Unit Cohesion
by Remi Craeg

Daniel knew it was likely that at some point he would outwear his welcome, but he couldn't help himself. More accurately, he'd grown tired of holding his tongue when it came to this particular issue. As usual Jack was being an ass, and as usual Daniel felt obscenely compelled to tell him which particular line he'd blown over. To his credit, Daniel had a knack for being choosey; he knew exactly which battles were worth his energy and brilliant debating skills (really, the man should've been a trial lawyer).

The so-called final straw had been six straight hours of silent and disjointed maneuvering, two preliminary recon missions in a row. Yeah, that was as much as Daniel could take. And he liked to think of himself as the tolerant one. But Jack, he should know better. His job required that he be a neutral leader. Not that he was particularly good at being a neutral anything, but where Sam was concerned he seemed to excel—at least outwardly. Who knew what happened when he wasn't around.

Daniel figured he would have better luck approaching Sam, but he had the distinct impression that Jack was ground zero for whatever awkward undercurrents that only recently surfaced.

Daniel spied the colonel in question at the back of the commissary. He wasn't at all surprised to find him eating by himself, either. "Jack," he greeted with a cautious glance.

"Daniel."

"Where's Teal'c?"

"Napping."

"I see." Daniel gestured to the chair opposite Jack but got no response. "Finish your report—"

"Daniel, please don't tell me you're going to start in on paperwork an hour after the mission?"

Okay, Daniel thought, so his mood remained unchanged. This should be pleasant… "Small talk," he said by way of explanation.

"Well, don't."

Daniel considered his friend for a long moment. Maybe this wasn't the best time to—

"Did you need something?"

Eyebrows scrunched together, "Uh, yeah, actually I wanted to talk to you about something."

Jack looked skeptical. He seemed to sense the direction this was heading and would rather not be present. Daniel thought that maybe he'd say just that but surprised him with a nod.

Caught off guard, the linguist was suddenly at a loss for words. He'd thought long and hard about the topic in length but never what he'd actually say to him when the opportunity finally presented itself. Jack watched him impatiently. Well?

"Sorry, I'm just thinking of how to say it…"

Jack grunted. Figures.

"Something's different," he finally said, though somehow it wasn't what he wanted to say.

Jack's eyebrows shot up. What the hell?

"I'm not sure what, but something has definitely changed and you have to fix it. Our regular mission rotation is going to start again on Thursday and we can't…you two can't be like you've been on the next planet we're going to be on."

"Daniel. For God's sake, make sense."

"Jack," he sighed, exasperated. This was way harder than he'd anticipated.

"Spit it out Daniel."

"I guess…what I'm trying to say is that ever since we came back from P3R-118, you and Sam have been…well, different. Did something happen?"

"Really, Daniel, I have no idea what you're talking about." Jack schooled his face to match the ignorance of his statement.

"Jack! You can play dumb all you want in our briefings, but don't lie to me." Daniel sighed again trying to let his anger recede. "I'm just concerned. The team's always been cohesive. And now…"

"…Not so much," Jack supplied. He scrubbed his face with his palms.

"Before your memory returned…did you guys—"

"Daniel." It was a clear warning. Whether it was intended to protect from any discomfort or their respective privacies, Daniel was unsure.

"No, Jack. This is important. Under other circumstances, you're right. This would be none of my business—never mind the fact that you and Sam are my closest friends—but, this is effecting the team now and I'm afraid this will become a bigger issue. If it somehow got back to General Hammond—"

Jack pierced him with a threatening eye, "And how do you suppose that would happen?"

"Obviously I'd never say anything to him…"

"Obviously."

"God! Jack. Can you stop being…you, for two seconds." Okay, now he was upset and his argument had gone to shit. "Teal'c and I agree. I sort of drew the short straw…nevertheless, you are my friend and as such I feel it is my duty to tell you when things are…particularly bad." Daniel paused. He had to change his strategy; this was feeling too much like an intervention. Which, he supposed ruefully, it was. "Do you honestly believe we can continue like this? That we're not better served without this…distraction?"

"Daniel, you're right."

His eyebrows shot skyward, "I am?"

"It is none of your business." That being said, Jack stood, tray in hand, and moved to the closest trash can.

Daniel followed him all the way back to his office without protest and paused in the doorway. Jack didn't speak, so he continued in and stood stubbornly in the center of the room. Jack looked up, surprised to find that he'd followed.

"Oh for cryin' out loud, Daniel."

"I'm not going to drop this, Jack."

Jack mumbled, "Surprise, surprise."

"Look, I'm not looking for an explanation for what happened. I just want you to acknowledge that there is something going on and that you're going to try to fix it. You know better than anyone how dangerous it is out there, especially with a poorly functioning—"

"All right, now just stop right there," he interrupted. Daniel waited patiently for him to continue, but Jack hesitated.

Daniel crossed his arms, a gesture intended to communicate his unwillingness to let anything go.

A moment later, "When we got home," he started, "Some things came back to me easily, like they were always there. But everything else was different. It took me a while to feel like Jonah was the stamp and Jack was the original. You know?"

Daniel was a little surprised that he would share this with him, but he didn't mention it. Instead he nodded in agreement.

"Before I knew I was Jack…when it was just Jonah and Thera—" Jack stopped abruptly, reconsidering the wisdom of this confession.

When it was clear to Daniel that he wouldn't continue, he tried another tactic. "Sam told me about Freya and the za'tarc machine. Jack, you have to know that I respect yours and Sam's decision and the rules that bind you, but do you honestly believe that you can continue to ignore your feelings?"

"Daniel, it is way more complicated. We don't have a choice."

Daniel was getting really sick of the whole 'We can't, regulations,' routine. "I think you do. And up to these last few missions, before the mines, I'd say, 'deny everything,' but this is destructive. Not only to you—and Sam—but now it's affecting the whole team. You of all people shouldn't stand for that. Something's got to give.

"I know there are rules for a reason, I don't dispute that. What I don't understand is why you'll continue with the status quo when the very thing the rules are there to protect against has happened; you've let it affect the work."

"What do you suppose we do, Daniel," he hissed accusatorily. "You think it hasn't crossed my mind? As long as there are regulations, we have to toe the line. No matter what."

"Doesn't stop the feelings, though."

"No," Jack answered remorsefully.

"And you can live with that?" He was indignant.

"I have to."

"And so does she, doesn't she?"

Jack couldn't answer, he wasn't sure he knew how.

"One day, Jack, you're going to wake up and wonder how you got to where you are. And you won't be happy with the answer."

Jack couldn't meet his friend's eyes. "I think that day has come and gone."

Daniel dropped his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I guess the only advise I can give is that some things are worth the fight. Even if it means a little rearranging is in order…"

"Daniel, I think this a lot bigger than a little rearranging, don't you?"

"I suppose…it's just an expression, Jack. My point is, reassess your priorities, you might be surprised." With that, he left Jack to think.

Daniel knew he was right and figured the more Jack allowed himself to seriously consider his argument, the more it would make sense.

Jack stared at his blotter for ten minutes. Since when did this thing get a calendar added to it? He thought maybe Walter did it, because that's who he imagined did weird elf-like things in the middle of the night, but shook away the thought.

He knew Daniel was right. He also knew that he had limited options. What the hell did he expect him to do, anyway? Retire? Yeah, because that worked so well the first time. Besides, there was the whole War-with-the-Goa'uld thing they had to contend with. As far as Jack was concerned, he and Carter would have to come to an understanding. Although, it did occur to him that they'd set the standard that day in the exam room, but that was before he was Jonah. That was before she had been Thera. The nagging logical part of his brain—the one he sequestered and never let out for fresh air—reminded him that she was the same person; Carter and Thera were both…Sam. Only difference was, he didn't know any better and Thera crept past his defenses and rented a huge chunk of his sentimental side.

Damn.

This was starting to be more than he could handle. It occurred to him that that was exactly what Daniel was trying to say. Of course, he could have lead with that instead of his ridiculous dog and pony show. But then, it wouldn't exactly be Daniel's style, then would it?

Surely there was a solution to this problem, but Jack was smart enough to know that wasn't his area of expertise. He sighed. He had been avoiding this realization for a while now (which he supposed got them into trouble in the first place), but knew he had to go find Carter. This was gonna be weird.

"Hey," he greeted as calmly as he could muster. He hoped upon hope the turmoil he felt wouldn't seep out his pores and through his clothes.

She looked up from the scraps she was working on and gave him a forced smile. "Sir, I thought you'd left for the evening."

He shrugged, "Nope. I had some things to finish up. What about you? Almost done for the day?"

"Actually, yes. These are the leftovers," she explained as she slid the pile into a sealed container.

"You wanna grab a bite to eat?"

Sam's brow perked, but she didn't turn him down. "Sure. The commissary?"

Jack shook his head, "I was thinking of something less…military-y."

She smiled again, "Okay. I need to stop by the locker room, but I'll meet you topside?"

He nodded and dipped his head.

"Sir?" Her face seemed concerned but she spoke only the one word.

"Nothing. Yeah topside, ten minutes." He smiled for her, trying to convince her he was acting normal, that nothing bothered him. Truth be told, he was suddenly afraid; her mood was conflictingly light and he loved to see her like this, like no one was threatening Earth today and no one was missing or injured, but he worried his revelations would shatter the last of their rather fragile understanding.

Thirty minutes later, they sat quietly in a deserted restaurant less than five miles from the mountain. Jack studied her over his menu, oblivious to his attention while she concentrated on the words in front of her. She looked...content, which he considered particularly unexpected given the last 48 hours. But he continued to regard her happiness, she wore it well. It was amazing that she could be this way with him, despite the circumstances.

And that was the moment he got truly scared. He'd always known that whatever it was that he felt about her was—at least in the military's eyes—not good. But this? This was really not good. Somewhere along the way this became more than caring a lot more than he should. This was something he knew he couldn't ignore.

And there was the rub.