Prompt (006) Hours.
Jack, Daniel, Hammond
Jack had a pounding headache and was feeling slightly nauseous, symptoms of a lingering hangover, which was why he was hiding in his office with only his desk lamp on. How he'd made it to work he could only hazard a guess, and hoped he hadn't run any red lights or accidentally hit a pedestrian. But the hangover wasn't the only reason he was in his office.
He didn't want to run into Carter. He knew she'd have questions for him, questions he didn't know how to answer. And most of all, he didn't want to run into Daniel. What could he say after he ruined both of their lives?
He glanced at his standard-issue watch. 0600 hours—he heard Daniel's voice in his head say, defiantly and not a little childishly, "6 o'clock in the morning". Seven hours since Daniel had found Carter in his bed. It seemed like it had been longer.
He didn't have much time to sink into last night's depression and self-hatred before his office door was unceremoniously thrown open. He winced at the light, so much brighter than his desk lamp, and groaned when whoever had intruded on him flicked on the overhead lights.
When he felt his headache recede to manageable level and the nausea subside, he opened his eyes again. A very angry General George Hammond stood in front of his desk, stiff-backed and beady-eyed.
"General," he said weakly.
"Colonel. Do you want to tell me why Dr. Jackson just asked to be reassigned to another team?" Hammond asked icily. Jack had never heard him so enraged.
For a moment, Jack couldn't say anything. Daniel wanted to be reassigned? "Permanently?" he blurted out.
"Yes," Hammond said.
Then logic kicked in. Of course Daniel wouldn't want to work with him any more. Jack knew had it been the other way around—which it wouldn't have been—he would ask for the same. Daniel probably hated his guts; he knew he did.
That didn't stop it from hurting. Jack loved Daniel with all of his being, and it seemed like Daniel no longer wanted anything to do with him. Not that he didn't deserve it, of course, but…he'd hoped. He'd hoped he could say something, do something, and this would magically go away. Now he wouldn't even get the chance.
"We had a fight, sir," Jack answered finally.
"Then you better go apologize, Colonel. I can't have my best first-contact team dismantled because of a spat," George said, but his voice had barely softened.
"I don't know if an apology will cut it this time," Jack said heavily.
"You better find something that will," the General ordered, and then turned on his heel and walked out the door.