He worked it out the morning after Chulak.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. Technically, most people considered three AM night. But he'd never kept a regular schedule that he could remember, not even on Abydos, and right now physical exhaustion had a reasonable chance of shutting down his head. So that's what he was driving for. Exhaustion to claim him. Then a way to keep going when he woke again. And in between he had to keep focused and stop worrying the past.

God, he'd had them unearth the Abydos Stargate.

It had seemed such a wonderful idea. He'd been thinking about Jack, about how the truth must eventually come out. And they'd run out of antibiotics from the first aid kits. That had worried him. A cut on Abydos could be fatal, had often been before he'd arrived. Life could be hard, leaving everyone one bad season from starvation. And if Earth contacted them, if they found the map room of interest enough to establish a base, there could be trade. Medicine. Food. A few things that could mean the difference between a child's nightcough getting better or ending in the silence of the grave.

Ah, but the cost of it. He hadn't figured on the cost.

Bracing the heels of his palms against his eyes he tried to shut out the bitter reproaches, but they came anyway. He'd left Sha're in the gateroom. Hadn't thought about the implications of Jack's arrival on Abydos. Hadn't thought through the warning that another Ra had come to Earth.

Why hadn't he realized that could happen on Abydos?

But he'd gotten used to thinking of Earth as another world, another time, another life. So distant it couldn't touch the simplicity of Abydos. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He hadn't thought then, so he had to do a whole lot of thinking now. And he needed to do it very rapidly.

Unfortunately, most of his thoughts came with memories that lay around him sharp as fresh broken glass.

Sun warming his face, the aroma of spiced food, a glimpse of dark curls, a woman's soft voice; so many things could dig into him, flash a recollection of everything he'd lost. He was learning to leave the mountain only if dragged out, stick to coffee and whatever packaged food someone pushed at him, keep his eyes down, tune out the voices, and focus on research. Because everything else was just too much like slipping on his own blood; a reminder he was hemorrhaging inside.

Oh, God, Sha're.

He'd once thought the entire concept of love an invention. Something created to sell greeting cards one day of the year, provide an excuse to create families, a fantasy that had nothing to do with sexual attraction or the common interests of real compatibility. Sha're had changed everything. She'd changed him. In two days, he became a man who couldn't live without his heart. Without her. She'd taken his breath and everything else that he was. And then she'd been taken from him.

And grief now wrapped his chest like the razor wire outside Cheyenne Mountain.

He tightened his arms against it, rocked himself, wanted to keen from the loss. Or get up and break something.

But that wouldn't help Sha're.

What would help is getting his mind onto the problem of finding the Stargate address he needed for the world where she and Skarra were now held. Jack had said they'd find them. Said it with a conviction that was as close to rock solid as he'd ever had in his life.

Of course, there'd be a whole new problem after of how did you get a parasitical alien out of someone's body and mind, but he wasn't able to process that far ahead right now. Not with exhaustion courted and emotions flapping like tattered prayer flags. God, he needed rest, but he couldn't find it.

Sleep was overrated, anyway.

Good thing to tell yourself at three AM on a bitter cold night with snow on the ground outside and your breath misting before you and misery pressing down and all your needs going crystalline. Fatigue weighed his eyes, but he had other things to do right now, because he simply could not do the alternative.

He couldn't go back to the room Jack had provided--damn him. Couldn't put his head on a white-sheeted pillow and stare up at a white ceiling and wonder if Sha're knew what had happened to her. Was happening. Could she feel something alien and hateful moving inside her mind? Did she know? Behind that blank stare, had she been silently screaming and begging for his help? The same way he'd screamed and begged to get to her?

Oh, yeah, those thoughts made for a good night's sleep.

He let out a sigh, wanted to curse Jack again for dragging him out of the base tonight because he wasn't done being angry with Jack right now, then he rubbed his eyes, started boxing away his feelings. At least he knew how to do that. He'd pack them up with the rest of the wreckage from Chulak; the sightless eyes of the dead, the snarling busts of staff weapons, Sha're-but-not-Sha're's glowing eyes, rocks crumbling, flesh burning, terror's stench, screams and more screams, Sha're gone through the Stargate, the ground jumping around him as death fell from the sky and dug up the earth around him. It could all go into the closet in his head where the rest of the bad stuff lived.

He shivered, hugged himself tighter, longed for Sha're's arms around him instead.

How would he ever sleep alone again? He would reach for the warmth that should be next to him, curled close and soft and familiar and desert scented, then wake to emptiness, and his thoughts would go skittering and the tears would sting, salty and hot, and burn in his chest, while his breath caught on the edge of one simple thought.

She's gone.

That had happened once already, and he didn't want a repeat of that night. He also didn't shed the tears. You cried for the dead, and Sha're wasn't dead. So he'd stop this misplaced grief. She was...well, he wasn't going to keep thinking about that. Awake and alone and cold at three in the morning, he was going to focus on how to find her again.

Step one was staying alive. So far he'd managed that. Step two meant being able to keep stepping through the Stargate and searching. That could be a problem. So, sitting cross-legged on Jack's living room floor, he started looking for a solution.

He missed having a fire before his hands while he thought, wanted dirt and rough, hand-woven rugs underneath him instead of hard flooring and smooth artificial fiber carpet. He wanted loose robes, dry desert in the air, and Sha're puttering behind the curtain in the next room. But he had a hard-ass Air Force colonel behind a door in the next room, a borrowed bed that offered no comfort, clothes that weren't his, didn't fit, felt too binding, just like his skin. And a need to rapidly become indispensable at Stargate Command.

Jack's lecture had made that very clear.

The lecture came just after they'd gotten back from Chulak. After a debriefing, which is what General Hammond had called the meeting, although nothing had been brief, since everyone military had told their version of events. He hadn't been asked to say anything, had been dazed enough not to want to say much. But, afterwards, Jack had caught him in the hallway. And Jack had been Seriously Pissed.

The lecture had come out in a low growl that left Daniel no doubt Jack meant every word, with a finger jabbing into Daniel's face just in case he somehow missed the obvious.

"You do not head towards anyone with glowy eyes without so much as drawing your sidearm. You do not offer yourself for a snake to get put in your head. And you do not keep jumping into crap without even waiting to hear what I might have to say or I will throw your ass into a small, dark room on this side of the 'gate and you will stay there until you learn 'team leader' means the guy who gives the orders!"

He'd seen the sense in Jack's first two points, but the third baffled, then stirred his resentment. Wait to hear what Jack thought? God, Jack had to know--as they both knew from the two trips they'd made together through the Stargate--that sometimes there wasn't time to discuss anything. So he'd tried to reason it out with Jack while they did have time, but that just sparked more anger. Jack's first and then his own.

Damnit, what exactly did Jack think he would learn from being put in a small, dark room anyway? It certainly wasn't teaching Teal'c anything, other than that the military loved any excuse to flex its muscle.

What was it with these people?

So they'd argued about that as well, and then Jack had finally said, "I am not taking a liability into action."

He'd turned on his heel, ignored anything else Daniel had tried to say, and stomped off.

Okay, stomped wasn't quite accurate; made Jack sound petulant and childish, when what he'd been was unreasonable and condescending.

Liability.

One of those nice military labels.

They put labels on equipment; DHD, MALP, MRE. They put them on people; colonel, general, civilian. The last seemed to be about the worst insult they could offer--Jack said the word as if using a synonym for incompetent. That still heated his skin, and he hung onto the anger, nursed it, would rather have it than this bone-weary grief.

Jack was an idiot.

Did he think academia was literally made of ivory towers? He must realize you couldn't go digging around in the past without actually getting into trenches and digging. And that meant going to parts of the world where things like basic sanitation, modern technology, and a value for life disappeared.

God, he'd spent more than a few years in Egypt, as a child and then as an adult, and there were streets in Cairo that made Chulak look a vacation paradise. He knew them, knew how to avoid trouble in most of them. Or mostly avoid trouble. At sixteen, he'd sued to have the courts declare him an adult, had won his freedom, then spent every college break--and the insurance money that had been held in trust for him--getting himself on any dig that would take him. In Egypt, and elsewhere. Showing up with money enough to pay your expenses and a strong back usually got an invite to stay, his skills helped after that. Not that any of it had been easy.

He'd had the joy, one hot summer on the Turkish border, of convincing a group of bandits they should not kill everyone at the site. He was the only one in the group fluent enough in Kurdish to negotiate a trade; medical supplies and the knowledge of how to use them for lives. The bandits had left with wide grins after shooting up the camp. He hadn't been so lucky with the trouble that had shown up in north Sudan.

Rebels had swept into that dig, killed the workers, half the staff, and he could still remember kneeling in the dirt, hands behind his head, sweating and shivering, blood drying on his face, thinking he would die. He'd done a lot of talking then, too, but that hadn't helped Frank Hilbert or Margaret Reich get out alive. The Sudanese army had arrived to rescue them, and Daniel still wasn't sure if the rebels or their rescue had actually shot Margaret and Frank. Then there was the temple that had collapsed on him in Crete. That had not been fun. Neither were a few other memories.

Not exactly an ivory tower life, but it was his, and it looked as if it might actually be put to some use. Only as what? Official 'gate dialer?

They'd already asked him to start training sessions on the mechanism of Stargate addresses. But Captain/Dr. Carter could certainly handle both the training and any Stargate dialing as easily as himself. Not much job insurance there. Also a mind-stupefying job description. So what else?

He could learn about firearms. He didn't like it, but he could learn. Only it would take time. And he didn't see how he'd ever catch up to anything close to Jack's military skills. So while he wouldn't neglect some level of training, he didn't see it as a priority. Or a major asset. Which left what--language?

Oh, yeah, the military would see that as an advantage. For what, a few weeks? He'd become the puppet translator, and if they asked him to start teaching that, too, he could see how it would end. With him kept back to do more and more teaching and less and less field work. He'd seen it happen with others who left hands-on work to others, so it could happen here, too. And that really would be misery.

If he could keep looking, he could keep hoping. He might have some chance to atone, or at least mitigate, his mistakes, but if he got stuck in an office....

Oh, god, he'd have more time to think, to try and tear apart the past and himself in the process.

He let out a breath, rubbed a hand across his eyes again, then pulled his knees close and rested his chin on them. Then he heard a soft rustle of clothing, a sharp click behind him and he knew Jack was awake.

His earlier anger flared, died too fast, even though he tried to hang onto it. Jack didn't come into the room. But he heard another click and sudden brightness from behind invaded the darkness, slanted across the far side of the living room. Kitchen, he thought, hearing pans rattle and Jack muttering, and he stayed where he was in the shadows, his back tucked against the couch. Maybe Jack hadn't seen him, but he doubted that. Jack never missed very much.

And how weird was it that he knew that about the man when he knew so little else?

Distracted, and glad of it, he wondered about that, decided it had to do with dying, and nearly dying, with someone. Time was relative, and not in the way that Captain/Dr. Carter would explain. It took no time for someone to turn and aim a deadly weapon; it took forever when the weapon pointed death at the person next to you. You learned a lot about someone in that time. You learned about their courage, about what existed at a core level of personality far under the layers of habit and cultural indoctrination, about the bonds of friendship, even one that seemed unlikely and tenuous.

You learned even more about a man who would stand beside you, fight with you and for you. That was a surprising revelation. Only the knowledge didn't seem to be anything that translated easily to words, and that distracted him even more.

Then a shadow fell over him and he looked up.

Jack--face pale in the yellow glare of light, rumpled brown hair spiked, baggy navy sweats wrinkled--held out a mug. Thick, white, some sort of words on it, but Daniel had his glasses off and in his hand. Steam rose from the mug.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Hot chocolate, and it's about to fry my fingers. So take it or wear it."

Jack's words and pushy attitude brought back his anger. Jaw tight, he looked away. But he took the mug, hated that Jack was acting the benevolent dictator and could get away with it since it was his house. He wrapped his fingers around the heat from the mug, blew on the steam, didn't intend to use it for anything other than warmth, but the chocolate teased an invitation he couldn't resist, so he took a sip. The liquid sizzled down his throat, exploded inside, and flamed up his spine. He choked on whatever laced the drink, then managed a sputtered word.

"Chocolate?"

Jack pulled a handgun from the waistband of his sweats--and god knew what he was doing at three AM in his own house with a handgun, but somehow that seemed so very like Jack to be armed, even here. Jack put the gun on the coffee table as if it was a book he'd been reading and still planned to finish, then sprawled in the chair opposite. His mouth twisted up at one side.

"Grandma's recipe."

"Your grandmother's a lush?"

The corner of Jack's mouth jerked in another brief smile. "Medicinal. Stops the squirrel cage."

He stared at Jack over the top of the cup, held still as he struggled with the image of a squirrel in a cage making sense as a metaphor for anything. He started to ask, decided he didn't want an explanation, was still mad at Jack anyway, and so he just sipped his laced hot chocolate, let it burn in his throat and start a buzz in his head.

They sat in silence. Jack holding his mug, staring at a thread on the chair arm--a thread he was pulling at, wincing as he tugged.

Daniel sipped his drink, finally had to say something. "You do know chocolate's a stimulant? Not exactly the best thing to encourage sleep."

Glancing up, Jack shrugged. "Told you, it's the balance. Get it right, it works."

Daniel nodded as if that made sense, and he supposed it might, but not at three AM. He glanced at the gun then up to Jack, and asked, "Expecting company?"

Jack sipped his drink, gave a shrug. "What can I say. I'm a welcoming kind of guy."

Jack watched Daniel's head duck, the flicker of a smile hidden, thought the guy looked like a semi had run him over. Then backed up to hit him again. He had that stunned look still, hadn't lost it since they'd found out his wife wasn't exactly his wife any longer. Had an alien snake-thing in her and a new personality to go with a new look. All that could bring new meaning, too, to having an 'ex.' It sure explained Daniel's not sleeping.

He'd half expected that, but he'd come out armed anyway, knew someone was out here, wasn't entirely sure it was Daniel, and he had long years of being overly cautious. Post mission nerves. He never slept well after action. Still had too much adrenaline going. Which is why he had the straight whiskey in his mug. Not much. Two fingers. Just enough to back off the jagged edges. That balance he'd mentioned. You couldn't always keep it. He'd lost it a few times. Tonight--with the shadows under the guy's eyes and skin drawn too tight--it looked as if Daniel was losing it.

Daniel was still in uniform, and Jack was starting to wonder if the guy had any other clothes, suspected he didn't. He'd had books--books of all things--stuffed in one of the suitcases he'd left behind a year ago. Not much else in the other; underwear, socks, a couple pair of khaki pants and some shirts horrible enough they ought to be burned. But Jack suspected the living in BDUs thing was denial, not wanting to admit he was stuck back here, and he wondered what else the guy wasn't dealing with.

"Wanna talk?" he made the offer from guilt, too many years of being responsible for guys under his command, but he really hoped the civie wouldn't pick him up on it. He had no idea what he'd say if Daniel started spilling, because the guy was bound to be way too emotional. You could see that on his face. All that raw stuff leaking out into those wide eyes.

Head still down, hiding what was there, Daniel shook out a slow no. Jack sipped his whiskey, relief relaxing his gut, but irritation kicking up as well. Mostly at himself.

Daniel really needed to talk. He was just a talking kind of guy. Five minutes with him and anyone would figure that out. Also wasn't hard to figure that brain of his had to be going Mach 5 and if he didn't spill some of it the guy would flame out. That would be his fault.

He'd asked for this. He'd told Hammond he'd take this civie on his team. What the hell had he been thinking?

What the hell was Daniel thinking now?

"Worrying about small, dark rooms?" he asked, taking a shot at what might be eating the guy, hoping he'd get lucky, wondering how smart it was to keep dragging Daniel off the base and to his home. Sure was getting them both a lot of rest, wasn't it?

The head lifted and another smile flickered, this one sharp enough to cut. "Jack, small, dark rooms are what I live for. Toombs aren't usually big, bright spaces."

Fighting down a smile, Jack heard the dry sarcasm, got the message. Screw you and your threat, Jack. All phrased in a nice, slanted reference that would go over the head of anyone slow on the uptake. He'd seen Daniel do that before. The guy had done it to him, in fact.

I don't want to die. Your men don't want to die. These people don't want to die.  It's a shame you're in such a hurry to.

Not Daniel's way to call someone a suicidal maniac. Not directly. He just started talking and slipped in the truth along the way, a knife between the ribs.

How did anyone with that kind of face get that much mouth and attitude?

Maybe it was the face; all wide-eyed innocence and new-penny bright intelligence. An innate quality of good shining through that made you just want to hang around it, hope some would rub off. That'd stir a protective instinct in some folks. They'd see it, know it for the rarity it was. Hell, even Ra had to have seen it; not that he'd ever point it out to Daniel, but that Abydos snake-ass had gathered kids around him. And Daniel. Didn't take genius IQ to connect the dots there.

Of course, Ra also fit into the other category; those who'd see all that good stuff and want to stomp it out because it could be a nasty reminder you'd lost that in yourself. Or never had it. And the guy must have developed some means to deal with the last group of folks, which accounted for the mouth and the attitude. Lethal weapon with words.

Did he really want to be dragging around this guy with that face and that attitude? A guy who was bound to piss off half the folks he met, and get the other half wanting to take him home and not give him back?

Sipping his drink, he decided now was as good a time as any to reevaluate.

On the up side, Daniel was smart, and when he fought, did so with the desperation of a guy who really, really wanted to stay alive. Always a good thing. Of course, he had to be pushed into it. Hell, had to have people dying around him, but the worse things got, the more it kicked Daniel into action. He'd seen that on Abydos a year ago, and he'd been thinking about it when he'd taken the guy on. But a year ago, Daniel hadn't had anything to lose. Now he had a wife to get back, and was that going to make him take stupid risks? Do stupid things? He'd sure as hell taken bad options on Chulak.

"Jack, if you want a good soldier who'll salute and just do what you say, you might as well tell Hammond that now, because I'm never going to be that guy."

For a second, Jack would only sit there as stunned as if Daniel had taken a two-by-four to the side of his head. That sure cut the crap. Was the guy a freaking mind-reader along with everything else? His irritation flared, sharp and tight, and he did what he always did when somebody blind-sided him. He lashed out.

"You telling me you'll disobey direct orders!" he said, voice flat, making the words an accusation. And then he wondered how stupid that was--had Daniel, so far, even shown a hint that he had a grasp about what a chain of command was?

Seemed he at least knew the concept, and didn't much like it, because the chin was up and the blue eyes flashing. But the voice just came out soft and stubborn. "If it saves lives, or if the orders are incredibly stupid, probably, yes."

The man sounded so reasonable saying something so insanely unreasonable. Saying something that could get a team killed.

Jack rolled his eyes, then leaned forward, mug held tight between his fingers because it was better to have his hands wrapped around that instead of Daniel's neck. "I don't give stupid orders."

The blue eyes latched onto him and narrowed. "Three words, Jack. Nuclear device. Abydos."

"I didn't blow up those folks!"

"Didn't go through with it."

"You're splitting hairs."

"No, I'm making a point."

"Which is?"

"Sometimes it's useful to have someone around who'll argue with you. It ensures you don't miss the flaws in your logic." He looked down and away and his voice dropped. "I should have had someone on Abydos."

Jack's irritation flat lined. What the hell? He'd been gearing up for a fight, ready to verbally take Daniel's legs out, and then the guy had just saved him the trouble and crumpled.

Had someone on Abydos?

Then he remembered the people of Abydos crowded around Daniel when he'd told them he was leaving. No, when Daniel was told he could either walk through the Stargate on his own or Jack would drag him back since the orders were Dr. Daniel Jackson comes home. So Daniel had said good-bye to a place where he'd actually looked like he belonged. And the people crowded around him had looked as if they thought the sun shown out of the guy's ass. Daniel had even admitted it, had said only Sha're had treated him as if he was a regular guy. But she was in love with Daniel, still on a honeymoon, really, wouldn't have argued with him, either.

And now he saw where this was going.

Well, if Daniel wanted someone to give him a fight, he'd just gotten his damn wish.

"Daniel, what the hell did we blow up back on Abydos a little over a year ago?"

The head had dropped low, but came up again now, confusion in the blue eyes. The guy had his glasses off, had them dangling from one hand, and Jack couldn't decide if Daniel looked younger or older without those round wire-rimmed geek glasses. He looked less the wide-eyed wonder, more like a guy who was hurting bad. He also looked like everything he ever felt showed up in his eyes, and that was going to get the guy even more grief, on any world.

But the faint sarcasm was there in that deceptively quite voice. "Do I get double points for saying Ra?"

"No, you get half, because we nuked Ra's pyramid-ship thingy. Important word being ship, as in you can travel around in one of those--not as fast as with a 'gate, but it's still gonna get you places. Like here. Like Abydos."

The eyes dropped and long fingers started fiddling with the glasses, juggling them and his mug. Jack wanted to put down his own mug and take the glasses out of Daniel's hands; they were no longer patched on one side, but it looked like they might need to be again soon.

Daniel was still looking like he needed a patch job, too. And Jack decided that living with too much going on in your head had to be some form of curse. Not so bright meant you didn't have to think much about the mistakes, because you could always put the blame off on bad luck or some other jackass' flaws. Smart meant you knew better. Smart meant you went over every detail more than a few times and saw all the good choices you hadn't made. Smart meant you knew when you'd screwed up. Only Daniel wasn't at fault on this one. Not when it was all to their good, and none to his. And a ghost danced over his grave as he took another sip of whiskey and thought about what might have happened if someone had talked Daniel into leaving a pile of rocks on the Abydos Stargate.

They'd have been left on this end with no idea what was really out there. There'd be no map room of Stargate addresses that Daniel had found; no list of places where something might exist to defend themselves. There'd be no genius Daniel Jackson back on Earth to help Carter and a few other bright bulbs make sense of something way over everyone else's heads. They'd have been up crappy creek without even a canoe.

Sure, they'd have had the option to bury Earth's Stargate, but that wasn't going to stop unwelcome guests from showing up the old fashioned way. They'd have just been--still were, in fact--fish in a barrel waiting for the buckshot to fly. And Daniel was bright enough to put those pieces together.

So Jack waited and watched it happen.

The eyes dropped down, then lifted, up and to the right. A frown tugged at the guy's mouth, pulled eyebrows tight. The hands started moving, fussing. Then the eyebrows lifted and the bright eyes came back to focus on Jack. The glasses also went back on. Armor going back in place? Or Daniel starting to be able to look at the world again without seeing only misery and failure?

He wasn't sure and his last shot hadn't been on target so he kept quiet and kept waiting. Sure enough, Daniel wet his lips, then unscrunched a little so he was sitting cross-legged, no longer curled into a tight ball. Did the guy have any idea how much he gave away with his body language? But then he started up with words, giving away even more.

"If I'd left the Stargate buried, Abydos might have had years of safety. Might have been overlooked. A buried Stargate could make anyone decide a world's no longer there. No longer viable. Apophis might not have bothered with us."

Us, not them. Well, that showed where Daniel's loyalty lay, but not much he could do for the guy there. He could do something else, however. So he just put the cards face up on the table, plain and simple.

"We wouldn't have been so lucky."

Daniel's eyebrows lifted. Then he said, words quick and soft, finally getting it, "The soldier you said was taken through the Stargate."

Jack nodded. "Kinda tough to hide out when the enemy's already been through the front door and seen what y'got. Maybe we've got a year now. Maybe more. Maybe not. But if one of those damn flying pyramids shows up, there's not a helluva lot we can do. Not unless we find some of those rings to slip another nuke onboard. Or find something better."

Looking down again, lines creasing his forehead, Daniel ran a finger around the top of his mug. He was letting the liquid go sludgy. He hadn't even drunk half of it, Jack noticed, and he had the urge to tell the guy to drink up then bully him back into bed. He figured he could. Or maybe he'd just get plenty of mouth and attitude back at him.

"You gonna drink that, or should I just dump it?"

Daniel's stare lifted. He didn't answer, but he did stop running his finger around the top of the mug, and actually pulled it close, as if Jack was welcome to try and take it, but he wasn't letting go. All that good stubbornness under the attitude, which was either going to be a terrific asset on a team, or the worst liability if Daniel kept thinking of himself as one guy against the world.

"So there are no good choices?" he asked, still being Mr. Monday-morning quarterback, and guilt tripping over the call he'd made.

Deciding he'd put two shots in the chocolate next time, Jack gave a shrug, wondered if having Daniel around was going to be the same as having joined the debate society. Figured it was. Just like old times on Abydos. Oh, well. Cost of business.

"Sometimes," he said, going for the truth, figured that would get him as far as anything with Daniel.

"I don't believe it. There should be good choices. There have to be better ones than we've found so far. And it's our fault if we're not looking for them."

Jack tried to stop the smile, wondered if it was leaking out, and he sure as hell remembered now why he wanted this damned civie on his team. This was why. Sure the guy spent too much time in his head, wasn't a seasoned soldier, wasn't much good at being a team player. Lot of negatives to off-set those brains and that will to live. But, bottom line, Daniel wanted good choices bad enough he'd do anything to find them.

He'd done that on Abydos; he wouldn't take the option to destroy one world to save another. So he'd pushed for another solution. Made Jack find it, too. Would not give up on it, no matter what.

He'd been pushing for better answers on Chulak. Maybe that's what he'd really taken the risks for. They'd found a few answers, but not enough. And he could guess Daniel's focus would probably always be on trying to get to those good choices. Finding them any way he could, even if it meant going over or around or through any barriers. Maybe that's what happened when you grew up an outsider.

He'd seen the background check, knew just how geeky the geek was. Jeeze, parents dead at eight. College at sixteen. No childhood; total misfit adolescence. Outsider extreme, and it showed. It was actually a wonder the guy had any socialization, a miracle of natural inquisitive friendliness. Hell, raised by wolves might've produce a more normal profile. But he wasn't going to knock it if it got him a guy with an ability to think outside lines because he hadn't ever lived inside them.

Of course, all that non-traditional background also made him a guy who'd push regs and orders to the limit and then some. Would probably push anything else, too, that didn't give Daniel those good choices he wanted. This was not going to be easy. Was going to be some balancing act to keep Daniel working for, instead of against, any team. And wasn't that going to keep life interesting.

Jack's smile slipped wide. Yeah, he'd found a challenge that'd keep him on his toes and then some. The trade off, in the long run, would hopefully be worth it, but right now all he really wanted was his bed and sleep. Of course, Daniel had to keep the questions going tonight with a demanding, "What?"

Shaking his head, Jack sat back in his chair.

Frowning, Daniel watched Jack, knew he wasn't going to get an answer about what Jack found so amusing.

He took a sip of his drink, found it still sweet, but gone cold, and he really wished Jack had not laced it with the sharp whatever it was under the chocolate bitterness. On the other hand, whatever Jack had put into it had managed to undo the knot in his chest. The dull ache of grief remained, but it had stopped tearing at him, was like some heavy animal asleep in him instead of something clawing him apart, and where was he getting these metaphors? He wondered about that, decided three AM was not the time to figure out such things, then went back to wondering about Jack's smile.

That secretly pleased smile.

Then Jack let the other shoe drop.

"What'll you do if I tell Hammond I want someone else on the team?"

The words fell on him like a hundred weight stone, took his breath, flatted him. He hunched against the words and the chill of the night. His chocolate wasn't the only thing gone cold, and he wished Jack kept the heat on at night, but he knew he was avoiding the question by thinking about his need for warmth and the cold stiffening his muscles.

He was avoiding meeting Jack's eyes, too. Childish to resent Jack for taking him onto SG-1, only to turn around and dump him off the team. But he'd thought...what had he thought? That Jack was a friend?

So stupid.

Jack had been such a good friend that, when he'd come back to Abydos, he'd brushed past Daniel as if he didn't exist to greet Skarra. That should not have surprised him. He hadn't known Jack all that long, and Jack had connected far better with Skarra. In fact his main reason for going to Chulak was to help Skarra. He'd wanted that, too, so he hadn't minded. But they'd failed. The rescue hadn't worked, and Jack obviously now needed someone to blame, so why not the civilian scientist? The liability. Give him the blame and dump him.

Well, he could accept part of Jack's blame because he blamed himself as well. He had failed. He might do so again, but he wasn't going to stop trying. At some point, a rescue had to go right. He'd cling to that hope. And he'd be there when it did. Even if Jack stopped helping him.

Looking up, he met Jack's stare. Jack's face had gone sharp. Very sharp. Sharp eyes, sharp edges, lips thinned to the point they just about disappeared. Daniel pulled in a breath and let it out. What would he do now? He wasn't clear on the specifics, but he had a general plan.

"I'll just have to find a team who'll take me on."

God, that sounded like such poor bravado. Jack's derisive snort told him that.

"Oh, like the jarheads are going to love you?"

He found a smile, jammed a spike of steal down his spine, because Jack was being so damn arrogant again. Not liking a system was not the same as being unable to exploit that system.

"You've obviously never had to beg for grant money that a university doesn't want to give you when they have a hundred other applicants."

Jack grinned, a sudden flash of humor that unsettled because he didn't expect the shift to charm and warmth that wasn't in the rest of the room. "You can beg, Danny. But you're on SG-1 long as I say you are. So far I don't remember saying otherwise."

"Small dark room?" he said, reminding Jack of the threat, puzzled at the abrupt shift. Was he or was he not on the team? What was this, anyway, military mind games?

Jack was still toying with a smile, eyes flashing good humor, and Daniel started to wonder what had been in Jack's mug. Not chocolate, hot or otherwise, he'd bet.

"Notice with that room, I didn't say you'd be off my team, just that you'd be getting some up-close time."

"Oh, now you're really terrifying me."

He wanted to sound as sardonic as Jack had, was afraid he just sounded bitchy. But how in anyone's imagination was time with Jack supposed to be a threat? That was just so absurd it deserved mockery.

"Y'know, there are some people who actually find a colonel with black ops training and a high body-count past to be just a little intimidating."

"They obviously haven't spent time with you."

Jack laughed. A snort of muffled laughter, true, but somehow the sound lifted some of the weight pressing on him. Jack wouldn't be laughing if he really was getting a new guy on the team--would he?

Dropping his chin, he stared at Jack over the top of his glasses, letting Jack go fuzzy, so all he could see was the shape of the man, sprawled easy in a chair. Jack's expression never told very much. You had to watch the shape of him, see if he was going tense and still and covering the truth, or fast and moving and really dangerous. Right now he looked...okay, he looked a little pissed still, but relaxed enough.

"That's why you're not getting off easy here, Daniel. You're always shocking the hell out of me, turning out to be that element of surprise."

"As in what--now I'm a tactical advantage because you don't know what I'll do next?"

"No, Daniel, because you don't even know what you're gonna do, and so no one else does either, not even the bad guys. Did you even have a plan to offer yourself up as a host to one of those snake-things five minutes before you did it?"

He started to answer, bit off the glib words that popped into mind because Jack's dark eyes were boring into him and he knew Jack would see past any half-truths or misdirection.

"No."

"And back with Ra, did you even think before you stepped in front of that shot meant for me?"

That snapped the anger into him, hot and quick. Jack obviously considered him terminally inept. "Yes, I thought about it! I'm not an idiot. And there seemed a slim chance the guard wouldn't fire if I made myself the target because it was clear Ra wanted me alive. Wanted it enough, in fact, to bring me back from the dead afterwards."

Jack went quiet and still, and that actually was a little frightening. Or it would be, if he didn't know Jack so well. Jack yelled, loved to threaten. And, yes, Jack could be dangerous. Very. But the man had a core of decency, and so he didn't turn the deadly part on anyone who wasn't the enemy.

Daniel wasn't sure how he knew all that, but he did. Just as he knew he hadn't been put in the bad category, because if Jack had put him there, he'd just pick up the gun and shoot. Jack probably knew how to get rid of bodies, and these days all he'd really have to do if he wanted Daniel gone is to tell someone at the SGC that Daniel had become a threat, and they'd probably be fine with Jack shooting him.

That was Jack. Direct when it came to action, and indirect about everything else, particularly his feelings. Of course, Jack could also be unpleasant, and scourge your hide like a sandstorm, so Daniel braced himself for the verbal assault.

Leaning forward, Jack's eyes narrowed, his voice edged hard and tight. "You thought about it, and still stepped in front of that weapon?"

Letting out a breath, Daniel shook his head, tried for patience. "Yes, Jack, most of the time, I actually do think before I act. Did you see me stepping in front of any staff weapons on Chulak? I know what's an acceptable risk."

"Oh, jeeze! I may not scare the crap outta you, but you're scaring it outta me. Where do you get the idea that there is anything acceptable in risking your life with some lame plan like that? For crying out loud, you're not trained to this! You're supposed to be the bright guy who opened the Stargate, and that makes you an asset we need to keep around."

"Oh, like anyone needs me to do that again!"

"For--you don't think pulling off one amazing thing nobody else could do is enough? You gotta top it by giving up your life up, too?"

"Jack, just what are you drinking?"

"Obviously not the same mind-bender stuff as you!"

Daniel put his head down, had to smile because Jack was kind enough--good enough--to look at him and think he'd done something wonderful. All he'd done was link together clues so obvious they'd been overlooked. He'd pointed out the elephant in the living room while everyone else was busy searching for a mouse. And it turned out, once they saw it, to be a white elephant no one really wanted, after all.

Glancing up, he struggled for the words that would let Jack see it from a different angle. If Jack had one big blind spot, it was that Jack was so very certain in himself and his world, it was difficult for him to realize others did not share those views.

"Jack, I didn't exactly see a brass band waiting for me when I came back through the Stargate. What I got was hostility, blame, and the clear message that no one has much use for me. I think they really wish I'd stayed dead on Abydos. It's not surprising. You don't thank someone for opening a gate that's held out the barbarians. But it is a little hard to keep getting those stares at the base from someone who lost a friend because I opened the Stargate and something deadly came back through it."

"That part's not your fault!"

"Yes, it is. I did decipher the symbols. I helped you kill Ra, and that seems to have generated some attention. I suppose the trade-off is that Abydos is free from thousands of years of slavery, but I'm not qualified to judge if that's an equitable trade. It just is."

"Yeah, well think about this, if I'm going to be a fish in the barrel, I sure as hell want to know if there's someone coming closer with a shotgun."

Blinking, Daniel frowned, tried to pull the sense out of that one, wondered if he was drunk or Jack was. But Jack sounded sober, and he only had that soft buzz going under the exhaustion.

"Fish?" he asked, knew himself sidetracked utterly, his anger undermined and lost, all his emotions derailed into curiosity. What was Jack taking about?

Jack rolled his eyes. "Yeah, fish. Barrel. Easy pickin's. Means any intel on the bad guys is good intel. Means if we hadn't got that damn 'gate open from our end something could have come through from the other side anyway, and then we'd be screwed against the wall since we wouldn't have even a clue going for us. And just how did we get from me wanting to rake you over for being a pain-in-ass to me trying to shore you up?"

"Oh, is that what this is? Reassurance through verbal abuse? Must be a military technique, and I have to tell you it's not very effective."

With a groan, Jack put down his mug, scrubbed his face with his palms. Then he looked at Daniel again. The guy no longer looked shell-shocked, just ticked off, his mouth pulled down and set, eyes blazing. Better than stunned and aching. But it sure wasn't restful. And Jack wasn't up to another five rounds.

Wishing he'd turned around the second he'd seen that hunched figure in his living room--or better yet, hadn't ever brought the guy home in the first place--Jack tried to figure out what came next. Then it hit like a ground to air missile, rocked him into a spin.

Daniel was right.

The guy who'd opened the Stargate had been brought back to less welcome than a Vietnam vet had ever gotten after that mess. He'd been dressed down by Hammond--of course, he'd gotten in Hammond's face first--but then he'd been shoved into BDUs, through a medical exam, and basically left hanging. And yeah, he had been getting some hostile looks from a few of the base personnel. Jack had put it down to a natural antipathy for the non-reg hair, the uniform that so did not fit, the slouch that said no basic training, but hadn't figured it for anything more.

Oh, crap.

Yeah, Daniel wasn't exactly welcomed back home, and he didn't have any place else to go. Wouldn't be allowed to go any place else, in fact. He had a little more space than Teal'c, but Jack knew Daniel was on the same kind of not quite trusted but we can't let him go leash. It surprised him that Daniel knew it.

Starting to drum his fingers on the arm of the chair, he thought about it. Daniel had his head ducked low now, was avoiding his stare, which meant Daniel was closing up. He'd said all he would say, Jack knew. Oh, yeah, a real easy-to-read guy, except that when he looked clueless about what was going on that wasn't it at all. The vague look came from the brain going, skipping ahead on the page, and not from a lack of processing what was going on.

Damn, how could he make this team work?

Carter would certainly give him grief. All that bouncy energy and I'm-as-good-as-any-guy had to get channeled, but at the end of the day, she'd salute and do as ordered. You didn't make captain without being able to follow a command. Which meant he could get her with the program. And Teal'c, well he had military stamped on him. Literally. Right smack on his forehead in a big, gold brand. Yep, if he could get the big guy sprung, he'd be more than gold on any team.

But Daniel....

Daniel wasn't clueless, he was just one of the quite ones. He'd quietly go off on his own. He'd slip away. He'd do what he thought was right without asking, or talking it over, just like on Abydos or Chulak, because that quick mind had figured out what had to be done and Daniel figured he had to do it on his own. And he was going to have to break Daniel of that or watch the guy die. Again.

Yeah, that was a habit he needed lost before it became a permanent regret.

He could break Daniel, too. That'd be easy. Be real easy to find the guy's insecurities, lean on them hard, rattle him. And if he only had to deal with the guy thinking he was too damn smart, he'd do it. That's how it worked. You took out a guy's foundation, then you could build it back up with the military mindset. Trouble was, Daniel was too smart and didn't really think he was. And Jack wasn't sure too much pounding on that was a good thing.

He'd initially chalked down Daniel as a conceited, over-degreed flake who said he could do anything, and then couldn't come through with something simple. Like the Stargate address home for his men. He'd been wrong. Seems he was wrong again.

He'd thought he could put the pressure on the guy, lean on him in order to get him to shape up. Now he saw that Daniel put plenty of pressure on himself. Way too much. He didn't need more of it. He'd probably get it anyway, just because he could be so damn irritating. But what Daniel seemed to really need more than anything was to learn he could trust others. Yes, he needed to be taken down in some areas, but he also needed to built up in others. And it'd be a dicey job, giving the guy confidence without making him over-confident. Watching that those areas where he really did know-it-all didn't lead Daniel into also trying to take it all on solo. A real balancing act, and he wasn't sure how to do that.

Which left him with nothing to say right now.

But Daniel still had words, it seemed.

Voice hollow, low, he said, "Jack, let's just make it easy. If you think I'm a liability to your team, I should not be in the field with you."

"Don't hear you saying you think you're a liability?"

The head came up, eyes hot again. "I speak twenty-three languages, which means I have a natural ability to learn even more. I've multiple degrees, meaning knowledge you can use, and a wide experience of different cultures. I've been through the Stargate as much as anyone, and lived off-world longer. I don't see a liability in any of that, but if you're going to make this about an ability to shoot and kill, none of that applies. I'm not military, don't want to join up, and my priority is to find Sha're and Skarra, but I am not going to jeopardize other lives for that."

"Except maybe your own."

"It's my life!"

"Not anymore. My team. My responsibility."

Daniel let out a sigh, leaned back. "Well, we've got a difference of opinion there, because I believe in self-determination."

"Got no problem with that. Except, on a mission, part of my job is to get everyone back. Alive. I have a hard time doing that if some self determines to do something that is going to end up bad."

"How about if we make a deal--I'll obey orders, but only if they're reasonable, or we can at least discuss them to make sure they're the right choices?"

"How about I just tell you no way?"

"You could do that, but I only have to listen if I'm still on your team."

Jack's mouth quirked. He fought down the smile, knew himself ambushed, figured he might as well admit it. Figured they'd have this discussion again, anyway, and he really was wanting his bed, and Daniel's eyes were getting a heavy look to them and the guy needed some rest some how.

"Anyone tell you you're a sneaky bastard?" he said, pushing up from the chair, picking up his gun and double-checking the safety, even though he knew he'd put it back on.

Daniel didn't get up, just stared up at him, light winking off his glasses. "It hasn't come up in recent conversations, but I'd think you'd at least consider that an asset."

"Oh, yeah. But you're going to have to get sneakier, because this isn't cutting it." And it wasn't. Daniel hadn't realized his ambush was actually an ambush in return. But that was okay. The guy no longer looked raw from the outside in. Daniel had a few other things to think about now other than to beat himself up for the things he hadn't been able to change. The glazing in the eyes said he had enough whiskey in him, too, that it'd trip up his brain long enough that his body could find some sleep.

This wasn't a routine Jack wanted to get used to, but it had to get better from here on out. He knew he could get Daniel distracted now. Knew how to push a few of the guy's buttons. No way was he getting Skarra back only to have to tell the guy, 'Oh, sorry, we let your brother-in-law worry himself to death.' That scenario did not fly. So Daniel would have to be carefully ambushed into learning more than just some shoot and duck skills. He had to learn where responsibility lay on a team, how to work well with others, and how to look after himself. Somehow Jack doubted that shoving a kid through grades taught much except complete independence and how to push himself way too hard.

Which is why Daniel was trying to tackle this on his own.

The damn thing was, that independence and drive had made him able to open the Stargate. He'd done it on his own. The guy sure as hell could do a lot of stuff. But he'd be able to do even more if he ever figured out how to let folks help.

Jack held out his hand. "Come on. Bed."

Daniel was still giving him attitude, one of those bright-eyed speculative stares, and Jack wondered what he'd get back. More defiance--which would mean this was going to be more than a bitch, with a strong chance that Daniel never would learn how to work on any team.

Then the smile slipped out, going way too sweet and innocent not to have some intent loitering behind. "Can I take my chocolate?"

Jack's mouth started to twitch and he really didn't want to smile, but then Daniel was reaching up to take his hand and letting himself get dragged to his feet. They stood for a second, eye-to-eye, then Jack let go, glanced at the mug.

"That's gotta be sludge by now."

"Yeah, but it tastes pretty good."

He shook his head. "No dinner, right?"

Daniel's eyes dropped and Jack batted the guy on the arm. "C'mon, I think there's some pizza in the fridge."

"Cold--"

"Hey, don't knock it if--"

"No, no--I love cold pizza. Just about lived on it through grad school."

"Which one?"

"Uh, what?"

"Which grad school--don't you have like enough PhDs to choke a horse?"

The head ducked low again. Hiding out. Not wanting to say. "Uh, well...."

Fridge door open, Jack stopped, turned to stare at the guy, thought of how he'd busted butt to make grades at the Academy. "Oh, crap--you got 'em all at once, didn't you?"

Daniel shrugged it off, lifted a hand. "It really wasn't that much more work. The fields just kept bleeding over into each other, so I--"

"So you didn't have a life then, either." He slapped the pizza box on the counter, dug out a slice. "Okay, we're expanding training--it's not just firearms and self-defense, we're adding fun."

"Jack, do you even have a clue what my idea of fun involves?"

"Scarily, I do, and I'm bettin' large, heavy books figure into it, but that is not fun, and you can even look that one up in a dictionary and I'll win. Now pizza and bed. Tomorrow, the real fun starts." Daniel opened his mouth to argue, but Jack pushed pizza at the guy so that he had to juggle that instead. "Ah--ah. Team leader here."

"Not a mission here."  The words came out muffled around pizza and Jack decided it looked good, dug out a slice for himself.

"Mission is whatever I say it is."

For a minute Daniel actually shut up since his entire attention went onto the pizza and he was doing a good impersonation of a starving man just fed. Then he dusted his fingers, took up his mug of sludge. "I'm going to get this a lot, aren't I? Rules changing whenever it suits you?"

"And some think you're a slow learner." Jack glanced at the sludge, couldn't believe Daniel was going to still drink that, cold and all, but he was.

Then the shadows came back. Drifted in across those blue eyes like clouds over the sky. He'd forgotten the misery crowding him for all of what--ten minutes? Well, that was something. A start.

Jack took the mug from Daniel's hands, brushed fingers, noted with a shock how cold those other hands were. The contact pulled Daniel's mind back from his memories, left him blinking as if he'd come out of a dark room. Jack made up his mind then. He left the kitchen, came back with two sleeping bags, found Daniel still lost, arms now folded around himself like he was trying to keep his chest from exploding.

Jack slapped a sleeping bag at the guy, jerked his head to the back door. Daniel gave him a clueless questioning glance, but bundled the bag into his arms and followed. Followed up the ladder, too, questions starting and going not-stop.

"Jack, what are we doing? I thought you said pizza and bed? My god, it's freezing out here, can't we go inside and turn the heat on? Isn't this a good way to get pneumonia? Won't we get snowed on?"

There wasn't any snow on the deck--he'd shoveled it off earlier. Weren't any clouds in the sky. So Jack spread his bag down on the wooden boards.

"You want warm, get in your bag. That's artic rated." Jack followed the words with doing just that, because it was freezing out there.

Need for comfort seemed to motivate Daniel really well. He had his bag open and scuttled into it faster than a top recruit. Jack noted that for future reference, then felt the shiver at his side and heard the breath let out, saw the puff lift from Daniel's mouth.

"Wow."

"Yeah--nice sky," Jack muttered. He kept his voice low, like he was talking to himself. Kept his eyes on the glittering stars. "She's out there y'know. Lookin' at stars. It's one thing you can still share."

The night went very quiet. Nice thing about snow. It hushed the world.

Daniel let out another breath, felt the burn in his eyes and at the back of his throat, couldn't say anything for a moment. Then he wet his lips, turned on his side to stare at the shadowed figure bundled into a sleeping bag next to him.

"Do you think she knows?"

"What? That you're looking for her?"

"That...that...."

"Don't go there, Daniel. It's enough you're looking. If she knows anything, she knows that."

Daniel nodded, realized Jack couldn't see the movement. He rolled onto his back, huddled deeper into the sleeping bag as it started to warm, left his face cold in the night.

"Thanks, Jack."

"No problem. Lesson one on a team--we look out for each other. Think you can handle that?"

"Yeah, Jack." He found a smile, a real one, first one he'd had since...ah, good advice not to go there. He'd start doing more of that. "When I put my mind to it, I can handle pretty much anything."

Jack's voice, sleepy and muttering, drifted out from the dark lump next to him. Then the breathing deepened. Daniel's snuggled deeper, too. He wasn't sure he could sleep, but this was better than lying on a bed, staring at a ceiling. Some of the misery eased, enough that he knew he'd at least be able to function tomorrow. He blinked. Once. Twice. Glimpsed a streak of light arc across the sky.

With a sigh he settled in to watch the sky, and he knew he had at least the start of a plan worked out now for making it through tonight. And maybe the next day, too.