What A Tangled Web We Weave…
Jack cursed as the phone rang again before he had located the handset. Following the sound into the living room, he spotted the annoyingly loud object he was searching for on top of the coffee table. He hurried across the room, managing to snatch the phone up and press the 'talk' button all before the third ring ended.
"What?" he demanded, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't answering his own phone.
"Jack?" the familiar voice of Daniel replied. The archaeologist's confusion was evident and he apologized hurriedly, knowing that no good ever came from Jack using that tone with anyone. "Sorry, I thought I dialed Sam."
"You did," the older man replied, keeping his voice down. "She's asleep and I want her to stay that way."
"Oh," came the response. Daniel was obviously confused about why Jack was still hanging around Sam's house if she was asleep, but apparently he decided that there were some questions he was better off not asking. "How is she?"
"She's feeling pretty rough," Jack replied, making his way back into the kitchen to finish up the grocery list he was writing. "Not that she's saying so. Did Frasier swing by to talk to you?"
"She just left," Daniel informed him. "I'm on my way to talk to General Hammond and see if he'll clear me to leave in a few hours so I can head over to Sam's," he added. "You and Janet are right, she shouldn't be alone right now."
"Carter's still under the impression that we're taking turns dropping in on her morning, noon and night," Jack warned, jamming the phone against his shoulder while he rifled through Sam's cupboards in search of soup. "She's not going to be happy when she finds out we're taking turns babysitting her."
"She'll get over it," Daniel stated confidently, although it was clear that he was a little concerned about how long that could take. "Pneumonia is no fun and Janet seems pretty convinced that she's going to get worse before she gets better. Sam has to know we aren't just going to leave her by herself."
"She knows," Jack agreed. With a triumphant flourish, he managed to dig out a single package of chicken noodle soup, tucked away behind more than a dozen cans of food for a cat Sam had given away years ago. Go figure. "But Carter believes in the power of wishful thinking."
"How much longer can you stay?"
"I have a meeting with Hammond at 1215," Jack replied, giving up on searching Sam's cupboards and instead drafting the grocery list based on what he figured she'd need. "If I drive fast, I can stay until noon."
"Okay," Daniel said slowly, although it was obvious that he thought it was anything but okay, given that Sam lived half an hour away from the SGC. "How about you leave at quarter to noon and drive at something approximating the speed limit instead? I'll see about leaving around two; that'll give me time to finish the translation for SG-7 and Sam's prescription should be ready by then, so I can bring it over and save someone else the trip."
"I think she'll be okay on her own for a few hours," Jack agreed. "But you'll need to stop for groceries, unless you don't mind eating cat food for dinner."
"What?"
"Never mind," Jack smirked, ripping the list off the pad Sam kept in the kitchen. Folding the piece of paper until it would fit, he pocketed it. "Can I give you the list this afternoon?"
"Sure," Daniel agreed. "Should I let you go?"
"Yeah," Jack agreed, shutting the cupboards he'd left open as quietly as possible. "I don't want to wake up our favourite light sleeping astrophysicist."
"Okay," Daniel agreed. "See you in a few hours."
"Yep," Jack agreed before hanging up.
He made his way back into the living room and placed the phone back where he found it before glancing at his watch. He had half an hour to kill before heading back to the mountain, but many stints of medical leave throughout his career had taught him that daytime TV offered nothing that would hold his attention. His gaze landed on the bookshelves that lined one wall of the living room and he decided to spend the time looking for a book that might help him understand more than ten percent of what came out of his 2IC's mouth.
