Misdirection

Janet Frasier's words of warning still ringing in his ears, Jack limped down the corridor of Level 18 in the SGC complex with a clarity of focus that was usually reserved for off-world missions into Goa'uld occupied territory. Made sense. Based on Daniel's reactions during Jack's brilliantly inspired training session and the cold shoulders that had been shrugged in his direction all day from his team, not to mention some of Daniel's research staff, maybe he should consider the archaeologist's office as behind enemy lines. He nodded at two geeks – uh, scientists – who had come around the corner at the end of the hall, heads together discussing some fascinating doodad or line of alien script that had been found on PF-whatever, but they merely glanced up at the colonel's face grimly and kept on walking. He had the sudden urge to turn and throw a one-liner over his shoulder but thought better of it – maybe he'd irritated enough people for one day.

Who knew little Daniel Jackson could be so ruthless? Jack had seen Daniel cut the most overbearing System Lord or fat-headed bureaucrat down to size with a well-turned phrase and rampant blue-eyed sincerity, but a low blow right where it hurts – that was a surprise. It was probably a surprise to Daniel, too, Jack mused, and, if he knew his archaeologist, no matter how mad he was at Jack at the moment, his guilt trip would be well on the road by this point. His own anger had been fleeting, quickly replaced by a stirring of pride in the changes in Daniel that prompted that foot strike in the first place. It wasn't too long ago that Daniel would have shied away from ever hitting Jack in training, of making any kind of aggressive move, instead he'd relied on quickness and agility to deflect his opponents' attacks hoping to wear them out before he was caught – and eventually failing.

He'd rather that Daniel's new willingness to fight had come from some kind of sense of his own worth, or a genuine desire to learn how to protect himself, but Jack knew better. What he'd seen in Daniel's eyes during that training session hadn't been a fighter's commitment to sharpen his skills, or a student's yearning to impress his teacher. It had looked more like desperation – a blankness that Jack translated as a deep-seated knowledge that he had no more to lose. Jack knew that look. He'd seen it often enough in his own reflection before his encounter with Daniel Jackson under the blue skies of Abydos. And after the past few months, he shouldn't be surprised to find it looking back at him out of his friend's eyes. Daniel needed something to live for, and Jack had better find it soon, or one of these days Daniel was going to kick out at someone who didn't curl up on the mat in pain – someone who kicked him back, hard. Rocks and research could not possibly be enough to fill that gaping void, no more than the Air Force could plug up the holes in Jack's own soul after Charlie died. Jack knew that Daniel would only get a chance to find what he was looking for by traveling through the Stargate as a member of SG-1, and if hiring the archaeological equivalent of Stephen Hawking and enduring the snubs and snarls of his 2IC were what it took to keep him there, then Jack could handle it. And the sooner Daniel realized it, the better.

Pushing open the door to Daniel's office, Jack snapped his mouth closed over his usual greeting and stood for a moment, trying to put a name to the feeling that had struck him the moment he saw the large figure bent over Daniel's desk, his fingers shuffling through Daniel's research. Something was wrong with this picture.

"Dr. Kendrick?"

"Colonel O'Neill, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

The words were friendly enough, but Jack thought he heard an undercurrent there…a wariness. Jack leaned casually against the door frame and folded his hands loosely over his chest, dark gaze taking in the usual chaos of Daniel's office, trying to pinpoint whatever had woken up his well-trained paranoia.

"Settling in?" Jack knew that Hammond had assigned the new scientist his own space down the hall from Daniel, so why was the guy sitting at Daniel's desk as if he owned the place?

Donald Kendrick looked down at the copies of Jackson's notes he'd been studying, knowing that the Air Force colonel had no idea what he was doing, but stifling an urge to explain himself nonetheless. "Yes, young Daniel has been quite helpful and generous with his office and his research." He smiled warmly. "You know us academic types, Colonel; we tend to work better in a group setting where we can discuss our thoughts openly. Sitting alone in my new office wouldn't do me much good, now would it?"

Interesting that the guy seemed to know exactly what Jack was thinking. He shrugged. "Yeah, he and Carter are always prattling on to each other about this or that new theory."

Kendrick straightened the pile of papers in front of him, making sure that Jackson's notes on the clay figurines were hidden among the others before he looked up again at the military man. "If you're looking for Daniel, he mentioned that he had to drop off something in the 'gate room, but I'm sure he'll be back shortly."

Jack screwed his face up in confusion and checked his watch. "Nobody's due back – any idea what he was 'dropping off'?"

"No idea whatsoever," Kendrick admitted, with a slight laugh. "I've noticed that the boy is a bit scattered, doesn't communicate too clearly at times."

Unfolding his arms and moving inside the office, Jack slowly wound his way towards Daniel's desk, absently picking up an artifact or nudging a box on his way. He'd used the same phrase to describe Daniel more than once, so why did hearing it from this guy make it sound so… malicious? "That's because Dr. Jackson tends to think that all of us regular people can think as quickly as he can," he replied, careful to keep his voice even as the urge to defend his teammate swept over him. What the heck was going on here? Jack noticed a slight tensing around Kendrick's eyes at his inclusion of the two of them in his term 'regular people.' Oh, great, another thin-skinned genius. Do they make any other kind? Putting on his best 'stupid colonel' look he smiled. "You know, he thinks our brains can follow the same twisted paths that his own zips merrily down at hyper speed."

Kendrick realized that the man's sudden appearance was an opportunity he could not pass up. The leader of SG-1 clearly had some sort of relationship with the young archaeologist: the mission reports, while largely dry and heavy on tactical agenda, described a deep level of commitment from all four of the members of the team towards each other, and the two had demonstrated too much animosity during the handful of meetings he'd been witness to today to be easily explained. In his experience, that much negative emotion could only be traced to some kind of personal issue. From what he'd learned through his interactions with other base personnel, and from previous dealings with the military, the divide between the two men often centered around what General Hammond had described as "Dr. Jackson's unfortunate tendency to get in the way of military objectives." Translated, that meant he had the usual academic inclination to put off action until the situation could be analyzed from every possible perspective. Laudable in research, but a mistake when dealing with the government. Watching O'Neill's sharp-eyed gaze, Kendrick began widening that divide.

"Colonel O'Neill, I hesitate to bring this up, but," he glanced down at the small clay figurine which stood at his left hand. "I realize that one of the priorities of the research department right now is to determine the significance of these figures to the people of M4S-599, and so help Major Fletcher succeed in his rescue mission."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "Yeah?" Daniel had been fiddling around with those dolls for a week now. "And?"

"Well, I mean, I'm sure his concentration on Egyptology has limited his interest in the development of cultures in other locations, but, well…"

"Spit it out, Doc," O'Neill demanded.

Taking a deep breath, Kendrick continued. "Well it's obvious."

"Obvious? As in…"

"The figures are clay surrogates, made to appease the gods of the volcano." He suddenly pulled the thick book that Daniel had been perusing from his lap and placed it on the desk. Motioning for Jack to join him he drew one finger down the margin until he reached the passage he'd noted earlier. "Among the natives of the Pacific Islands, a sacrifice was often made to the spirits which lived within the volcanoes."

Jack couldn't help taking a step forward to lean over the desk. "Human sacrifices?"

Kendrick shook his head. "No, the people made clay effigies of themselves to throw into the volcano in order to pacify them and ensure the safety of their villages."

"And you think the people of M4S-599 want Major Fletcher to…" he made a flipping gesture with his right hand.

"Yes," Kendrick smiled. "If they don't appease the gods, who knows what the villagers might do." Letting that suggestion hang in the air and conjure up mental images in the military man, Kendrick paused a moment before he went on. "I'm sure that young Daniel would have come up with the answer in time, but perhaps my wider range of expertise can be of some assistance in this matter? I mean, why wait for the next deployment in order to take care of this problem? No time like the present, is there Colonel O'Neill."

"No," Jack nodded warily, "no time like the present." His eyes locked onto the mild gaze of the older man. Just that easy, huh? Something that Daniel had been struggling with for over a week and Kendrick comes in and solves it in a few hours? You really need a rest from the rock game, don't you Danny? "Write up your report, Dr. Kendrick and I'll make sure it goes through General Hammond before the weekend."

Shuffling as if in apprehension, Kendrick hid his delight at the colonel's directive. "I'm not speaking out of turn here, am I Colonel?"

"What? No," Jack shook his head, preoccupied with his thoughts. "Taking some of the pressure off Daniel was the reason the Pentagon brought you here."

"Yes, and I'd like to repay their confidence in me by making a contribution as quickly as possible."

"Thanks, Doc, I guess we owe you one," Jack reached out to shake the scientist's hand.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Both men turned to find Daniel standing in the doorway, arms crossed in a posture reminiscent of Jack's of a few moments ago. The smile was completely disconnected from the cold glare of his eyes as he looked back and forth between the two men. Jack automatically dropped his hand and turned toward his friend as if he were trying to hide something. Just why the heck did he feel so guilty?