To Secrets

Rated: PG

Category: Jack/Daniel Friendship

Season: Five; Jack Is A Colonel, Janet Is Alive, and Post Window Of Opportunity.

Spoilers: None.

Summary: Daniel Knows A Few Things About Jack.

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Daniel didn't hear the lock click shut behind him.

He was too busy muttering and cursing to himself.

"I can't believe I let them talk me into this. This is a really bad idea. A surprise birthday party for Jack? How lame. I know Cassie thinks this is fun, but really…and how did I get roped into doing all the prep work? Where's Sam and Teal'c when I need them?"

Daniel sighed, stepping down into Jack's dark basement as he did so. He reached over and flicked on the light as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Why Jack's house didn't have the basement light switch at thetop of the stairs was one of the mysteries of the universe he'd never been able to figure out.

As dim light attempted to fight the underground gloom, Daniel sighed again and walked to the far corner of the large room that Jack used as a wine cellar. Few people knew the Colonel harbored a taste for fine wine, and even fewer knew he had an extensive collection of spirits in his home, but Daniel had determined that if he had to take part in this little shindig, he was going to have some fine wine.

Daniel perused the dusty bottles, nodding in appreciation at most and scoffing at a few. As he did so, he was reminded of the night when he'd first discovered that Jack O'Neill was more than beer and whiskey.

XXX

It had been simple enough.

Daniel had stopped by Jack's unannounced one Friday night. He'd rarely done that back then, but on this particular night, he had been bored. His boredom had called for company.

While Daniel's body was still in Jack's basement, in his mind he was carried into the past completely. He stepped onto Jack's porch and swept his long hair out of his eyes nervously.

He approached Jack's door and was surprised to hear the soft strains of Bach slipping through the cracks in the house and filling the night air with beautiful notes of melancholy.

He knew Jack liked classical music, but it was Friday night, and it was hockey season. Daniel was surprised that there were no sounds of a sports announcer coming from Jack's house.

He knocked softly, almost afraid to bother Jack, but the door was answered quickly.

When Jack saw Daniel on the porch, he merely looked at him for a moment, then ushered him inside. No words were spoken.

While his body continued to wander absently through the wine shelves, Daniel's other self stepped into Jack's entry hall and then into the living room, and warmth embraced him. He could see that night, almost four years ago, like it was happening all over again.

A roaring fire was built in the fireplace, and candles were lit all around.

No lights were on.

The TV was off.

A half full bottle of fine Pinot Noir sat on the table.

And there were two glasses there.

One had a residue of deep red in the bottom, while one sat empty and unused.

Jack offered no explanations, and stood to one side of the room leaning on the mantle with one hand while staring into the flames in the hearth.

Daniel took a moment to digest the scene before speaking, but he could only come to one conclusion.

"Expecting someone?"

Jack sedately shook his head. "Nope."

Daniel looked at his friend in confusion. "Then why…"

Jack interrupted. "You don't know what today is, do you, Daniel?"

The archeologist shook his head. "Um…no. Should I?"

Jack snorted a laugh. "Probably not."

"Jack, what's going on?"

"Today's the day I got back."

"Back?"

"Yep."

"Back from where?"

"Abydos."

Daniel's eyes grew wide after a second, as the meaning of Jack's words sunk in. Jack had come home from that first trip through the gate to find his wife gone and his world in upheaval.

Daniel wasn't sure what to say, so he kept quiet. It wasn't long until Jack spoke again.

"Sara loved Pinot Noir."

"Oh?" Daniel blinked a few times, not sure where this conversation was going.

"Yeah. I've had this bottle for years. I was in the mood for something different tonight, and when I noticed the date, well…no sense to let it go bad, right?"

"It wouldn't go bad, Jack…unless it was stored wrong."

Jack sniped an answer. "I know that, Daniel. I'm just rationalizing opening it."

"Oh."

Jack snarled again. "And it was kept just fine, thank you."

Daniel blinked a few more times in response to Jack's anger. "I didn't say it wasn't. I just said it wouldn't go bad if you took care of it. No need to get snippy. What's going on, anyway? You ok?"

Jack looked at Daniel then with an odd mixture of puzzlement and amusement on his face.

"Oddly enough, yeah, I am. I'm just thinking."

Daniel nodded. "Sometimes we all have to do that."

Jack nodded back. "Yeah. Just trying to figure some things out."

Daniel crossed the room from where he had been standing in the doorway and sat down on the couch. "Like what?"

Jack snorted and sat in one of the chairs opposite Daniel on the other side of the coffee table. As he did, he reached for the bottle of wine. He expertly refilled his glass, then looked questioningly at Daniel, motioning toward the empty glass with the bottle.

Daniel shrugged and nodded. Jack filled the second glass and handed it to him. As the glass changed hands, Jack spoke gruffly.

"I don't know. Like what went wrong. Like how I feel about it. Like whether I want that again."

Daniel was surprised at Jack's honesty, but didn't show it. "That's understandable."

Jack nodded sadly, and when he spoke, his voice was rough. "Yeah, I guess so."

Daniel nodded back and the two men grew quiet. It was a long while before either spoke again. The flames around and in front of them lulled them into a quiet relaxation and two minds were occupied by thoughts of two women and the countless little things that had led them to this night. When the men finally spoke again, it was with a quiet understanding, and while the conversation wandered over many topics, it flowed on well into the early hours of the next morning.

The Pinot Noir was not the only bottle of wine consumed, and Daniel Jackson was privy to the secret cellar stash of Jack O'Neill before midnight.

XXX

Daniel's thoughts were suddenly brought back to the present by a distinctive label.

His eyes lit up as his brain instantly translated the Italian on the label.

This was a Pinot Grigio, and it wasn't very old. Daniel knew that was how this wine was meant to be consumed, however, and the thought of the light floral spirit lifted his mood instantly.

It would go well with the chicken Sam was bringing to the party for grilling later.

Jack might not be pleased that Daniel had selected the bottle without consulting him, but Daniel didn't care. A wicked grin slid over his face, and he removed the bottle from the wine rack that held it captive with its brothers.

He'd wait to open it, but he knew that once it was upstairs, Jack would never return it to storage. Daniel began to climb the stairs leading up to the main floor of the house.

He flicked off the lights on his way, knowing without sight where to place his feet on the familiar stairs. After all, that first night of wine fellowship had been followed by many others through the years.

As Daniel reached the top stair, his hand reached for the doorknob that would open the door at the top of the long staircase. He usually didn't shut the door, but this was still a small hurdle.

However, his hand met a surprise when it closed on the handle. The knob didn't budge. It was locked tight. Daniel had never even noticed there was a lock on this door, and he was dumbfounded to find the door shut tight against him now.

Daniel banged on the door loudly with one fist and yelled out to Cassie, who had bummed an early ride over with him and was supposed to be decorating for the party.

"Cass! Cass, it's Daniel! I'm locked in the basement! Open the door!"

Daniel heard no response, and he knew why. Cassie had recently bought herself a new Ipod, and he had no doubt she was plugged into her headphones, listening to loud rock music while she worked.

Daniel resigned himself to a wait. He considered breaking the lock-it was only a doorknob lock and he knew he probably could, but he just didn't feel like expending the effort. He knew the only other way into Jack's basement was through a storm shelter door on the opposite wall from where he was, but he also knew that was kept locked from the outside with an old fashioned board and slat apparatus. It was another of the design features of Jack's house that mystified Daniel. Still, he wasn't worried about getting out. Sam, Teal'c, Janet, Siler, Walter, and General Hammond would be over soon, and they would notice his absence if Cassie didn't wonder about him first. Daniel sighed, spun around in place, and flopped down on the top stair. He set the bottle of Pinot Grigio next to him in the corner of his perch and waited.

The wait was longer than he thought. Daniel grew bored sitting in the darkness of the basement and decided to busy himself. He deftly marched back down the stairs, picking up the wine as he went. When he reached the bottom, he turned the lights back on and looked around the room.

He had never really looked around down here before. He had only come for wine and returned upstairs. Now that he truly took in the space, he smiled in spite of his predicament.

Jack's presence was everywhere.

In one corner, there was an old, oversized gym bag with four hockey sticks sticking out one end.

Under the stairs lived an unused bicycle.

A pair of inline skates hung by their laces from a long nail driven into a stud in the wall.

A motorcycle helmet sat atop a bookcase that had seen better days.

Daniel walked over to the bookcase, trying to find something to read to occupy his time.

He was rewarded with old copies of 'Sports Illustrated'.

Sighing, Daniel turned again to the wine rack. As he did, two things caught his eye. One was a corkscrew. Daniel looked at the tool for a full minute before shifting his gaze to the bottle still in his hand. His evil grin from earlier returned.

He found the corkscrew in his hand before he could think of what he was doing.

As he applied the device to the cork of the wine, he hesitated.

Jack would kill him if he knew about this.

Then again, this Grigio wasn't a terribly expensive wine, and it was easily replaced. Daniel couldn't help himself. He twisted the corkscrew into the cork and popped open the wine.

As the bouquet of the wine hit his nostrils, Daniel grinned. Grigio was light and lean, but still distinctive in its odors. This one was very crisp, and promised a slightly acidic taste.

Once the bottle was opened, however, Daniel realized the error of his ways.

He had no glass. No cup. Not even a paper or plastic picnic cup. It pained the archeologist to contemplate drinking from the bottle, but he saw no other alternative.

He considered setting the wine aside and drinking it later, when he was released from his captivity, but as his gaze refocused on the other thing that had caught his eye earlier, he lifted the bottle to his lips almost absent-mindedly and swallowed a large gulp of alcohol.

His mind barely registered the sweetness of the spirit as his feet carried him forward.

Behind the wine rack, in a corner that was much bigger than it looked, was a large covered object. Peeking out from under the large tarp that served as a cover for the oddly shaped object was what looked like the bottom of a large vase or urn. It was brightly colored, and it was the colors that had first attracted Daniel's eye. Jack didn't seem the type to collect glassware, and Daniel's curiosity couldn't be suppressed. As he pulled back the tarp, he gasped in astonishment.

An old fashioned potter's wheel sat in the corner, with no dust on it at all.

Surrounding the wheel were several vases of varying size. Some were plain, while others had intricate designs carved into them, but they were all perfectly thrown and obviously homemade.

On a small rack built into the wall behind the wheel sat rows of glaze, paint, and brushes of all shapes and sizes. This little alcove, behind the wine rack and nearly invisible unless one intentionally walked behind the rows of bottles, was a pottery paradise.

And more important for Daniel, there was a small table next to the wheel. On this table sat one perfect, crystal clear, clean wine glass, obviously used and then washed for the next use before being left here. Daniel seized the goblet and looked at it almost reverently for a moment before settling down on the tarp on the floor and pouring himself a glass of the Grigio. As he slowly enjoyed this glass, he leaned back against the wall from his tarp seat and contemplated the sight before him.

Jack O'Neill made pottery.

And from the looks of it, he enjoyed it. The only thing in the basement that didn't have the look of neglect was the pottery equipment. The wine rack was well used but dusty, as such things tend to be, and everything else was in complete disrepair.

Jack obviously used this little corner of his basement.

As Daniel tried to wrap his brain around the fact that the leader of SG-1 made vases in his spare time, he poured himself another glass of wine. Before he knew what was happening, the Pinot was half gone and Daniel was intently studying the details of a intertwining blue and purple pattern on one small jar. The lines were exquisite, and Daniel was fascinated with the workmanship that it must have taken to produce such fine detail.

He never heard the arrival of his friends upstairs. He was as engrossed in studying these O'Neill artifacts as he would have been on a dig in Asia or translating inscriptions on ruins on some alien world.

XXX

Upstairs, Sam wondered idly where Daniel was as she and the others helped in final preparations for the party.

Cassie pulled her headphones out of her ears and replied. "Oh, he's around here somewhere. I just saw him."

Being aware of the passage of time was not one of Cassie's strong suits.

Everyone was so busy that no one noticed Daniel's absence again until much later.

XXX

Colonel Jack O'Neill was surprised by the party.

In fact, he was flabbergasted. He pretended to be a little annoyed at his friends and valiantly tried to convince them that his birthday was no big deal, but inside he was tickled pink at the surprise. He'd never had a surprise party before, and the fact that he really hadn't heard about this one made it that much sweeter. His friends had even all parked well away from his house and walked to the party so that he wouldn't know they were here by the presence of their cars.

The only thing that concerned him was the lack of a certain archeologist. He was genuinely shocked that Daniel wasn't here. He figured there must be a good reason, though, and that his friends would let him in on it eventually.

But thirty minutes into the party, that still hadn't happened.

Finally, Jack could take it no more. He asked the obvious question in a lull in conversation.

"Where's Daniel?"

Everyone in the room looked at everyone else. No one had an answer.

Finally, Janet looked at Cassie with an expectant look.

After a moment, Cassie shrugged. "What? Why is everyone looking at me? I don't know where he is. He was here before the party."

Sam chimed in now, concern in her voice. "When's the last time you saw him, Cass? Did he say anything to you about leaving or where he might be going?"

Cassie thought for a moment while chewing on her lip. "Um…it was before everyone else showed up. I was putting up the streamers and Daniel was a little grumpy…"

Janet interrupted. "Cassandra!"

Cassie glared at her mother. "Well, he was. Anyway, he said something about needing something good to drink. That's the last I saw of him."

Jack O'Neill stood, spun on his heel, and left the living room at a trot, barking an order for his friends to stay put and leaving them behind with puzzled looks on their faces.

XXX

Jack wrenched open the basement door with a vengeance. Once he realized the door had been locked and saw the light at the bottom of the stairs, he knew Daniel was in the cellar, but he worried that something had happened to him. Otherwise, thought Jack, he would have called for help once he heard the others in the house.

"DANIEL!" Jack's voice echoed loudly in the basement while his footsteps clomped down the wooden stairs.

A sudden crash answered Jack's shout, and then Jack heard a familiar voice curse.

"Dammit!"

Jack rushed down the stairs and flew into the basement.

He found Daniel kneeling over a shattered piece of pottery, looking very guilty and a more than a little apprehensive.

Jack stopped and stood stock still for a half second, a look of anger and embarrassment flooding his face, before rushing to Daniel's side and kneeling next to him. Daniel began to babble.

"I'm sorry, Jack."

"It's ok."

"I didn't mean to."

"It's ok."

"It was beautiful. I'm sorry."

"It's ok. I can make another one."

"Yeah, but I shouldn't have…it's yours…it's private…I'm sorry…"

As he spoke, Daniel's hands frantically swept at the broken shards on the floor, trying to sweep them up. Suddenly, another hand shot quickly into the mess and grabbed Daniel's scrabbling wrist. Daniel looked up at Jack then, and met his eyes.

Jack spoke next in a very metered and calm voice.

"Daniel. It's ok. I can make another one."

For a long second, Daniel didn't move. He simply met Jack's gaze. Then, slowly, without moving his eyes from Jack's, he nodded.

Jack nodded back. "Come on, let's go upstairs before anyone else wanders down here. Wouldn't want just anyone knowing my secrets, you know."

Daniel grinned then, overcome with happiness that Jack trusted him enough to let him in on a few things he wouldn't want the whole world to know. His smile was lopsided and a little too wide, though, and it gave away a secret of his own.

Jack's brow furrowed slightly and he looked up from the broken pottery on the floor. His eyes lit upon the half emptied bottle of Grigio and his gaze sharpened. He looked back to Daniel, who looked at the floor.

After a moment, Jack snorted a laugh, then began to chuckle. Daniel looked up.

"What?"

"Well, the wine is another story. I'm afraid you'll have to replace that."

Daniel looked at Jack incredulously for a split second, and then he laughed, too.

"No problem."

Jack stood slowly, then helped Daniel to his feet. Daniel reached to take the bottle of Grigio upstairs, but Jack stopped him.

"Nah, leave it there. Wouldn't want the good Doctor and the good General to know that I found our chief archeologist drinking alone in the basement, would we?"

Daniel laughed again in earnest before responding as he began to climb the stairs with Jack a few steps behind him. Jack left the light on to make sure they both made it ok. He'd come back and turn if off later when Daniel was safely upstairs.

"Tell you what, Jack.""What?"

"If you don't tell everyone what just happened, I won't tell that you've been playing Khnum in your spare time."

Jack smiled. "Deal."

Daniel smiled back. "Ok."

As Daniel reached the door to the rest of the house, this time left open, Jack called out to him one more time before they rejoined the others.

"Oh, but Daniel?"

"Yeah, Jack?"

"I'd never make people."

Daniel's foot stopped in mid-air at Jack's words while Jack pushed past him with a grin.

Khnum was the Egyptian god of the Nile source and was said to have created humans on a pottery wheel. He was the creator of life. Daniel had never expected Jack to understand his little remark earlier. It had come without thought, but Jack's jibe now said that he had understood things perfectly.

Daniel shook his head in wonder at his friend who was so much more than he appeared, and continued up the stairs.

The party went on, and much laughing was done at Daniel's expense. The other guests couldn't imagine how Daniel had managed to fall asleep down in Jack's musty basement, but whenever someone questioned him about it, Daniel would just shrug and blush a little.

Sometimes, he would catch Jack's eye and the two men would share a look that spoke volumes and then amusement would shine from both brown and blue.

The next time Daniel Jackson and Jack O'Neill spent a quiet evening with a few bottles of wine, they would do so at Daniel's, and their first toast would be to secrets.

Later that year, Sam would remark on the beauty of a small cup on Daniel's desk, which was being used to hold spare pencils. She would ask where he got the finely crafted piece of pottery, with its intricate geometric patterns of blue and purple.

Daniel would smile in a slightly amused and mysterious way and merely say a friend had sent it to him.