There's no place like home, part 2

The tone changed.  It was one Daniel recognized, even through the fog blanketing his mind, and even though he hadn’t heard it in years. 

“For cryin’ out loud, Daniel, I didn’t expect to have to broker a protected planets treaty, so I didn’t bother to put a coat on.  And in case you didn’t hear me the first time, it’s damn cold out here.  Carter-” Jack reached around Daniel and pulled her forward.  “Go.”  He handed her across to Teal’c.  “Now come on, you’re holding up the wheels of progress, not to mention dinner.”  He exchanged glowers with the archaeologist and shepherded him across the plank.  “Careful!” 

Naturally the boat heaved hard to starboard with their combined weight.  Jack sidled sideways. 

“Teal’c, you might want to take a couple of steps to port side.  She’s fifty-seven feet of fiberglass, but she still lists.”  Sliding between his guests, Jack swung the cabin door open with a flourish.  “Ladies and gentleman, welcome aboard.”  Light and warmth spilled out of the salon, along with gastronomically delightful smells.  “Keep arms and legs inside the craft at all times.  And please wait to exit until we’ve come to a full and complete stop.  Oh, and watch your step – down.”

“Did we get on the wrong plane after that hellish layover in Chicago?”  Daniel grabbed the boom over his head as the boat rocked gently.  “Sounds like we landed in Orlando instead of Washington.”

Jack snorted.  “Carter, do the honors.  Ladies first and all that rot.”

Sam sniffed hungrily as she wisely turned and went down the steep step ladder backwards. “You cooked, sir?  Whatever it is smells delicious.  I’m starved.”  She stepped into the salon, divesting herself of coat, gloves and scarf as she glanced around the spacious – for a boat – interior. 

It had been fitted out with glistening mahogany paneling, set off by white upholstery and appliances.  The right side of the lounge area, facing forward, boasted a long settee built directly into the wall.  On the opposite side, a matching banquette-style settee curved around a built-in table, currently set with crystal and china. 

“Wow!  You’ve gone all out, sir.  Have you missed us?” Sam called blithely, as Teal’c, who’d come down behind her, took her coat.

“Owwwwwwwwww!”

“Didn’t I just say watch your step!” 

The warning was an instant too late.  Daniel, failing to lift his foot high enough to step over the threshold, stumbled, smacked his forehead against the low lintel and would have somersaulted into the cabin had Jack not grabbed his coat collar. 

“What’s the matter with you?  You’re not usually this clumsy.”

“In the first place,” Daniel jerked forward, yanking his collar out of Jack’s loosened hold, “I got dragged out here against my will.”  He turned and went down the ladder-like steps in the same manner as Sam.  “Totally wasted eight hours today between airports and planes, tomorrow I have to dress up in a monkey suit and accept some ridiculous medal that should have been residing in a drawer somewhere for the last nine years,  AND I didn’t realize I had to step UP to go DOWN.  Do I need any other reason?” 

“Right.  Okay... so you’re pissed.”

“No.  Do I sound pissed?”  Daniel shrugged out of his coat, still glowering.  

Jack took it with a raised eyebrow.  “Anything else you want to share while you’re at it?”

Sighing, Daniel palmed his face, shoving his glasses to the top of his head.  “Sorry.”  The apology was slightly muffled as he dug the heels of his hands into his aching eyes.  “Just ignore me.  I’m tired, it’s been a lousy day, and I’m well beyond pissed.”  He glanced around, stepped backwards and sank down on the starboard settee.  “What’s for dinner?”

“The usual.”  Jack grinned – it felt good to say that – and held out his arm for the other coats.  “Let me take those, Teal’c.  I’ll put them in one of the cabins until you need them again.”

“Because I will mislay them or lose my way if I were to situate them in a cabin myself?” Teal’c inquired with his usual stoicism. 

“Everybody’s a comedian tonight.  Fine.”  Jack handed over Daniel’s coat.  “Straight down, end of the hall.  Just throw them on my bed.”

“And the facilities?  I believe you call it a head?”

“On the left, second door.”  Jack grabbed a dish towel off the counter to check the progress of the smells emanating from the doll-house size oven. 

With Daniel down for the count on the couch and Teal’c down the hall, he requisitioned his only other resource.  “Carter, open the champagne would you?”

“Sure.”  Sam straightened from a deep stretch.  “Ugh, that flight reminded me of our ride to hell.  When we went to collect Dad from Sokar’s planet – remember?  We had to use the escape pods to get there.”

“That bad, huh?” 

“Worse, I think.”  Sam pulled the hair tie from the low pony tail at the back her neck and shook her head to fluff her hair.

“Unhhh,” the nearly supine archaeologist agreed.

“Not the same as flying Ha’tak Air I guess.”  Jack lowered his voice.  “What’s with him?” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. 

“Daniel?”  Sam glanced over her shoulder as she lifted the champagne out of the ice bucket.  “Bad timing; his work load is really crazy right now.  Plus, you know how much he likes to fly, sir.” 

“Not.” 

“Exactly.  Vala made him take some motion sickness pills, which didn’t help.  I thought maybe the wine would put him to sleep, he was so miserable-”

“We’re not on a ship, Sam.”  Daniel slumped further down on the couch, stretching over his head for one of the turquoise pillows decorating the corners.  “And my hearing – at least – is not impaired.”

Sam made a face at Jack.  “Anyway, he didn’t want to go to the hotel.”  She shrugged ruefully.

“Should have,” Daniel lamented. 

For some reason his central nervous system reacted poorly to wings and wheels at 35,000 feet and every muscle in his body still thrummed with tension, despite the wine and pills.  He was slightly pasted – no, that was wasted – already, and had every intention of finishing the job before the night was over.  Particularly if he couldn’t find a signal to boost in order to access his laptop wireless.  Because of course he hadn’t remembered to hunt up his mobile wireless device when he’d packed.

Daniel groaned and turned on his side, burying his face in the pillow.  

“Take your shoes off before you put your feet up,” Jack ordered, collecting a loaf of crusty bread from the bread box, along with the cutting board and a knife. 

Behind him the champagne cork popped. 

“Mmmm, nice,” Carter commended, licking her fingers.  “You got the good stuff.”  She filled the flutes by the ice bucket and set one on the counter next to Jack.  “Daniel?  How ‘bout some water?  Is the tap water okay to drink, sir?”  Sliding around the general as he sliced bread, she opened various cupboards, sipping her own champagne as she rummaged for glasses.  “Wow, you got the really good stuff.  This is excellent.”

Of course he’d gotten the good stuff.  He could afford to when he didn’t see any of them for months at a time.  “There’s bottled water in the fridge.” 

“Cold won’t help either his stomach or his head.”

“In that case, look under the sink.”  Jack dumped the bread in a basket and retrieved a plate out of the refrigerator.  Ba’al’s little de-Goa’ulding party, six months ago, didn’t count as ‘seeing’ them. 

The silence was comfortable as Sam rooted under the sink, pulled two bottles of water out of the case, and took the plate of herbs and spices Jack handed her as she stepped back to the table.

“Pour a little olive oil over the stuff on the plate,” he instructed, turning to the oven.

“A la’ Carrabba’s?  Mmmmmm . . . Did I mention I’m starved?”  Sam uncapped one of the water bottles, handing it over the galley partition to Daniel, who took it listlessly and promptly set it on the shelf behind the couch.

“Your facilities are somewhat dimensionally challenging, O’Neill.”  Teal’c ghosted between them, back through the galley into the salon.  Picking up Daniel’s ankles, the Jaffa stripped off his shoes and deposited the sock-clad feet on the sofa.  “Rotate,” he instructed, settling himself on the edge.

Daniel turned over without protest. 

Jaw dropping, Jack glanced at Carter in astonishment. 

“You would be less uncomfortable now if you had permitted this while we were delayed in Chicago,” Teal’c rumbled, warming his hands before setting them over the stiff shoulders and allowing their heat to penetrate the tense muscles. 

Carter shrugged, the corners of her mouth gestating an unborn smile.  

For a moment it felt like the world had turned upside down.  Daniel accepting aid without having to be worn down first was like... Jack couldn’t think of a metaphor strong enough to express the dissonance the small but significant act precipitated. 

“When did this happen?” he mouthed at his former 2IC, eyebrows very nearly reaching the silver hair line. 

“Strangely enough, Vala’s had a beneficial effect in some ways, sir,” she whispered back.  “She smacks him every time he says he’s fine.  She’s practically banished the word from his vocabulary.”

“Well, maybe she has some redeeming qualities after all,” Jack murmured. 

First the woman had hijacked their only space ship, dumped the ship’s crew, except for Daniel, and proceeded to fly it to some rendezvous with a pair of the skuzziest bounty hunters in the known universe.  Except by then their peaceful explorer had managed to take the ship back.  The Mal Doran female had waltzed away from that debacle while Daniel had spent a couple of days in the ship’s infirmary sleeping off a wicked concussion and assorted bruises he’d refused to discuss.  Then, like a blip on the radar, she’d reappeared at the SGC with a treasure map and a pair of deadly bracelets she’d slapped on the archaeologist and dragged him off on a galaxy wide treasure hunt.  That little stunt had cost Daniel a long awaited and much desired trip to Atlantis. 

It seemed nothing short of miraculous he was still speaking to the woman, but then, that was Daniel.  Jack closed his mouth, shook his head and mentally smacked himself.  At least some things remained unchanged.

“Anything else I can do, sir?”

“Uhhh–” Jack glanced at the oven.  “Grab the salad out of the fridge.”  The timer dinged.  “And I think we’re ready to eat.”  He pulled the lasagna out of the oven and set it on a hot pad in the middle of the table. 

“We will be a few moments more,” Teal’c advised, exerting slightly firmer pressure when Daniel started to turn over.  “Is it your desire to exist in this advanced state of discomfort for the remainder of the evening, Daniel Jackson?”  

Daniel subsided.  “S... m’s st....ing, don’t wa... fr’s.” 

“Translation?”  Jack tallied the contents of the refrigerator.  “Ahhh, salad dressing.”  He took it out and set it on the table.

“Colonel Carter is starving.  Do not wait for us,” Teal’c paraphrased, moving his hands to the small of Daniel’s back.  He had recently attained the third degree, or master level, in Reiki.  Daniel Jackson had proved to be an excellent recipient on which to practice. 

“Oh, no, I can wait.”  Sam lifted her champagne glass. “I’m good with liquid refreshment.”  She kicked her shoes off in the corner and slid around to the middle of the banquet settee.  “I had no idea you owned china, sir.”

“It came with the boat,” Jack responded lazily, taking the seat closest to the galley.  “Figured it couldn’t hurt to use it tonight.  I can barely remember the last time we sat down to a meal together.”

“Well, I for one am impressed with your hosting skills.  It’s beautiful and smells delicious.  Here’s to great cooks; we’ve missed you, sir.”  A light chime shimmered through the cabin as Sam clinked her glass to his. 

“Better save that until after you’ve eaten.  The ‘fridge kept the beer cold; I haven’t bothered to try out the other appliances until tonight.  For all I know, the lasagna could be half-baked.”

“The company would make anything palatable this evening, O’Neill.”

“Hear, hear!” Sam lifted her glass, seconding Teal’c’s endorsement. 

There was an unintelligible grunt from the vicinity of the archaeologist.

“Door’s always been open around here.”

Daniel extracted his face from the pillow.  “Is that anything like – sure would be nice if the kids came home more often?”

Jack raised an eyebrow, amused.  “You could at least drop a few lines every now and then.”

“If you’d read your email, I’d drop you a line every day.  Well, every day we’re on world,” Daniel amended.

“If you do not hunch over your computer again tonight,” Teal’c rested his palms for a few moments more over Daniel’s shoulder blades, “you may yet retain some beneficial effects from this exercise.”  Lifting his hands, he rose, waited for Daniel to turn over, and pulled him up off the sofa.

“Thanks, T.”  Daniel shoved his glasses up his nose and rolled his shoulders experimentally.  “Ahhh, much better.”  He slipped in beside Sam, leaving Teal’c the outside seat.  “Standard formation?” he grinned, noting their seating arrangement.

Sam laughed.  “Pass the bread, would you?”

Daniel passed the bread and Sam pulled over the plate of herbs and olive oil.

“You might want to salt it a little.”  Jack got up to retrieve a salt shaker shaped like a light house.  “Hey!” He drew it back when a suspicious smile niggled at the corners of Carter’s lips.  “No maligning my inherited heirlooms.  I’ll have you know the seller told me she bought this on her honeymoon.  It’s over 70 years old.”  He passed over the salt shaker.   

“Oh.”  The smile morphed into a sad frown.  “She was selling the boat because her husband died?”

“Actually, no, they were just too old for the responsibility anymore.  And this is too hot to pass.”  Jack held out a hand to Carter.  “Give me your plates.  She’s 92, he’s 90.  They quit sailing about five years ago and just lived on the boat until the maintenance finally got away from them.  They sold it for a song and lifetime guarantees of a berth whenever I take her out.  More Teal’c?”

“That will be sufficient at present.”  Teal’c heaped salad and bread on the plate when it was passed back, and tucked in. 

Sam’s smile returned.  “That was nice of you, sir.”

“It was cheaper than buying a house and after three and a half years in base housing, I figured if I was gonna stay, I might as well sink the money into something I’d enjoy rather than spending all my spare time doing yard work.”

“Lots of deciduous trees back East,” Daniel contributed with a straight face.

“Lots,” Jack agreed.  “With just as many reasons to dislike ‘em.  So what’s new and exciting at the SGC?  By the way, whatever happened to Ba’al’s host?  Nothing else came across my desk after that lengthy de-Goa’ulding ceremony we were forced to endure.  Did all that Tok’ra chanting somehow,” he waved an airy hand, “rehabilitate him?”

“Chenzira remained with the Tok’ra for approximately one month,” Teal’c imparted, resting his knife and fork on the table.  “Then returned to his home planet of Anhur, ostensibly to meditate and cleanse himself of the Goa’uld’s presence.”

“Chen-zero?”

“Shen-zye-ra,” the linguist put in.  “Ba’al’s host.”

“Ahhhhh.”

“Vala was-” Daniel paused briefly, “an intimate of Ba’al’s when she was host to Qetesh.  She spent a little time with Chenzria after the de-Gou’alding process.”

“And?”

Daniel shrugged, crumbling bread between his fingers.  “She didn’t talk much about it when she got back.”  Neither had the rest of them.  A gloomy pall had hung over them all the way through dinner with Jack.  Not even Mitchell, who usually was quite effusive about his firsts, had had much to say. 

“She told me she doesn’t think we’ve seen the last of him,” Sam said, around a bite of delicious lasagna. 

“Hmmm, that could be interesting.  Daniel, are you going to eat or push it around on your plate?”

Daniel put his fork down.  “It’s great, Jack.  I can’t believe you went to all this trouble for us.  You do know we’d have been happy with pizza delivery, right?” 

He was out of sync enough that the banter felt forced, and it wasn’t just because flying screwed with his internal equilibrium.  Something in the universe was out of whack.  Why he felt the burden to set things right before something irrevocable happened, he had no clue.

His gaze dropped back to his plate.  “The way I feel right now, something heavy like this is likely to reappear.  And if I’m gonna spend the night with my head in the toilet, I’d rather be drinking.”

“Carter, give me that glass of champagne.”  Jack got up and retrieved the water off the shelf behind the sofa, exchanging it for the untouched alcohol.  “I’d rather you didn’t spend the night with your head in the toilet period.”

“Yeah, well, me neither.  But if I’m not drinking, I need to be working.”

“Aht!” Jack’s hand went up.  “Not tonight.  You can work tomorrow if you must, after the ceremony, but let’s not forget this is vacation.”

“Speaking of ceremonies,” Daniel took the water Jack passed over, “what’s driving this?  Or should I say who?  Is this some kind of publicity stunt the president’s media handlers have cooked up?”

“What makes you think that?” Jack inquired, genuinely puzzled.  Of the four of them, Daniel was the one he would have expected to be championing the new president’s cause. 

“Why now?  Why not the first time we saved the planet? Or any of times in between?  Why not a year ago when we saved the galaxy from the Priors?”

“Fair point; except I happen to know this has been in the works for considerably longer than a year and the president is not the driving force behind it.”

“Then who is?” Sam asked.

“General Hammond.”  For one. 

Three pairs of eyes cut to him as Jack lifted his champagne glass.  “The wily old fox finally made it happen.  To George – may he live long and prosper.”

“General Hammond?”  Daniel leaned forward with his bottle of water, joining the three raised glasses.  “That puts a different slant on things.  To the wily old fox,” he toasted.

“I haven’t seen him since Dad’s memorial service, is he flying in for this ceremony?”

The general had retired to the family homestead in Hammond, New York, a thriving little village between the St. Lawrence River and Black Lake where, he’d told them, he spent his days fishing and his nights sitting by the living room fire.  

“He’ll be making the presentations.”

“Well that makes the trip worthwhile at least.”

“Thanks, Daniel.  You wouldn’t have come just to see me?”  Jack trotted out his most cherubic look.

Daniel blinked at him owlishly.  “I know I’m a little out of it tonight, but I think it’s your turn to come our way.  Haven’t I been here twice since the last time you were in Colorado Springs?”

“It’s been a year since you were here.”

“It has?  Oh, maybe it has.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“And you are not, O’Neill?”

Trust Teal’c to spot the worm in the apple.

“I don’t know.  I’m thinking of retiring... again.”  Jack twisted the stem of the champagne flute round and round, his eyes on the tablecloth.  It still felt a bit like desertion, but he wanted them to know what he’d been thinking.  “Flying a desk has never been my idea of a good time.” 

“And you bought a boat.”

Trust Daniel to accurately guess his intentions.

“The Caribbean is calling.”

“On a 1-900 number.  Jack, you can’t do this.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Daniel.  I can.”

“Please don’t, sir.”

“We have need of your skills yet, O’Neill.”

“Paul Davis could easily step into this spot.” Jack ignored the protests.  “He’s got more political clout than I ever well, and that’s all this job is.  Politics.  I’ve hung in here for four years now; frankly, guys, I’m tired of it.  I was never cut out to be a Washington power player, and,” he met each set of eyes in turn, “every one of you knows it.  Paul would look out for the SGC.  He’s a good guy.” 

“Teal’c, let me out.”  Daniel scooted around the banquet.  He needed to pace.  “Why?  Why now?  What prompted this?  And how the hell does it fit in with this medal thing?”

“I just told you why.  I’m tired; I’m old.  I hate sitting at a desk reading mission reports.”  

And worrying himself into an ulcer reading about Daniel being turned into a Prior, Carter lost in space, Teal’c off on some Jaffa revenge thing.  It had been worrying enough when he’d been there watching crap like that happen.  It was infinitely worse reading about it. 

“As for why now – why not now?  What difference would another year make?  Another month?”  Jack paused, ticking off questions.  “And the only thing this has to do with the medal business is – you’re all here.  It seemed an opportune time.”

“So just to clarify, you’re not really asking us what we think?  You’re telling us you’re quitting, right?”

“That’s a pretty good summation, Dr. Jackson.”

“And we have no say in the matter?”

“It’s not your life, Daniel.”

Daniel reached the ladder and did a credible about face.  “So, this means what?”  He paused in his pacing to look up at Jack.  “You’re gonna sail off into the sunset and we’ll never see you again?”

“There’s still a locater chip in the side of my neck.” Jack touched the spot reflexively.  “You can beam me up whenever you need me.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to us.”

“I have a slight problem with your semantics there, Space Monkey.  Aside from that, this would mean I’d have more time to come and visit.”

Daniel resumed his pacing.  “Yes, but would you?  SG-1?  The Caribbean?  Hmmmm… tough choice there.”

Jack only smiled. 

“Sounds like you’ve made up your mind, sir.”

“I have.” 

“Is there anything we could do to change it?”

“Nope, Carter.  Not a thing.”

“In that case,” Sam raised her glass.  “Here’s to sun, salt water and deep sea fishing.  Congratulations, sir.  I’m stunned, but if this is what you want, then of course we’ll support your decision.”

“We will?” Daniel twisted his head around.  “No we won’t.  Not without a fight.”

“Anybody up for dessert?”  Jack rose and collected Carter and Teal’c’s empty plates to put in the sink.  He put Daniel’s barely touched food in the refrigerator. 

“I knew I should have stayed in bed this morning.”  Daniel dropped down on the couch, pressing his palms to his temples.  “You could have warned us.”

“Whining is unattractive in children, much less adults.  Do you want dessert?”

Daniel narrowed his eyes.  “I didn’t eat all my food.”

“Give it a rest, would ya?  I wasn’t going to tell you until it was a done deal, but Teal’c spilled the beans.”

“I merely inquired if you were unhappy in your present position, O’Neill.”

“Uh huh.”  Jack opened a pastry box on the back of the counter and removed a cake.  “And what did you expect me to say?  I’m dancing on air?  I hate this job.  Have since day two.  That’s a helluva lot of days to be unhappy.”  Rinsing the knife he’d used to cut bread, he took the cake to the table and started slicing.

“You’re right,” Daniel said unexpectedly.  “That’s a long time to be miserable.”

“Thank you.  Now, can we move on?”  Jack served up plates of chocolate cake, layered in decadent mocha frosting nearly as thick as the layers of the cake itself. 

As a peace offering, he took a slice to Daniel on the couch.  He probably should have warned them, but Teal’c’s question had been the perfect catalyst for sharing.

“You look like you’re feeling better.  I have some wine that might go better with the cake than champagne.  Or would you rather have coffee?”

Daniel sat up and took the plate.  “Coffee?”  He brightened.  “Skip the wine, bring on the coffee.  Though this is probably not the smartest choice.”

“I picked it up special.”  On some subliminal level he’d known he was going to need to bribe the archaeologist – ah hell, Jack thought, it probably hadn’t even been subliminal.  He’d known Daniel, especially, would balk at the announcement. 

Daniel, who lived mostly in his mind, would have a difficult time with the concept of limitations.  There were no limits as far as he was concerned.  And there probably weren’t; he’d been ascended, a higher being, for a period of time.  Probably still had some of that ascended marker, sorta like that ancient gene Jack chose to ignore, so it was likely true he had no limitations. 

Problem was, he thought no one else did either.  Witness his attempt to convince Jack to join him on that higher plane during the ill-remembered sojourn in Ba’al’s gravity-challenged bed and breakfast.

Recently Jack had been hearing the words, I’m the closest thing to a best friend you ever had,in Daniel’s voice.  The first time it had startled him up out of his desk chair, looking wildly around his solitary office.  The second time, several days later, it had still raised the hairs on the back of his neck, but, as if he’d been prepared for it to happen again, it hadn’t taken him by surprise.  It was weird, almost as if he was hearing some subspace, inter-dimensional time warp kind of warning. 

“Jack?”

“Daniel?”

“You okay?”

Daniel was looking at him quizzically, as were Carter and Teal’c.

“Sir?”

“What?”

“You kinda zoned there for a minute.”  Daniel took the fork Jack was still holding.  “I assume you brought this for me?” 

“Yeah.  Has anything weird been happening to you guys since Ba’al’s Sanctus?”

“Like what?”

“What do you mean by – weird – O’Neill?”

“As in weird voices?”

Jack turned abruptly towards Carter.  “Yeah!”

The look of sheer panic that crossed her features would have been comical under any other circumstances.   “No, sir.  I was… sort of joking.” 

“Why?” Daniel demanded.  “Are you?”  If Jack was hearing voices, did it have anything to do with the itchy feeling he’d been experiencing lately?  And what did Sam mean by sort of joking?  He’d have to pin her down sometime over the weekend.  Sam always needed to explain away any supernatural phenomena.  Back on Kheb, she’d wanted to bring in equipment to check for concealed technology rather than believe he’d been the one controlling the fire.  But Sam also talked to her plants.  Sometimes her contradictory paradigms were downright frustrating. 

“No-oo.” Jack dismissed it as his imagination and worrying about Daniel’s reaction to the news.  It was true; Daniel was the closest thing he’d ever had to a best friend.  Someday he’d have to tell him that.  “Coffee.  I was gonna get coffee going.”  He sauntered casually back into the galley and poked the button on the already set up coffee maker.  “Carter?  Coffee?  Or are you sticking with the champagne.”

“Think I’ll stick with the champagne, sir.  It’s verrrrrrrrrry good,” she trilled, a tad too brightly. 

“Teal’c, have your drinking habits changed since I last saw you?”

“Tretonin and alcohol mix no better than a symbiote and malt beverages, and I have never acquired the Tau’ri taste for ground beans.  I will pass, thank you.” 

“Okay.”  Jack leaned back against the counter, repressing a relieved sigh.  A weight had rolled off his shoulders he hadn’t realized he’d been dragging around.  “So, Carter, how’s the X303 project going?” 

“Cam – Colonel Mitchell,” she corrected herself, “has been taking the lead on that project, sir.  He’s happy with the progress.”

“And your Eighth Chevron project?”

Sam tilted her head.  “Ahhhh, you know about that.”  She hid a grin in her champagne flute.  “Coming along.  Not rapidly, but I have an idea for the extra power we’d need.  I haven’t had time to schedule a trip to Orban; need to remember to do that when we get back.  Although, if we can duplicate the crystal technology found on Atlantis, none of this will be necessary.”

“So how close are we?”  Nothing went down at the SGC Jack didn’t know about – if not through official channels, which he was usually on top of, then through the back door when necessary.  Siler could be bribed with an over-sized wrench any day of the week. 

“Years, probably; maybe less if the Orbanian’s buy into the idea.  We’re working on the Asgard crystal technology, but it’s so far beyond our current understanding, I think naquadah power generators are likely to be a more viable option in the short run.”

“The Orbanian’s still don’t seem to be too interested in Gate travel,” Daniel observed, getting up to take his licked-clean plate to the sink.  “You’ll have to come up with some other incentive for them to buy into it.”

Jack handed him a mug of coffee.  “Sugar’s in the big light house on the counter.  Crème’s in the door of the ‘fridge.”

“Thanks.”  Daniel returned to his spot on the couch.   “I thought you didn’t like Sumtra” he remarked with the first sip, savoring the rich dark blend. 

“I don’t.”  But the pleased surprise in Daniel’s voice made the effort worthwhile.   Jack poured half a cup of Irish Crème flavoring into his own.  “Figured I could stand it for a weekend.  It’s palatable, if you put enough sweetener in it.”  One handed, he started clearing the table.  “We can drop the leaves and have a little more room once we get this stuff off it.”

“I’ll wash,” Sam volunteered.

“I will dry.”

“Can I stay on the couch?”  Daniel leaned back with a sigh.  He did feel better, but exhaustion was settling in and the coffee would only reanimate him for a short period of time.  Between flying, this whole medal thing, and now Jack’s announcement that he was retiring, his head was spinning.  It would take a little getting used to, not having Jack hovering over them like some guardian angel. 

In short order the table was cleared of dishes, the tablecloth – miraculously unencumbered with spots of tomato sauce – was whisked off and put away, the table dismembered, the leaves slipped into the narrow slit built into the base for that express purpose, and the dishes washed, dried and put away. 

Everything in its place, and a place for everything; the boat suited Jack perfectly.  

Sam joined Daniel on the sofa while Teal’c and Jack bookended the dinette settee.  Conversation was desultory, wandering in and out of politics – what was Jack’s take on the new president?  He was withholding judgment until she’d been in office for a few months.  Who would take the Stanley Cup this year – Teal’c was betting on the Bruins, Jack was taking the Washington Capitals seriously.  Was there any indication of activity from the Ori homeworld?  It required a super Gate, or an address with an eighth chevron, or alternatively, someone to try the communication stones again, but not even Joe the barber wanted to fool with those things.  The weather – Washington was in a cold snap, expecting several inches of snow over the weekend.  Nothing new for the trio from Colorado, though after four years of comparatively little snow, Jack wasn’t looking forward to the mess it would make of the city. 

Daniel was falling asleep.

“Ahhhhh,” Sam sighed, stretching uninhibitedly.  “Just like old times.  Admit it.”  She slid an arm around Daniel’s shoulders and leaned her head against his.  “It’s nice to be together after so long.” 

Part 3

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