The Long and Winding Yellow Brick Road

Sideburns

~ Many times I've been alone and many times I've cried - The Beatles ~

Facades were funny things, Daniel thought as he made his way to his office. They were utilized to mask that which was behind, but if used long enough, often became the truth while that which they hid - became the lie. So it was with him. He'd created a façade for himself, and it was now the truth.

He'd learned, in the first few weeks of his - descension - that no one really wanted to talk about his absence, let alone his life, and that any memories he recalled would have to come without help. People had already stopped asking him what, if anything, he'd remembered because they really didn't want, or need, to know. And Daniel, with or without memories, was still a smart man and could spot the pain recalled memories caused when he saw it. In those first days, if he questioned his friends about his life, he caught the winces and flinches. His life, or the remembering of it, seemed to hold pain for those who'd known him, which didn't say much for the life he'd led. But pain wasn't the only emotion he'd sensed, there'd also been anger - anger aimed at him -- and none so deeply felt as that which sometimes literally flowed from Jack. Sam had a small degree of it, but mostly seemed impatient and otherwise occupied. Even Teal'c didn't seem immune.. Although, in his case, the anger came out in other ways. Teal'c didn't seem to take him seriously anymore... although he listened to him, was, in fact, the only one who did.

He could sympathize with all of them. They didn't want to talk about his life, and hell, he didn't want to remember it - which was a good thing, because even after all these months, he remembered very little.

About anything.

He remembered practically nothing about his life as an ascended being, or his life as Doctor Daniel Jackson, civilian member of a team called SG-1. If not for the journals, he'd have had no references by which to respond when something from his past came up. A near photographic memory and his ability to read pretty darn fast had helped him catch up with his life, but in doing so, he'd discovered that the last years made a nice novel written by a man he didn't know. He'd sit alone, reading words that supposedly he'd written, but finding nothing to trigger an emotion, let alone a memory. The man whose words he read was - in fact - pathetic.

He'd told Sam that maybe he didn't want to know the man he'd been. He'd been right. He didn't. He didn't like Doctor Daniel Jackson. Doctor Daniel Jackson was a schmuck. A Grade - A schmuck.

And a fool.

So now he was just Daniel Jackson. He didn't take anything too seriously and kept a constant smile on his face. He joked with everyone while managing to keep them at arm's length. Hell, hadn't he risen to new heights of humor in Central America? Had anyone joked more than he, in spite of a body wracked by spasms thanks to too many applied jolts of electricity? He'd been bruised, battered and shot, but hey, he was the "Quip King".

Oddly enough, he still had difficulty with the fact that he'd been positive he was going to die (while wondering what good a rock would do to stop his impending death) when Jack, of all people, had showed up to save the day. Nothing like more guilt heaped on his shoulders because Jack had felt obligated to come after him instead of joining Sam, Teal'c and Jacob on one hell of an incredible mission.

He could still see Jack's face in the 'Gate room as an injured Sam had walked out of the wormhole. The man's expression had been a mixture of relief, worry and... guilt.

A guilt for which Daniel was responsible.

Naturally.

Doctor Jackson had tons of guilt, and it seemed that Daniel Jackson was gathering his own collection. Lucky him. And here he'd tried so hard to separate himself from Doctor Jackson. He'd finally moved out of the mountain and into a small house forty minutes away. A house, not an apartment. A small bungalow, not a large loft. He'd sold all of Doctor Jackson's remaining furniture and purchased cheap but interesting items, including a futon, which had turned out to be surprisingly comfortable. His new home was a pretty nice mixture of ... nothing. It fit Daniel Jackson and was most assuredly not something Doctor Jackson would have found comfortable. At least not judging by the photos he'd seen.

Not that there wasn't something of Doctor Daniel Jackson present in his new home, there was. It was kind of a memorial to the man and it was, appropriately enough, the study. He'd decorated it with an antique and very odd but beautiful roll-top desk and three antique but chunky bookcases, into which he'd carefully placed all of Doctor Jackson's journals, books, magazines and scientific periodicals. He'd balanced the books with photographs of times and places he had no knowledge of, along with several items that Jack had called, "Junk... er, mementos." He'd added the few items SG-1 had saved for him in the room at the SGC and called it quits. Now that he'd finished the journals, he kept the door shut and never went in. If he brought work home, he used the dining room table, where he also had his computer, printer and fax set up. Yep, home, sweet home.

Walking toward his office at the SGC, he wondered why his little bungalow seemed more like home than this place. But of course, the answer was simple. His bungalow belonged to him, to Daniel Jackson. The SGC was part of Doctor Jackson's life. Not his. Oh, he managed to fool everyone, but in all reality, he actually got lost in the damn place - frequently. Silly, but true.

He turned the final corner, stopped at his office door and unlocked it. Walking in, he turned on the lights, took off his jacket and sat down. Like his new home, his office was now a reflection of Daniel Jackson as opposed to Doctor Jackson, thanks to the rearrangement he'd completed several weeks ago. He felt much more comfortable now. He reached into his in-box and pulled out a folder. Opening it, he noted that it was a synopsis of a recent SG-7 mission that involved the discovery of several strange statues, with equally strange writings on them. Doctor Emerson, SG-7's scientist, had gone to great lengths to give Daniel a full file including detailed pictures and a small videocassette. Daniel started with the photographs.

He might not remember anything of Doctor Jackson, but he possessed all his knowledge regarding his chosen field. Amazing.

One week later -

"I can't believe you told them that, sir." Sam stared at her commanding officer and shook her head.

Jack shrugged and took another bite of his omelet. "What can I say? Daniel tried the diplomatic route and they shot him down at every turn. They didn't deserve our help; it's as simple as that."

"But they're Jonas' people, sir."

Jack looked up, his brown eyes narrowing. "So?"

She stirred her coffee, then suddenly grinned. "I don't suppose they had a clue what you meant anyway."

Grinning back at her, he said, "No, I don't suppose 'dicking around' is a common term on their planet."

"Hey, guys."

Jack turned his head as Daniel sat down between him and Carter.

"What's up?"

"You're cheerful this morning, Daniel," Sam noted.

Daniel shrugged and dug into his eggs. "So, what's up?" he asked again after swallowing.

"Me," Jack said as he pushed back his chair and stood up, tray in hand. "Catch you later."

Daniel watched him leave. He wasn't surprised since it seemed that wherever Daniel was - Jack tried very hard not be.

He took a bite of bacon, turned to Sam and smiled broadly. "So, tell me all about your adventures in the bowels of Jonas' planet."

~ Why leave me standing here, let me know the way ~

A few weeks later -

"Are you sure about this, Sara?"

Sara looked at Daniel, flicked a red hair from his jacket, and said, "I'm sure. After all that's happened, plus the 'debriefing', I need normal, which I'll find in New York with my sister and her very normal, very loud, and very rambunctious family."

"I see. Makes... sense."

She reached out and took his hand. "Daniel, believe it or not, I really don't remember much, and something tells me that I hope it stays that way, you know?"

What could he say?

"Yeah, I think I know."

"I wish things could be different between us, but we've both changed so much. We're not the same young scientists anymore."

"No... no, we're not."

She looked away from him, her expression thoughtful. "I'd give anything to be able to turn back the clock, to have handled things differently back then. Maybe we wouldn't be standing here now, like this, about to say good-bye yet again."

There was nothing Daniel could say. Thanks to the memory device, he now remembered this one part of his life - oh joy. He smiled gently and said, "You take care of yourself, all right?"

"I will. And thank you." She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Good-bye, Daniel."

She slid into the back seat of the car that would take her to the airport. Turning in the seat, she waved as the car pulled away. He lifted his hand, then lowered it self-consciously.

He watched until the car was out of sight before walking back into the mountain. He'd almost reached his office when Teal'c came around the corner.

"Daniel, have you heard?"

Daniel wondered where 'DanielJackson' had gone as he said, "I've heard a great many things today, Teal'c, including Jack burping up his pizza at lunch. Was there something special -- more special than a burping Jack -- which I'm supposed to have heard?"

"The Langarans have signed a treaty. It would seem that peace is on the horizon after all. Jonas Quinn is very happy."

Smiling broadly, Daniel said, "That's good news, Teal'c."

"Indeed it is. I am going to let Major Carter know. I will see you later."

Daniel nodded, his smile still in place. When Teal'c disappeared around the corner. The smile, as always, faded. Daniel continued on to his office.

Two weeks later -

Daniel watched Sam as she moved, somewhat stiffly, from the briefing room. Jack followed her, concern radiating from his body. Teal'c glanced over at Daniel, one arched eyebrow asking him if he was all right. Daniel smiled his usual smile. Teal'c cocked his head and asked, "Are you certain you are all right, DanielJackson?"

His own eyebrow rising at the return of "DanielJackson", he nevertheless nodded. "I'm fine, but Sam could use you now. Jack will probably be less than tactful about Jacob's leaving, for who knows how long, but Sam can allow herself emotion when she's with you."

Surprise evident in his expression, Teal'c gave a solemn bow of his head and exited the room, intent on helping Sam in any way he could. Which left Daniel alone.

Chalk up another failure for the great Daniel Jackson.

The alliance between Earth and the Tok'ra - gone. The alliance between the Tok'ra and the rebelling Jaffa - gone. The alliance between Earth, the Tok'ra and the Jaffa - ended, over, kaput. And nothing Daniel had said had made any difference. The fact that Jacob had failed in convincing his peers to remain, or that Teal'c had failed to convince his peers to remain, did nothing to assuage Daniel's guilt.

Hell, wasn't he the great peacekeeper?

And who the fuck decided that anyway?

"Oh, let Daniel do that, it's what he does."

Since when? And clearly, whenever he had done it in the past, he'd done it badly.

God, he was tired. He got up and made his way down to his office. The one thing he'd learned to count on since his return - was work. There always seemed to be enough work for Doctor Daniel Jackson, aka, Daniel Jackson.

Time to get to it.

Four hours later, back stiff, he paused, got up and poured himself a cup of coffee. He took a sip, sat down again, and went back to work. At six, he stopped, got up, changed into his civvies, put on his jacket, turned out the lights and walked out.

He gave a brief thought to checking in on Sam, knowing that it had hit her hard when Jacob had explained that he might not be in touch with her - or them - for quite a while. But he was pretty sure he'd be the last person she'd want to see right now. She had to know how he'd failed to keep the alliance together - and to be honest, he didn't want to see that failure mirrored in her eyes. He decided to skip Sam's lab, opting for just going home.

Passing people in the halls, he nodded, smiled, but since most people were still treating him like some kind of ... freak, he didn't have to talk to anyone. He stopped at the elevator, slid his card down and, when it opened, stepped in and started his journey up and out.

During the drive home, he wondered how the Kelowans - sorry, the Langarans -- were doing now that peace loomed on the horizon. As he considered the question, a strange numbness swept over him and, in defense, he mentally changed the subject.

Traffic was light so he made it home in record time. He parked in his garage and entered his house through the garage entrance , which led into the kitchen. He turned on the light and got a beer out of the fridge, unscrewed the cap and took a swallow. He remembered from one of his private journals that Doctor Jackson didn't like beer - which was too bad, because Daniel Jackson liked it just fine.

He ambled into the living room and turned on the stereo, then went over and lit the fire. He straightened and warmed his hands for a few before turning and facing his living room. Across from him stood an oak library table that he used to hold his mail. On the wall behind it he'd hung an Egyptian-themed decorative mirror that had caught his fancy at one of those huge home stores that were popping up all over the place. He cocked his head, surprised to find himself staring back at him. He was always surprised to find out how much Daniel Jackson looked like Doctor Jackson. He regarded the reflection - and was shocked when the reflection changed. He squinted at it as it shimmered in a fine imitation of the wormhole. He gasped when his reflection was suddenly replaced by men in plastic suits with masks who were working in a lab. Moments later, someone was shooting out an observation window while another individual yelled out, "Doctor Jackson!" He watched, stunned, as Doctor Jackson jumped through the window and crashed to the ground in a hail of glass.

... a burning hand.

A threat disarmed and a soft voice telling Doctor Jackson that he'd been exposed to the equivalent of over 8 to 9 Grays of neutron radiation resulting from direct contact, with full body exposure of over 7 Grays. He could hear his own -- no, Doctor Jackson's voice --- asking how long, and the slow-to-come answer of... 10 to 15 hours.

More recent words invaded his brain as voices engaged in petty arguments while egos bumped heads and arrogance doomed a people because naquadria once again threatened the people of Quinn's world. Friends didn't blink as he was asked to mediate for the Langarans and no one seemed to think there'd be a problem. After all, if no one talked about it - then it had never happened.

The vision in the mirror changed, replaced by Sarah and her cultured, British voice telling him over and over again how sorry she was and how helpless she'd felt as something called Osiris controlled her every move.

Suddenly a beer bottle slammed into the mirror, shattering it -- and the memories contained within -- to a thousand shards. He walked over to gaze down at the destruction, only now... Doctor Daniel Jackson was there, in shiny bits and pieces, laughing up at him.

He stepped on every single shard and ground them relentlessly into the wood floor. The sound of crunching glass underfoot was so satisfying, he began to sweep things from tables onto the floor, to lift lamps and hurl them against walls, to upend furniture, to jam his foot into the back of the upside down couch, to rip pictures from the wall and smash the glass with his fist, to shred couch cushions and pillows, to tear at afghans, to shatter anything that could be shattered. He moved into the small dining room and repeated the process leaving nothing unscathed, not even his computer and other equipment. He moved into the bedroom, pulled down bookshelves, swept everything off his chest of drawers, picked up the lamp on his nightstand and hurled it into the mirrored closet, then did the same with the alarm clock, the books, the pictures on the walls, and even the water glass on his nightstand. He tore the futon apart, ripped into the mattress, and realized he was yelling.

That bit of knowledge acted like a bucket of cold water thrown into his face. Daniel dropped the mattress and swiped a hand over his face. Slowly he walked back into the living room. Something caught his eye - one item - untouched.

A photograph.

Unsteady on his feet, he walked over what was left of his home and picked it up. It was a picture of Jack O'Neill. Holding it to him, he slid down the wall, knees tucked into his chest.

Four days later -

Daniel looked up as Jack walked in. In spite of the fact that he couldn't remember - literally - the last time Jack had been in his office, he plastered on his usual smile and asked, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just wondering what you think of, you know, Pete."

Still smiling, Daniel said, "He's not you, but he's a nice enough guy. Not nearly good enough for her, but hey."

"What do you mean, he's not me?"

"Just an observation."

Jack stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Oh."

Daniel waited - still smiling.

"Oh, okay. Well, got work to do."

Daniel watched as Jack walked out. The smile faded and his heart twitched oddly. Daniel stared at the doorway, but after several seconds, he went back to work.

Six weeks later -

Daniel walked into the house and slammed the door behind him. He closed his eyes and curled his fingers into fists. Damn, why had he destroyed everything all those weeks ago? Now there was nothing that would allow him to vent his anger and guilt. He took in several deep breaths - and caught a whiff of something - powdery. Without opening his eyes, he raised his right hand to his face and sniffed.

Baby.

New baby.

Janet. Baby Janet.

He could still smell the small bundle on his hand, could feel the softness, the sweetness....

... and cold flesh, copper-scented blood flowing freely and spreading on the ground beneath - beneath -

"OHGOD!"

He went to his knees, arms wrapped around his middle, rocking back and forth as he chanted over and over again, "Janetjanetjanetjanet...."

Light from the set flickered across his features as Daniel sat on the floor in his corner of the bedroom, two blankets clutched around him. He was staring at the television, but not seeing it. As an action show raced across the screen, he was seeing Janet and the tender spot he now understood she'd held in his life.

He was remembering Janet if nothing else about Doctor Daniel Jackson.

She was dead, killed - instead of him. He'd been inches from her, yet he'd lived and she - hadn't.

He'd died before - and lived - but Janet -- hadn't. No Oma, no rising and leaving nothing behind. For Janet, there'd been only sightless eyes and an empty shell where the individual he'd known and loved liked a sister had once resided.

While someone named "Harm" argued with someone called "Mac", Daniel saw Janet talking calmly to Cassie, reassuring her as she lay in the bowels of the SGC waiting for something to happen and maybe that something was death. He remembered Janet's fierce protectiveness as she fought for Cassie and stared down a Goa'uld. He could see her on a planet inhabited by sexless individuals painted white, concern in her empathetic brown eyes, and he could see her fighting for the life of their enemy, Apophis.

Small, energetic, full of life, loyalty, dedication and love, yet she was dead while he was alive. She should have been the topic of that stupid documentary; it would have meant something then. And he should never have given over that tape. God knew how they'd use it.

He put his head in his hands, dug the heel of his palms into his eyes and groaned, a prisoner to these memories of Janet.

She'd saved them countless times, risked her life on more occasions than a doctor should, and had fought so hard to save him after Kelowna. He'd known long before he'd spiraled down into nothing but pain and blood and choking that Janet would take his death hard. There was nothing more difficult for a physician like Janet Frasier than to lose a patient so helplessly, so horribly. He'd seen it in her eyes, the desire to help him along on his final journey, to make it easier, less painful - but that wasn't Janet Frasier. She honored her oath and understood why it would have been wrong. But she'd been tempted, maybe for the first time in her career.

But then, the method by which he'd been dying had probably been a first for her as well.

Odd how the only memories he now possessed revolved around a woman barely skimming five feet in height. She seemed to represent all that the SGC was about. All the good that they were. And now she was gone.

But he wasn't.

Silent tears tracked down his face.

He finally understood Jack's anger and frustration with him, understood Jack's hatred. As helpless as he now felt, he suspected it had been much the same during his time as an ascended being when faced with Jack's capture by Baal, or Teal'c's and Bra'tac's trials in sharing one symbiote.

He should have been able to save Janet. Somehow he should have known, should have kept her from harm's way. Should have done something.

Two hours later, a barely conscious Daniel stumbled into his kitchen. He took down a bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass, then made his way back into his bedroom. He dropped down onto the floor and his mound of bedding, rested his back against the wall, opened the bottle and poured.

He continued to drink long into the night.

"I'll have the Lumberman's Special, a small orange juice, and a great deal more coffee."

"What kind of toast, sir?"

"Sourdough, please."

The waitress nodded, smiled, and after sticking her pencil back in her pocket, headed toward the kitchen.

Daniel ran a hand over his face, over the stubble he'd refused to shave earlier, and smiled wryly. It had been rebellion, pure and simple. The Lumberman's Special was also a type of rebellion - against his hangover and the memories Janet's death had brought forth. He could refuse to admit the hangover existed, but the memories, while more painful than he could imagine, were all that he had left of Janet. The meal, and not shaving, seemed the right thing to do. Just like not changing anything in his house.

He looked around his favorite breakfast diner, at the booths full of families out for a Saturday morning meal after the local soccer game, and thought of Cassie. She was living with Sam now. He ought to check in on her. And... maybe... head to Denver, to Fort Logan. He sipped his coffee, ignoring as he did, his trembling hand.

Daniel entered the gates of Fort Logan. He hadn't needed any map, having been here for the initial burial ceremony. He found Janet's grave without any difficulty, parked, picked up the flowers from the passenger seat, got out, and walked slowly across the small road, up the incline and onto the soft grass. He continued walking until he stood before the grave marker. Because Janet had been posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor, her gravesite was located in Memorial Row and easy to see. Daniel laid the bouquet down on the grass in front of the marker, then straightened. He'd tried to cajole Cassie into coming with him, but the young teen simply wasn't ready. Sam might think she was tough, but Cassie hadn't even begun to deal with the death of her "mother". Or had no one noticed Cassie's inability to attend the memorial service at the SGC? All Daniel could hope was that he'd been of some help to her earlier in the day. It had taken every ounce of his self-control not to cry with her when she'd finally broken down and thrown herself into his arms. It had also taken everything he had not to apologize over and over again for being alive where Cassie's mother was not. He'd instinctively known that only one person would have benefited by such an act - namely him. It would only have hurt Cassie more.

He stared at the flowers, all of them Janet's favorites, and whispered, "I'm sorry."

A slight breeze rustled through the trees behind him and he could feel the light spray of water from the fountain in the center of the lake to his right. He turned his face toward the moisture and closed his eyes. It made saying what needed saying - easier.

"It should have been me, Janet. It should have been me. It would have been but you moved down a bit, remember? You moved. And in moving, you put yourself in the line of fire. But you were doing your job, which is more than I can say for myself. I had no business being there, Janet. There was no place for me so I was sent with you. There were two seasoned Marines at your back and one useless archaeologist." He covered his face with his hands as he groaned out, "God, I sound like I'm blaming you for your own death, and I'm not, Janet, I swear it."

Several minutes passed and he finally dropped his hands. Tears ran unchecked down his cheeks as he turned back to face the solemn white marker. "No one to blame but me."

He dropped to his knees, wrapped his arms around his stomach and bent his head into his chest. "No one but me," he whispered.

Three days later -

Face exhausted from a day of smiling, eyes burning from the strain of too much computer work and research, Daniel headed home. Realizing that he didn't have anything to eat and didn't feel like grocery shopping, he stopped at the mini-deli a few blocks from his home, picked up a salad, a six pack of beer and, next door, his cleaning. Once home, he put the salad on the counter and the beer in the fridge, but kept two bottles out. Carrying one beer under his arm, the other in one hand, and the salad in the other, he walked out and into the living room. He made his way over the destroyed furniture and continued into his bedroom. Once there, he neatly avoided the destruction and sat down in the middle of the pile of sheets, blankets and pillows in the corner of his room, grabbed the remote and hit power. His new television turned on, and while watching the news, he ate his salad and drank his beers.

"Perhaps Daniel would like to join us, O'Neill."

Jack paused in his walk to the car. "Daniel?"

"Yes."

"I don't know, Teal'c. He didn't seem to enjoy it all that much last time."

"He enjoyed it as much as I did. And last time was - a long time ago, O'Neill. I would enjoy his company tonight."

Jack got in, and as Teal'c slid in on the passenger side, he said, "All right, I'll drive by his place, see if he's interested. But I'm betting he says no."

"I believe he will say yes."

As Jack drove down the mountain, Teal'c asked, "Do you suppose Daniel's neighbors have given him any problems over what occurred with Osiris?"

"I doubt it. The government can do a mean job of damage control when needed."

"That is good then." There was a lengthy pause, then Teal'c said, "Daniel does not seem a great deal more rested now than when his mind and memories were being violated by Osiris, yet it has been many weeks."

"He looked fine to me today."

Teal'c shrugged.

As Jack continued to drive, the word 'violated' continued to swim within his mind.

Jack pulled into Daniel's driveway, put the car into park and said, "Well?"

Head cocked, Teal'c said, "You do not wish to ask him?"

"This was your idea, Teal'c. Go on."

Teal'c, hand on the door handle, said, "You do not wish Daniel to join us?"

"Oh, fer crying out... okay, okay, I'll go."

Jack turned off the engine and got out of the car. He walked around the front of the vehicle and up Daniel's walkway to the porch. There were no lights on inside but he thought he could hear the drone of a television set so he knocked.

And knocked again.

Daniel put the beer down and glanced away from the screen. Someone at his door? He thought about not answering in case it was a neighbor again, but when the knocking continued, he sighed and got up. At the front door, he peered through the top panes of glass -- and immediately stepped back - shocked.

Jack was at his front door.

Daniel blinked behind his glasses, looked around the house, and closed his eyes. This was not good.

"Daniel? You in there?"

Okay, he could do this. He turned on the porch light and took the chain off....

Jack could hear... footsteps. Okay, good.

Except... nothing happened.

Jack tapped his foot.

"Daniel? You in there?"

For a moment, nothing happened, then the porch light came on and he heard the chain being slid back. A second later, one blue eye was peering out at him through the barely opened door. The door opened a bit wider and a grinning Daniel said, "Hey, Jack. What's up?"

Jack waited for Daniel to open the door enough to allow him to enter, and when he didn't, he said, somewhat self-consciously, "Teal'c and I are going to have a bite to eat, then check out the jell-o wrestling. Thought you might like to, you know, come along."

"Oh, yeah? Sounds fun. Give me a sec while I change and I'll be right out."

The smile was still broad, the door still barely open. Jack had no choice. "Right, okay. We'll... wait."

Daniel nodded, his smile widened impossibly, then he shut the door.

"Right." Jack shoved his hands in his pockets and walked back to the car. He got in and said, "He's changing."

"Ah."

Daniel walked back into his bedroom, took off his sweat bottoms, put back on his jeans, then grabbed his leather jacket and slipped it on over his white t-shirt. He slipped into his loafers, grabbed his wallet and keys from the pile of blankets, and walked out. In the living room, he thought about righting one of the lamps and turning it on so he wasn't coming into a dark house, which in its current state could be dangerous. Hell, he knew where everything was now, so he opened the front door and walked out, shutting and locking it behind him.

He climbed into the back seat and, smiling, said, "Okay, let's get this show on the road."

Jack looked in his rearview mirror and said, "Nice jacket, Daniel. New?"

"Thanks, and a few weeks old. A gift to myself, " he said easily.

"It looks very nice," Teal'c added.

Jack put the Avalanche into reverse and backed carefully out of the driveway. As he started down the street, he indicated the house across from Daniel's and remarked casually, "I see they fixed the windows."

"Yep. Only took our government a few months," Daniel said dryly.

Daniel sat at one end of the booth, Teal'c next to him and Jack at the other end. He'd skipped dinner and watched as his friends ate their steaks while he explained his earlier salad. He'd had four beers at home and was now on his second at the restaurant. He couldn't remember the last time the three of them had gotten together - as in literally couldn't remember - but he suspected it had been a while.

They talked sports, Teal'c talked about Ishta and his upcoming visit with her, and Jack managed to bring the conversation around to Pete. Teal'c agreed that he too liked the cop and thought he was "good for Major Carter". Daniel watched Jack.

After dinner, Jack paid, telling Teal'c he "owed him", and they walked out and across the street to Randy's, the club famous for their jell-o matches on Friday nights. They were early enough to get a good table close to the action - when the action started. All three ordered beers and settled in.

"How much longer?" Teal'c asked.

"Fifteen minutes, Teal'c. Exactly one minute less than the last time you asked," Jack said with a wink at Daniel.

"You know, I'm wondering how Ishta would take... jell-o wrestling matches. What do you think, Jack?" Daniel asked with his own wink.

Before Jack could answer, Teal'c said, "Ishta would wipe up the ceiling with them."

Jack rolled his eyes and said, "Floor, Teal'c. She would wipe up the floor with them."

"That as well," Teal'c said solemnly.

Jack and Daniel laughed even as Daniel waved the waitress over. When she arrived, he ordered a Scotch and water while Jack, raised eyebrow and all, ordered another beer. Teal'c did the same.

When the waitress left with their orders, Jack said, "Scotch and water? You?"

Daniel shrugged - and grinned.

Jack looked at Teal'c and said, "Looks like our little boy is growing up."

"I believe, O'Neill, he has been 'grown up' as long as I have known him."

Jack rolled his eyes.

Daniel was feeling no pain. In fact, he was feeling pretty damn good. He was actually having a ball watching Teal'c watch the female jell-o wrestlers. He wondered if it had been this fun last time.

Orlin.

The name entered his consciousness, and with it, a memory.

Now he knew why they were here.

Sam.

Last time, she'd been involved - if you could call it involved - with Orlin. This time, she was involved with Pete.

And Jack had to watch women wrestle in jell-o.

Daniel ordered another drink. A double.

Jack watched Daniel put the alcohol away as if he were drinking water. Something tickled at the back of his brain, but he'd had a few too many beers himself and couldn't capture the elusive thought.

The evening settled into a groove of laughter, cheering, betting, and drinking. Jack covertly watched Daniel, and Teal'c watched them both. When the wrestling ended and Daniel's number twenty-three was declared the winner, Daniel bought a final round for his friends. When the waitress arrived, Jack ordered black coffee for all of them, but Daniel waved him off and said, "Make that three coffees and three brandies, all right?"

"Daniel, you've had enough, don't you think?"

Smile in place, Daniel said, "No."

"I do believe he is drunk, O'Neill. I have never witnessed this before. You, yes; Daniel, no."

Jack looked over at Daniel, who was struggling to put his jacket on, and agreed, "You're right, he's drunk. As the proverbial skunk."

"I believe he could use some help," Teal'c observed.

Jack walked back over to Daniel and said, "Jacket getting away from you there, Danny boy?"

Daniel paused in his efforts to slip his right arm into the jacket sleeve and said, "Stubborn bastard, you know? Although -- I'm not -- you know, quite certain -- if it's my arm - or the jacket."

It didn't escape Jack's notice that Daniel was speaking very slowly and enunciating very carefully. He pulled the collar of the jacket up and fitted Daniel's arm into the sleeve, then pulled it over Daniel's shoulders. He straightened it, tugged it down, and then zipped it up. "Okay, you're set. Come on, let's get you to the car."

"Did you notice -- my girl won. Although -- I should - probably - call - her - a woman."

"I noticed, Daniel. You really know how to pick your jell-o wrestlers."

"Did - I - win - the - last - time?"

"The last time?"

"You - know." Daniel leaned in close and whispered, "Orlin. Last - time - we - did -this. This time - it's - Pete. So - did - I - win - last - time?"

Jack stared at Daniel, stared hard. A myriad of feelings overcame him, confusing feelings as he looked at his... friend. Bleary blue eyes peered back at him as Daniel swayed closer to him and Jack caught him. Lips a few inches from his own, Daniel asked, "Did - I?"

"You don't remember?"

Daniel put his finger to Jack's lips and said, "Ssh, don't - tell - anyone. I don't - remember - hardly anything." He grinned a rather lopsided grin and added, "But it - doesn't matter, does - it? Old Doc Jackson -- is - dead - anyway."

The strange feeling tickled Jack's brain again and he recognized it as worry. Serious worry. Frowning, he guided Daniel to the door as he said, "You won last time too."

"He is humming," Teal'c observed from his spot in the front seat.

"Yes. Nice voice," Jack said dryly.

"I believe there is something seriously wrong with our friend."

"Ya think?"

"He is still humming."

"Just help me get him to the door, Teal'c."

"What is the tune? Do you recognize it?"

"It's 'There's No Place Like Home'."

Between the two of them, they managed to get Daniel to the front door. Jack dug into Daniel's pockets until he found the keys. Juggling a still humming Daniel, he managed to insert the right key into the lock and push the door open. As they crossed the threshold, Daniel said, "Watch <hiccough> your step, boys."

"What does Daniel mean?" Teal'c asked as they almost dragged him inside.

"How the hell should I... OUCH!"

Jack stumbled as his foot slammed into something. He kicked at it, then banged his knee against something else. "What the hell? Can you reach the light, Teal'c?"

"There does not... seem to be a light, O'Neill."

"Oh, fer crying ... here, you take our drunk while I see if I can find the damn thing."

Teal'c took all of Daniel's weight and waited while Jack picked his way over the wreckage that was Daniel's home. He could hear his friend stumbling as he bumped into things, soft curses quickly following. Finally a light in the kitchen came on and it was enough to guide Teal'c further into the home, something he quickly wished he had not done.

Standing at the entrance into the living room, Daniel dangling from his arms, he said, "I do not understand, O'Neill."

From across the room, Jack looked in shock at the mess. "Neither do I, Teal'c," he whispered.

They both stared at the devastation. There wasn't a single piece of furniture in one piece. Nothing stood upright or intact. There were no pictures left on the walls, nor a single lamp that wasn't broken and lying on the floor. And judging by the way much of it was ground in, and the dust that had accumulated, Daniel's home had been like this for quite some time.

Jack felt the worry of earlier blossom into fear. He could feel the heat on his face, and the moisture in his eyes. He thought of the weeks and months since Daniel's return, of the constant smiles and cheerful countenance, the helpful demeanor, the willingness to do anything he was told, go anywhere....

Suddenly Jack could see Daniel's face as he was asked to serve as the mediator between the three nations of Kelowna. Daniel had never even blinked. He'd simply smiled and said, "Of course."

Of course.

Why shouldn't he want to help the people who tried to make him a scapegoat after he'd killed himself to save them all?

But Jack's memory didn't end there. How about Daniel's reaction to "You and Doctor Lee. Yes, Doctor, just the two of you. Washington won't support anything more than two seemingly harmless archaeologists...."

And what about the way Daniel had handled being tortured for days? He'd simply picked up a large tree branch for a crutch and cracked a few jokes before later apologizing for the fact that Jack had been forced to come after him when he should have been with "Teal'c, Jacob and... you know, Sam...."

He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat and said, "Hang on, let me check his bedroom."

Teal'c was too shocked to respond.

Jack hurried down the short hall and into the bedroom, where, after turning on the overhead light, he stumbled to a stop.

Oh, God.

The bedroom was actually worse, but what brought Jack up short was the pitiful pile of blankets and pillows on the floor in an un-littered corner of the room. He also noticed what was clearly a brand new - the sale sticker still plastered to the side of it his primary clue -- portable television. Jack could see the remnants of Daniel's salad and several empty beer bottles on the floor and realized that this was where Daniel had been when Jack had knocked four hours earlier.

Jack returned to the living room. "Come on, Teal'c, I'm taking him to my place."

"That would be wise, O'Neill."

Jack started to take Daniel's other arm, but Daniel pulled away from both men. Facing them, swaying drunkenly, he grinned and said, "No, no. Home. You - go. I'm - fine."

Jack took a careful step toward Daniel and said, "No, you're not fine, Daniel. And you are coming home with me."

Daniel almost danced away, neatly avoiding the mess on the floor in spite of his inebriated state. "Don't - be - silly. Now shoo, go home."

"Daniel, please?"

"Jaaaack, we all know I'm not the person you want at your house." He leaned forward and both Jack and Teal'c rushed toward him in case he fell, but he didn't. He made a shooing motion with his hand and repeated, "Leave, adios, sayonara...."

"Hasta no-no, Daniel. Now come on. Let's go to my place."

Daniel's expression changed so rapidly, both men were shocked. The smile was gone, replaced by a scowl. He was, judging by his words, sobering up.

"I'm staying here. This is my home and it suits me. Perfectly. Feel free to exit that way." He pointed at the front door.

"Daniel, you destroyed your home," Jack said simply, his voice soft and gentle.

Daniel's head lifted a fraction as he said, "So?"

"Please, come home with me?"

"I have no... huh-oh... I think... I think...."

Daniel suddenly went green, put his hand to his mouth, and made a dash for the bathroom. Jack looked at Teal'c, who stared worriedly back at him. Jack nodded and said, "I'll go."

Jack walked into the kitchen and sat down next to Teal'c who immediately pushed a mug of coffee toward him. Eyes on the dark liquid, Jack nodded his thanks.

"Is he--"

"Asleep."

"That would be... on the floor, then."

Jack shrugged. "He's a stubborn son of a bitch."

"I could carry him to the car, O'Neill. He would rest easier at your place, would he not?"

"Probably, but he'll fight us. For now, we'll go with staying here and try to get him to my place tomorrow. I'll give Carter a call, see if I can get her to put together a crew to get this place cleaned up."

"And tonight? I do not believe DanielJackson should be left alone."

"I'll stay. You take my truck and head back to the Mountain."

"I believe I will stay as well."

Jack glanced up... and smiled. "Thanks, T."

Jack straightened and, satisfied with the job, nodded. He'd finally connected with Carter and told her to grab Ferretti in the morning and meet them at Daniel's. She'd been half asleep at the time, but had agreed without asking too many questions. Now he and Teal'c were righting both the couch and the love seat. They'd found that a few of the cushions were salvageable so planned on making the couches their beds for the night. Of course, he, as the shorter of the two men, was going to be stuck with the smaller couch, but he figured that by sleeping on his side, curled into himself, he'd be all right.

"I have found enough bedding, O'Neill."

Jack took the sheets and blankets offered by Teal'c and began to make his so-called bed. When both were finished, they sat down on their respective couches, neither quite ready for sleep. Looking over his shoulder at the hall that led to Daniel's bedroom, Jack said, "He was pretty sick."

"He drank a great deal."

"True."

They were silent again, each deep in his own thoughts. Several minutes later, Jack said quietly, "I'm .. scared."

"As am I, O'Neill. Something is very wrong."

"He said... he said he still didn't remember much." Worried brown eyes met Teal'c's. "He still doesn't remember, Teal'c."

"I believe that as we stopped sharing, he stopped trying."

"He remembered Charlie," Jack said, his voice sounding far away. "I ... he wanted to talk about it, but I shut him out. I just closed my locker and walked away."

"He wanted to speak of Sha're as well, but sensed my discomfort. It's altogether possible that every memory brought pain, to either himself or us, so he simply - stopped."

"So who does that make him now? If he has no memories, or very few, than who the hell is he? How is he functioning?"

"I do not know. I cannot fathom what we have witnessed, O'Neill. He... I simply do not understand."

Jack nodded and swiped a hand over the lower half of his face as he said softly, "I was... mad at him. I've been angry for quite awhile. I think he... knows. He's always so... amenable."

"Perhaps it is time for your anger to be shared."

"How? How do I tell him that I actually hated him? How do I tell him that I came to hate him after Baal?"

"Why would you hate DanielJackson?"

Jack stared up at the ceiling, sighed, and said, "Remember when I mentioned how he... how he came to me when I was Baal's prisoner?" At Teal'c's nod, he went on. "He tried to... he wanted me to let go, to ascend. I refused so he kept me company. At the time, it seemed like so much, but I kept dying and coming back, and Daniel didn't do anything. He had all this power, all these abilities, and he wouldn't - couldn't - get me out of there. I was pathetically grateful later for his company, but then it hit me. Here was this fucking all-knowing, all-powerful being, and he did... nothing. He let Baal torture me over and over and over again."

"Did he?"

"Now is not the time to be inscrutable, Teal'c. And I was there."

"And I know that Major Carter, Jonas Quinn and myself were not alone in what we accomplished in trying to free you. I do not believe that we took even one step that was not orchestrated by DanielJackson. I know it was his voice I heard while deep in kel-no-reem. His voice telling me to use Yu. He did what he could - and more. He risked a great deal to aid you. Of that, I am certain."

"Then what about you, Teal'c? Why didn't he just save you and Bra'tac? Why did he allow you to go through that hell?"

"It was my battle, O'Neill, not his. Or perhaps you believe he should have gone through his life as an ascended being doing nothing but saving our ... butts? He was not a god, and no one knew this better than DanielJackson. He was simply on another path, a path with rules to keep individuals like Anubis from using their abilities to destroy and control. DanielJackson is one of the few men of this world who understands that with great power comes great responsibility and even greater restraint." His mouth turned up in a slight smile as he added, "But he did what he could in ways that undoubtedly drove Oma Desala insane and, in the end, cost him everything. His life as an ascended being, his family, his friends, his memory and all that he was. I believe he has suffered more than is warranted, more than any individual should."

"Shit."

"Indeed."

Jack walked into Daniel's room and made his cautious way over to the bathroom. He turned on the light, then partially closed the door so that it was muted but giving off enough of a glow that he could see Daniel. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he gazed down at the sleeping man, his brow furrowed.

The only sound in the room was the sound of Daniel's breathing. The precious sound of Daniel's breathing. Jack found his eyes drawn to Daniel's chest, to the constant and pure rise and fall of it. Daniel had somehow pushed the blankets down and they were now pooled around his waist. His right arm was flung over his head causing his tee shirt to ride up slightly, revealing pale skin and a thin, dark shadow of hair that disappeared beneath his boxers. Jack felt his mouth go dry as his eyes seemed to fixate on the dark hair. Suddenly he could see Daniel as he'd been -- on the day of his ascension - in the 'Gate room of Oma's mind. There'd been tears in Daniel's eyes. He could hear Daniel's voice, hear the words... and his own....

"I'm gonna miss you guys."

"Yeah, you too."

"Thank you. For everything."

"So, what? See you around?"

"I don't know."

"Hey. Where are you going?"

"I don't know."

Thank you. For everything.

Right.

Jack had been so helpful. There was so much for which Daniel could thank him. Not.

And there'd been tears in Daniel's eyes.

Why?

Jack took another step closer to Daniel and whispered, "Why?"

Because... Daniel hadn't wanted to go. He'd wanted ... to stay.

"You didn't get... you weren't... kicked out, were you, Daniel?" he asked softly of the sleeping man.

Answers seemed to flow through him as he gazed down on the man he'd once called his best friend. The answers to all his questions sang in his heart, murmured in his mind, and he knew they were not his own.

Daniel chose to descend - probably due to his inability to help his friends - and he'd chosen to start over - literally. No memory of himself or who he'd been because he hadn't liked that man. He'd never intended on returning to the SGC, but he hadn't planned on SG-1 stumbling upon him during one of their journeys through the 'Gate. Hadn't planned on ever being found. He would, in all likelihood, have remained on "whatever-the-hell-the-name-of-that-planet-was" forever. But SG-1 had stumbled....

No.

There'd been no stumbling.

Jack smiled because the answers were still coming. Daniel's fate had been in Oma's hands from the get-go, only he hadn't known it.

His smile disappeared.

Oma hadn't counted on SG-1 screwing up so badly though. SG-1 and Jack O'Neill.

Stepping closer, but careful not to tread on the edges of the blanket, he whispered, "I understand my anger while you were ascended, but I've been angry for a long time. Why?"

He expected more answers, but they didn't come. He wasn't really surprised because he got it now. What kind of life would it be if the answers always came -- and problems were always solved by someone else -- and lives were never truly in jeopardy?

Daniel had understood that from the beginning.

He studied Daniel's face, and a strange warmth spread throughout his body. He frowned as his stomach started to do flip-flops, the kind he used to get just before going up in a fighter plane. That odd kind of excitement that, when mixed with fear, created a top-notch pilot and soldier. Only Jack was in Daniel's bedroom, or what was left of it, staring down at his friend.

Jack closed his eyes as knowledge slammed into him.

Jesus Christ.

He loved Daniel.

"My God, I love you, Daniel. I - love you."

For several moments he stood quietly, letting the knowledge settle. Finally he stared up at the ceiling and pondered the change that loving Daniel had wrought. Okay, he felt ... the same. Other than loving Daniel, he was still Jack O'Neill - who now loved Daniel.

So no major changes. Same old, same old.

Accept for Daniel, of course. Well, shit. He sort of needed to tell him. On the other hand, why the hell should Daniel care? The news might even make things worse -- if they could get any worse. Jack figured a man who'd torn up his home, who hated himself enough to destroy all his possessions, might not think too much of the fact that Jack loved him.

Damn.

His stomach was revolting. Daniel cracked open an eye and immediately closed it. He tried again.

Light.

There was light somewhere.

He turned his head and spotted the sliver of brightness. Biting his lower lip, he sat up and ran his hand through his hair. Slowly he got to his feet and was forced to close his eyes again while the room spun wildly. When balance seemed restored, he opened them and took the necessary, but unsteady, steps to the door. He just managed to make it to the toilet when his stomach made its disgust known. He went down on his knees, grabbed the sides of the bowl, and let loose.

When he finished, and he knew he was because he felt infinitely better, he sat with his back against the shower door. It was cold and felt good. Eyes closed, he tried to remember what had happened and why he felt so shitty.

Nothing.

Swell, more memories lost. Daniel turned his head to the left, opened one eye, spotted the rack of towels and thanked God they were close. He reached up, pulled them all down, double folded two of them, put them on the floor, then fell sideways until his head landed on the makeshift pillow. He used the other towel as a blanket. With a sigh of relief, he closed his eyes.

Jack rolled over and almost fell off the couch. He caught himself and sat up. Damn, his back and legs hurt. Loveseats were not meant for men his size. He swung his legs over the side and planted his feet on the floor. He checked his watch and groaned. It was only a little after five. Oh, well, he needed to check in on Daniel anyway. He got up, smiled at Teal'c, who was dead to the world - a fact Jack wondered if he'd ever get used to - and headed down the hall to Daniel's room.

Inside, he noted the bathroom door was closed now. Ah, ha. Jack walked over and thought of knocking, but decided against it. He opened it slowly... and froze in his tracks.

Daniel was sound asleep on the floor and covered by a beige bath towel. And the bathroom stank to high heaven. Holding his breath, he walked over, grimaced, and peeked into the toilet bowl. He quickly flushed it. Man, he really was in love. He put the top down on the toilet and sat down. He needed to get sleeping beauty off the floor, but how? Although... Daniel actually looked comfortable. And remarkably peaceful.

"I'm going to regret this in a few hours, Danny, but for you - I'll do it."

He got down on the floor, positioned himself with his back to the shower, lifted Daniel's head - and pillow - and rested them in his lap. He pulled the towel that was serving as a blanket higher around Daniel's neck, then settled back and closed his eyes.

Daniel shifted slightly and frowned in his sleep. Something was... off. He opened his eyes, winced as the light hit sensitive retinas, then tried to turn over....

"Jack?"

He was lying in Jack's lap.

On the bathroom floor.

Considering his condition, he managed to get to his feet amazingly fast. He swayed as the blood rushed to his head, then reached out, his hand connecting with the sink. He steadied himself, and had only one thought; get the hell out. Now.

He made it down the hall and out the front door without waking Jack. It was only once out on the sidewalk that he realized he was wearing nothing but his tee shirt and boxers.

The closing door roused Teal'c. He sat up, threw off the covers, and stood. Frowning, he walked over and peered out the windows. He moved quickly to the door, opened it and rushed out.

Okay, where should he go? And how, because, damn it, he certainly couldn't get on a bus like this, not to mention he'd need money, so he really should go back in, grab his wallet and car keys, but that meant maybe waking Jack, and dealing with ... things, so he didn't. Wouldn't. Which left him on his driveway in his boxers and shirt.

So... he'd walk -- somewhere. What werea few miles, in the cold, in nothing but a tee shirt and boxers? It was early so who'd notice?

"Daniel, why are you standing in the driveway wearing nothing but your shirt and under garment?"

Daniel whirled around at the sound of the deep voice and found Teal'c staring at him from the porch.

"What are you... and Jack... why are you... in my home?"

"You vomited and passed out, Daniel. We could not leave you alone, so we remained."

Shit. Daniel closed his eyes in resignation and said, "So you've seen my... place."

"Since we have obviously stayed the night, the answer would be yes, Daniel."

"Could you stop calling me 'Daniel', Teal'c? It sounds... odd... coming from you."

Teal'c cocked his head. "What would prefer that I call you, Daniel?"

"I don't know, just... not... Daniel." He opened his eyes and said, "Don't call me anything, Teal'c. Don't talk to me. Just... go inside, please, and get my wallet and keys."

So much for walking anywhere. He must truly be hung over. "And if you would, maybe my jacket too? I'll just," he pointed in a vague direction, "head to Cheyenne Mountain, okay?"

"I do not think that would be wise," Teal'c said as he stepped off the porch and approached his friend.

Daniel stepped back and held up a hand. "Please, Teal'c?"

"Do you not think it odd that we are both wearing only our sleeping clothing and standing in your driveway?"

"Well, I don't know about Daniel, but I think it's odd, and I'm betting Daniel's neighbors across the street think so too," Jack said from the porch.

"God damn it," Daniel muttered angrily.

"Daniel, I've got coffee on. Why don't you come back inside and we'll all get warm and have some, okay?"

"Perhaps Daniel does not wish you to call him by his given name either, O'Neill."

Jack joined Teal'c, a puzzled frown on his face. "Excuse me?"

"Daniel no longer wishes me to call him 'Daniel'. Perhaps he would like you to stop as well."

Daniel turned around and started walking away. Jack shot a disgusted look at Teal'c and said, "Now see what you've done?" He ran to catch up with Daniel, Teal'c right behind him. Because Daniel kept walking, Jack was forced to run past him, then turn around so that he was jogging backwards. Huffing a bit, he said, "Daniel, I want you to come back to the house right this minute or I'll report this entire incident to General Hammond."

"I quit, so go ahead and report me," Daniel said as he kept walking, eyes fixed on a point over Jack's shoulder.

"You aren't quitting, so just stop, turn around, and let's go back before someone calls the police and reports three nearly naked men running around Colorado Springs."

Blue eyes flicked down, then back up. "You're wearing jeans. You're not even remotely near naked."

"But you and Teal'c are. And trust me, someone will call."

"Tough."

"Daniel, you're starting to make me mad."

"Tell me why I should care?"

"I swear, I'm going to punch your lights out in about one minute, and then Teal'c will carry you back to the house."

Daniel stopped in his tracks. His gaze moved from beyond Jack's shoulder ... to Jack. "Go ahead, hit me. You want to. Maybe you'll finally feel better." He pointed at his chin. "Go ahead, Jack."

The entire conversation would have been funny if not for the sadness in Daniel's voice and eyes. Jack was shocked to the core. Teal'c came up to his side and said, "O'Neill does not wish to harm you, Daniel."

Sad and weary blue eyes moved from Jack to Teal'c. Finally Daniel said, "I need a drink." With that, he turned around and started walking back to the house. Exchanging puzzled looks, both men followed. At least Daniel was going back.

Daniel walked inside and into the kitchen. Once there, he went into the cupboard and took down another bottle of Jack Daniels. He opened it and drank straight from the bottle.

Jack rushed over and grabbed it out of Daniel's hand. "Cut it out, Daniel!"

"Give me that, Jack."

"Look, I don't pretend to know what's going on inside that brain of yours, but you've got to stop this, and now. You're really starting to scare me."

A small smile appeared, and that chilled Jack more than seeing the wreckage of Daniel's home.

"Starting to scare you, Jack? I don't think so." He stepped into Jack's personal space and said, "Can't you be honest just for once? Tell it like it is? You hate me. I know it, Teal'c knows it, Sam knows it, everyone knows it. And it's okay," he shrugged, "I understand. Hell, I even agree with you. You have every right to hate me. I just wish I understood why you and Sam worked so hard to get me to come back with you. I don't get that at all."

He walked past a stunned Jack and an equally surprised Teal'c, then continued down the hall and into the bedroom. He found his jeans, slipped them on, put on his shoes and grabbed his jacket. He felt his pocket and nodded in satisfaction at the feel of his wallet and keys.

Walking down the hall, he realized that it had felt good to say the words, "I quit." Why hadn't he thought of it earlier, thought of it weeks and months ago? He was neither wanted nor needed at the SGC, so why stay? It held nothing for him now and he sure as hell hadn't accomplished anything since his return. Drawing strength from the thought, he said out loud, "I quit."

"Then so do I," Jack said from his position in front of the door. "If you're going to quit, then so will I. I refuse to walk through the 'Gate without you. I did it for a year, hated every minute of it, and won't do it again."

Okay, that wasn't how it was supposed to go, Daniel thought. He scrunched up his face and rubbed his nose. "Jack, we haven't gone through the 'Gate together but a handful of times since my return. What the hell are you talking about?"

"I was... mad... at you. I'm not mad anymore," Jack said lamely.

Daniel took the several necessary steps required to bring him with an inch of Jack, and said, "You're not mad anymore?" When Jack shook his head, Daniel asked, "You're not still mad because I didn't help you when Baal had you? You're not still mad because I let him torture you over and over again? That I let Skaara die? That I failed to stop Anubis when I had the chance? You're not still madder than hell at me because Abydos was destroyed? And how 'bout Janet?" He stepped closer and said, eyes shadowed in pain, "You can't tell me you don't all wish it had been me instead of Janet, or wished that I could have, or thought I should have, done something. You can't tell me that, Jack. And you can't tell me that you've forgiven me for letting Baal do what he did to you, for not stopping the pain and the torture. You're still angry and hurt."

Jack smiled softly. "No, I'm not. Because you did help. You saved me the only way you could. You helped me the only way you could. And Janet died in the line of duty, Daniel, and you did everything you could to save her and you did everything you could to save me."

Daniel leaned in close, and with an almost evil smile, said, "I did nothing, Jack. NOTHING."

"How do you know?"

That brought Daniel up short. Jack went in for the kill.

"How the hell do you know what you did or didn't do, Daniel?"

Daniel's eyes narrowed dangerously, but Jack pressed on.

"You have no memories of your time ascended; hell, you have no memories of your time before you ascended -"

"I remember... some things. I know you let me go and that you didn't even blink an eye. I know that. I know you refused to ascend with me, didn't think you were worthy, in spite of the evidence before you that being worthy was hardly a criteria to ascension," Daniel said, voice low and full of sadness.

"What, you're mad at me because I refused to ascend? Are you crazy?"

"Not mad - well, mad that you thought you had so little worth, but that's neither here nor there."

"You did not answer the primary accusation just given to you by DanielJackson, O'Neill," Teal'c said from somewhere.

Without taking his eyes from Daniel, Jack asked, "What?"

"DanielJackson said that you let him go."

Jack watched in amazement as two dull spots of red appeared on each of Daniel's cheeks.

"Is it true, O'Neill? True that you simply let him go? You did not attempt to keep him with us?"

"He was dying, Teal'c. And we were in this... this empty, shining excuse for the 'Gate room. Oma was there, and Daniel was telling me to let him go, to ask Jacob to stop, and I asked him, I asked him where was he going, and do you know what he said? He said, 'I don't know.' So I said, 'See you around?' and he said, 'I don't know'. He started walking up the ramp, but he was... there were tears in his eyes -"

"But not in yours, Jack," Daniel said easily. "I don't think you were upset. In fact, I think," his voice dropped, "I think... you were relieved, and I'm okay with that. I understand better than you think. But at the time, and I'm just foolish and pathetic enough to admit that I wanted you to put out your hand, hold my arm, and say, 'Stay'. I wanted to hear that one word more than I ever wanted to hear 'We'll keep you, Daniel,' or 'Of course I'm going to adopt you, Daniel, you're my grandson.'"

Jack could have sworn he'd just been sucker punched. He was having difficulty breathing and his vision was blurring. He reached out blindly, connected with Daniel's arm, gripped it hard enough to bruise, and croaked out, "Stay."

"Stay."

The word hovered in the air between them, its meaning unclear to Daniel. He glanced down at Jack's strong hand, at the fingers gripping his arm. He felt confused and at odds. His path had seemed so sure moments before, but now....

A tug on his arm and he was suddenly chest to chest with Jack. He blinked rapidly as Jack said, "I wanted to say it, Daniel. I wanted to say it more than anything, but all these thoughts kept swirling around inside the cavern that houses my brain, and ultimately, it seemed that going with Oma was everything right for you. That you were meant to do it, to move on, and it wasn't my place to hold you back. How could I ask you to stay when we didn't even know how well the healing would go? Jacob wasn't sure what condition he could bring you back to, so how could I ask you to stay?"

"What... what are you saying, Jack?"

There it was. The ultimate question. He let his gaze travel over Daniel's beloved face, unaware that his own expression had softened. Finally he said, "I'm saying that I wanted you to stay then, and I want you to stay now."

"Jack, you don't even know I'm here and when you do notice, it's obvious you wish I weren't," Daniel said as if teaching a child. "You've barely been able to stay in the same room with me for more than a minute or two. You don't speak to me unless I speak first, and then you only say what you need to before you make yourself scarce. Maybe it's because you're in love with Sam, but for some reason, you can't tell her, you can't change what needs to be changed in order to be with her. But you should know that because of that inability, she'll never really settle down, not even with Pete."

Teal'c, who'd been staying back in order to give them some sense of privacy, now stepped forward at seeing the expression on Daniel's face. Pain etched on his own countenance, he asked, "You can't believe that we hate you, DanielJackson."

Without taking his eyes from Jack, Daniel answered, "Hate would be too strong a word for you and Sam. I'm not denying affection, but the friendship we shared before I - before I left - is gone. We're not a team anymore - no, that's wrong - I'm not a member of the team anymore -- and I take full responsibility for that fact. I gave up the right to belong to SG-1 when I ascended, and later when I failed to save Skaara and the rest of my Abydonian family. I understand that. Maybe we've all just been through too much, I don't know. What I do know is that I was a fool to think I could waltz back into your lives and affections, not to mention the team, as if nothing had happened. But I can rectify that now. Will rectify that now."

He gently pulled his arm from Jack's grip and took a couple of steps back. "I've got to get out of here right now because I need to decide what to do with the rest of my life. I'll let General Hammond know on Monday, turn in my resignation then, and remove any personal items from my office."

He walked around Jack, turned slightly as he opened the front door, and said, "Just let this happen, okay? You'll all be happier, trust me."

Daniel headed out then, and right into Sam, who'd been about to ring the bell.

"Daniel."

The smile popped up almost without thought. "Hey, Sam. 'Morning. And good-bye. Gotta go. Jack and Teal'c were just leaving." Without waiting for any response, Daniel rushed passed them to head to the garage.

"DANIEL, WAIT!"

The voice sounded so... needy, and urgent, and needy, that Daniel stopped and dropped his chin to his chest.

"DANIEL, would I risk everything to tell you how I felt if I didn't mean it? Would I?"

Daniel turned around. Jack was standing on the bottom step of the porch, Teal'c behind him, and a confused Sam to the right of Teal'c. Okay, this was way more than he needed. Way more. He felt the corners of his mouth twist up and he knew he was smiling, the same smile he'd been wearing for months. Years, maybe.

"You didn't risk anything, Jack," he finally said.

"Yes, I did, but I'm thinking I need to say it a bit more clearly, so here goes: I love you, Daniel. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you. Watching you, listening to you, loving you, all of it, forever. If we were back in that cell of Baal's, and you asked me to ascend with you - I would. In a heartbeat. Anything to be with you."

Jack stepped down, took a few steps closer to Daniel, spread his arms out to his side, palms up, and said, "Stay."

"Stay."

This time said with all the love Daniel had ever wanted to hear as brown eyes poured every emotion Jack was feeling... into him.

How could he not remember his life, yet remember how much he needed Jack?

How much he loved Jack.

His legs went weak, and afraid he'd collapse, he walked over to the lawn and sat down. The grass was wet but he didn't care. He crossed his legs Indian style and rested his arms on his thighs. If he could just sit here awhile, not think, or feel, he might just survive.

Maybe if he could sit here for a few hours... or days.

When Daniel sat down on the lawn, Jack decided this was going to take more than a declaration of love. He looked to the side and motioned Teal'c and Sam indoors. They went without a word. Once the front door closed, he moved to the lawn and sat down opposite Daniel. But there was no way he was going to - or could - cross his legs Indian style.

"I'm too old to sit like that, Daniel. Is there some reason you decided to sit on the grass?"

"Compromise," Daniel said easily.

"Ah. Didn't want to come back into the house, but you didn't want to leave either, right?"

"That's about it."

"Daniel, I know I put on a good show of playing the dumb military jock, but we both know the truth, right?"

Daniel nodded.

"Okay, so understanding that I'm really pretty smart, allow me to say that ... you're on the edge of a cliff right now, and what you do next will determine whether you go over, or stay safe. Personally, I'm in the camp that wants you to stay safe."

Daniel rested his cheek in one hand and said thoughtfully, "I felt... alive... when I tore my house apart. It felt good. I was mad at him, but it still felt better than anything I'd felt in ... months."

"Who were you mad at, Daniel?" Jack asked carefully.

"Him."

"Who?"

"Doctor Jackson. Doctor Daniel Jackson. He was laughing at me, you know?"

"You're... Doctor Daniel Jackson."

Daniel smiled knowingly. "No, I'm just... Daniel Jackson. I don't do much, don't have to."

"Do you like it that way?"

"No. That's why he was laughing at me." Daniel plucked at a piece of grass. "I ... it was like that before, you know?"

"Before?"

"Before I went with Oma. I didn't really do much, wasn't helping anyone, I remember that. I didn't have a voice, don't have one now. Didn't have one when I was growing up either." He glanced up at Jack and asked curiously, "I'm falling apart, aren't I?"

"No, I don't think you are, Daniel. I think you're confused and you're still dealing with the fact that you chose to descend, to lose who you'd been, only to have SG-1 show up in your new backyard. We found you, then we left you behind, metaphorically speaking. We brought you home, and just... went on about our business. You have to admit, it's irony at its best. We profess to never leave anyone behind, and yet, we did exactly that after bringing you home."

Daniel got a faraway look in his eyes, then said, "If I were still ascended, I might have been able to save... Janet. You all know that too, Jack. You know that." He rubbed his temple and muttered, "God, I'm so tired, Jack. Just... so tired."

"Let me take you to my place, all right? You can sleep all you need while knowing that someone who cares, someone who loves you, is watching over you. Would you do that?"

"You don't have to say that, Jack."

"Daniel, if you believe nothing else right now, believe this: I love you. Please let me take you to my place?"

"I'd like to ... sleep."

Jack got to his feet and held out his hand. Daniel stared at it for a moment, then took it and allowed Jack to pull him to his feet. Hand still in Jack's, he let him lead him to Jack's truck. As he got settled inside, Jack said, "I'll be right back, okay? Don't go anywhere... without me, all right?"

"I'm not moving, Jack."

Jack nodded and hurried back inside.

Sam watched the two men on the lawn. Next to her, Teal'c stood silently.

"This is bad, isn't it?" she finally asked.

"I think... we're seeing a curve for the better, Major Carter. Daniel is listening."

She started to correct him, but Jack was leading Daniel to the truck, so she let it go.

"I believe O'Neill is returning," Teal'c said.

Jack entered a few moments later and hurried over to them. "I'm going to get Daniel to my place. He needs sleep badly. How soon will Ferretti be here?"

Sam looked blankly at him for a moment, then said, "Any minute."

"Good, good. Look, Teal'c, you know what needs to be done, so I leave this in your hands, all right?"

"It shall be done, O'Neill."

"Thanks, T."

Jack quickly put on the rest of his clothes, grabbed his keys, then hurried out.

When the door closed, Sam rubbed at her eyes. Her emotions were all over the map, so she did what she did best; she put them away until a time when she could figure this all out. She started to turn around when Teal'c said, "You have not really looked around you yet, Major Carter, so I feel it is my duty to warn you. It is not pretty, but perhaps it will explain much."

Puzzled, Sam faced him, then started to give the room a cursory look. The blood drained from her face as she whispered, "Dear God."

Jack drove faster than was his norm; his concern for Daniel, the reason. His friend was slumped in the front seat, head resting against the window, eyes shut tight. He hadn't said a word since Jack had rejoined him, and that worried Jack as much as Daniel's body language. By the time he pulled into his driveway, he was thinking that maybe Daniel had jumped off that cliff after all.

He shut off the engine and was surprised when Daniel said, "We're here already?"

Sheepish smile in place, Jack said, "I might have broken a few speed laws getting here, Daniel."

"Ah." Daniel fumbled with the seatbelt, got the door opened when it popped off, and quickly got out. He waited as Jack got out, then together they walked up to Jack's front door.

Once inside, Jack didn't even hesitate. He moved Daniel straight down the hall and into his bedroom. Once there, he got Daniel out of the clothes he'd put on such a short time ago, and got him into the bed. Daniel never said a word. Jack leaned over and pulled the blanket up, but caught himself just before he started to tuck it in. He straightened and grinned down at Daniel.

"You probably don't need me to tuck you in, do you?"

Eyes already at half mast, Daniel murmured, "Probably not."

Smiling, Jack said, "You sleep. I'll be here if you need me." He found the courage to brush Daniel's hair back a bit as he added, "You know, Daniel, I plan to never be more than say, a hundred yards from you from now on."

Daniel yawned and said, "That might be going a bit far... hell, your office is more than a hundred yards, and you know you hate going into old buildings or tombs or temples or pyramids with me, should we ever... do that... again, so maybe it should be never more than, say, ten miles?" Daniel yawned again and smiled.

"No can do. Ten miles is unacceptable. And I love going into pyramids and temples and whatever with you, so shut up and go to sleep."

Daniel closed his eyes.

Relieved, Jack turned away and walked out and down into his living room.

Sam took another step into the living room, her eyes scanning the floor, the walls, the broken furniture, pictures and lamps.

"The bedroom is the same, Major Carter. He left only the kitchen and the bathroom unscathed."

She began to pick her way through the room, occasionally bending over and picking up a piece of glass here or a piece of broken knickknack there, and holding them in her hand. Her eyes were wide, reflecting her shock. She stopped a few feet from the entrance to the kitchen and said, "The dust."

"Yes," Teal'c affirmed. "Apparently he did this some time ago."

She glanced down the hall... straightened her shoulders, and started for the bedroom, Teal'c on her heels. At the doorway, she peered in and gasped.

Maybe it was because the room was so small, but the devastation seemed so much worse than the living room. There was nothing that hadn't been destroyed and it all lay on the floor in pieces. The futon had been broken into three partswas in three broken parts, the mattress a shredded mess. The two drawers belonging to the nightstand must have been thrown or smashed into the wall and the nightstand itself was on its side, the victim of what appeared to have been a foot. The wood was splintered in several places and the middle of the stand had been caved in. Pieces of the bookshelves littered the floor, but the books had been stacked carefully in a corner. The photos and other items that had once resided on the shelves were still on the floor, and like everything else, had been destroyed.

Sam's gaze finally landed on a pile of blankets under the window in the nearest corner. There was a bowl and fork on the floor, as well as four empty beer bottles and a small television sitting a few feet away. Something shiny caught her attention and she moved toward the bedding. She nudged a blue blanket away and uncovered the item: >a photograph in a silver frame. Sam knelt down and picked it up.

It was unbroken and she recognized it immediately.

The photo showed the colonel standing in front of a podium. It had to have been taken moments after her promotion and seconds before Thor had taken Jack. Sam felt the moisture of tears and didn't try to stop them when they spilled over.

She was surprised when Teal'c moved to her side and engulfed in his warm embrace. She closed her eyes and held on.

The two of them sat in the kitchen not talking. Sam had stopped crying but her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. Suddenly she stood and went to the cupboards. She started to open one but then spied the bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. She got two glasses but at a "harrumph" from Teal'c, put one back. She sat back down, opened the bottle and poured herself a stiff one. Raising her glass, Sam said, "To ... Daniel."

"Why do you toast to DanielJackson?"

Looking at her empty glass, Sam said, "Because... I screwed up, Teal'c."

"I believe we have all 'screwed up', Major Carter."

She poured another drink and said, "I could go with that."

Lou Ferretti, with a couple of his teammates, showed up at ten and by two, Daniel's house had been put to rights. What couldn't be fixed or salvaged, which was almost everything, had been tossed. The carpet and floors had been painstakingly cleaned, with everyone on their knees picking bits of glass, wood and ceramic out of the carpet by hand. There'd been a couple of spots on the living room and bedroom walls that had required repair, which Ferretti, a carpenter at heart, had done. Now he, his teammates, Sam and Teal'c, sat on the floor of the living room, pizza and beer spread out between them.

Amazingly enough, neither Lou nor any of his team had said much upon arriving and seeing the condition of Daniel's home, but now, fortified by three beers, a clearly worried Lou asked, "Is he all right?"

Teal'c dropped the edge of a crust into the pizza box and said enigmatically, "We are hopeful."

"He with the colonel now?"

"He is, and sleeping. I do not believe he has slept much in the last weeks."

Lou reached over and grabbed another beer. As he twisted off the top, he said regretfully, "Not once since his return, have I told him I was glad he was back. In fact, it's been damn uncomfortable around him. I mean, what's a guy supposed to say to someone who's come back from the dead - again?" He paused thoughtfully and finally added, "You know what's really been ... odd, is that for all the not talking to him, he's been so damned cheerful."

"He has been as he thought we wanted him to be. It was easier on all of us," Teal'c said. "He knew we did not wish to talk about it, or to relive the past, so he became someone that eased our way at the expense of who he is."

Lou nodded as he said sadly, "None of us ever said good-bye or acknowledged the fact that the Doc was gone. We never dealt with it. He died for an entire population and we did nothing. I guess it's no surprise that his return would be handled the same way." He took another swallow, wiped his mouth, and added, "Gotta love the military."

"So what do we do about it?" Lieutenant Willard, Corky to his friends, asked.

Sam exchanged knowing looks with Teal'c, then said cryptically, "Right now, we've done our part. We'll have to trust Colonel O'Neill, and hope that we have the chance to put things right with Daniel."

Jack had to take a leak but at the moment, Daniel was using him as a bed. Not that Jack was complaining, but he really needed to go. He should never have crawled into bed with Daniel, but his need had been so great after five hours that he'd succumbed. Besides, never in a million years would Jack have ascribed creeping vine tendencies to Daniel. Whenever they'd shared a tent on a mission, the guy never moved. But now Jack, in his own bed, had slowly been forced to the edge, thanks to Creeping Daniel. Adding insult to injury, he'd been trapped by Danielae reperendum .

Not that he was complaining.

But damn, he had to go.

Okay, Operation Disentangle the Archaeologist, underway.

He started with Daniel's right arm. Lifting it, he set it down on Daniel's leg, which meant he had to move Daniel's leg and arm now. Frowning, he thought it out, then slowly nudged Daniel's leg over until it dropped between their bodies. Now this was progress. He slid his right leg off the bed. Good, now he had one foot on the floor. Maybe at this point, he could just kind of slide....

Success.

Of course, he was now on the floor, but he was out of the clutches of the Daniel-vine. Standing, he hobbled to the bathroom, got the seat up and quickly, and wonderfully, relieved himself. He was so happy, he almost sighed. When he was done, he washed his hands, dried them, then flushed. Feeling human again, he walked back into the bedroom. He looked at his alarm clock and was surprised to discover that it was after four. He brought the covers up to Daniel's shoulders and, in spite of feeling silly, leaned down and kissed Daniel's cheek.

Grinning like an idiot, he walked out, his stomach rumbling.

In the kitchen, he made himself a lettuce and tomato sandwich liberally sprinkled with salt and pepper, added some Nacho Doritos and a beer, then sat down to eat. Munching chips, he admitted that just because Daniel was sleeping soundly in his bed didn't mean Daniel was all right. Not by a long shot. Somehow, he had to help Daniel find himself again, find the man he'd locked out in order to... to what? Survive? Survive the apparent indifference of the world to which he'd returned?

Suddenly Jack lost his appetite. He pushed the plate away but drank down the beer. Staring over at his sandwich, he found himself having serious difficulty with accepting the amount of self-hatred required to do what Daniel had done to his house. And there was no doubt that self-hatred had been the root cause, the reason behind the destruction. But what worried Jack even more was the apparent indifference Daniel had shown in the weeks following the demolition of his home. The way he'd simply left it and gone about his business with a smile on his face, yet at the end of the day, returned to that God- awful mess as if it were nothing. Every evening Daniel had taken his food and settled in that corner in the bedroom, in the middle of the pile of bedding on the floor, and watched mindless television until he'd fall asleep.

And not once in all the ensuing weeks had anyone caught a clue that one of their own was in serious trouble. Not once. What the fuck did that say?

It said Daniel was very good at putting forth a façade that his so-called friends would so easily buy.

It said his so-called friends were so screwed up, Daniel had to put on a fucking fake front in order to help them.

But at what cost?

Jack picked up the plate, dumped the sandwich, put the dish in the sink and put the Doritos away. He got another beer and wandered into the living room. Sitting on the couch, he put his legs up on the coffee table and crossed them at the ankles. As he nursed his beer, he tried to figure out how to handle the future.

"No, I need to... go alone, Teal'c"

Teal'c looked at Sam, the street lamp giving him enough light to see her eyes. He nodded solemnly.

She thanked him with her smile and got out of the car. With Daniel's keys in hand, she walked up to the door.

Jack was just about to check on Daniel when the doorbell rang. He veered right, stepped up to the foyer and opened the door. Sam stood on his doorstep, her expression guarded.

"Sir, I'm just dropping off Daniel's keys."

He stepped aside, and as she walked in, he peeked out and said, "Teal'c?"

"In the car, sir."

"Ah." Jack closed the door, sensing that this was the opportunity to talk with his 2IC.

Sam walked down into the living room and paused, suddenly nervous and uncertain. Jack joined her and put his arm on her shoulder. He didn't miss the fact that she stiffened under his touch.

"My little declaration came as quite a surprise, didn't it?" he asked gently.

"You could say that, sir."

"I meant every word. I do love him. I never expected it, was shocked when I realized it, but that doesn't negate it. And I want our Doctor Daniel Jackson back, don't you?"

She nodded but didn't say anything.

"Don't make me try to figure out what you're thinking, Sam."

At the use of her first name, she turned to face him and was startled by how calm he looked. Worry still shadowed his eyes, and she knew she was now a part of that worry, but overall, his body language radiated a strange kind of calm and... happiness. Did loving Daniel do this to him?

Sam took a deep breath and said, "I think... I understand now." Her eyes searched his and she said softly, "We never had a chance, did we?"

His expression softened as he answered, "Come on, Sam. Was it ever what you really wanted? Neither of us had to risk anything."

He waited a moment, watched as his words penetrated, then added with a sly grin, "But maybe now, you have a chance to take that risk?"

Sam thought of Pete, who was probably on his way to Colorado Springs even now... and she smiled. "Yes, maybe I do, sir." She looked at him sheepishly and added, "Jack."

"It's the right move."

Her mind immediately supplied her with a vision of Pete, his gaze taking in her body as she lay beneath him. She could see the warmth and love telegraphing itself to her as clearly as any words.

"I think you're right... Jack." She grinned and added, "So was yours. The right move, I mean." She looked back at the hall that led to Jack's bedroom. "When he wakes up... would you tell him that we... love him?"

"I'll tell him, but I think that you-"

"I plan to, but until then?"

"Right. Okay."

She took Jack's hand and placed Daniel's keys into his palm. As she curled his fingers around them, she said, "Take care of him, Jack. Take care of yourself."

He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips, then murmured, "I will. And speaking of taking care - let Pete take care of you, all right?"

She smiled brilliantly. "I will. It'll be nice for a change."

"You deserve it, Sam."

Eyes moist with emotions, she said with a hitch in her voice, "So do you, sir."

Jack understood the return to the use of 'sir' and he nodded as she turned and walked out.

Jack sat on the edge of the bed and watched Daniel sleep. He suspected the sleeping part might go on for quite a while longer, like, days longer. Not that Daniel didn't need it. All he could hope was that this was a healing sleep.

Sixteen hours later -

The pillow smelled incredible. Daniel, hovering in that warm, safe world between sleep and wakefulness, buried his nose deeper into the softness and inhaled. His eyes popped open.

Jack.

The pillow smelled of Jack.

Why should his pillow have Jack's scent on it? He lifted his head and blinked blearily around him. Not his room and he was not on the floor.

Wait.

He'd gone through this once already. Hadn't he?

Oh, God, he remembered. All of it.

Daniel threw off the covers and quickly stood. It was dark in the room, but that was because the shades had been drawn. He turned on a light, searched for his clothes... and found them. He quickly dressed, looked with yearning at the bathroom, shook his head, then shrugged and hurried across the room and into the small tiled room. He used the toilet, then without thought, reached under the sink and grabbed a new toothbrush. He got it out of the box, spread a nice amount of paste on it, then started brushing. He was halfway through his ritual when it hit him.

He'd known where Jack kept new toothbrushes.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said with a mouthful of toothpaste.

His movements slowed as the urgent need to leave leaked out of him like air from a punctured tire. He did the rinse and spit thing, then ran a hand over his face and the stubble that now graced it. Should he shave? Hell, yeah. Smiling, he opened the medicine cabinet and sure enough, there was a package of razors. He took them down, opened it, and took one out. The can of shaving cream was on the counter so he set the razor down, turned on the hot water, and soaked a washcloth in it. When it was steaming, he put it over the lower half of his face and left it long enough to soften his stubble. He folded the cloth and picked up the can, then squirted a nice mound onto his palm. He lathered up and thanks to Jack's teachings, did a quick military shave.

When he was done, he patted on Jack's aftershave, turned off the light, and headed out into the living room.

His heart was in his throat, but as he walked, memories of days and nights at Jack's came flooding back. He paused before the spare room, reached out... and slowly opened the door.

Walking in, he wondered how many times in the three years after his return from Abydos he'd slept in here. Countless. And now he was remembering them. He remembered the barbecues, the Super Bowl Sundays, fight nights, poker nights, and the evenings after bad missions when all either man had wanted to do was sit, drink, and not be alone.

He also remembered how those nights had stopped, the invitations drying up. He remembered the distance that had sprung up between them, remembered his inability to figure out why he was suddenly persona non gratis with his best friend.

The bad memories warred with the good as his mind was inundated by all of them.

Sha're giving birth, giving her son -- and as far as he was concerned -- his son, up. Chaka, replicators, appendicitis attack. Zartarc detectors, exploding suns, and a death so painful the memory hurt unbearably.

His life rushed him and finally drove him to his knees. Hands on either side of his head, he began to rock back and forth as he kept up a steady stream of pleading "no's".

Jack turned the burner down to simmer and put the lid back on the chili. He finished cutting up the tomatoes for the salad and threw them into the bowl, then put it in the fridge. Wiping his hands, he headed to the bedroom to check on Daniel. He hoped he was at least stirring, because by now he had to be hungry, even in his sleep. He was probably dreaming about food. Jack smiled as he walked down the hall, envisioning flying chocolate walnut cookies in Daniel's dreams.

A sound from just up ahead froze him in his tracks. It was coming from the spare room and, damn, it sounded like Daniel. Jack almost ran the few additional feet to the open door and seeing Daniel on his knees, moved immediately to his side.

"Daniel?"

"Memories," Daniel muttered. "Hit me. So many."

"Oh, God."

Jack wrapped his arms around Daniel, held him close, his hand cupping the back of Daniel's head. They rocked together as more of his life assaulted Daniel.

"Headache," Daniel mumbled.

"Does that mean... are you all right now?"

"Headache," Daniel repeated.

Jack could feel the smile against his neck and said, grinning, "Does this mean we can get up now? My knees are killing me."

Daniel pulled away and, with shaking legs, stood. He held a hand down to Jack.

"You're gonna help me up?"

"You're the one with the bad knees. I only have a headache," Daniel said with a surprisingly shy smile.

Jack took the offered hand and once up, Daniel wobbled over to the bed and sat down. He put his head in his hands and said, "Whoa, that was... weird."

"Considering what you do for a living, weird is relative," Jack said. "Hang on here, I'm going to get you something for the pain. Be right back."

Daniel nodded without looking up. He continued to hold his head. A few moments later, Jack pulled his hand away and put two Tylenol into his palm. Daniel looked up, smiled wanly, and said, "Thanks."

"Water," Jack said as he also handed him a glass.

Daniel tossed the pills back and drank the entire glass of water. He put the glass on the nightstand and dropped back onto the bed, eyes closed. Jack sat down next to him.

"So, you remember stuff now," Jack said lamely.

"Guess so."

"You okay?"

Daniel opened his eyes and turned his head. "You mean other than the headache?"

Jack smiled fondly and said, "Yeah, other than that."

"Well, now that the memories are real, my journals make a hell of a lot more sense."

They were both silent for several minutes while Jack tried to assimilate the idea that Daniel now had most of his life back. Daniel was trying to sort through the memories while at the same time, wondering if he should ask Jack about their friendship and what had happened to it. His thoughts, and the silence, were interrupted when Jack asked, "I fixed chili, you up to eating something?"

"Your turkey chili?"

"Yeah."

"I could... eat."

They both got up and walked silently into the kitchen.

"Have a seat. I'll set the table."

Daniel did as asked and watched as Jack bustled about the kitchen. He put out the salad, the dressing and two beers, some shredded cheddar cheese and a bowl of sour cream, then cut up a loaf of French bread fresh out of the oven and added that to the table. Finally he ladled the chili into bowls, carried them over to the table and, after placing a bowl in front of Daniel, sat down.

"Eat up, Daniel."

"Yes, Mom."

"Don't even go there, Daniel."

"Yes, dear."

"That's better."

Smiling, Daniel took a piece of bread, buttered it, then dunked it into the chili. He took a huge bite, hummed his appreciation, then dressed his salad and took a bite of that, followed by a healthy gulp of beer. After swallowing, he said, "Good, Jack. Thanks."

Jack wasn't the least bit amazed when Daniel finished off two bowls of the chili, most of the bread, his salad and Jack's. Sleeping for over twenty-four hours, and getting all, or nearly all, of your memories back, evidently worked up quite an appetite. Clearing the table, he asked, "Save room for dessert?"

Daniel looked up expectantly and Jack couldn't help but laugh. Still chuckling, he answered the unspoken question, "Chocolate-chip mint ice cream."

"The kind with the mint chocolate chips, or the mint green ice cream?"

"The latter, not that I understand the difference."

"It's more fun eating green ice cream."

"Of course," Jack said as he put the dishes into the dishwasher.

He tidied up, then dished up a bowl of ice cream for Daniel and set it in front of him. As he watched him stir the dessert into a syrupy mess, he wondered where the man from the lawn had gone, or if he was still here and Jack was seeing Daniel's ability to be what people needed him to be. That thought sent chills up and down Jack's spine.

He pulled out his chair and sat down, then asked worriedly, "Am I seeing you, or the guy you've been for the last several months?"

Daniel had a spoonful of ice cream halfway to his mouth when Jack asked the question and now his hand hovered in the air. Slowly Daniel put the spoon back into the bowl and looked over at Jack. "I guess," he finally said, "you're seeing both. Right now, I'm trying very hard not to run out of here, not to disappear and never be seen again. Doctor Daniel Jackson and Daniel Jackson are trying to merge, I think, and I'm working hard at sorting through the memories and wondering whether to ask you... certain questions, and if what you said outside was real, or just the words of a good soldier trying to help someone in need. But hey, other than that...."

Slightly taken aback, Jack said, "O-kay... let's start with what I said outside. I meant it, and I'm not that good of a soldier that I'd tell a man I loved him in front of my second-in-command and a Jaffa warrior, not to mention any neighbors who were out to get a kick out of their whacky neighbor. Does that answer that question?"

"I guess so," Daniel said with sheepish grin.

"So what are the other 'certain' questions you wanted to ask?"

Still stirring, Daniel said, "I guess, now that I remember so much... well, I'm wondering what happened... to us. Our friendship. I can picture those early years so clearly, the first years, and we were... good together. Not that we didn't have our arguments and disagreements, which wasn't so surprising given that we're pretty different, but there was a connection between us and somehow we managed to become good friends. Then... sometime after you, Teal'c and Sam came home after helping Thor, nothing was the same. I can remember now how I puzzled over it, tried to figure it out, and finally decided it had something to do with all three of you being... you know, soldiers, and having gone through that experience together, and realizing how far away from all of you I was... and then you and Sam seemed to have something going and - and finally - well, I never realized until then how much I relied on your friendship... and I'm starting to sound pathetic, aren't I? I'm a grown man and yet...."

"Danny, I don't know what happened. I honestly don't. It's altogether possible that I had feelings for you even then, and was doing a nice song and dance in order to avoid them. In fact, that's probably the answer, which doesn't excuse anything, although, I do kind of wish you'd been more... more... you know-"

"No-o, more what?" Daniel asked as he crossed his arms over his chest in a way that was clearly a dare.

"Right. Well, I guess I mean that you're always willing to fight for an idea but you weren't willing to confront me, to find out what the hell was happening. So yeah, I wish you'd been more like the Daniel Jackson who argued for Chaka. The one who tried to get me to think about the Eurondans, and fought for the Gadmeer and the Enkarans. Maybe if you'd applied some of that - feistiness -- to our friendship back then, we'd already be a couple."

Daniel rose and picked up the bowl of ice cream. He stood for a moment, and said, "You know, sometimes I find myself missing the childhood I never had." He walked behind Jack, upended the bowl over Jack's head, and added, "But then I get a chance to be that kid, and everything's all right with my world again, you know?"

Green ice cream dripped from Jack's nose and fell on his lips. He licked it up and said, "Okay, that might not have been the best thing I could have said."

"Ya think?" Daniel asked as he rinsed the dish and put it in the dishwasher.

"Hey, at least I know you're Doctor Daniel Jackson. Daniel Jackson would have just smiled." He licked some more ice cream and scooped a couple of dollops out of his eyes as he added, "On the other hand, Doctor Daniel Jackson would have agreed with me because he has a guilt complex bigger than the state of Texas. Maybe you're right, and you two are merging. I've always wanted to see a split personality merge."

A wet dishcloth landed on his head. He sighed, pulled it off, and began to clean up.

Jack walked out of the bathroom wearing only his jeans and a towel around his neck. He rubbed absently at his wet hair as he walked into the living room. Daniel was on his couch, legs stretched out in front of him, a magazine in his hands. At Jack's entrance, he glanced up and asked, "Minty fresh now, are we?"

"God, I've missed your snarky humor."

"Sure you have, Jack," Daniel said sarcastically.

He sat down next to Daniel and said, "No, really, I have. You've been so damn cheerful."

Daniel shrugged, closed the magazine and slid it onto the table. "So, what now?"

"Well, your house is cleaned up so if you want to go home, not that there's any furniture to go home to, but you're used to that, so if you want to go...."

Daniel rose gracefully and asked, "Where are my keys? And I assume you'll give me a lift?"

"Oh, fer crying out loud, sit the fuck down. You're not going anywhere."

One finely arched eyebrow rose. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, really, and you know it. This is your home - our - home now."

"Gee, have we forgotten 'don't ask, don't tell'?"

"Good point. Okay, so we keep the other house for appearances sake, but still, you're not going anywhere."

Daniel sat down on the end of the coffee table and swiped a hand over his face. He suddenly looked very tired again - and very young. "Okay, I admit it, I'm confused."

Jack leaned forward and put a hand on Daniel's leg. He glanced down and frowned. His hand was on Daniel's leg and it felt - good. Almost as good as holding him in bed. Considering how close his hand was to Daniel's dick - it might even feel better. Daniel cleared his throat and Jack looked up and into blue eyes with a glint of humor shining through. Jack cleared his throat and said, "Yes, well. There's no reason to be confused, Daniel. None. You're you, I'm me, we're here, you're getting your memories back and I love you."

The humor was still there as Daniel asked, "And that's supposed to make it all better? And what if I don't love you? Ever think of that?"

Jack slid his hand up higher and felt the slight tremble of anticipation in Daniel's leg. He glanced up at Daniel and said smugly, "No."

That eyebrow went up again as Daniel said, "Maybe Doctor Daniel Jackson loved you, but Daniel Jackson doesn't, ever think of that? And now that they're merging, you might just get left out in the cold, buddy boy."

He moved his hand up even higher and slid it to the inside of Daniel's thigh. He was pretty sure Daniel bit back a groan. Smiling, he said, "Oh, I don' t think so, Danny boy. I think at the very least, good ol' Doc Jackson loved me and Dan lusted after me, so I'm thinking I'm in clover now."

"High opinion of yourself, Jack?"

"No, high opinion of your good taste in men," Jack said confidently.

"I do have that," Daniel conceded. "Which leaves you out of the equation altogether."

Jack looked down at the bulge in Daniel's jeans and said dryly, "Is that my P-90 or are you just happy to see me?"

"It's your P-90, and what the hell it's doing in my jeans, I'll never know. You need to take much better care of it, Jack."

Jack reached around Daniel, and with a strength that befit an Air Force colonel, he pulled the coffee table closer. Once he was satisfied that Daniel was now close enough, he put his hands on Daniel's hips and pulled him so that his butt was on the edge of the table. With his fingers on Daniel's zipper, he said, "Well, let me take care of it right now. A little spit, a little polishing, and I'll have that-"

Daniel burst out laughing.

"You really know how to kill a mood here, Doctor Jackson."

Controlling himself, with effort, Daniel sputtered out, "Spit... polishing?"

"Daniel," Jack said patiently, "that was an example of inn-u-endo."

Daniel leaned in close and whispered, "No, Jack. That was a metaphor - like this: Why don't we go into your room and examine P-90's to our hearts content?"

Jack frowned. "You sure that wasn't an example of innuendo and not a metaphor?"

Daniel tapped his chin thoughtfully, then brightened as he said, "Jack, I understand you... clean... quite a few ... P-90's around Cheyenne Mountain." He grinned and said, "That's an example of using a metaphor in an innuendo."

Jack unzipped Daniel's jeans and said thoughtfully, "So if I said, 'Doctor Jackson, I understand you let your P-90 into the hands of any male officer above the rank of major', that would be an innuendo and a metaphor?"

"No, Jack," Daniel said as he put his hand over Jack's. "That would be a lie. I only let colonels who lead SG-1 handle my ... sidearm." He smiled and batted his eyelashes.

"Ah, that was a metaphor."

"Yep."

"So let's go into my room and I'll check out your sidearm and you can check out my

P-90."

"Jack, I've seen you naked - and it's a sidearm. On the other hand, I'm definitely a P-90."

"I think I have a headache," Jack complained.

Holding his jeans up with one hand, Daniel stood up, took Jack's with his other hand, and as Jack got up, said, "Come on, enough with the metaphors, let's just go rut like rabbits."

"Now you're talking, but I think that was another metaphor, Daniel."

"Shut up, Jack."

"I can do that."

Daniel looked into Jack's eyes, thrust down even deeper, watched Jack's whiskey browns close in ecstasy, and accepted that now he was alive.

Jack couldn't remember feeling so satisfied following sex before. His body was still feeling the effects of making love with Daniel and he hoped he'd feel it for quite awhile. He turned his head and looked at Daniel, who was asleep next to him. Rolling onto his side, he propped his head on his hand and took in his fill. How was it he'd never noticed Daniel's beauty before? Or had he, on some weird subliminal level? At the moment, Daniel looked like a teenager, his face smooth and untroubled in sleep. Jack decided that gazing on a sleeping Daniel, hell, a waking Daniel, beat the most beautiful sunset in the world.

Oh, he really had it bad. Which was good.

"What are you thinking?" Jack asked from the bed.

Daniel turned away from the window and said, "I'm thinking we should head over to my place. I need... I need to see it again, you know? And pick up a few things," he finished with a smile meant to reassure Jack.

"You sure?" Jack said doubtfully.

"Yeah, I'm ... pretty sure."

Jack got out of bed and said, "Well, since you're already dressed... give me a few and we'll head out."

"Thanks, Jack."

Jack and Daniel got out of the truck and were just walking up to Daniel's front door when they were hailed by someone across the street.

"Hey, Doc, how are you today? Everything okay?"

Daniel, key in hand, turned to see Rick Benfield, his neighbor, waving from where he was kneeling in front of his lawn mower. Daniel waved back and said, "Fine, Rick. Just fine."

Benfield stood and wiped his hands on his work jeans. "Glad to see you out and about, Doc. We gotta stick together, you know? Neighbors gotta watch out for neighbors."

Considering that the Benfields had been the first family to offer assistance following his run-in with Osiris, Daniel gave Jack an apologetic shrug, then smiled back at Benfield and said loudly, "Absolutely, Rick. A neighborhood watch kind of thing."

"Exactly." He waved amiably, then went back to his lawn.

Relieved, Daniel opened his door and stepped inside, Jack on his heels. He was just closing the door when Jack's cell phone chirped. Jack reached into his jacket pocket, pulled it out and flipped the cover up as he brought it to his ear.

"O'Neill."

//"Colonel, how soon can you get to the Mountain?"//

Jack looked at Daniel and gave him a helpless shrug. "I can be there in thirty, sir."

//"My office in thirty-five, Colonel.".//

Jack closed the phone and said, "Come with?"

Daniel looked around, thought of his... study, and shook his head. "You go, but when you're finished, come back and... pick me up?"

He smiled that shy smile again, the one that seemed to be for Jack and no one else, and Jack felt his heart melt all over again. "You sure?"

Daniel nodded. "I'm sure. I need... time, you know? I need to kind of get my head together, organize my memories, that kind of thing. And since Hammond clearly didn't seem to be asking for SG-1... well, this is a perfect opportunity, if you know what I mean?"

"I don't want to leave you, Daniel. I'd rather not break my vow of ten miles, you know?"

Daniel chuckled and said, "Go, Jack. Please?"

Seeing only love in Daniel's eyes, Jack finally nodded. "Okay, but I don't like it. At the ten mile marker, I might go into withdrawals."

Daniel snorted.

He watched the truck disappear around the corner, sighed, and headed back inside. Daniel walked into the kitchen and marveled at how easy it was now that his house had been cleaned up. He gave himself a little shake as he leaned against the counter. Maybe he should have gone with Jack after all. He gazed around his kitchen and tried to remember why he'd walked into this room. A drink, maybe? No, he wasn't thirsty. Okay, so he'd ... check out Doctor Jackson's - his - study. Yeah, that was the ticket. Face the lion's den.

Just outside the door, he stopped - shook his head again - and went inside.

The afternoon sun was coming in the only window in the room, a long window opposite him. Warm, golden rays struck the roll-top desk, bringing the grain of the wood out and giving the desk a healthy glow. The room looked... comfortable, real, and - for once -- welcoming. He walked over to one of the bookcases and let his fingers run over the spines of the books, stopping long enough to touch the odd artifact or photograph.

He sat down at the desk, fingers running along the smooth edge. He let Doctor Jackson take over....

An hour later, he got up, a peace having settled over him like Jack's body after they'd awakened earlier that morning. He looked around him and smiled. This was who he was - and he liked it. This room, the desk, all of it. Even with no memories, he'd instinctively created a room for his soul, a room of all that he had left, but that represented all that he was. He turned toward the window and the warm sun, only to have a shadow obliterate the golden orb.

Lowering his head and peering out, Daniel couldn't believe his eyes. "What the hell?"

In the blue sky above, a death glider was winging its silent way toward his home.

Shocked, Daniel moved closer and watched, stunned, as the glider hovered in the air opposite. It was so close he could actually see the man inside.

Zipacna.

Funny, he thought, they probably should have figured on something like this happening after Osiris. But where the hell had Zipacna come from anyway?

The glider closed in on his home.

Daniel stopped thinking and just... moved.

Going out the front would be suicide but maybe he could hide among the trees that ran along the side of his house and behind it. He went out the back door.

He was running across his backyard when the glider fired. His house exploded behind him. A blast of heat, followed by debris, struck him and sent his body hurtling though the air. Oxygen was driven from his lungs and hot pain enveloped him.

His last thought was of Jack.

Sam looked at the timer and growled. It told her that the roast had another twenty-minutes to cook, but damn it, it was too dark, already too dark. Okay... foil. She needed to cover it for the remaining cooking time, right? Right.

"Sam? Need any help in there?"

"Uh, no, no, Pete, everything's just... peachy."

She grimaced when she heard the low laugh. "Behave yourself. I can do this."

Her small portable television was providing background noise while she got out the foil and tried to figure out how to tent the damn roast. Her attention riveted on the details involved in protecting a rump roast, she barely heard the news announcing an explosion in a small residential area just outside of Colorado Springs. It wasn't until a reporter mentioned Aspen Court that she looked up. She blinked, blew a bit of wispy bangs out of her face, and stared at the screen.

"The residents of this quiet and sleepy neighborhood were rudely jostled out of their late Sunday afternoon by what some residents are calling an attack ... from outer space."

The camera moved past the reporter to focus in on a smoldering shell of a home and Sam's heart almost stopped even as the reporter's voice went on.

"At approximately four-thirty this afternoon, a strange object appeared in the skies over Aspen Court Road. The neighbors, curious at first, but not overly worried, moved outside to get a better look...."

Sam reached for her phone.

Jack tossed the folder into his 'out' basket and groaned. Government investigations never failed to generate tons of unwanted and unnecessary paperwork. For this, Hammond had called him in on his Sunday - a Sunday he'd really wanted to spend with Daniel, talking to greater depths... and doing other stuff - to greater depths. He smiled and reached for the phone, but his cell rang first. Believing it was Daniel, he jumped up and plucked it from the pocket of his jacket hanging on the coat rack.

"Hunka-hunka burning love, here."

//"Sir, where are you?"//

His smile faded as Carter's tone gave him immediate warning of something very wrong. "Hammond called me back to the Mountain, why?"

//"Where's... Daniel?"//

Feeling a knot of fear beginning in his belly, Jack answered, "At his place. He needed some time - I'm picking him up in a few... and again, I ask, why?"

//"Sir, turn on your set. Now."//

Knowing better than to question Carter, he picked up the remote.

//"Channel seven, sir."//

A moment later, he found himself looking at a street that bore a remarkable resemblance to Daniel's.

"Carter?"

//"At four-thirty, what looked like an alien ship flew over Aspen Court Road and ... blew up ... a ... house. Sir, it was Daniel's."//

"Where are you?"

//"At home, but Pete and I are walking out the door right now."//

"I'll tell Hammond, make sure he tells Teal'c, and I'll meet you there."

//"He's alive, sir. Daniel... is alive."//

"Right."

The police had cordoned off a six-block radius around Aspen Court, but thanks to a call from General Hammond, Jack had only to flash his Air Force ID to be allowed through. He'd phoned Hammond from his office, gave him the information, begged him to tell Teal'c, that he had to get to Daniel's house. The General had agreed and told him to get going, that he'd bring Teal'c and they'd be right behind him.

Now he was here -- but seeing the emergency vehicles, and the cloud of smoke drifting high in the sky, he could wish for otherwise. He pulled up behind a fire engine and quickly got out. For a moment, he couldn't move as he found himself staring at the devastation up close and personal.

There was nothing left of Daniel's home.

During the drive to Daniel's, he'd told himself over and over again that, once here, he'd find Daniel's home - and Daniel - safe and sound. That something else had happened, to someone else. But not to Daniel.

He couldn't say that anymore. The truth was staring him in the face.

And he'd left ... Daniel. He'd Goddamned left Daniel - again.

Heart in his throat, he walked slowly across the street. He couldn't seem to stop looking at the destruction even though his emotions were on hold, frozen solid as he looked at the small, smoking pile of rubble that had once been Daniel's home. His mind shut down, other than repeating the same phrase over and over again, "He wasn't home -- he wasn't home -- he wasn't home."

"And the owner?"

"Doctor Daniel Jackson, Officer. A nice guy, quiet, had a bit of trouble several weeks ago, so this is - this is just - unbelievable."

"And you're sure he was home?"

"Oh, yeah. We talked when he arrived with a friend. I watched the other man leave, but the Doc, he stayed inside."

Jack turned his head and spotted the speaker. It was the guy Daniel had called 'Rick'.

Jack moved closer, stepped between the cop and the man. He nodded at Benfield, then took out his ID and showed it to the officer as he said, "I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill. Daniel worked with me. Are you sure he... he was inside? Home?"

Benfield nodded sadly. "I was in the garage when you drove off, then I worked on the side of the house, with my wife's roses. He never left." His eyes shifted back to the rubble as he said, "I'm sorry."

"Are you sure he was inside? Could he have gone to the store, or... anything?"

The man shook his head again. "No, Colonel, I'm afraid not." He pointed to a smaller piece of debris and said, "That's what's left of his... you know... car."

Before Jack could look, Carter pulled up, and just behind her, three dark blue, non-descript cars with the Air Force insignia on the doors. Carter and Pete got out of hers while Teal'c and General Hammond, climbed out of one of the Air Force vehicles. Two other Air Force officers immediately moved toward the police, seeking out the man in charge. The clean up - and cover up -- was beginning.

Jack didn't move, couldn't move, but it only took a few seconds before Carter and Teal'c were by his side and General Hammond in front of him.

"Jack?"

"He was, according to witnesses, inside at the time of the ... attack, sir."

Jack watched the same flare of hope that had been in his eyes - die in General Hammond's. He took no satisfaction from seeing it snuffed out. Next to him, he was aware that Pete had put an arm around Carter.

Daniel groaned and tried to turn over. Pain lanced through his back on his left side so he immediately stopped. He groaned again and slowly opened his eyes.

Dirt.

Okay, no ascension, no heaven. He wasn't dead. Or if he was, he'd found someplace new and it was full of dirt. Which was in his mouth. He spat it out, along with some grass, before, somehow, managing to get his right arm under him to give him leverage.

He was up. He blinked in the waning daylight and took in his surroundings. Okay, a lot more dirt.

Gulley. Got it. The force of the explosion had sent him sailing across his backyard and into the gulley that ran behind his home. The fact that it was mostly dirt and sand as opposed to rocks was undoubtedly why he was still alive. And didn't that beat all?

God, he must have a head injury - he was channeling Jack.

He took several deep breaths and slowly got to his feet. When the world settled back down, he glanced up and realized that the gulley was deep, the dirt walls steep. He was go