen observers becoming blind, and innocent by-passers turned guilty by association.
Jack had been in those kinds of situations before. By instinct, he knew exactly the depth of the impending doom looming upon him, and this time, it was going to be apocalyptic. Doomsday. No chance of survival. A situation of 'once you're there, you're out for good'.
Iraq had been a case of the most awful unfinished military business he had ever come across but now, when combined with the unfinished business of interstellar war and alien refugees, it was now worse than the worst. Added with exposure to a government panicked by sudden over-expenditure budgeting, all-time high unpopularity with the press and the people, and a lousy relationship with Congress, it was the mother of worse than worst unfinished military business.
That was why it surprised him a great deal when, instead of MPs ready to drag him to the brig and persecute him for being a pain in the ass, it was Chance Wiley, his former aide, that picked him up from the airport.
Jack quietly studied the obviously pleased young man and muttered, "Your cheerfulness is making me nervous. Something stuck on my teeth?"
"Sir." Chance saluted then grabbed his hand to shake. "It's been a long time."
"Good Lord, Chance. Are you actually glad to see me?"
The face before him reddened with a touch of embarrassment. "Yes, Sir."
Jack grinned.
Chance nervously took Jack's bag and led the General out.
"How's everybody at the office?" Jack fell into step beside him, putting his hand on Chance's shoulder. What was the name of the man that had replaced him? General Fried. No wonder Chance looked happy to see him.
"Fine, Sir. Fine. The...umm...girls send their regards, Sir. They wondered when you'll come to visit with the rest of your family. I suppose Anna is kinda missing Paul, Sir."
"Ha," Jack glanced at Chance with a conspiratorial look in his eyes. "Still feisty and being a pain are they?"
"Never met a better bunch, Sir," Chance nodded with barely concealed humor on his face.
"Chance, my man, you've been blessed. Appreciate your colleagues before you find yourself posted in dull, boring, all-ugly-men stations deep in the desert."
If only he hadn't caught himself, Chance would have rolled his eyes.
"So," Jack turned serious. "I get the feeling that you aren't gonna drive me to the Pentagon."
Chance looked sober. "No, Sir."
Jack raised his eyebrows. "I thought so." He bit his lip, pondered. "Why you, then?"
"Sir?"
"Why are you being picked on as my chauffeur? Last time I remember, you're an aide, not a driver."
Chance's face turned a bit panicky. "I...well...Sir, there're some funny circumstances going on at HQ and it was just a coincidence that I was chosen."
Jack turned and studied the young man. Quietly, he asked, "You aren't going to kill me or anything, Chance?"
Chance's surprise was priceless. "Sir!"
"Just kidding, just kidding!"
Chance didn't reply. But when they finally found their car and Chance opened the door for him, Jack saw his former aide trying hard to hide his smile.
"I know what you're going to say, and I agree, Chance. I'm an ass." There was no malice or bitterness in Jack's tone.
"You're welcome, Sir."
They drove silently, both deep in thought.
"So, mister aide-turned-chauffeur, where're we going?" Jack stared silently at the grayness of DC. A dreary spring. What a bummer.
"The White House, Sir."
'Oh great.'
********************
Feeling ironically amused, Jack thought he could smell blood even from a mile away. The men that stood to greet him in the Oval Office were glaring and turning up their noses like dogs assessing foes or potential food.
The President, the Secretary of Defense and the Chief of the Air Force.
Fantastic.
Jack saluted.
"Well, Jack, how are you?" the newly elected President spoke in his lazy drawl. He was a short, smallish man, with curly white-blond hair that for a moment reminded Jack of a poodle.
"Fine, Sir," Jack answered, compressing his urge to snort. The President calling him on a first name basis should make him nervous. It spoke volumes of one attempting an apology *before* committing a reprehensible act.
He stole a glance to the Chief of the Air Force, General Epstein's replacement, whom, as usual, was studying him in his intimidating manner. They had had met just a week ago and Jack remembered that he had not exactly made a great impression on the man. Still, he wondered what the man's real opinion of him was. He was one of those Generals Jack wasn't familiar with.
After they were all seated, Jack curiously waited to see who would play Gabriel in delivering the news of his fate.
Amazingly, it was the President.
"Jack, let me tell you why I wanted you here. I'm concerned."
//Well, here we go//.
"Both houses of Congress have expressed their concern about the situation out there."
//Yeah. International boycott. All time high unpopularity...//
"They tell me that the American people; champions of freedom, justice and human rights; are troubled about bad boys running around the world, wrecking havoc, and claiming to do it in their defense. I'm telling you, Jack, they're troubled. Deeply troubled..."
//*Bad* boys?//
"It has shamed the whole country, did you know that? And I agree. *We* are the superpower in the universe. We don't need to kill a little country's president. It's not like the little country is going to ruin our economy..."
//Or our ego//, Jack thought.
"And I'll go on record as saying that such actions are nothing short of a crime against American pride..."
Jack moved a bit. "If I may speak..."
"Be quiet, General. That's an order," the Secretary of Defense hissed.
Yet, the President kept rambling on as if no one had interrupted him.
"...and I'm aware that the previous man that sat in my chair had some responsibility in it... In fact, I intend to request a thorough investigation on the man so we can clarify some accusations on me. That's possible, isn't it, General?" The President turned toward the Secretary of Defense.
"We all agree that these are purely self-motivated actions, Sir. It has nothing to do with orders," the man answered calmly.
Jack gritted his teeth. This was the part where 'anything-happens-we-will-deny-any-responsibility-of-the-actions'. He had known that, but it really pissed him off.
"Huh." The President shrugged, as if realizing that for the first time. "Anyway, where was I, Jack?"
"Bad boys, Sir," Jack said.
"Bad boys? Uh, yeah. Well, as I was saying, we wanted to take hold of General Maybourne as the scoundrel that caused all this commotion, but since he isn't around anywhere, his field command at that time should bear the responsibility. Was that how it should sound, Miles?"
The Secretary of Defense nodded sourly.
"What're you going to do, Sir?" Jack, his face not showing any emotion, asked in a calm tone.
"Well, see, Jack, I just noticed that you were the field command at the time..."
"And I did not act on General Maybourne's orders, Sir. In fact, I *neutralized* the damage he would have done."
"Yes, yes. I know that, General. Problem is, you were also there..."
Jack turned to glare at the hypocrites in front of him. The Secretary of Defense glared back, while the Chief of the Air Force had the good grace to look elsewhere, pretending as if the carpet was interesting.
"Are you going to arrest me?"
The President looked startled. "What? Oh, no, no. Nothing like that, Jack."
"I was just wondering."
The Chief of the Air Force suddenly spoke for the first time, "The President had taken notice that we need to be grateful for what you have done, however..."
"Are you going to boot me out of the Air Force?" Jack asked with a nonchalant tone while at the same time suddenly realizing what the consequences would be.
//No Stargate//.
The thought of all the refugees, Daniel's plea to bury Sha're on Abydos...
For one suffocating moment, he thought he was being sucked into a quicksand.
"Let me finish, General."
//Odd//, Jack thought. The Chief of the Air Force's voice sounded gentle to his ears. He stared closely at the man, and to his sudden relief, realized that he had at least one ally in the room. Carefully, he kept the knowledge from showing on his face. The Secretary of Defense had been staring suspiciously at them.
"We still need to ensure the public that we have the villain. And since you're the only one who knew where Maybourne was, we thought that you should be the one to bring him here."
Shocked, Jack straightened his back. //But Maybourne...//
"I don't know exactly where he is, Sir."
The President laughed. "Well, Miles. I can see how right you are about loyalty among the men in the military."
Jack thought both Generals in the room rolled their eyes.
"Honestly, Sir," Jack turned to the President, "I'm telling you the truth."
"Nonsense, General." The Chief of the Air Force turned his attention back to him. "I'm aware that you are now leading a peace mission?"
//A peace mission?// Jack caught the man's eyes puzzlingly, only to suddenly realize that he had meant about the Stargate Project.
He swallowed. "Yes, Sir."
"Well. A perfect mission for us, the old ones, eh? New places for vacation, stimulating colleagues, interesting counterparts. We would kill to have one like that for ourselves."
Jack waited.
"So, I don't think you want such a post being denied to you, right? Especially if you have been planning on it for a long time."
"Sir..."
"The deal is Maybourne," the Secretary of Defense interjected. "Alive ...or even better...dead."
"Miles," the President clapped the man on his shoulder. "All that talk isn't necessary."
Amazingly, the Secretary of Defense ignored him.
Jack said in a quiet tone at the man, "I suppose his death would make the whole thing wrap up more quickly and we all can move on with our lives."
"I'm aware that his betrayal to you will make this the opportunity of your lifetime." The Secretary of Defense gave him a crooked, conspiratorial smile. It fell lifeless on Jack.
"If you regard that as a reward for me, I don't think I deserve it."
"Don't be silly, Jack. You don't. You're still guilty about his crime by association."
"The bad boys, Jack. The bad boys," the President laughed again making Jack want to slap him to shut him up. "You should get to the point, Miles."
"Consider this as lucky for you, Jack. We don't prosecute you, we don't eliminate you from the Air Force, we even give you a second chance to redeem yourself."
"Sir?"
"We have to demote you."
Jack stared, stunned. But then again, it shouldn't have surprised him.
"Based on your crime, we should demote you down three ranks. But it might make some difficulties on your 'mission'. Can't have a Major O'Neill running around with full authority from us, eh?"
//*Three* ranks down?//
"So, three-ranks down is out. Two ranks, however, should make you..."
"We will demote him to Colonel, Sir," the Chief of the Air Force interjected, eyes locked on Jack's, pleading him to keep quiet.
The Secretary of Defense was now glaring at the Chief, "According to the rules..."
"Not many people should be involved," the Chief said. "I'm not sure I want to install another superior for O'Neill, here, risking a leak. So, Colonel it is, effective immediately, and you'll report only to Major General Hammond."
Jack sat in silence. His mind seemed to have stopped functioning.
The President rose from his seat. "Well," he clapped his hands together. "Want to try some great mint chocolate cookies?"
Later, thoughts of thunder and tornadoes came to Chance Wiley's mind to help describe the hurling form of a very pissed Jack O'Neill. The man slammed the door of the car so hard Chance wondered if the vehicle would start to fall apart.
"Keep driving until I say so, Wiley," Jack said in a dangerous tone.
Chance nodded meekly, recognizing doom when he saw it.
Later, after a loud exhale of breath, Jack muttered to him, "Just pretend you're deaf, Chance."
"Yes, Sir."
Jack clenched his jaw for a moment then suddenly screamed at the top of his lungs, causing the car to swerve from Chance's shocked reaction.
"Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!"
*******************
Daniel did not know why he suddenly felt compelled to try the Mexican restaurant he had spotted downtown. The fact that the people sitting by the window eating what appeared to be a *huge* and tasty looking burrito might be the reason it tickled his genetic, natural humankind's reaction to a particular seduction.
Food.
He had taken the twins to the library, lent little Paul to Sam and Teal'c, and locked his office. He didn't have Jack nor Brad for interesting conversation so off he went, looking for some entertainment on his own: exploring Colorado Springs.
Therefore, if he had known beforehand that he would encounter Matthew Garrett, a former customer, admirer and Michael's ex, he would have avoided the place like a plague.
The man greeted him outrageously. Pecking his cheeks noisily, making everyone cringe, advertising to the whole world how 'gay' he was, and of course, Daniel was. The man had also unashamedly questioned him about his life in Colorado Springs, disregarding any ears around him, wondering whether he still lived with his 'dreamy' General.
Daniel wanted so much to strangle the man, that he had wondered why Matthew didn't notice his growl and the murderous look on his face.
He decided that he would forget about the burrito.
It was fine if the guy was going to embarrass him in public. But, Jack ...
And the General wasn't even in 'that' kind of relationship with him.
So, off he went, pissed and generally worried. It took only a moment for him to realize that what his nightmare had started last night was now slipping over into reality.
"Daniel Jackson?"
Daniel swirled so quickly he almost stumbled.
"Y-yes?"
A young man, short, bespectacled, nothing extraordinary, stood staring at him studiously. He offered his hand. "I'm Derek Ashcroft. I couldn't help listening inside..."
The man stopped. He seemed disturbed, yet, puzzled.
"Yes?" Daniel swallowed. His sense of suspicion rose sharply. He thought he had heard that name before.
"Are...are you umm...?"
//This isn't good. Whoever this man is and whatever he's going to ask, this isn't good//. Daniel glanced around, wanting to make a hasty escape.
A cab drove by. He hailed it at the same moment the guy blurted his question.
"Are you General O'Neill's lover?"
Daniel jumped into the cab, almost shouting to the driver to quickly get away from there.
It was a moment later before he realized his fingers were clenched tightly around the newest edition of National Geographic, making its glossy cover damp with sweat from his hands. Loosening his stiffened fingers, he compulsively wiped his forehead, trying hard to calm his heartbeat.
//Oh, this isn't good. This isn't good at all//.
The man asked him if he was Jack's lover.
No. Not that.
The man asked him if he was *General* O'Neill's lover.
A star-rank officer's lover.
*The-man-in-the-military*'s lover. A lover of somebody whose line of job had the rule of 'don't ask don't tell'.
//Oh God//.
Paralyzed with fear, he crumpled his magazine, eyes absentmindedly swept over the rather large title on its cover.
UNCOVERING CHEMICAL BOMBS IN IRAQ.
...and he felt his heart stop beating.
There, printed clearly below the titling...
...BY DEREK ASHCROFT.
//Oh God. What have I done?//
*********************
She was different.
Tall and regal, calm and mature, despite her obvious youth, not beautiful yet extraordinarily attractive, it was not so easy to describe her except that she was a very unique individual. If Teal'c did not know any better, he would have had guessed that she was one of the aristocrats, the daughter of a priest or city official.
The fact was she was an acolyte, apprentice to the late Kasuf himself. That alone explained the intelligence she possessed. But what staggered Teal'c the most was her deep faith in her religion and the fact that somehow she had placed herself to hold the legacy of the Abydonian priests and informally became the spiritual leader. For someone so young, it was unnerving.
Teal'c had never been blindly faithful to his religion, nor paid much attention to it, therefore he didn't feel the need to object to her doings, yet, it was pretty clear to him that it was best to stay away from her. He knew that she fascinated Daniel, and in a way, it relieved him from the burden of keeping in touch with her, or communicating directly. But he knew it was just a matter of time before she would come to him.
"I have the feeling that you do not like me, Warrior Teal'c." She caught him one night as he was taking a stroll on the green outside the Area 9 mess hall. Sam had mentioned that she wasn't staying for the night, therefore he had been rather confused with what he was suppose to do to kill the time. Apparently, Tem was aware of that.
Teal'c bowed his head. "Then I am a fool for denying someone like you, Tem."
Tem gave him a shy smile so sweet it made Teal'c wonder for a moment why he always avoided this very young girl.
"I forgive you," Tem said softly. "But since you knew that I haven't been pleased with the way things are between us, I wish to be in your constant company from now on. It is for the best considering we will be together in the future."
Teal'c caught himself and gave her a nonchalant response. They strolled side by side in silence.
"Have you seen the chronicles I have written?" Tem asked him after sometime, seemingly oblivious of the awkwardness between them.
"Are you resuming the role as a bard, yourself?" Teal'c studied her.
"No one else took the duty, even the elder ones. Therefore, I suppose someone should volunteer to do so." Her face turned grave. "This is a moment any bard would long for, and I do not think I did bad in my writings."
Curious, Teal'c led her to a nearby bench under the park light and sat together.
"Show me," he said.
With fascination, Teal'c saw her withdraw a spiral bound notebook from the folds of her robe. She gave him a sheepish smile. "I could not resist writing in this Tau'ri scroll. Once we return to our home-world, I will rewrite them again on the vellum."
And interesting indeed! Teal'c saw the unsteady lines of her writing, but did not conceal the perfect lettering. He had tried writing with a pen, and had given up. The pen was too small and awkward for his large hands, and he kept on automatically reaching for 'tuwel', or inkbottles in Tau'ri, only to realize that such a thing was no longer needed. He knew it sounded odd, but it angered him because it made the whole concept of the writing experience change so abruptly. That was why he felt himself admiring Tem a great deal for overcoming the obstacles and conquering the new way of writing. She had managed to write so much and perfectly in a short time. A good student she was.
"This is the verse of the great destruction," Tem said in a solemn tone. "Do you want me to read it?"
"Please," Teal'c said.
Tem gave him a shy smile then started reading:
"The sun was risen over the Motherland when the Gods spread their wrath
and the Lord rained upon Abydos, from the skies,
stones and fire and poisoned winds that had come from Tau'ri
and They upheavaled the cities and the whole plain
and all the inhabitants of the cities
and all the vegetation that grows from the ground…"
Teal'c shivered.
"The people, terrified, could hardly breathe
the Evil Wind clutched them
does not grant them another day
Mouths were drenched in blood
heads wallowed in blood
the face was made pale by the Evil Wind…"
Suddenly, Teal'c felt his throat go dry. The verse coming from Tem's mouth was harsh. Harsher than the verses he had heard issuing from the mouths of the priests. What was she doing? Writing harsh verses with the words of 'blood' instead of the usual reference of 'essence of the veins'? A woman yet her writing was more liberal than the men?
He stared at the sharp angles of Tem's features then realized again why she made him uneasy. She scared him.
He wanted her to stop reading, yet, was unable to do so.
"On that day
When heaven was crushed
And the Motherland was smitten
Its face obliterated by the maelstrom
When the skies were darkened
And covered as with a shadow."
Tem stopped, feeling the intense stare of the man beside her. She returned his gaze mutely for a long time.
"Do you have more?" Teal'c softly asked. He thought he should not encourage her. She knew her choice of words were blasphemous. But there was something appealing…
"I have. But they are still in my head." She looked like as if she dared him.
"Tell me."
She locked a calculated gaze at Teal'c. A moment later, her eyes turned bright and softened for some unknown reason. She murmured the words she hadn't yet written.
"On the Motherland fell a calamity
one unknown to man
one that had never been seen before
one which could not be withstood
Causing cities to be desolated
houses to become desolate
Causing stalls to be desolated
the sheepfolds to be emptied
that its rivers flow with water that is bitter
that its cultivated fields grow weeds
that its steppes grow withering plants…."
Tem's cheeks reddened, but she refused to deny Teal'c's gaze.
"It is a harsh verse," Teal'c said quietly. He had been struck in awe yet deeply disturbed to hear such words. "I doubt the elders would like it."
"I cannot write flowers and sweet winds, can I? I cannot pretend the Gods and Goddesses were laughing and procreate in love, can I?" Tem said stubbornly. "What do *you* really think, Warrior Teal'c?"
Teal'c inhaled deeply. He was staggered. The verses were… Powerful.
"I think it was beautiful," he said sincerely.
Tem's bright smile was so heartbreaking; Teal'c quickly averted his stare somewhere.
"Then it is enough for me," Tem said while closing her notebook. "Because I care only to what my future husband will think of me."
She blushed more furiously then abruptly stood. "I will see you again, Teal'c."
Teal'c sat, stunned, watching the small of her back as she departed.
**********************
"Tell me about Teal'c," Brad said.
Sam glanced at him quickly and took a deep breath. She threw her gaze to the crowded mass in front of them, wondering what to say to the sharp young man sitting in front of her.
It was a warm night, perfect for a stroll. However, feeling overwhelmingly wanting to escape from Cheyenne Mountain and everybody from the Stargate Project, including Teal'c whom she had spent the day together with little Paul, she chose Brad as her companion for the night. Jack's oldest son accepted the invitation happily, saying that Daniel probably needed him to be away since he seemed rather tense and irritated.
It was funny to realize that Brad had now turned out to be one of her closest friends. She remembered the time when the young man was bitter and hostile towards her, deeply jealous of his father's affection for her. It was the event in Washington DC that had brought them close. Brad felt he owed her for saving his life when he had almost been kidnapped, and he could not conceal his fascination in knowing 'the other side' of Sam: armed and dangerous, feisty and fierce. To Sam, Brad was the perfect 'girlfriend' she never had. He was also her only lifeline to the 'normal' world, someone whose life wasn't secretive and complicated. It was hard to accept at the beginning, but they realized that they really liked each other.
And now, sitting on the terrace of an Espresso café, watching passersby in Colorado Spring's downtown, the young man asked the dreaded question. Bless his inquisitive soul.
"What about Teal'c?" Sam reached for her cup of coffee, feeling her throat suddenly tighten.
"Well," Brad smiled in that knowing smirk, "the most obvious question is, *what* is he?"
Sam choked on her drink. Brad calmly offered her a napkin and waited.
"Excuse me?" Sam swallowed, feeling her heart drumming furiously.
"Aw, come on, Sam. I'm not stupid. The guy is definitely not of our species. What's with the translation device and the funny marking on his head? Tell me. I wouldn't be at all surprised if you mentioned he was an extraterrestrial or something."
"Brad, I don't know what you're talking about."
Brad sighed in exasperation. "Good God. Me and the twins can put two and two together, okay? We found the Top Secret file, remember? We have ears and brains to translate the vague 'Secrets of the Worlds' statements, okay? And it's not like Teal'c is exactly a *normal* person. I mean, I can see clearly that he isn't from Timbuktu."
Sam smirked. "Well, there's this little country in West Africa…"
"Sa-am," Brad whined. He pouted to see Sam smiling indulgently at him.
"Fine," he shrugged. "I'm just making it easy for you all, you know. Since none of you, including dear Dad, want to admit me and my brother's deep perceptiveness and broad minds, we can try to find out by ourselves."
"Brad," Sam patted his hand, "please respect your father's secrecy about his job, okay? You know that it's *that* dangerous. I know it was a hard thing for him to not reveal anything to you, especially since all the mess he and all of you have been facing lately has doubtlessly made you not ignorant about what was going on anymore. But it's important. It's his duty to make you safe, and not telling you anything is the best thing to do."
Brad studied her silently. "It's that military thing, eh?"
"Yup."
"He's uh…" he started chewing his nail. His bright face turned gloomy and his hidden anxiety started showing again. "He's not gonna… like… dead or anything in this secret job or whatever, will he, Sam?"
Sam caught his anxious gaze and swallowed. What could she say? The young man in front of her deserved honesty not false assurance. Lying was out of the question.
"Let's just hope no such thing is gonna happen, okay? Your father has been into all kinds of hell and he has always come back fine."
Brad nodded.
Some small commotion across the street took their attention. An elderly woman, just emerging from a large supermarket, was shouting in anger over several men, who looked to be the supermarket's security guards. It looked as if she had been caught stealing something and was adamantly denying it. It took sometime before she finally relented and agreed to follow the guards back into the supermarket.
"What do you think they're gonna do to her?" Brad asked in his usual cheeky tone, and Sam knew that whatever somber moments between them before had lifted.
It was her cue to turn the conversation elsewhere.
"How's Tim?"
Startled, Brad frowned a little bit, before smiling softly. "Okay, I suppose," he answered carefully. "He won't be joining me this year, he said he still needs to work sometime longer before moving out of DC."
"So, he'll be here soon?"
"Uh-huh."
"Join the same college?"
Brad 'tsked' a little but he did not answer.
"What's that suppose to mean?" Sam studied the sudden hesitation on Brad's face.
"Sam, do you love Teal'c?"
It caught her off guard. //Back to this topic again?//
"Why're you asking?"
"Please, answer me. I know that you both are kinda dating now. But are you in love with him?"
//Good question//.
"I…" she stopped. Love suddenly became a foreign word to her. What was love suppose to mean in this matter? Did it mean security? Sexual attraction? Devotion?
"I like him," Sam answered in a soft tone. "I have strong feelings for him. Does that answer your question?"
It took a long moment for Brad to reply back. "I know you used to have strong feelings for Dad. And I think I know that you're also strongly attracted to Daniel."
Sam felt herself still.
"Does that confuse you or make you feel more um… *enriched*?"
Sam was speechless. She did not know what to say. Suddenly, a whole, clearer image appeared before her eyes.
She used to be attracted to Jack. And God knew that she had been fancying Daniel since the first time she met him. And Teal'c… Thinking about his strong, naked body just made her shiver.
Could it be true that she actually felt attracted to the three of them?
"The reason I was asking is…" Brad started biting his nail again. "There's this new guy." He stopped, hesitating. "He's the star shortstop on the college's baseball team and I just found out that he's also the president of our college's GLBT club… It's not like I don't love Tim or anything… But this guy… I mean… I know he's cute… and…"
"He's hitting on you?"
"Yeah," Brad smiled sheepishly. "And I think I like it."
"Brad, it's normal to be flattered."
"I like it in a sense that 'I don't want him to know that I already have a steady boyfriend' and 'I want to sleep with him'."
Sam stared at him, not liking what she was hearing one bit.
"I was wondering whether you could tell me how to deal with it, since I think you're also having the same problem." Brad glanced down, cheeks blushing.
"Same problem?"
"Yeah," Brad looked puzzled. "Aren't you? I mean, what would happen if, suddenly, Daniel wanted to date you? I doubt that you would even remember Teal'c."
//Oh//.
"And it's not like you don't care for Teal'c."
For a fleeting moment, Sam sat staring at the young man in front of her, not knowing what to say.
All she could think at the moment was how true Brad's words were.
********************
It had been almost two days, and Jack still did not have the strength to pick up the telephone and call home. What was he going to say to Daniel? 'Hello, now I'm a Colonel'?
Looking on the bright side, it wasn't actually that bad. He had opted for being booted out of the Air Force, or being jailed. What he was or wasn't guilty of wasn't important, because the Air Force needed a scapegoat, and he knew that he was 'guilty by association'. He had been Maybourne's field command in Iraq. Technically, he was also considered a scoundrel now that the Air Force had formally denied any involvement in that operation.
But he had been prepared for the worst. He knew that if he had been booted out of the Air Force or been jailed, he would have gone to the press and started making a scene. Such harsh punishments would have been an advantage to place him as a scapegoat of a bigger conspiracy. But now?
Being demoted one rank lower wasn't good enough to make him a hero. It only humiliated him. He wouldn't be seen as a fallen hero. He would be seen as a naughty boy deserving of a little spanking.
And the Maybourne business… Damn him. Whether he was present or not, the man always made his life difficult.
He glanced at his watch and frowned. It was 11 at night now, and there were only a few patrons left in the fancy, quiet pub. He wondered why the man who wanted to see him had not yet appeared. He had not felt comfortable when this person contacted him and demanded to see him in secrecy. His instinct spoke alarm. But he had to see him. Not only did he realize that something important could come from this, but he also owed this man.
//Half an hour//, he thought. //Half an hour tops, and then I'm gone//.
He waited.
*************************
It was a perfect morning all the way; sunny, warm and breezy. The people in the street were all as nice and friendly as on any normal and beautiful spring Sunday. Bradley was still practicing his preening and generally annoying everybody, the twins were doing their homework with more enthusiasm than any ten year olds normally did, and Paul was being sweet, cheery and very cooperative.
Therefore, it didn't take a genius to catch on to the reddened, shadowed eyes and haggard face as signs of distress.
"Did you have a nightmare?" Shane asked curiously.
Daniel smiled, "Well, what do you know, yes, I'm afraid I did."
Feeling Brad's sharp gaze on his back, Daniel slowly moved to the window, peering outside, dreading the possibility of seeing someone suspicious lurking around. The Derek Ashcroft incident yesterday had staggered him.
"What was it about?" Shane's eyes widened, full of excitement.
"Bogeymen and vampires," Daniel grinned. Some small muscles in his neck relaxed.
"Cool!"
"Daniel, why's Brad have hair on his pee pee?" Paul suddenly asked him sweetly over his cereal.
Daniel glared at the silly but very pretty eighteen year old young man at the end of the table. "What did you do to your little brother?" He didn't miss the sharp, thoughtful eyes of Jack's oldest son as they studied him, as he welcomed the distraction with relief.
"Me?" Brad widened his eyes innocently. "I didn't do anything."
Charlie said, "Brad didn't lock his room again."
"He was nekkid," Paul giggled. "He just got out from the bathroom and threw down his towel."
"We consider that as an educational experience and take the opportunity to explain things out," Shane nodded. "It's good for Paulie's education."
Blinking toward Daniel's glare, Brad grinned. "Though you have every reason in the world to think that *I* have somehow corrupted the midgets, you should applaud my 'older-than-one-hundred-year-old' twin brothers. They were professional, and they *knew* anatomy."
"Thank you," Charlie answered, pleased. Then he frowned. "Midget?"
"Was the 'experience' great, Paul?" Daniel still didn't release his glare over Brad.
"It was cool!" Paul nodded. "Charlie showed me how to cut Brad's chest to peek at what's inside. It goes from here to here." He stood then, with his little finger, drew a fuzzy 'straight' line from the middle of his collarbone right to his crotch, which reminded him again of his unanswered question.
"Why does Brad have hair down here while we don't?" he frowned again.
"Daniel has some," Brad quipped gleefully.
"You do?"
Daniel sighed loudly, "Brad! Yes, Paul. Adult men have hair down there. You and your twin brothers will sport some, once you're old enough."
Brad snorted and watched his twin brothers slurping their milk. "If they *ever* reach puberty. Somehow I doubt that."
"Brad," Daniel said in a warning tone. "Don't be too impulsive, okay? Try to be more thoughtful and careful with everything you do. Especially concerning your little brothers."
Brad gave him a look. "As I told you, dude, these boys were very *professional*. I was actually disappointed that they didn't notice I had a cool bod."
"Don't 'dude' me, young man," Daniel said sternly. "We will discuss this later."
"What's with you?" Brad suddenly looked at him worriedly. "Are you alright?"
"We go sleep with Brad when we have nightmares," Shane volunteered his advice.
Daniel locked his gaze on Brad's anxious stare and slowly sighed. "I'm just tired, I guess."
Thoughts about the desolation in his nightmares came crashing down. And about the reporter… He shivered.
"If Daddy comes home you can sleep with him," Paul suggested cheerfully, oblivious of the gleeful grins being exchanged between his twin brothers.
Daniel smiled softly, feeling a pang of longing and fear in his chest. //I wonder if they are going to be this cheerful when the news starts spreading rumors of their father having a gay relationship//.
He just could not imagine that. Would Jack's career go down in the dust? Would the boys be teased at school? Would Jack continue to let him live with them?
He threw his gaze back to the window, and bit his lip. It had been two days and no news from him yet.
//Where are you, Jack? Where the hell are you?//
*************************
"I would like to show you my tab'hee, DanielJackson."
Daniel turned and greeted Hapshut, considered to be the most prominent older woman of Abydos. She used to be the wife of Kasuf's deputy and had once served as an acolyte during her younger years. She was a great musician and poet, and Daniel admired her a great deal. It was she and Tem, the young genius, who had made him abandon Cheyenne Mountain and Area 52 and prefer instead to go to Area 9.
How long had he been ignoring Cheyenne Mountain, now? A straight full week? //It's not like I'm taking days off on my own//, he shrugged silently. //I'm still working but not in my official office//. And he was aware that part of his reluctance to go to Cheyenne Mountain for the last two days was because he knew Jack wasn't there. He felt uncomfortable when Jack wasn't there. Not a logical explanation, of course, but could he find logic when *Jack* was the center of things?
Hapshut was carrying a small, round instrument. It remained Daniel of a tifa, a little drum used by the tribes in New Guinea.
"You are curious about our music, and now I want to explain to you its characteristics by showing you the basic rhythm."
"Oh, thank you," Daniel perked a little. As usual, they walked together to the little park in front of the mess hall. It was the refugees' favorite place, since they were all very uncomfortable inside all buildings. Daniel understood their reluctance.
"Why has O'Neill not come back here?" Hapshut asked quietly. She knew Daniel's penchant for the older man, and the days without him had dampened the attractive man's mood.
Daniel was silent. The only news he had had been a short message on the answering machine, saying that 'I'm okay. It will take awhile'. It was not enough of a message to appease his fear and anxiety and he had practically lived beside the phone waiting for another call. Jack had not called back.
And Jack's cell phone was not working either.
Daniel knew. He just knew that something was wrong. Deeply wrong.
//Is it because that reporter…?//
Daniel shivered. It had been a close call. It was a good thing that he had no longer seen the man. Maybe he couldn't find his address.
//But it's just a matter of time, right?//
A reporter. //He's bound to find out, right?//
He bent his body a little, wincing, suddenly feeling a piercing pain in his stomach. Hapshut looked at him in concern.
"Are you alright, DanielJackson?"
It had been like this since Jack had gone.
"Yes. Just a little pain."
"Are you worrying about O'Neill?"
Daniel gave her a smile. "It shows, huh?"
"Anxiety and fear will do your body no good. Overcome it, or you will be in pain."
//Oh, I wish//.
"But I can see that words are easier said than done," Hapshut smiled. She saw Daniel roll his eyes and she recognized it as a sign of ridicule most young people used when their elders were lecturing them.
She led him toward a group of older women, sitting on the grass with various instruments in their hands.
One of them was a bell-like device, a round piece of thin metal with little balls inside that would strike each other loudly when jiggled. Daniel had showed them a bell, and they amusedly realized the similarity of how it worked, yet, Daniel realized that the Abydonian instrument was much more advanced in the way that the balls would actually create various sounds and notes instead of just the single one by a bell.
Another interesting instrument was a pair of thin metal plates. They created a loud, shrill noise when being struck together. What amazed Daniel was how it was being played. The plates came in various sizes and, apparently, thickness. Several women struck them simultaneously in different rhythms creating a series of interesting sounds.
But the one that made the day was a large, thick instrument. It was a gong. A common instrument in almost all parts of Asia, it was proof enough to Daniel of some possible link to Abydos and ancient Asian culture. A round piece of thick, heavy metal, its size and build matched similarly with a Chinese gong, while its rounded, thickened center matched similarly with a Balinese gong.
"We remember the songs you have played for us," Hapshut said. "It was true. The winds and flowing water are singing in this place."
Daniel smiled. He could picture what the women had experienced. It was spring, and they were in a mountainous area. The wind and the breeze must have blown with a repeated but irregular 'wooossshh' sound, sometime a heavy one, or small, whispery ones, creating imagination of them singing melancholic music of the soul.
"But the songs sounded sad," Hapshut continued. "On Abydos, the winds are either angry or playful with us."
Then they started playing.
Daniel sat solemnly, absorbing the art of the voices. He heard so many things in music. It was the most solid form of humans interpreting their relationship with nature. It was one of the basic, raw products of human culture, a blend of emotions and instinct in creating beautiful release. It told him things about the civilization, the history of their life, the environment of their home, the structural hierarchy in their society, the concentration of political power. It made him appreciate people and nations that were beyond understanding by common people.
The music was metallic, individually played in its own rhythm, seemingly confused and delicate, yet sensuous. At the beginning, it struck Daniel--unlike the music of Western civilization with its firm compliance to general pattern and guided by one single basic rhythm, this music seemed to be abstractly running at different paces. One used a fast, irregular rhythm, the other slow and regular. Nothing similar to each other. It was not the melody that created the sounds, but the rhythm.
//The winds are either angry of playful.//
Yes, Daniel could picture them.
Harsh desert storms with their powerful, floating and resonating sounds; little winds with their soft, playful 'tap-tap-tap'; and the sands creating reverberating echoes.
It was the music of the desert, where its people lived in a hard world, yet, were easygoing. It was a democratic society. Its articulated and advanced music also explained their high intelligence; therefore, Daniel could predict their incredible capability in science, medicine and mathematics.
After some long minutes that buoyed Daniel into imagination of a leisurely life under the sun, it ended abruptly. The women laid down their instruments and watched with amusement toward Daniel who was enthusiastically clapping his hands.
Hapshut whispered something to her friends then scooted closer to where Daniel was sitting.
"What do you think, DanielJackson?"
"It sounded like playful winds and warm sun," Daniel said. His answer made Hapshut beam.
"Yes. I can see that you have already caught on with our meaning and worships."
"Do you sing?"
Hapshut shook her head. "Only the priests. The human voice is considered soulful and sacred. It is not suppose to be used to describe the winds and sun. We use these instruments for that purpose. The voice is used to worship only the Gods, therefore we do not sing as your singer does."
Suddenly, her face turned serious and grave.
"How long are we going to stay here, DanielJackson?"
Caught off guard, mind still reeling from the haunting music, Daniel blinked a couple of times before replying. "We are not sure, Hapshut."
"We are dying," Hapshut said. There was a hint of a tremble in her voice. Her face was turning even darker. "We cannot live like this. We cannot eat our own food. We cannot do nothing all day."
Looking at her disturbed, desperate expression, Daniel swallowed. "Hapshut, we need to be sure that your place is safe for returning."
"We would rather die there than live like walking corpses, here," she snapped harshly. "We can try to salvage something, and perhaps we can start planting again."
How was he going to tell her that if the place was heavily contaminated it might be impossible for them to start living there again?
"Please be patient."
"Until when, DanielJackson? Please ask your Hammond. Or O'Neill. We cannot stay here any longer. We cannot stand it."
Hapshut turned her face toward the sight of the mountains in despair. "Everything here is so different, and cold, and alienated. Here, we have no memories, no history. We are *nothing*. We do not know who we are in this place."
She turned back and locked her gaze to Daniel. "Please."
"I--" Daniel swallowed again. "It is our responsibility to prepare everything to ensure your safety."
"What? What do you need to prepare? Food? We cannot eat your food any longer. It tastes funny and the small ones suffer indigestion."
"Security--"
"We can survive. We have the underground tunnels."
"But you have no men to defend you."
Hapshut stared at him with an unreadable gaze for a long moment that made Daniel feel like sinking into the ground. He shouldn't have said *that*. *That* fell into the category of non-discussable.
"I suppose the Jaffa will do," Hapshut said coldly. "After all, it is his responsibility. He should do it, even if he were to lose his life for it."
Nothing relieved Daniel more at that moment than the appearance of Tem and another young woman. He quickly stood and waved at them, feeling Hapshut's eyes on his back. A moment later, she rose and stood beside Daniel, her face still grim and cold.
Tem smiled to Daniel then, her face closed off, nodded politely to Hapshut.
The old woman scowled. "Have you finished selling your body to the warrior?"
Such harsh words stopped Daniel cold. //Jesus//. He stared worriedly toward the two women, whose eyes were locked on each other, their faces emotionless, yet full of anger and hostility. There was no secret about these two women's rivalry, but he could not believe that it was that harsh.
"It is better than dreaming of the greatness we no longer have and do *nothing*," Tem answered back in a chilling tone. The young woman beside her flinched and stepped back, seemingly afraid to hear more. Daniel glanced back toward the elderly women sitting nearby and saw them glaring with unreadable faces.
"You think of yourself as the savior of our world?" Hapshut's tone had turned dangerous.
"The people need someone strong and young to lead them." Tem held her chin up.
"Blasphemous, pretender!"
"Then be silent, because you are no longer an acolyte. It is *I* who hold the legacy."
For one strange moment, Daniel expected Hapshut to slap Tem's face, but quickly he felt his stomach muscles unclench when instead, the old woman snorted, half in amusement and annoyance, and walked away from Tem.
"We will see, pretender. We will see," he heard her saying while she went to the huddle of equally grimfaced old women.
Daniel exchanged glances with the young woman accompanying Tem.
Still staring at Hapshut, Tem said to Daniel, "I believe Warrior Teal'c is looking for you."
"I--" Daniel stopped. He watched the other young woman staring at him with a desperate plea in her eyes. Wishing him to not leave them.
"Thank you for a pleasant day, DanielJackson. We expect to see you again tomorrow," Hapshut said from a distance.
"Please go, DanielJackson." Tem finally turned her eyes to him. "I think there is something important he must tell you." Then she bravely walked toward the older women.
Torn between wanting to see the aftermath of the two women's 'battle' and the knowledge that it was a private thing both women were reluctant to share with him, Daniel sighed and looked apologetically to Tem's frightened young friend.
"I will see you again, soon," Daniel said, not expecting a return greeting from any of them. Then he walked away, though turning back several times to see the two women now standing and addressing each other in a heated conversation. To anyone's eyes, they were debating politely, but he knew that there were harsh and cruel words being exchanged.
Daniel wondered sadly.
***********************
Jack did not know why his legs directed him toward this building. He stood outside, wondering like an idiot for quite a long time, when he finally shook out of his trance-like dumbness, and turned back toward the street. He only moved a step when a voice shouted from one of the building's windows.
"General O'Neill!"
//It's Colonel//, Jack thought bitterly. He froze, not knowing whether he should just move and ignore the call or…
He turned.
"Hello, Tim."
Tim rushed out. He stopped, taking in the disheveled features of his boyfriend's father, and a dreaded sense of déjà vu struck him.
"Sir, are you alright?"
Jack, vaguely aware that most of his IQ had suddenly seemed to abandon him, stared speechlessly for some time then shrugged.
//He's in shock//, Tim thought frantically. "Will you come inside, Sir?"
Jack shook his head then gave Tim a sheepish smile. "Sorry for bothering you, kid. I actually shouldn't be here."
"It's alright, really. Please, come in."
Jack sighed and glanced at his watch. "I think I should get back home, now."
Tim blinked. "Home, Sir? As in Colorado?"
"Yeah."
Studying the man who looked nothing like someone capable of finding his own home in this neighborhood, not to mention the airport, Tim reached a decision. "I'll get you to the airport."
Jack looked surprised. "No, there's no need…"
"Stay, Sir."
Tim rushed in, retrieved his coat and car keys, and bounded down. It probably took a minute, but he still felt an immense sense of relief at seeing Jack still standing dumbfounded outside his apartment building.
Once they were inside the car, Jack's body gave away. He slacked bonelessly in his seat, like someone who was drained of all energy.
"Is there anything I can do, Sir?" Tim asked carefully.
Jack gritted his jaw for a moment before he turned and smiled softly at Tim.
The young man felt his cheeks grow hot. Brad's dad surely had a heart-stopping sweet smile. No wonder those secretaries at the Pentagon went crazy for him //…and Daniel too!//, though initially he thought the guy was already an ancient.
"Brad would certainly have a heart attack if he knew I went buddy-buddy with you," Jack chuckled, amused with his own imagination.
"You know you can count on me, Sir," Tim said sincerely. After the thrilling moments of his last encounter with Jack, returning from the 'dead' in Iraq, he knew that life with Brad's father was definitely not easy. But it was exciting, too.
It took sometime for Jack to finally reach a decision. He pulled a newspaper from his coat and stared at it for a moment or two. Tim glanced, and realized that it was Colorado Springs' local newspaper.
"Someone I knew gave this to me today," Jack murmured.
"Which edition, Sir?"
"Yesterday."
Tim concentrated on his driving. He drove carefully, not too fast nor too slow. He was not sure whether there was a flight available to Colorado Springs at this time. He should prepare for the possibility of Jack staying over again. Ashamedly, he found himself excited for it. He wondered what Brad's reaction would be of this news.
He glanced back, and realized Jack was silently staring at a picture of a man in a lower column. Catching his glance, Jack raised the newspaper, thus giving Tim a view to read the title above the photo.
WORLD FAMOUS REPORTER FOUND DEAD IN AIRPORT.
"You knew him, Sir?"
Jack was silent for a long time before he nodded. "Yeah."
Tim's eyes widened. "Oh."
//Oh, indeed//, he thought. He immediately knew something big was happening again.
"The stupid man was looking for me, I bet." Jack said grimly. "Damn!"
There was a long silence in between when Jack cursed again, "I told him to stay away! Damn!"
"How did he die, Sir?"
"Somebody shot him in one of the airport restrooms."
Jack closed his eyes tightly. His hands went up and pulled his hair in anger and frustration.
Tim swallowed, feeling fear and despair at the same time. //God, would this kind of thing always happen to him?// He felt the sudden urge to hug the man.
"General O'Neill…"
"It's Colonel," Jack snapped.
The traffic light turned red. Tim stared at Jack, stunned.
"I've been demoted," Jack said gloomily, devoid of any emotion. "No more rank-calling. Let's prepare for the possibility they will demote me again right to the bottom and be Airman O'Neill. You might as well call me Jack."
Tim lost his ability to speak for the rest of the way.
It was amazing that there was still a midnight flight back and a seat available once they reached the airport.
Jack smiled sheepishly at Tim when they shook hands.
"Thanks," Jack said, a bit shyly. "Want me to say hello to the brat at home?"
"Kiss him hello, Sir," Tim tried to cheer him up.
"Do it yourself," Jack winced. "I am *so* not going to kiss my own son's lips."
Tim grinned widely. "Well, see you, Sir."
"You take care, Tim."
Jack watched for a long moment as the young man walked away from him.
He glanced at his watch. His flight was still fifty minutes away. He could not sit still. He was nervous. The gate was devoid of people, and he wondered if the flight would have enough passengers to carry on right on time. He could not afford a cancellation at the moment.
There it was again. That sense of danger. He could feel it prickling at the nape of his neck.
//Ashcroft's dead in Colorado Springs//. He gritted his teeth, remembering again Dirk Plummer's desperate fear and accusation when giving him the newspaper.
"What the hell is happening, Jack?" Dirk had asked him. "Don't tell me that Derek's death had nothing to do with you."
He knew immediately that it had everything to do with him. He felt responsible for it.
He reached into his pocket and took out his cell phone. He flipped it on only to find it refusing his order. Battery dead. He remembered that he had forgotten to take its re-charger.
His sense of dread became overwhelming--he knew that he had to call home.
//Daniel//, he thought frantically. //If those men followed Ashcroft to Colorado Springs…//
He turned and ran toward one of the payphones, only to suddenly stop when something caught his eyes.
That man.
The man that was standing nearby when he first met Ashcroft in the same lounge.
Jack would never forget that face.
The way his back hunched, the long coat he was wearing, and the way he was hiding his hands inside the pockets.
The way he was studying Tim's retreating form.
//What the hell…?//
Jack saw as the man lifted one of his hands out….
…and then he felt the blood draining from his face.
"TIM!"
The young man had just reached the corner of the corridor, ready to turn left, when he froze at hearing Jack's frantic bellow.
The mysterious man was apparently as surprised as Tim himself, because he whirled toward Jack for a fraction of a second, before suddenly coming to a decision. His hand moved out from his pocket, a gun-like device in his hand gleaming under the neon light.
"TIM! DUCK!"
Bless Tim's fierce trust in his boyfriend's father. He immediately jumped down, the same moment a bullet pierced the air above him.
"SECURITY!" Jack bellowed hysterically, running at top speed toward the young man, rolling to his side with his face full of fear.
The strange man ran.
Torn between wanting to chase the man and his concern for Tim, Jack shouted toward several security guards appearing with their guns drawn.
"HE HAS A GUN! THAT WAY! THAT WAY!"
He scooted to Tim's trembling body.
"You okay?" Jack checked on him worriedly. "You okay?"
"Y…yes… I-I think so. What happened?" Tim sat up, shaking.
"Never mind," Jack clenched his jaw. "You're coming with me. Now."
********************
The clock showed 4.15AM when Daniel was abruptly woken by the sounds of footsteps outside his room. He immediately knew who it was.
"Jack?" he called softly once he was out of his bedroom.
The only light came from the kitchen, where Daniel, surprised, found Jack and Tim silently drinking bottles of Coke.
"Hey, guys," he whispered.
He gasped softly when Jack raised his head and smiled weakly in return of his greeting. It seemed as if the past three days had taken his friend to hell and back. His face was thinner and paler, his eyes shadowed and bloodshot, he looked each and every year a forty-eight year old man, it was a wonder whether this man had slept or eaten at all.
Daniel swallowed. He tried to smile, though he knew he wouldn't look convincing.
"You look like hell, Jack," he said softly, attempting to take the sting from his criticism.
He went to his friend's side and softly rubbed his back for a second. His eyes went to Tim and he smiled. "I thought you would be the last person on earth Jack would ever bring home."
Both Tim and Jack chuckled with amusement.
"The circumstances are rather interesting," Jack answered. He caught Daniel's hand on his shoulder and clasped it. Unaware, his thumb slowly rubbed Daniel's palm. It took an effort for Tim to avoid staring.
"I think it would be safer if Tim stayed with us for a while," Jack continued with a despairing tone.
"Has something happened?" Daniel slowly sat next to Jack, moving the chair very close to his friend. The memories of his nightmares came rushing back, and he wondered with fear whether these were the signs of the incoming bad luck he often acquired.
Jack turned to Tim. "Would you mind sleeping on the sofa?"
Tim thought that he would be pushing his luck if he requested to sleep with Brad. After all, he was still very shaken with what had almost happened so he didn't think it was a good idea to wake his boyfriend. He doubted Brad would leave him and his father alone for explanation, just as the thing that they both desperately needed at the moment was sleep.
He nodded and left the two men alone in the kitchen.
Once Daniel was sure that Tim was no longer within hearing distance, he turned to Jack.
"I was worried about you," he said softly. "You didn't call."
"I'm sorry," Jack sighed. "There were so many things happening."
"Are you okay, Jack?"
Silence. Then, slowly, Jack leaned his head on Daniel's shoulder like a child needing assurance. "No."
Overwhelmed with love and concern, Daniel asked, "Can I hug you, Jack?"
"Please," Jack mumbled. He welcomed Daniel's strong arms around him and automatically reached out and encircled the slim waist. A wave of sweet Daniel scent ambushed him and seemed to be his undoing because he suddenly sagged heavily and something inside his chest gave away. He squeezed his hold on the younger man tightly and burrowed his head to Daniel's chest.
Daniel widened his eyes in surprise.
"Damn it," Jack whispered. "I've been screwed."
It was a cold comfort, Daniel thought between his racing heartbeat and screaming senses. How many times had he wished to be in this position with Jack? How many times had every inch of his skin itched and yearned for contact with Jack? How long had he dreamt about this? Holding tightly, feeling the warmth and strength of Jack?
It was a tragedy that it was happening because something terrible had come to pass.
But it was a cold comfort.
"Tell me, Jack," he said. "Tell me everything."
***********************
"This is getting out of control," Jack gritted his teeth hard. "What are they going to do? Who's next? Murder my whole family?"
Hammond watched him with compassion. "Calm down, Jack."
"The hell I will!" Jack whirled in fury. "Whoever this is *kills*, George! A reporter being seen with me then Daniel! My son's boyfriend! Who's next then? Where on Earth should I hide my kids?"
"I told you to do nothing harsh, Jack. Let me handle this!"
"What *harsh* are you implying at?" Jack's eyes slit dangerously. "What exactly are you saying, George?"
"Playing your own game!" Hammond's eyes had turned icy as well. "Do you know what we are now, Jack?"
"Scapegoats?" Jack snorted.
"We are mortals in the hands of the Titans. Do you know that? We are facing something big. Big, Jack. Something big and vague and we don't know where it starts and where it ends!"
Jack's stare spoke thousands of fear, fury and desperation, making Hammond look away.
"What about my family, George? What about them?"
"Your family won't be harmed," Hammond said heavily. "The deal is no outsiders involved."
"Who sets the deal?"
"Jack…"
"*Who*?"
"Goddamn it, Colonel!" Hammond jumped from his seat. He saw Jack flinch, and for a moment, he felt a pang of sadness. Yet, there was no time to dwell on Jack's demotion. "Think clearly! It's useless to analyze *who*, because *who* in this case is not a *person*! What's important is *how* to overcome this and minimize casualties!"
"The reporter was my friend!"
"Stay away from anybody! They will harm anyone *socializing* with you!"
"I might as well be dead, then!"
Hammond could not say more. What could he say? He knew that they were now little flies caught in a spider's web.
"I swear, George, I'll bring them down," Jack said in a low tone. "I don't care if they are Cyclops, Titans or even Gods, I'll bring them down."
"The Stargate Project requires secrecy, Jack. It's for the best!"
"It doesn't deserve cold blooded murders!"
"Do you want to sacrifice *this*? Everything we have been working on for decades? The chance to walk among the stars?"
"The Stargate Project does not belong to the Evil Empire, and I will fight to my last breath to keep it that way." Jack saluted harshly. "Permission to go to the briefing room, Sir." He stormed out without waiting for Hammond's dismissal.
When the Major General entered the briefing room sometime later, he was greeted by stony silence. All SG-1 members were quiet, faces drawn and tense.
Sam looked at him with red, puffy eyes, while Teal'c's eyes were closed with a frown on his face.
Hammond saw Daniel's pale face, eyes locked on a single man standing with his back to the room. The sole object of his attention was staring sightlessly toward the commotion outside the window. Hammond wondered what Jack was thinking at the moment.
"I suppose you all have heard the latest news?" Hammond sighed when only Carter stood and saluted him.
Silence.
"I have discussed several options with… Colonel O'Neill." Hammond stared apologetically at Jack's back. He saw everybody flinch upon hearing the word 'Colonel'. Sam looked ready to cry again and Daniel clenched his fingers so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"I have come to a decision," Hammond continued.
"And what was that?" Jack asked, still refusing to turn.
"We will back up your immediate mission."
Silence.
"Good," Jack finally said.
"Sir?" Sam could not hold herself any longer. "What mission?"
Hammond waited for Jack's reaction, but his stony silence continued. He exhaled a long sigh.
"Return to Abydos."
**********************
TBC