Originally inspired by Tejas's LJ Food-a-thon, but the talking quickly became more important than the food.
Many, many thanks to zatsclear and elanorme (on Live Journal) for beta-reading services: you guys rock! Any errors remaining are purely my own, as a result of me tinkering with this incessantly.
Comments are love: even – especially – constructive criticism. :D
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Kawoosh Productions, The SCI FI Channel, Showtime/Viacom, Sony/MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions.
This story is for entertainment purposes only and is purely non-commercial.
More Than Beer and Pizza
Instead of shedding his Air Force uniform fatigues and hunting down Jack ready to go back to his place, Daniel holed himself up in the glorified storage closet he had claimed as an office; actively seeking to avoid Jack – and everyone else – ever since the mission debriefing.
It had been a bad day. Every time Daniel had passed anyone in the commissary or the halls he had heard the same sort of comments. Jokes about how his team had needed to go and rescue him from the Touched community on the dark side of the planet – what else could you expect from an anthropologist, he had to immerse himself in the local culture; Dr Jackson can't resist staying with alien groups; Jackson's only in the SGC to find another alien planet to live on. Jokes about how he had "gotten lucky" with a beautiful young woman "again" – Dr Jackson only goes through the Gate to get laid; well can you blame him, he ain't gonna get anything on Earth; right, alien chicks don't find geeks a turn off apparently... Ha, ha, ha. So damn funny.
He could find it in himself to give the jokers the benefit of the doubt, to assume it was just good-natured, good-humoured banter than would die off as soon as he stopped being a novelty, or something else happened to amuse the masses. But he could not ignore the serious comments, which he over-heard often enough to think he was supposed to hear – Hammond or O'Neill must have gone nuts to put Dr Jackson on SG-1; well if he screws up once O'Neill'll use it as an excuse to get rid of him, everyone knows how he feels about scientists; I heard that the Colonel is planning to make missions unbearable for the poor S.O.B.; it's just a matter of time before he ASKS to get grounded, so if you want in, you'd better start greasing O'Neill now. The general consensus seemed to be that no civilian belonged in a front line unit, or even in the SGC, it being a military operation. He did not belong. In spite of all his efforts he was starting to think he would never belong... Daniel brooded.
So this was IT? The mission report – the book – on the whole situation closed? Just like that? The whole fiasco of the Touched virus solved, over, done with, finished? Himself, Sam, Jack and everyone at the SGC were totally cleared medically; the medical team had returned from the Land of Light (or P3X-797, as the military were still insisting on calling it) where the curse – the plague – of the Touched had been lifted, allowing Melosha and all those people to return to their families; SG-1 debriefed by General Hammond... and that was it; done, dusted and signed off.
Jack had signed off on Daniel's report and recommendations and as soon as he finished with the General they were supposed to have two days off to enjoy. "Enjoy", huh! No matter how hard Daniel tried to convince himself that it really was that simple – end of story, put it to the back of your mind, carry on as usual – it was not working for him. The whole situation, the future of his place in a military unit and especially the mess he had made of his second mission to P3X haunted him.
He HAD tried to bury himself in work, collecting copies of the mission reports from the SG teams and trying to analyse them for future research opportunities. The attempt to take his mind off the complete debacle had been futile but at least by hiding from Jack – even if he was not actually getting any work done – he was avoiding the inevitable jibes. "Daniel, you dog! Keep this up and you'll have a girl on every planet!" Jack would have to comment, wouldn't he? He had to make a joke of a scenario Daniel did not fine remotely funny. That was just Jack's way, but while Daniel could accept that intellectually, he could not bring himself to face it. Not when he did not yet know how he felt, or even what he thought about his actions while Touched.
Maybe this way he could get his head around his failure, the... thing... with Melosha... and his future on a front line team and make some decisions before he had to deal with other people.
"Hey. Ready for home? Pizza? Beer?"
Maybe not.
He would not, could not, raise his head to look at Jack, but he could not help quickly glancing up over the tops of his glasses. Blurred though it was, he could still make out Jack's head poking around the half open door and the grin which split his face. So much for avoiding the confusion of being around the other man until he had his own head straight.
"Oh. Hey Jack." It took effort, but he managed to keep his voice deliberately light as he stared sightlessly at the report he was holding. With luck Jack might think he was busy and leave him alone.
However, Jack apparently took it as an invitation and slouched into the office, hands deep in the pockets of his fatigues. Daniel looked up at him and shook his head. Somehow he managed to look as laid-back, comfortable and casual in his green fatigues – or even Battle Dress – as he could in his own jeans and sweatshirt. Maybe it came from the habituation of twenty-odd years in the military, or maybe it was just Jack's own innate confidence. All Daniel knew was that he found himself of envious of the way Jack FIT, while he felt awkward, gauche, uncomfortable and downright strange in any uniform other than his familiar tweed jackets, plaid shirts and cords. In either BDUs or the uniform fatigues he felt – and thought he looked – like a kid playing dress-up, in spite of being some ten years older than the junior officers and airmen on the base. It was galling. Humiliation on humiliation. Confirmation that this was not HIM.
He frowned and threw the report onto his desk as Jack let the silence drag on. "Can I help you?"
Jack quirked his eyebrows and lips in a blend of curiosity and amusement as he looked around the tiny office space, at the crowded shelves and the papers stacked on every available surface, his gaze finally landing on the pile of reports on Daniel's desk. "Daniel..." he drawled the name, drawing out the syllables, "whatcha doin'?"
"What does it look like?" Daniel gestured and raised his eyebrows.
"Well, it doesn't look like a man getting ready to leave the base for forty eight hours downtime. This is where you hole up? It looks like a storage closet."
Daniel smiled and shrugged. "I'm... it's... no-one really knew where to put me. It serves – I've got my computer, papers, shelves for reference books... It's a quiet place to get caught up on some paperwork. If you wanna head off, don't let me hold you up."
"Aht!" Jack punctuated his exclamation by stabbing a finger in the air. "As CO of SG-1 I happen to know that your paperwork is up-to-date. In fact you submitted your latest mission report to me long enough ago for me to have incorporated the relevant bits in my final report to the General and submit your recommendations for approval. I finished up not ten minutes back. Now if I'm done an' on top of the paperwork, you definitely should be done for the day. Besides there haven't been enough missions to require 'catching up' yet."
Daniel sighed and shook his head in frustration. "Oh come on, Jack! You know there's more to my job than my role on SG-1... you... you submitted my recommendations to the General?" He blinked in surprise. He had expected to have to fight Jack over the cultural questions as he had even seemed impatient and irritated about the mere idea of the new Presidential directive. "W-which ones?"
"Hmm?" Jack's face wore that annoyingly vague expression of his. "Oh!" He took his hands out of his pockets and perched on the corner of Daniel's desk, shifting the computer and regardless of the files he was sitting on, shifting around like he was getting comfortable. "You know, the follow up stuff? It made sense. If you're right and it's a Minoan culture, transplanted from Earth then, yeah, how do the Goa'ulds tie in? The 'Gate address was in the Goa'uld Yellow Pages... are they still there? Did they succumb to the Touched virus? Have they forgotten all about it? For all we know there could have been revolutions places other than Earth and Abydos to overthrow the snakes. Who knows what weapons, technology or intel is out there."
Daniel pursed his lips in disgust. Trust Jack, trust the military to take such a narrow view of the research opportunities this offered. "Well, that wasn't quite the spin I was hoping the research would have. I'm more interested in seeing how the culture has survived or developed after all these centuries in isolation. How has a Bronze Age way of life been preserved all these years? Why no, no Industrial Revolution, no Age of Enlightenment, like there was on Earth?"
"Yadda. That's social science. The cultural stuff... Daniel it doesn't add value... not..." Jack paused, shrugging. "Why the hell does it matter how people lived hundreds or thousands of years ago? Who cares? Meh. It's NOW that matters." He punched his right hand into his left palm for emphasis. "Tangible value. Gains. Trust me on this, we might have a budget and a remit for science and cultural stuff, but this is being run by the US military. We're invested in missions that are gonna add something to the bottom line. Will it help us? Can we use it?"
"See, that's such a narrow and close-minded approach to take! It's like you're gonna explore the Universe with your eyes shut! There's, there's there's SO much more to it than, than... THAT!" Daniel pushed up from his chair in frustration, bordering on anger; but there was nowhere to pace in the tiny room, so he had to content himself with standing in front of – and over – Jack. "Where would humans – humanity – be if everyone thought like that! Knowledge – and the quest for knowledge - is the single fundamental driving force of the human race. Exploration, the thrill of discovery, adding to the sum of human knowledge. Why else would European sailors have risked everything to head into the unknown to discover the Americas? Why else would the pioneers trek vast distances into the wild frontier and the western states? We should be going through the 'Gate the same way men climb mountains – because it's THERE and we CAN!" He stopped, embarrassed, as he suddenly realised that he was ranting, gesticulating wildly at this point and that his voice was climbing louder and higher in his passion for the argument.
Jack chuckled and rubbed his hands over his face. "Listen to yourself. People aren't as... noble as that. I know as well as you do that the real motivation for all that exploration and discovery was greed. Gain. Land. Exotic stuff. Silver. Gold. Fame" He shrugged, a sober expression on his face. "Men are base animals, Daniel. It's an unpleasant fact, but there it is."
Daniel bowed his head, conceding that Jack had a point. "Okay, okay..." He gestured vaguely in front of him with both hands, not sure himself what he was trying to say or do. "But... all the same," He paused, drawing a deep breath and licking his lips. While Jack waited with one of his blank expressions, Daniel sighed, tapping his forefinger against his lips and chin as he took the time to marshal his defenses.
"Okay," he wagged his forefinger at Jack, tapped his lips again and then put his hands on his hips in an effort to stop the futile gesturing. "Look. We have this opportunity to add to the sum of human knowledge, to free enslaved peoples, to uncover new – OLD – tribes and civilisations, to, to, to..."
"To boldly go where no one has gone before?" Jack interrupted, grinning.
Daniel just gave him a dirty look.
Jack shrugged semi-apologetically and laid his hand on Daniel's upper arm. "Look, relax. I'm not sayin' we shouldn't be doin' all that scientific or cultural or noble crap. That's exactly what we ARE doing. The command objective for this base is to perform reconnaissance, determine threats and – if possible, emphasis on the if – make peaceful contact with the peoples of these worlds... But bottom line? " The other man spoke quietly, hand still on Daniel's arm, his physical stillness and intense earnestness capturing and holding Daniel's whole attention. "The SGC is funded by the US government and staffed by the US military, not universities, academics and geeks because there's a military threat out there. We don't even know how big it is... but the battle lines are drawn and the soldiers are entrenched. This is... war."
Daniel shook Jack's hand off in irritation. "Jack, no-one, NO-ONE is more aware than I am that we're at war with the Goa'uld. I've seen the casualties. I've lost my home, they've taken my wife and brother-in-law... and killed my friends, in case you've forgotten! But, but, but Earth is not yet under attack and I can't help but see, um, I WANT to see, a bigger picture here, a, a wider viewpoint, other opportunities... a chance for good and positive things to come out of evil. If we're just in this for what we, what EARTH can get out of it, how do we have a higher moral ground than the Goa'uld?"
Jack raised his eyebrows and shook his head.
"What? Why did you do that?"
Jack sighed and took Daniel by both shoulders, staring into his eyes. "Don't expect there to be a moral high-ground in war. You wanna win, you gotta steel yourself to do some damned distasteful things and deal with the spots on your conscience later. They might not be here yet, but from everything Teal'c says it's just a matter of time. When, not if. We gotta be ready." The hands on Daniel's shoulders tightened.
"For God's sake, Jack! I'm not a naif, idealistic little kid. I don't expect war to be pretty... but sometimes there ARE good guys and bad guys and this is one of those times! I'm on your side. I want to fight this war. I want to stop the Goa'uld, wipe them out. Every last one of them! Free the hosts, help Teal'c create his free Jaffa nation, free the humans on the slave planets. I'm desperate to get Sha're and Skaara back, get us back to Abydos and their father. You know that! But while we do all that and after we get there... I want to do more. C-can, can you seriously tell me, um, that, that you're not excited by the thought of what we might find? Cultures and ways of life that disappeared from Earth thousands of years ago?"
"I'm more excited by the thought of cultures and ways of life that are thousands of years more advanced than ours. Who knows what alien medicine, technology and industry are like? Big honkin' space guns to wipe out the Goa'uld... super-advanced alien TVs, washing machines, microwaves, doo-dads and gadgets. Think of all the great stuff they thought we'd have by 2000 in the fifties and sixties. A self-filling fridge-freezer... or a food machine – no more cookin', you just say, 'Coffee', 'Beer', 'Pizza' or somethin' and – wham, there it is!" Jack's eyes twinkled in his carefully expressionless face as he took his hands off Daniel's shoulders to pat his own stomach.
Daniel opened his mouth to protest, then started to chuckle. "You... you think this is a joke? You're winding me up!" He whacked Jack's shoulder with his open hand.
Jack put his hands on the desk behind him and leaned back. "The whole thing was getting too serious. I don't see the point of arguing about it. The President's decided you're gonna get your cultures and stuff and we're gonna evaluate all that geek potential on our missions. All I'm saying is that part of that has to be about looking for weapons, allies and solutions to our little snake problem. At the same time, I'm kinda glad we're talking. You've been avoiding me all day. I... was a little worried that maybe we – you – had a problem. I..." Jack actually looked embarrassed, "I never really apologised or anything for, uh, that scene in the control room. I really laid into you."
"Oh? Oh!" Daniel blinked and sat on the desk next to Jack. "Hey. It's forgotten. I'm okay and you were, um, under the influence of an alien virus. Funnily enough, according to Dr Fraiser I should be flattered. She says that as one of the most senior men on base, powerful, aggressive... you're a natural alpha. Attacking me like that meant you saw me as a threat, a, a potential rival or something."
"Huh. Well you are – what? – THIRTEEN years younger than me? You're better looking and you don't have problem knees." He chuckled and nudged Daniel with his elbow. "And it wasn't just me, was it? To get yourself an attractive young thing like Melosha you had to be fairly alpha back on the planet. You even tried to attack US."
Daniel ducked his head down and shifted awkwardly, as he felt his face heating up with his embarrassment. "Don't."
"What?"
"This. This! Comments like that... the whole... locker-room banter thing. This is why I was avoiding you. I, I didn't want to have to face this. It isn't fair to Melosha and it's not fair to me. Have you forgotten that I'm MARRIED!"
"Hey. Hey." Jack's voice dropped in volume and tone. "You're not beating yourself up over that are you? Daniel, if it's okay that I hit you... You were Touched too! That wasn't YOU, it was the virus... I mean you didn't even look like..."
"JACK!" Daniel stopped him. "Please! Just... Can we just drop it? Please!"
"Fine. Sure," Jack held his hands up in surrender and got to his feet. "I'll shut up." He picked up the papers he had been half sitting on and began trying to straighten out the creases. "So... uh... So what WERE you doin' while hidin' from me in here?"
"Oh. Um..." Daniel blinked at him, feeling thrown off track by the abrupt change. Only Jack confused him like this, changing the direction and tone of a conversation and going off on tangents. He was growing accustomed to Jack and his ways – in spite of all their differences, he felt drawn to the other man; liked him; felt curiously at ease with him; and prized this incipient friendship and wanted it to grow – but he wondered at times if he would ever fully understand how Jack thought or become inured to him. "Uh, well, given this Presidential research initiative, I thought I'd go over the existing mission reports from the other SG units to ensure that we haven't missed any important opportunities for scientific or cultural research on the planets we've already visited."
Jack rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You like making work for yourself, don't you Daniel? The Abydos cartouche gives us thousands of addresses and Carter's program is gonna spit out the new co-ordinates. We got a list of other potential places Apophis might have taken Skaara and Sha're from the Chulak refugees. With thousands of missions before us you think we're gonna be going BACK to those half dozen planets?"
Daniel grimaced. "Right. I, uh, I guess not. But," he waggled his forefinger again, "but, but it IS useful in telling me what sort of things the other teams notice, which tells me what new procedures need to be put in place for this to work." He picked up one of the reports and began leafing through it. "See this, this is useless to me! For the, the analysis and evaluation to be, to be truly useful – valuable – SG teams need to know what they are looking for, take video footage and samples for study back at base. I can't use these sort of reports to make any sort of judgment about culture, or, or language..."
"Woah, woah, slow down there, Daniel" Jack rounded on him. "You? Who says it's gotta be you? You are WAY too keen to take on extra work. Don't be a sucker – if they're not payin' you two salaries, you don't do two jobs." He put the reports he had been fiddling with down on a pile that already looked precarious and it collapsed spilling papers over the floor. "Oh, shit!"
He crouched, groaning quietly, to pick the papers up and Daniel slipped off the table to help him and to make sure that the papers were collected in order.
"Jack, you were there! The General made it clear that my job in the SGC includes consultancy on cultural and linguistic matters. With the extension to the mission criteria that job just got way, way WAY more complicated. I'm, I, I need to brief teams on what to look for as well as what to expect based on the MALP findings and I need..."
"Daniel, no! There are NINE teams. You're on SG-1. Now unless the computer speeds up on getting us those new 'Gate co-ordinates, I admit there'll probably be a while between missions and I'm sure you and Carter have lots of research and stuff you want to do in those gaps, but I'm thinkin' there'll be a hell of a lot of work to do soon enough without you trying to evaluate the cultural crap of every damn mission and follow it up. Not without a full damn staff and a couple of dedicated teams... I know you love this stuff, Daniel, but you're gonna have to prioritise and work out whether you wanna be out there on the front line or back here up to your eyes in books and papers."
Both. He wanted both. Jack stood and put his scruffy heap of papers on Daniel's desk as Daniel tapped the edges of his own neat pile on the floor to straighten them and got up himself. He took the papers Jack had collected and started to sort them with his own as he spoke.
"Jack, this? This 'research stuff' and 'cultural crap'? It's what I do, what I spent my life training to do. I love it... and if the SGC is going to take it further, I, I want to be there. I want to be involved. But Sha're is out there, I, I have to keep going through the 'Gate. I have to find her... and I have to see what's out there for myself. I like the work. I enjoy it..." The pile of papers now neatened and sorted, he slipped them onto a shelf on top of the books, hoping that they were now out of harm's way. "You don't get three PhDs before you're thirty unless you can work hard and organise yourself."
He flashed a small, tight – fake – smile at Jack, hoping it looked reassuring; and leaned against the filing cabinet, legs crossed in front of him, resting his weight backwards on his hands and butt. Jack perched himself back on the desk, so close to Daniel that their feet touched.
"You're already pulling late nights and working longer hours than most of the SGC. Now, there might come a time when we need to do that, but for now this should be pretty much office hours unless we're actually on a mission. Becoming a workaholic isn't gonna solve anything."
"I know, I know. Just... Leave me alone!" Realising he was over-reacting Daniel clasped his head in his hands. "Sorry. I just... I..." He wanted to bury himself in his work, to bury his mind in something other than how much he missed Sha're and Abydos, his loneliness and homesickness and lost feelings. It was not just an escape – he truly loved what he did and he was half in love with the cultural, archaeological, anthropological and linguistic opportunities that the 'Gate promised. Above all, he wanted to use his academic skills and do something he was trained for; it was a chance to prove his usefulness, to make himself invaluable and irreplaceable. He worried about what he might have to face without this work.
He worried that what they really needed on SG-1 was... not him. However reluctant he was to be grounded it was more than difficult, serving with the team. In the field he felt his lack of skills distinctly, in spite of the fact that Jack had all his team-mates training him in combat and was forcing him to spend long hours in the gym, the firing range and on the cadet training grounds... Although he knew that logically he should talk to Jack about at least some of these fears, he could not bring himself to say another word on the subject. He wanted Jack's respect and found he dreaded – and could not face – hearing Jack's confirmation that he did not belong out there, that he was so much ballast or dead weight.
Jack was giving him that curious, amused look again as he clearly waited for him to say something more.
"Sorry. I guess... I'm kinda tired and irritable, you know? It's been a tough day or so."
"All the more reason to call it a day, come home with me now, have some beer, pizza and an early night and enjoy our forty-eight hours stand down. We've all just recovered from a nasty alien virus, we could probably use the extra R and R to get us fighting fit for Monday and our next mission. Come on." Jack slapped Daniel's leg with the back of his hand and grinned encouragingly.
"You don't have to wait for me. I'll enjoy my time off and the weekend better knowing that I don't have to come back to half-finished work on Monday morning. I'm sure I can get a cab back to yours, or even bunk here on base tonight. I don't want to put you out." He felt suddenly guilty about the late evenings Jack had already mentioned and the fact he was still in Jack's spare room, not having found or made time to go apartment hunting between work and physical training. "And, and I'll phone a leasing agent and make some appointments to view apartments in the next few days. Get out of your hair at last. When I accepted your offer.."
"Oh fer crying out loud, Daniel!" Jack interrupted, "I haven't... I wasn't complaining about you putting me out and I certainly wasn't asking you to move out! You don't even know Colorado Springs for God's sake, how are you gonna find an apartment in area where you'd actually want to live? Besides, I figure we should get you out and about. Lemme show you around... where the stores are, library, restaurants, stuff like that. And you should probably do some shopping anyway. You own hardly anything. Meantime," he shrugged, "I kinda like having you around."
Daniel could not help giving a quick, pleased smile as he ducked his head shyly. "I, I, I... thanks. It, it isn't that I wanna get... I mean, I kinda like BEING around, you know? It... Well... Umm..." He trailed off, licking and nibbling his lips nervously. He wanted Jack to know how much his companionship – friendship – and kindness helped fill the loneliness and emptiness that came with his uncertainties and missing Sha're but he could not think of a way to articulate that without sounding needy and pathetic.
Jack seemed to understand though, as he nodded, "Yeah, I know. It's the same – kinda – for me too."
"Oh." Daniel hung his head more, trying to hide, feeling embarrassed by the smile he could not lose and the heat in his face.
Jack squeezed his shoulder and left his hand there: a warm, comfortable, comforting weight. Daniel was not touchy-feely but to be touched by Jack seemed so natural, that for all the strangeness the gestures felt familiar. There was a charge to this touch quite separate from the warm surge of affection and support which Daniel felt spread through him. For a brief moment – maybe only a couple of seconds – both men's gazes met and they smiled at each other in an unspoken communication Daniel felt he only partly understood. He spoke twenty-three languages but was still learning Jack-speak, where the communication of his eyes, eyebrows, lips and hands – every quirk of his whole face and body in fact – spoke volumes more than his words.
Jack broke the eye contact by standing and walking to the door in two steps. "Come on, Daniel. Finish up here. There's this great little pizzeria I know of that you'd never find unless you know it, but it does the best pizza in the state. I figured we'd detour on our way home and pick up a couple. Then we can kick back at home, have a couple of beers, watch the mid-week game and relax. How's that sound?"
Daniel looked around his office, looked up at Jack and came to a decision. "Okay... It sounds good. Let me finish up and get changed and I'll meet you by the truck in fifteen minutes? Twenty, tops."
Perhaps it would be easier to talk to Jack about his concerns over beer and pizza.
Jack had been right. If you did not know that the 'ristaurante and pizzeria' – called simply 'Mario's' – was here you would never go looking for it. In addition there was a little parade of stores: a second-hand and antique book seller's (which Daniel made a mental note to visit as soon as possible), a seven-eleven, a nail and beauty bar, a pharmacy, an optometrist's and a small, cluttered place called 'Henry's Antiques'. They reminded Daniel of stores in Europe: a surprising cluster of little local places, privately owned rather than chains... and a church, oh... and the ubiquitous McDonald's.
Daniel smiled as Jack pushed into Mario's. In his experience for places like this to thrive – and it clearly was thriving – the food needed to be exceptional. From the first it was a sudden taste of Italy: the music playing over the stereo system, the long trestle tables with jugs of water and carafes of red and white wines at intervals, the odors of rich tomato, basil and oregano, the indefinable ambiance. At not quite six in the evening on a Wednesday over three quarters of the tables were already full of family groups and parties of teenagers.
At the back was a service booth and two sets of doors, one glass revealing a more formal dining area – presumably the ristaurante – and one metal with a notice saying "Kitchen – staff only". Between the service counter and the back wall, as in Italy, the traditional stone ovens and the three chefs tossing dough for bases and putting the food together were clearly visible and a little boy of four or five was watching, fascinated, as he was held up by his father. Daniel heard the tall, plump, middle-aged, Mediterranean-looking man at the cash desk tell the father to sit the "bambino" on the counter... and was transported in his memory to the summer his parents had spent in Rome when he had been six or seven – and a pizzeria just like this with a proprietor who had told his father the same thing.
"Roberto! Ciao! Come sta?" Jack yelled a greeting in Italian and the middle-aged man turned to him with a grin.
"Ciao, Giacomo! Multo bene,grazie! E Lei?"
"Bene, bene. E come e la tua famiglia?"
Daniel blinked in surprise. For Jack – anyone really – to know a greeting in Italian was no big deal, but for him to be holding a conversation in fairly fluent, if slightly imperfect, Italian, stunned him. He hung back, wanting to listen, to see this other Jack; and feeling shy and in the way.
"L'oh, sapete, non posse protesare..." He turned round towards the door behind him and called, "Francesca! Gabrio!"
The eldest of the three pizza chefs looked up and grinned. "Giacomo!" Beckoning to the others to take over whatever he was doing, he hurried over, wiping his floury hands on his apron. "Ciao, Giacomo! It's good to see you, my friend," he continued in Italian, "it has been far too long." He lifted the flap of the counter and came through, to give Jack a crushing hug.
"Gabrio, ciao, come sta?" Jack clapped the man on the shoulder. "Scusi, un momento, por favor," Jack put a hand in the small of Daniel's back and propelled him forward. "Questo e il mio amico, Daniel. Egli parla italiano anche. Daniel – Gabrio e Roberto"
Daniel grinned and stepped forward, stretching his hand across the counter to shake hands. "Ciao, Roberto.Ciao, Gabrio. It's good to meet you both. Jack's quite right," he continued in Italian, "I do speak Italian. I, uh, spent some time in Rome and well..." He shrugged.
"Dan-I-ell, welcome, welcome. So, how do you know Giacomo?"
Daniel glanced at Jack, who just grinned. "We work together."
Gabrio looked interested. "Oh yes?" he asked, in English, "And what you do now, Giacomo?"
Jack smiled. "I'm back at the Mountain. Apparently I just can't stay away from the Air Force." He shrugged, as if it did not matter to him either way.
Both men eyed Daniel and he felt acutely aware of his long hair, glasses and general non-military demeanor. "I'm a civilian consultant," he explained, quickly.
"He's our linguist. Speaks about two dozen languages or something," Jack added, much to his embarrassment. He found it strange how Jack always highlighted his skills to other people.
Jack had started telling the others how he was showing Daniel Colorado Springs and the area, introducing him to the places to eat and shop, when both Gabrio and Roberto had to excuse themselves to attend to customers. Jack took advantage of the pause to secure them two menus.
Daniel was pleased to note that it was free of American horrors like deep-dish and the Hawaiian. He looked up from studying his, to ask Jack what he recommended, when a young girl – woman – pushing her way through the swing doors at the back caught his eyes. As she looked at him and smiled, dark eyes lighting and lashes fluttering, his breath caught in his throat and his heart-beat sped up. She was beautiful and her looks, youth and the graceful way she moved was hauntingly evocative of Sha're, in spite of her server's outfit: her skin was a dark olive that seemed to hold its own inner light, the hair escaping from beneath her headscarf was a soft black cloud like cotton candy and her curvaceous figure moved with a lithe sway. His throat ached and his eyes stung as it struck him anew how much and how deeply he missed his wife; what an important – integral – part of him she had become in the year of their marriage.
The girl gave a sudden squeal and ran over to hug and kiss Jack. "Zio Giacomo!"
Jack planted a smacker of a kiss on her cheek and tweaked her headscarf. "Daniel, meet Frankie, Roberto's daughter. Frankie, I swear you get prettier every time I see you. How's college?"
"It's goin' great!" Unlike her father she had an American accent. "I love it! Zio Giacomo," she switched to Italian and dropped her voice to a near whisper, "Who's Daniel? How do you know him? He's cute!"
Jack laughed and answered in English, "We work together. And he speaks Italian better than I do. And he's married." He seemed tickled.
And way, way too old for a college undergrad. Although come to think of it, Sha're could not be much older, it was just a different way of life.
"Mi scusi, segnor." The poor girl looked completely embarrassed, dropping her gaze to the floor.
"Non si preoccpi, per favor. Non importa," he quickly reassured her.
"Did she tell you that she's flunking math?" Roberto joined them suddenly, his English heavily accented. Daniel eyed him warily wondering how much he had heard and to what extent he was a traditional Italian father.
"Oh papa!" She shrugged her shoulders and sighed. "I'm a history major. I hate math, I've never been good at it and it's totally unfair that I have to do a math course. Come on, I'm clearly never gonna use it in my LIFE! Don't you agree, Uncle Jack?"
Jack shook his head and head up his hands, "Don't involve me, honey. I'm not your father."
Roberto's gaze drifted over the pizzeria and he poked his daughter in the waist pointing out tables still waiting to be served.
"Prego. Mi scusi." She scuttled off to take orders, leaving Jack and her father sharing and look and shaking their heads indulgently.
"So, are you ready to order? Giacomo, do I even need to ask?"
"No, my usual, per favor. Daniel, what do you... if you take my advice you'll try the specialitie della casa. You won't get anything like it anywhere else and it's really good. You gotta try it at least once."
Daniel nodded, not really minding what he ate, and Roberto called out their order.
"It'll take about half hour. A glass of wine while you wait?"
"Thanks but I've got the truck. I'll have a coffee, though. Daniel? Would you prefer wine to beer? I can pick us up a bottle."
"Nah. I'm fine with beer. I'd love a coffee now though."
It took Roberto only a minute to get them seated on a sofa in the waiting area with two coffees.
"You are a dark horse, Jack." Daniel stirred a spoonful of sugar into his coffee and inhaled the deep dark aroma. Sipping, he found the taste as perfect as he expected good Italian coffee to be. "I had no idea you could speak Italian."
Jack laughed, "I can't really speak it. Just the basics... What? Did you think I was just another Tom Cruise wanna-be air jockey? A pretty face fly-boy?"
Daniel glanced at Jack out of the corner of his eye and risked a joke, "I don't know that I thought of you as a 'pretty-face' anything... but you have to admit that you fly-boys aren't known for your brains."
Jack shook his head, still grinning, "Yeah, well, I did a European tour of duty – among others – spent time in England, Germany, Spain and Italy. There're AF bases all over the world, who d'you think staffs them?"
"I never really thought about it. So how many languages do you speak?" The new insights into Jack were fascinating, adding layers to the already complicated picture he was building of the man.
"None, fluently. But... lessee... Spent a while in Latin America as well as Spain, so my Spanish is serviceable, was on missions in East Germany in the Cold War, missions in the Middle East an' picked up a little Arabic... Didn't learn anythin' over in the Far East... but I guess I could just about get by in Spanish, Italian, German and Arabic. Thing is, you spend most of your time on base or with our guys so you don't exactly get a chance to mix with the locals and pick it up. And all over, most of the locals you do mix with speak English anyway."
"Mmm," Daniel agreed through a mouthful of coffee, "even on, on our missions, it's not like you've really needed a linguist yet. English really seems to be a universal language."
"Early days. We don't know what we'll get next time out."
Gabrio joined them, which stopped any more work talk. He had shed his chef's jacket and apron and was carrying a large glass of red wine. "So, Giacomo. It too long since I see you, my friend." His English was not quite as good as his brother's.
Jack nodded. "I know. Sorry, there's been a lot going on."
"Yes. I know..." He paused and looked around shiftily, leaning forward and lowering his voice confidentially. "Sara was here Saturday night. With a man. I tell Roberto, Giacomo is our friend, we should not serve... but he say she is the friend too and a customer. Pah! A woman should not leave her husband, I say."
Daniel saw Jack's knuckles whiten and the skin around his eyes and jaw tighten over bunching muscles. He tried to look as though he was not interested, but there was nowhere for him to go to give them privacy. Gabrio was blocking his way out.
"You don't have to choose between us... There's no bad feeling there, Gabrio. We're not married any longer and she's free to see whom she pleases. I wish her well, honestly."
"I still say you need only time. You could mend. I know you love her and you cannot throw a marriage away. 'Til death do us part'. Si? A piece of paper cannot end a marriage."
"That's your belief, Gabrio, not mine."
"You are Catholic, like me! A divorcee who re-marry is not allowed!"
"I'm a lapsed Catholic. God has far bigger sins to forgive me than my divorce... and anyway! It's none of your business, Gabrio!" All the friendliness and warmth had left Jack's voice and he was no longer smiling.
"You love her. I know. I know you Giacomo... how many years now? And I tell you, this... you make a mistake. You will regret."
"Yeah, well... That's my business."
"Giacomo... I know that Charlie..."
"I don't fu..." Jack stopped himself, and got to his feet. Grabbing Gabrio by the neck of his sweater, he pulled him close and dropped his voice, which brought Daniel to his own feet. He put a hand on Jack's arm, fearful of a fight breaking out, but Jack merely said, "I don't give a damn about what you THINK you know about me, or Sara, or Charlie. Listen. This has got nothing to do with you. It's my marriage and my business and my life, d'you hear? And you can just keep your damn nose out of it, do you understand me?" He released the other man and held his own hands up. "Just... just keep your opinions and comments to yourself. I don't wanna hear them!"
Jack's mood had changed abruptly after Gabrio's comments, souring into a depressed silence. Daniel had made a couple of attempts to get him talking again, trying to convey his own support as well as lighten the mood, but Jack had suddenly seemed to become closer to the man he had met on that first Abydos mission than he was to the man he had been getting to know over the previous couple of weeks. Daniel had felt his own earlier mood of dismal brooding returning under the influential pull of Jack's personality and had privately cursed Gabrio.
Even back at Jack's , the uncomfortable silence lasted through Jack channel-hopping to find a mid-week hockey game on TV and well into the first bottle of the exceptionally good Czech beer Jack had decided to try. As Daniel started on his pizza – which he had to admit was excellent, neither the tomato sauce nor the cheese over-powering the individual tastes of the meat and vegetables in the topping – he wondered if he should just disappear for a while and give Jack his space and privacy.
However, when the first commercials aired Jack went to get them both another beer without asking Daniel and had seemed to emerge from his funk as the game resumed, shouting his opinion at referee and both teams of players indiscriminately. Starting to enjoy his beer, Daniel began to get involved and interested in the hockey, daring to ask Jack a few questions, which prompted him to hit the mute and supply his own explanatory – and biased – commentary.
Daniel assumed that that was that and Jack would neither apologise for nor explain his earlier bad temper – though he could infer that Gabrio had both brought up a still-sore subject and over-stepped Jack's boundaries. He was not going to make the same mistake and ask. He was just pleased that this Jack was pleasant company and he could therefore take his mind off his problems at the SGC, kick back and relax. Even the ice-hockey was diverting when watched with someone as passionate and knowledgeable as Jack. And the beers, of course, also helped to lighten the mood; half way through the third bottle each they were sharing both pizzas.
Much later when the match had ended and they had started to collect the empty bottles and pizza boxes and clear up and Jack had put on the percolator for a last cup of coffee, Jack said, rather awkwardly, "I guess I kinda owe you an apology or something for before. Gabrio... he always does that and it hit a nerve..." His back was to Daniel and he appeared to be talking to the kitchen sink.
"Well... I realise his bringing Charlie into it..."
"Oh it wasn't that. Not really. Sara."
"Your wife?" Daniel took one of the stools at the kitchen counter and sat.
"EX-wife. Yeah... Uh... We, we were married for over fifteen years, y'know? And... Gabrio's right in a way. Maybe I DO still love her, kind of... but it's not enough and not in the right way."
There's a wrong way? Daniel felt completely at a loss to know how to respond to such an uncharacteristic revelation from Jack. He wanted to encourage him to open up but had no idea whether that was best achieved by asking questions or staying silent.
"I shouldn't have blown up at him like that." Jack shook his head and sank onto the other stool, leaning heavily on the counter. "I've known Gabrio and Roberto nearly ten years. Their kid brother was under my command and, well, he figured I saved his life."
"Did you?"
"Not really... a half decent CO'll keep half an eye on young and inexperienced soldiers under him. Yeah, you gotta trust them... but if you don't know your men you watch them until you know you can trust them – and how far. You don't let anyone get left behind.
The truth or casual heroism?
"Anyway... I met his family while he was in the hospital and we got talking, they invited me to Mario's for a meal... it got so Sara never wanted to go anywhere else for birthdays or anniversaries. She loved the food they do in that restaurant. Later we ate there pretty much once a month if I was home. Family tradition thing, y'know?"
Not really he didn't.
"Charlie even had his last birthday in the pizzeria. He decided he was too old for a "party" so we took a crowd of his buddies ice-skating and then back for Mario's pizza."
"Oh God... was this? Have you?" Daniel trailed off, unsure how to phrase his question.
"I've been back since if that's what you mean. But since Sara and I separated, every time I see Gabrio... I screwed up my marriage and I'm not gonna make things worse by clinging to something that's over."
"Look, I don't know anything about it... but if you still love her?"
"Think love can over-come any difficulty?" Jack's tone oozed sarcasm.
"Pretty much, yes, I do."
Jack sighed heavily and buried his face in his hands, rubbing at his eyes and dragging them through his hair. "So do I, really, I guess... But... Military marriages are hard work. I was disappearing for weeks or months at a time... on Special Ops I couldn't even tell her where I was going or what I was doing. I'd come back... maybe injured, maybe having watched friends die, maybe having been through all kinds of shit and hell on Earth... Through all the stress and the nightmares and all the rest of the crap that follows you, I could never talk to Sara. It was classified... I was a man... I just felt that I had to get by on my own... didn't even know I could ask for help, much less how to... I was stupid. I could never give Sara what she needed from me, and even when Charlie..." his voice cracked and broke and he fisted his hands on the counter. Daniel reached over and gingerly laid his own hand on top of them. Jack did not shake him off but looked up and smiled painfully at him, his eyes red and blinking hard.
Jack cleared his throat, "Even when we lost our son I couldn't turn to her, couldn't give her what she needed. I was too wrapped up in myself... in my rage and guilt and loss and grief."
"You were depressed."
"I was selfish! And, and love isn't selfish... If I'd loved her right, hardship would have pulled us together not torn us apart. Our marriage was already stretched, that was just the final straw."
"Do... Is... If you still love her, though, isn't Gabrio right? Couldn't you make it work?"
"I..." Jack drew a deep breath, "I think I forfeited the right to try. THIS, at least, has to be about what Sara wants. But... wanna hear something funny? I shut myself off from her when she was here and now, she's gone, it's over a year later... and I miss her."
The beer made this easier – probably for Jack as well as him. Daniel sighed and leaned his head on his hand as Jack got up to make coffee, pulling a bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet and waving it at Daniel. At Daniel's nod, he put a large slug in both coffees and brought them back to the counter.
Daniel took a long draft of the hot coffee, sweet and punchy with the alcohol, "You... what? Keep expecting to hear her voice? Smell her scent? Wake up reaching out for her?"
Jack looked at him over his mug. "You too, huh?"
"The dreams are the worst. It's so hard, Jack... It... it was the same when my parents died... I'd have dreams that they were still alive, that we were still in Egypt together and, and when I woke up...it, it..."
"It was almost like losing them all over again?"
"Exactly! And... and now with Sha're, I wake up and I'm reaching out, I turn over in bed and... It's almost worse knowing she's not dead. I'm always wondering what Apophis is doing to her, what Ammaunet is doing with her body... You know, I never even told her... I mean, she knows my parents are dead, but, but I never told her any of the stuff that really matters about me being just a kid, or seeing it, or foster care... I... I didn't want her pity. I wanted her to see me as a strong man... And I had... On Abydos I had something I've wanted ever since my parents died. I had a family and I had a place where I belonged and I never told her how much that meant to me."
"You'll get your chance."
"Will I? Will I really, Jack? Thousands of planets out there... hundreds of thousands of Gate addresses, IF she's on a planet with a Gate. Apophis has ships too... Why? Why didn't I tell her?"
Jack stared at the liquid in his cup. "Was your childhood so rotten?"
Daniel realised how much he was sharing but had had enough to drink that at this point he did not really care. "I was eight years old when I saw my parents die. America... New York... was an alien place to me. Three short term placements while they found me something long term... It wasn't fun. Oh, my foster families tried, as an adult I can look back and know that... as a kid? I just felt that I'd lost everything. Three times in my life I've lost everything."
"Three?" Jack paused with his cup at his lips, staring at Daniel over the rim with eyes the same colour as the coffee.
Daniel swallowed another mouthful of coffee, "When my parents died. Then when I was an idiot and put my academic reputation on the line with my theories. When Catherine found me I'd lost my grant, my apartment and even the respect of my peer. And now this..."
"The academic stuff you can get back. Okay the SGC is classified and you can't publish papers or whatever it is you do, but you know, the SGC knows..." Jack drank more coffee. "You were right. You opened the Gate. You gave Carter what she needed to get the cartouche addresses working... You'll get respect and an apartment and all the research you want and Uncle Sam is paying the bills."
"I've still lost my wife and family."
"And I keep telling you... Look, if you have a friend or husband go MIA, you never just write them off. As long as there's no body there's hope. Sha're needs to be able to tell herself that you'll never give up. That you're out here doing everything you can to get her back. And I've told you, I'm with you on this. My marriage is over, Daniel. I know because I was there when it was falling apart and I did nothing to stop it. I saw you and Sha're together and I'm telling you that's a long way from over."
"It's, it's... I mean," Daniel hunched over, wrapping his arms around his middle, "I don't believe in love at first sight. It's so strange. I meet – I'm GIVEN this, this gorgeous, beautiful woman and yes, of course, I was attracted to her from the first. I mean, I'm not blind! But the more I got to know her the more I... fell in love with her, I guess... It just feels so unfair... we were still growing to know each other... even after a year what we had was still developing. We... we were still on our honeymoon. You know, I... I was so careful about not getting her pregnant because I wanted our marriage to be strong first and ... and now all that has been taken away from me."
"Hey, hey!" Jack put his hand on Daniel's shoulder, leaning right over the counter to do it. "We'll get her back."
"Y'know, on Abydos I was respected... a leader. I had a place, I belonged in that community... and I threw it all away for intellectual curiosity. Finding the cartouche, uncovering the Gate to see if I could make any of the addresses work... I was so stupid! If I'd never uncovered the Gate..."
"Hey. I've played 'what if' and 'if only' games before. They never end well. There's no point in torturing yourself, that can't help Sha're or anyone."
"I know, I know, it's just at the SGC... the Air Force... where do I belong there? D'you know what people say about me?"
Jack chuckled, "I can guess. But people who know you – Ferretti, me – don't talk like that. And if anyone says anything to me I tell them that you're on SG-1 for a reason."
"Yes. Because I fought for it. Because I told the General that I really had to be going out there... But going into the unknown on the dark side of that planet and going back to get the blood samples for Dr Fraiser... I don't know any more, Jack.."
"It was an emergency. The General asked you and Teal'c to go back alone because he was desperate. It won't happen again."
"Are you sure? Shouldn't the General be able to rely on the members of a front line team not to need rescuing, to, to depend on us in an emergency?"
Jack outright laughed. "For one thing, every time we walk through that Gate we're walking into the unknown. Sometimes we'll walk into trouble, it's just unavoidable."
"Thanks, Jack. You're a great comfort to me." Between Jack now and Teal'c earlier – Perhaps you will develop symptoms later – his team mates really were Job's comforters.
"You'd feel better if I lied to you?" Jack quirked his eyebrows, raising one corner of his mouth in a sardonic smile.
"Well, no... but that's exactly my point. I'm not a soldier or a warrior. I'm not... I don't even think like you do, or Sam, or Teal'c. Back on the planet, when the Touched approached us, Teal'c told me to fire my weapon, but I was trying to help Melosha, my hands were full, I couldn't even get to my gun in time."
"Okay, well then, you've learnt something! In a hostile – or even potentially hostile – situation, don't put yourself into a position where you can't get to your firearm quickly. Assume you'll need to. Oh, and... if you're on an urgent mission to save the lives of your side don't fuss about with humanitarian stuff... At least, not without adequate back up. You're a smart guy, this is all stuff you can pick up."
"Pick up?" He heard himself squeak. "Pick up? By the time I pick it up I may be dead... or worse because I'm a liability I may have caused someone else's death! I... I just, don't you think they may be right? Do you think a civilian, an academic... a geek belongs out there?"
"Like I said to General Hammond, I may not always agree with you, but I trust you."
"You did? You do? You said that?"
"Pretty much," Jack shrugged. "Look before the first Abydos mission, if you'd asked me if I wanted you – or anyone like you – on my team, sure, I'd've said, 'No'." He leaned forwards, "But on that mission, you proved yourself. You stood with us, stood up to Ra, saved my life, handled a staff weapon... when the chips are down you have the instincts. Plus, on Abdyos... it isn't exactly the Hilton, is it? So you have survival experience, of a sort... And like you said, you have a hell of a lot at stake in this conflict, probably more than anyone on Earth at this time. You've seen what we're up against and you wanna fight it. In my book..." he raised his shoulders.
"But I was terrified by the NOTION of these missions..."
"And still went. Your first instinct is for the safety of others rather than yourself and that's a guy I want at my side. Besides... the language and culture stuff? I might not see it as a big deal... but you're a genuine guy and people see that. Respect that. Having you along probably increases our chances of makin' friends with the non-hostiles of the galaxy."
"Teal'c speaks and reads Goa-uld as his mother-tongue and so far everyone seems to speak English..."
"And on planets with NO Goa-uld? I don't think having a Goa'uld-speaker will be exactly a plus point. Bottom line, Daniel? If ever I don't want you on the team, you'll know all about it. Pre-mission briefings based on MALP findings and all that jazz is useful and all... but if I'm facing a load of guys pointing weapons at me, I want the expert with me who can work out the cultural rules so we don't do anything that's gonna get our heads chopped off and can figure out how to say 'We come in Peace!' in a few dozen languages. Okay? The jerks and jar-heads'll get used to you.
"Really?"
"I did, didn't I?" Jack got up and gave Daniel a friendly punch on the shoulder. "Look, it was a less than ideal mission. But I'm pretty sure Carter wasn't delighted by being abducted on the Mongol planet. I'm also sure she didn't spend hours beating herself up over it. Brooding on the last mission can get in the way of the next." He picked up their empty mugs and put them in the dishwasher. "Now, I'm going to have a shower and go to bed. I suggest you have a long soak in the tub to ease those scratches and bruises and shit you got and do the same. And quit your fretting. You have to trust me to tell you when to worry."
"I... I think I will. Thanks, Jack."
"De nada."
"Not... not just for... For everything."
"Hey. You said today that Carter's your friend. Well I've known you longer and been through more with you. Y'know?"
He paused and smirked and Daniel knew what he meant. So what are we, huh?
Jack squeezed his shoulder in passing as he headed for the stairs. "G'Night."
"Goodnight, Jack." Daniel sat there for a moment, listening to now-familiar night-time sounds of Jack climbing the stairs, shutting the bathroom door and the hot water running. He smiled to himself. Perhaps he could belong here, after all.