Title: Planet O'Neill
Author: Su Freund
Email: su.freund@blueyonder.co.uk
Status: Complete
Category: Angst
Pairings: None
Spoilers: There But for the Grace of God, Within the Serpent's Grasp, The Serpent's Lair, Message in a Bottle, A Matter of Time, 100 Days, The Other Side, Ascension, Scorched Earth, Beast of Burden, Meridian, Unnatural Selection, Paradise Lost , Enemy Mine, and anything with Kinsey in it.
Season: 7 or beyond
Sequel: PG-13
Content Warnings: Reference to a sexual act. Mild use of bad language (nothing worse than what appears in the show).
Summary: Jack is hurt and disappointed by Daniel and Carter's attitude towards him.
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Copyright © Su Freund
File Size: 44 KB
Archive: Jackfic, FanFiction Net
Author's Note: Thanks to Bonnie for her suggestions and corrections to this story. It was at her prompting that I changed the ending, although I am not sure it is entirely what she would have wanted. Even so, I am happier with it now. Any errors, of course, are all mine, despite Bonnie's ministrations.
Planet O'Neill
"Goddammit!" Jack exclaimed loudly to himself while he thumped his fist into the wall of his office. He winced, cursed "Crap! Welcome to Planet O'Neill, campers!" and shook his hand in an attempt to diffuse the pain. He continued pacing, muttering to himself. He was irritated about how things had gone on the last mission, upset by the attitude of his team mates. Instead of taking it out on them, however, he had shut himself away, seemingly determined to vent his frustrations on his office floor, and himself.
Teal'c's the only one of his team who ever appeared to understand his motives, who could accept him for the person he is. Most of the time Teal'c seemed to have the same innate sense of what was right that Jack himself had. He guessed it was because they were soldiers, in both heart and mind. Jack liked that about Teal'c. Daniel and Carter would poke fun at the 'way of the warrior' thing they derided so much. Whereas it was an integral part of Jack and one of the things that he and Teal'c had in common. They had recognised it in each other that fateful day on Chulak. Teal'c didn't seem judgmental about Jack actions and decisions. Another thing Jack liked about him.
When he had to make the difficult choices, the ones that entailed some moral ambiguity, Daniel, and even Carter, seemed to weigh him in the balance and find him wanting. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, and sometimes it hurt him considerably. Like right now, for example. Fine for them. They didn't have to make the decisions, they didn't have to live with them. He carefully ensured that they could keep their consciences clear, their noses clean. It was his nose that ended up dirtied and bloodied, and not just figuratively speaking either. It was his command.
He had broad shoulders; was a tough, strong guy. He was. Then sometimes. sometimes he had to fake it and he was good at that. A veritable expert at it. He could be bleeding, crying inside but no one would ever know. No one would ever see. He didn't want them to see, even though he could have done with a bit more empathy and understanding from his team mates. He wanted their support without having to bleed all over the carpet, which would just be too messy for words.
As these thoughts plagued him, Jack abruptly stopped his pacing, moving to sit at his desk. More accurately it would be described as slumping, not sitting; he was bent over the desk with his head in his hands, looking and feeling mightily pissed.
It could be a difficult being Jack O'Neill, colonel USAF, leader of SG-1. He'd done things, been through things, that no one on this earth should ever have to see or suffer. It was his job to stop that from happening. Some of the decisions he had to make along the way were difficult. He had to make them nonetheless, whatever the consequences. There were always consequences; always an upside and a downside.
This last mission had been like that. He could see that Daniel and Carter didn't agree with him. Carter was Carter and would follow his orders whether she agreed or not; tried to talk him out of it a little at first but knuckled down like a good soldier had to. Daniel whined like a spoiled brat and tried to argue him out of it. People were going to get killed. Daniel would prefer to talk and Jack could be a shoot first ask questions later kind of guy. Daniel was probably talking champion for the State of Colorado. Sometimes talking was not the answer. Daniel hadn't understood that the time for talking had been over.
Okay, so he had to side with one sick bunch of bad guys over another sick bunch of bad guys. He believed he had chosen the lesser of the two bunches of bad guys. Okay, so the normal balance of power on PX whatever was totally disrupted by his actions. Consequences. There always were some and there always would be. It didn't mean that he hadn't made the right choice, the right decision. He would learn to live with the fact that most of his team thought he was a totally cold-hearted bastard because of that. Right at this very moment, however, he was extremely pissed with them. Why the hell didn't they understand? It made Jack feel isolated. It could be a very lonely place here on Planet O'Neill.
This happened too damned frequently for his liking. Why could they never see things how he saw them? They thought he saw this stuff in black and white, whereas he saw a lot of different shades of grey; in fact in blinding Technicolor most of the time. He was just forced to take actions that made him appear to be a black and white kind of guy. He shouldn't have to explain or justify himself to them so why did he often feel he ought to be apologising somehow?
Take that time with the Enkarans, for example. Making decisions about destroying one race to save another, about sacrificing a friend to do it. Ordering Carter to make the bomb. He took the responsibility, the blame. No one else should have that on their conscience. How does one make a decision like that? No one should have to. But he did - had to - so he did. It hadn't been easy. Did they think he didn't have qualms? Probably they did think that, but what other choices did he have?
Someone like Daniel would never understand that. And that only made it more difficult. It hurts when your friends look at you as if they think you callous and uncaring. It's hard, and lonely. He had feelings, and they ran deep. He didn't either show or express them very well. Knowing that about himself, he wondered if they ever noticed the pain that must surely show in his eyes sometimes. He tried hard not to, but knew that it seeped out. It wasn't possible to keep all that stuff totally locked up tight, no matter how hard you tried.
Goddammit, he was far from either callous or uncaring. Sure, he knew he had his own set of morals. Maybe his weren't the same as everyone else's, but to live by his code was the best he could do. He did his job, made the tough choices, the difficult decisions. Someone had to do the dirty work, and he was good at it. Okay, he had his doubts, of course he did. It was him that had to live with the consequences. Fine. He could do that. That's what he got paid for and he did it more than willingly. But his actions were misconstrued and frowned upon by the bleeding heart types, the Daniel types. It distanced him from them all too often.
Carter? Well she was a soldier, but with bleeding heart tendencies. She hadn't wanted to make that bomb in the first place. She had to learn to make those sorts of choices before she could lead a team. He wondered what decision she would have made had she been in charge. Different back then, perhaps, to what she would do now. She had learned a lot, matured, as a woman, a soldier, and a leader. She'd get there, and probably soon. He hoped, for her sake, that she didn't have to get quite so cynical and hard- bitten as him to do so.
Jack was struggling with himself. The doubts nagged at him. It was the stuff of his nightmares. That and many other pretty nasty things. He couldn't always be sure he was right and he anguished over it often. Who the hell was he to play God? He might not agree with Kinsey much but he agreed with him on that. He did have to play God on a regular basis; didn't have to like it but it came with the territory. Then again, who was that sanctimonious hypocrite Kinsey to play God either? He'd bet Jack O'Neill could sleep with a clearer conscience than that slime-ball. That is if Kinsey had a conscience, which he seriously doubted. Jack didn't see the irony that his view of Kinsey was akin to what he thought was the Carter / Daniel view of him.
He knew he should stop thinking about it; get over it and carry on. It was frequently one extreme or the other with Jack; either persistently ignoring and repressing his feelings and being the happy camper, or wallowing in a whole ocean full of self-pity, remorse and numerous other negative emotions. He was kind of partial to a good wallow. It reminded him that he was still capable of feeling something. Sometimes he needed to be reminded. And he did feel something; he cared profoundly about things and his thoughts were much deeper than any of his team gave him credit for. Maybe Teal'c knew; he didn't miss much. Sometimes he thought that Teal'c's silent support was what kept him going.
He continued to contemplate those occasions when he had felt somehow let down by the attitude of his team towards him. What about that time on Hala when they trapped that Replicator guy in the time thing? They had thought he was so wrong. She thought so. No doubt Daniel would have agreed with her if he hadn't been a bright, glowy thing at the time. They could have had a great bitch fest at his expense. Didn't they think he had scruples? That had been a hard choice, he had fought with himself over it. If they could see what he was feeling inside...then they'd know. But none of them did. He couldn't let them. Wouldn't. If they knew.how could he lead the team then? He had to be strong enough for all of them.
Never appear to be indecisive. Part of the O'Neill survival kit. Make a decision, a choice, and stick with it. Live with it right or wrong. Of course, don't be stubbornly stupid about it. That could lead to much bleeding, and death. If circumstances changed in such a way that a different option became the right one then change the damned choice. And he was still alive wasn't he? So was his team. No one got left behind.
It had been the right thing to do, save the team, save the Asgard, save the frigging universe, again. For crying out loud, however human he might have appeared, he was a Rep.lic.ator. Letting one of those things loose in the galaxy was not an option. Not for O'Neill. He'd do anything to preserve against that. And he'd do anything to save his team, even from their own good intentions.
More often than not, he believed that he was right. It's just that sometimes, in order to get the best possible outcome, he had to do what might seem to be the wrong thing; the dirty, ruthless option. But it didn't detract from the fact that he was right. It didn't make him the guy in the black hat, did it? There were a heap of bad guys out there in this galaxy that were a lot blacker than him. Damn them all to hell if they thought less of him for it. Besides, how did he live with being wrong? So he had to be right. Right?
He remembered Carter's look the time they got back through the gate and he ordered the iris closed on Alar. There was one decision he hadn't found difficult at all . The guy was a fascist. No way was he going to allow someone like him to pollute Earth. There were enough guys like that running around already, he might as well have put out a welcome mat for another Adolf Hitler, or a snaky-assed Goa'uld. Hell, he might as well have kissed Kinsey's ass, though even Kinsey was preferable to Alar. In his time, he had done a heck of a lot worse than order the iris closed on some lunatic racist's perfect genetic hairdo.
Carter might have been pissed because Alar could have offered them some new technological crap. Excuse him if he didn't get all over excited about that. Frankly, he was more concerned about the price they'd have to pay. Sometimes the cost was just too high. Or maybe she was pissed that Jack had been so utterly merciless. If she respected him less as a result then so be it. He guessed that his paying the price was better than the whole planet having to. So what if it made him look like a ruthless son of a bitch. That's because he was one. Tough as they come. Someone had to be. Let them all think that he was.
Of course Daniel had been right to be more cautious on that occasion. Whereas he had been a total bastard, ready to deal with almost anyone to get what he wanted. There were, however, limits. The Jack O'Neill code couldn't allow him to deal with people like that. Once he'd opened his eyes to the truth he had made the right decision. He guessed he could be too focussed on the goal sometimes and blind to the nuances. It was part of his job to look at the bigger picture - and to follow SGC standing orders about gathering technology that would help their battle against the Goa'uld scum.
Besides, it wasn't unknown for Daniel to make some pretty strange choices. He thought himself so goddamned ethical, the moral voice of the team Who the hell was he to do that? Who died and made him king of righteousness? If only he thought through the end result of his actions sometimes. What about that time with the Unas? He'd started a civil war, for crying out loud. Jack himself had been the voice of reason and peace, which was a weird reverse of the norm. All right, so it had worked out OK in the end, but Daniel couldn't have possibly known what would happen.
He wondered whether Daniel had ever woken up in cold sweats about that. Maybe he got some small inkling of what it was like to live on Planet O'Neill. No, patently not; he had no idea about any of that, not judging by the pissed looks he kept giving Jack today. Daniel thought it could all have been avoided. He was wrong.
Who were they to judge him? They may not know it but there was no sterner critic of Jack O'Neill than Jack O'Neill himself. Except, perhaps, for God Almighty. He hoped that his time for eternal torment in the fire pits of hell was a long way off yet. Didn't he have enough fire pits already burning inside of him right here on Earth? No one could beat Jack O'Neill at the self-torment game.
They expected an emotional reaction from him that they rarely got. Did they think that he cared less because he didn't express it? What did they think, that he would cry in his beer about it? No siree. He'd do his own crying in private, if at all. He'd got pretty good at hiding his emotions over the years. It wouldn't do for Jack O'Neill to go around openly displaying them. So he kept a tight reign on them. A good soldier had to. A good soldier couldn't afford to fall apart at the seams in the middle of an awkward situation. Particularly a good soldier who had been ordered to do some of the dirty stuff he had been ordered to do in his time. The job had to be done. It was as simple as that. Jack O'Neill got it done.
It didn't mean he didn't feel anything though. Oh yeah, he felt all of it. Every single death at his hands was another part of his soul being ripped to shreds. Every single ethically blurred decision he made tore a piece out of him. He figured there must be one hell of an ugly picture of Jack O'Neill in someone's attic somewhere. Or maybe all that nasty stuff just showed up on the inside. Pity the poor guy who had to open up Jack O'Neill to take a look.
He already had enough self-loathing about some of the things he had done. So why did they have to add to the weight of it? They were his friends, for crying out loud. They should support him, realise how hard it was for him, that he was hurting inside. They should just be there for him. Jack laughed bitterly to himself. If that's what his friends thought of him, he dreaded to think about his enemies.
So what if killing was the one thing he was very good at. It was almost all he'd known for most of his life. Yeah, Jack O'Neill, the mean green killing machine. What sort of an accolade was that? There was more to him than that. Wasn't there more? Sure. He would do anything to help his friends, his team. That was good, wasn't it? He'd put his life on the line for them, for his country and his planet, so many times that he'd lost count. He had sacrificed so much of himself for that.
For crying out loud, he had been near to death, even dead, for all their sakes. And that wasn't including all those times he just got badly injured. What about when he was speared to the concrete by that alien probe thing? That sucked. And there was far worse than that. He'd nearly got himself blown up when they connected to that black hole on P3W-451. Frank Cromwell had got sucked right into it, along with poor Hank and his team.
He shivered at that thought, he'd been the lucky guy that time. He knew that one of these days his luck was going to run out. The more he went out there, the more likely it was. Unless he bought it from the NID or some other sneaky bad-assed guys right here on Earth first.
Jack continued to rant internally, listing to himself the injuries he'd received while trying to save their butts. He'd been shot - with guns, arrows, and a variety of sharp and nasty implements: zatted; blasted by staff weapon, those nasty Jaffa pain giving things, and Goa'uld hand devices; even had knives and acid kill him slowly only to be raised from the dead. That probably didn't even describe half the ways in which he'd been injured over the years. Not only that, he'd been snaked, duplicated, cloned, rapidly aged, stranded, lost and god knew what else. He'd lost track it happened so frequently. What did it take to prove that he really was one of the good guys?
With him the team always came first. Being loyal to his team was important to him. Was it too much to ask the same thing in return? Okay, so he hadn't believed that alternative reality crap that Daniel spouted, nor had he believed Carter when she claimed an alien had moved into her house. Ultimately, though, he had stuck by them.
He'd risked his career to gate to those co-ordinates of Daniel's; told Simmons that Carter had been acting on his authority. Not that lying to Simmons was significant in itself, of course. He was a man who was unaccustomed to the truth and, therefore, undeserving of it. Jack had stuck by her, though; got her out of one hell of a jam before it was all through. She'd done the right thing in the wrong way, that's all; she of all people should understand what he went through. And Daniel had been right. After all, they'd saved the planet and the SGC; become heroes.
Jack was doggedly determined to remain negative, so tried to push away any thoughts that showed his team in a good light. He turned his mind to another long term gripe, that they thought him dumb. Ok, so he played to his audience on that one, but how in the hell did they think he'd become a colonel in the USAF, for crying out loud? Stupid men did not get to be colonels. Oh boy, no. Although as he reflected he could think of one or two he'd come across in his years of military service. But they hadn't really been stupid, as such, just blinkered, old-fashioned, and set in their ways; old school USAF. Times had changed and you had to change with them. If he was honest, he knew that he could do with a little changing himself, sometimes. The SGC had changed him, to a degree, but he could still be pretty hard-core. It was what the USAF expected, and it was what they got.
Sam and Daniel thought themselves so smart. They didn't know everything, they could be wrong; just like he could be. We are all human with the failings that come with that honour; we just carry different baggage is all. Jack started to turn his anger on himself, and he hit his target too well. The thought of human failings reminded him that he had many of them. He could be a total pain in the butt sometimes; he was lucky his team put up with him and hadn't requested transfers years ago.
Suddenly fed up with feeling bad, he got up and left his office, stalking down the corridor, deciding to have a shower. Screw his report, it only made him think about the mission more; he felt hot, clammy and uncomfortable and a shower would be refreshing.
He stripped himself naked and eased under the hot streaming water, soaking his head and letting the water beat over his body. God, that felt good. Rubbing shampoo into his grey hair, he massaged his scalp. A good shampoo could be so relaxing, although it is so much nicer when done by someone else, he thought wistfully. What was that song about washing that man out of your hair? He'd wash his damned team out of his hair. Sighing with satisfaction, he started to feel slightly less tense and fraught.
Then he worked his sponge up into good lather with shower gel. As he started to slowly rub the sponge over every reachable inch of his body, he wondered whether a shower could wash his sins away. No it could never do that, but there was no doubt that it could help to ease his pain. Starting at his neck he worked slowly over his shoulders and arms, squeezing the soapy sponge to let the suds run down his back, where he couldn't reach. Then he moved down to his chest, mourning the loss of his dark chest hair, and debating whether he was getting too old for this game. Looking down at himself, he thought that he wasn't in such bad shape for an old guy.
Working downward towards his navel, he reached around to his back, washing his buttocks and thighs, then moving his hands back around to his groin and rubbed firmly, quickly and efficiently relieving himself to ease the tension further. Oh boy, did this feel good, he thought. He could feel his muscles starting to relax, the everyday little aches he felt seemed to be oozing out of his pores, as if the lather were sucking them up. He'd already had a shower when he returned from the mission, but he obviously had been unappreciative of what a palliative it could be.
Then he let the shower wash over him, rinsing away the suds that covered his nakedness, and some of his ill humour with them. He stood under it for a long time, soaking up its warmth, revelling in the feel of the pinpricks of water on his skin and running down the length of his body. He was beginning to feet like a new man.
His thoughts turned to the number of times that Carter and Daniel had saved his butt, and there were many. Teal'c too, for that matter, but Teal'c's loyalty and friendship wasn't in question. He was a constant, Jack's rock, although even Teal'c had his moments. Right now it was the other two who had depressed him. Although he was loathed to admit it, they had thought the team out of some pretty tricky situations. They were a good team, good people. He was their commander, but without them he'd be lost.
Carter had worked her ass off to get him back from Edora and he'd never even thanked her properly. And he knew damned fine that she done the same thing when he was stranded with that rat bastard Maybourne, also working half of the SGC into the ground along with her attempt to bring him home. How many times had she done that kind of stuff and he'd just taken it for granted? He was a selfish bastard.
Daniel had sacrificed himself for the team, for Earth, and for others. He had nearly been killed that time on Apophis' ship; Jack had thought him dead. The guy was a civilian, for crying out loud, and shouldn't be in some of these situations anyway. And he had saved Jonas' people believing that he was paying the ultimate price. Jack had been angry with him, but who was he to be angry with someone else for doing what he himself would have done in an instant?
Despite their faults, he cared about them all deeply and knew his life would be a whole lot worse without them in it. It was Daniel who had made him want to live again, during that first mission to Abydos. Daniel, and Skaa'ra, who had reminded himself of his own son. Don't go there, Jack, that place is too dark.
Both Daniel and Sam had transformed him into someone else; someone who wasn't so bad to have hanging around the place and taking the food from his refrigerator, or sleeping in his bed. Of course, his life was far from perfect. Too much had happened over the years for him to ever have a hope of healing all the wounds, but his friends were a welcome balm that salved some of them.
They'd had as big an impact on his life as Sara and Charlie; had changed him irrevocably from that wreck he had once been into a better person. Also into a much nicer guy. Sure he could be a grumpy, stubborn old fool, but they had taught him much when he thought he was beyond learning. They had taught him to be less hard-core; to see things in a slightly different way. Life could be real good sometimes and his team played a huge part in making it that way.
Getting out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around himself and padded out to his locker. A kernel of anger still lay inside him ready to grow to Redwood tree proportions. He returned to fertilising it.
That they could bring some pleasure to his life did not excuse them their disloyalty to him; the way they could gang up on him; their abandonment. It didn't make things right. Sure, they had saved his sorry ass, saved the planet, made sacrifices above and beyond the call of duty. They all had. Sure they had been supportive, often; good friends, frequently. Maybe that's why it hurt so much when they weren't. Sure, they were a good team, complimenting each other, backing each other up, being there for one and other. It was what they were supposed to do and, he had to confess, SG-1 did it better than most.
He had never worked with a team quite like them. Well, who had? An alien who had once been an enemy, a flaky and over exuberant archaeologist, and an obsessive science geek who couldn't explain anything using words of less than three syllables. They were pretty unusual alright. He was probably no less strange; a burned out, cynical old ex-Special Forces colonel who had been brought back from the living dead to nuke a planet, then got offered the best job he could have wished for.
He'd been brought back from the living dead often since then, as well. Jack laughed bitterly to himself. Crap! Just when he was beginning to get in a better frame of mind, the old O'Neill brain manages to get back into a terminal downhill slide. Damned typical. Maybe he should go and beat the shit out of the punch bag in the gym, then he could take another shower. He tried to recall the deep sense of satisfaction the shower had given him, but the feeling eluded him.
He needed someone to care about him; about whether he lived or died. He needed something to make it worthwhile getting up to face himself each morning. His team, this place, was the closest things he had. That was a sad condemnation of his life. He sighed miserably as he dried himself, fluffing his grey hair with the towel, than sat for a while, with just the towel around him, sinking back down into a depressive and bitter mire.
Just as he was thinking he should get into a fresh set of BDUs, the door opened and there was silence.
"Teal'c old buddy." He said, without turning.
Teal'c said nothing and sat next to O'Neill. Finally, Jack leaned back and looked aside at Teal'c.
"Well?" He said. Teal'c did not reply, just cocked his head at O'Neill. "You been sent to find me, or did you find me all by yourself?" He said it angrily and sarcastically, then regretted it as none of this was Teal'c's fault. He didn't deserve Jack's ire.
"I found you all by myself, O'Neill." As, so often, taking O'Neill literally. "You have been missing for a considerable while. Are you feeling well, O'Neill?" Jack thought that Teal'c was probably the only one with the courage to face him. Nothing ever seemed to faze Teal'c. Jack envied that about him sometimes.
"Oh, real warm and fuzzy, Teal'c, real warm and fuzzy." Teal'c raised an eyebrow enquiringly and Jack said nothing, just fidgeted with his hands.
"You are angry with MajorCarter and DanielJackson." It was a statement.
Jack thought it typical that Teal'c should see so much. For an alien he sure understood a lot about human behaviour sometimes. Teal'c was one of life's natural people watchers. Some people did it as a hobby but with Teal'c it was a vocation, an art. He might be a little off on Earth culture but he had learned a whole hell of a lot about human behaviour since he'd been here. God, these days he even smiled. It was a wonder to behold. And he could see through Jack in an instant. Not much point in lying to the big guy.
"You might very well say that, Teal'c old buddy, but I couldn't possibly comment."
"Your anger does you no justice and serves them poorly."
Jack wondered whether he meant that his anger did him no credit, or whether it was unbecoming to him. Yeah, got that right on both counts, T.
"Ya think?"
"They both care about you a good deal, no matter what you might think, O'Neill."
"Sure."
"You doubt my word?"
"No, T, of course not. Maybe this isn't a good time for this conversation, huh?" He thought, god, T, leave me alone; just let me get it out of my system in my own way, damn it.
"It is, in fact, precisely the correct time for this conversation, O'Neill."
"OK. Have it your way." He replied, then stubbornly said nothing.
After a long silence, Jack saw Teal'c smile slightly, in that enigmatic way he had about him. Then Teal'c broke the silence.
"I believe that DanielJackson and MajorCarter plan to get slightly intoxicated and they request that you join them."
"Is that an invitation or a demand?" Jack had to repress a slight smile at the way Teal'c said it. Teal'c just raised an eyebrow again, unsure of why O'Neill might think it a demand. "I don't think so Teal'c. I'm not really in the mood. I don't want company."
"You do not wish to show them your irritation."
"Something like that." More likely that he didn't want to be tempted into banging their heads together.
"But you must attend, O'Neill, to participate in a celebration of victory over our enemies." Jack just downright laughed.
"I don't think either Daniel or Carter want to celebrate a victory. They'd probably rather I said no anyway."
"Indeed they would not."
""Well I ain't coming."
"Indeed you are."
Jack turned towards Teal'c to study his face. He could see a look that spoke grim determination. Might as well give up now. Teal'c was no Daniel Jackson, but his persistence was more difficult to ignore, despite that it lacked the whining and wheedling Jackson approach; or maybe because of it. For crying out loud, surely to god spending time in their company was the very worst thing he could do right now?
"Why, Teal'c? Give me a good reason."
"Because you are their leader and you must, therefore, lead."
Can't beat them apples, thought Jack. Teal'c could be inexorably logical; and right. He sighed resignedly.
"OK. Where you going? I'll join you, I need a little more time."
"I will accompany you, O'Neill." Jack got the picture. Teal'c was going to make sure he got there whether he liked it or not.
"Right! I'll get into my civvies."
As he put away the BDUs and got dressed he realised that he felt a little better. Teal'c's solid companionship had helped. They'd been here for over half an hour, sitting mainly in silence, but the silence had comforted him. The prospect of a drink with Carter and Daniel did not seem so bad; it might reconcile them. No doubt this was Teal'c's purpose. Jack wondered what his life would have been like if he and Teal'c had never met; if Teal'c had never made that moral decision to defy his god. He'd probably be dead a dozen times over by now, and he would certainly be all the poorer for the lack of having T around.
As they left the locker room Jack grinned at Teal'c and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Thanks big guy."
Teal'c just inclined his head in a slight bow, the shadow of a smile on his lips. And Jack thought that Planet O'Neill suddenly seemed a much more welcoming and pleasant place to live.
Author: Su Freund
Email: su.freund@blueyonder.co.uk
Status: Complete
Category: Angst
Pairings: None
Spoilers: There But for the Grace of God, Within the Serpent's Grasp, The Serpent's Lair, Message in a Bottle, A Matter of Time, 100 Days, The Other Side, Ascension, Scorched Earth, Beast of Burden, Meridian, Unnatural Selection, Paradise Lost , Enemy Mine, and anything with Kinsey in it.
Season: 7 or beyond
Sequel: PG-13
Content Warnings: Reference to a sexual act. Mild use of bad language (nothing worse than what appears in the show).
Summary: Jack is hurt and disappointed by Daniel and Carter's attitude towards him.
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Copyright © Su Freund
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Archive: Jackfic, FanFiction Net
Author's Note: Thanks to Bonnie for her suggestions and corrections to this story. It was at her prompting that I changed the ending, although I am not sure it is entirely what she would have wanted. Even so, I am happier with it now. Any errors, of course, are all mine, despite Bonnie's ministrations.
Planet O'Neill
"Goddammit!" Jack exclaimed loudly to himself while he thumped his fist into the wall of his office. He winced, cursed "Crap! Welcome to Planet O'Neill, campers!" and shook his hand in an attempt to diffuse the pain. He continued pacing, muttering to himself. He was irritated about how things had gone on the last mission, upset by the attitude of his team mates. Instead of taking it out on them, however, he had shut himself away, seemingly determined to vent his frustrations on his office floor, and himself.
Teal'c's the only one of his team who ever appeared to understand his motives, who could accept him for the person he is. Most of the time Teal'c seemed to have the same innate sense of what was right that Jack himself had. He guessed it was because they were soldiers, in both heart and mind. Jack liked that about Teal'c. Daniel and Carter would poke fun at the 'way of the warrior' thing they derided so much. Whereas it was an integral part of Jack and one of the things that he and Teal'c had in common. They had recognised it in each other that fateful day on Chulak. Teal'c didn't seem judgmental about Jack actions and decisions. Another thing Jack liked about him.
When he had to make the difficult choices, the ones that entailed some moral ambiguity, Daniel, and even Carter, seemed to weigh him in the balance and find him wanting. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, and sometimes it hurt him considerably. Like right now, for example. Fine for them. They didn't have to make the decisions, they didn't have to live with them. He carefully ensured that they could keep their consciences clear, their noses clean. It was his nose that ended up dirtied and bloodied, and not just figuratively speaking either. It was his command.
He had broad shoulders; was a tough, strong guy. He was. Then sometimes. sometimes he had to fake it and he was good at that. A veritable expert at it. He could be bleeding, crying inside but no one would ever know. No one would ever see. He didn't want them to see, even though he could have done with a bit more empathy and understanding from his team mates. He wanted their support without having to bleed all over the carpet, which would just be too messy for words.
As these thoughts plagued him, Jack abruptly stopped his pacing, moving to sit at his desk. More accurately it would be described as slumping, not sitting; he was bent over the desk with his head in his hands, looking and feeling mightily pissed.
It could be a difficult being Jack O'Neill, colonel USAF, leader of SG-1. He'd done things, been through things, that no one on this earth should ever have to see or suffer. It was his job to stop that from happening. Some of the decisions he had to make along the way were difficult. He had to make them nonetheless, whatever the consequences. There were always consequences; always an upside and a downside.
This last mission had been like that. He could see that Daniel and Carter didn't agree with him. Carter was Carter and would follow his orders whether she agreed or not; tried to talk him out of it a little at first but knuckled down like a good soldier had to. Daniel whined like a spoiled brat and tried to argue him out of it. People were going to get killed. Daniel would prefer to talk and Jack could be a shoot first ask questions later kind of guy. Daniel was probably talking champion for the State of Colorado. Sometimes talking was not the answer. Daniel hadn't understood that the time for talking had been over.
Okay, so he had to side with one sick bunch of bad guys over another sick bunch of bad guys. He believed he had chosen the lesser of the two bunches of bad guys. Okay, so the normal balance of power on PX whatever was totally disrupted by his actions. Consequences. There always were some and there always would be. It didn't mean that he hadn't made the right choice, the right decision. He would learn to live with the fact that most of his team thought he was a totally cold-hearted bastard because of that. Right at this very moment, however, he was extremely pissed with them. Why the hell didn't they understand? It made Jack feel isolated. It could be a very lonely place here on Planet O'Neill.
This happened too damned frequently for his liking. Why could they never see things how he saw them? They thought he saw this stuff in black and white, whereas he saw a lot of different shades of grey; in fact in blinding Technicolor most of the time. He was just forced to take actions that made him appear to be a black and white kind of guy. He shouldn't have to explain or justify himself to them so why did he often feel he ought to be apologising somehow?
Take that time with the Enkarans, for example. Making decisions about destroying one race to save another, about sacrificing a friend to do it. Ordering Carter to make the bomb. He took the responsibility, the blame. No one else should have that on their conscience. How does one make a decision like that? No one should have to. But he did - had to - so he did. It hadn't been easy. Did they think he didn't have qualms? Probably they did think that, but what other choices did he have?
Someone like Daniel would never understand that. And that only made it more difficult. It hurts when your friends look at you as if they think you callous and uncaring. It's hard, and lonely. He had feelings, and they ran deep. He didn't either show or express them very well. Knowing that about himself, he wondered if they ever noticed the pain that must surely show in his eyes sometimes. He tried hard not to, but knew that it seeped out. It wasn't possible to keep all that stuff totally locked up tight, no matter how hard you tried.
Goddammit, he was far from either callous or uncaring. Sure, he knew he had his own set of morals. Maybe his weren't the same as everyone else's, but to live by his code was the best he could do. He did his job, made the tough choices, the difficult decisions. Someone had to do the dirty work, and he was good at it. Okay, he had his doubts, of course he did. It was him that had to live with the consequences. Fine. He could do that. That's what he got paid for and he did it more than willingly. But his actions were misconstrued and frowned upon by the bleeding heart types, the Daniel types. It distanced him from them all too often.
Carter? Well she was a soldier, but with bleeding heart tendencies. She hadn't wanted to make that bomb in the first place. She had to learn to make those sorts of choices before she could lead a team. He wondered what decision she would have made had she been in charge. Different back then, perhaps, to what she would do now. She had learned a lot, matured, as a woman, a soldier, and a leader. She'd get there, and probably soon. He hoped, for her sake, that she didn't have to get quite so cynical and hard- bitten as him to do so.
Jack was struggling with himself. The doubts nagged at him. It was the stuff of his nightmares. That and many other pretty nasty things. He couldn't always be sure he was right and he anguished over it often. Who the hell was he to play God? He might not agree with Kinsey much but he agreed with him on that. He did have to play God on a regular basis; didn't have to like it but it came with the territory. Then again, who was that sanctimonious hypocrite Kinsey to play God either? He'd bet Jack O'Neill could sleep with a clearer conscience than that slime-ball. That is if Kinsey had a conscience, which he seriously doubted. Jack didn't see the irony that his view of Kinsey was akin to what he thought was the Carter / Daniel view of him.
He knew he should stop thinking about it; get over it and carry on. It was frequently one extreme or the other with Jack; either persistently ignoring and repressing his feelings and being the happy camper, or wallowing in a whole ocean full of self-pity, remorse and numerous other negative emotions. He was kind of partial to a good wallow. It reminded him that he was still capable of feeling something. Sometimes he needed to be reminded. And he did feel something; he cared profoundly about things and his thoughts were much deeper than any of his team gave him credit for. Maybe Teal'c knew; he didn't miss much. Sometimes he thought that Teal'c's silent support was what kept him going.
He continued to contemplate those occasions when he had felt somehow let down by the attitude of his team towards him. What about that time on Hala when they trapped that Replicator guy in the time thing? They had thought he was so wrong. She thought so. No doubt Daniel would have agreed with her if he hadn't been a bright, glowy thing at the time. They could have had a great bitch fest at his expense. Didn't they think he had scruples? That had been a hard choice, he had fought with himself over it. If they could see what he was feeling inside...then they'd know. But none of them did. He couldn't let them. Wouldn't. If they knew.how could he lead the team then? He had to be strong enough for all of them.
Never appear to be indecisive. Part of the O'Neill survival kit. Make a decision, a choice, and stick with it. Live with it right or wrong. Of course, don't be stubbornly stupid about it. That could lead to much bleeding, and death. If circumstances changed in such a way that a different option became the right one then change the damned choice. And he was still alive wasn't he? So was his team. No one got left behind.
It had been the right thing to do, save the team, save the Asgard, save the frigging universe, again. For crying out loud, however human he might have appeared, he was a Rep.lic.ator. Letting one of those things loose in the galaxy was not an option. Not for O'Neill. He'd do anything to preserve against that. And he'd do anything to save his team, even from their own good intentions.
More often than not, he believed that he was right. It's just that sometimes, in order to get the best possible outcome, he had to do what might seem to be the wrong thing; the dirty, ruthless option. But it didn't detract from the fact that he was right. It didn't make him the guy in the black hat, did it? There were a heap of bad guys out there in this galaxy that were a lot blacker than him. Damn them all to hell if they thought less of him for it. Besides, how did he live with being wrong? So he had to be right. Right?
He remembered Carter's look the time they got back through the gate and he ordered the iris closed on Alar. There was one decision he hadn't found difficult at all . The guy was a fascist. No way was he going to allow someone like him to pollute Earth. There were enough guys like that running around already, he might as well have put out a welcome mat for another Adolf Hitler, or a snaky-assed Goa'uld. Hell, he might as well have kissed Kinsey's ass, though even Kinsey was preferable to Alar. In his time, he had done a heck of a lot worse than order the iris closed on some lunatic racist's perfect genetic hairdo.
Carter might have been pissed because Alar could have offered them some new technological crap. Excuse him if he didn't get all over excited about that. Frankly, he was more concerned about the price they'd have to pay. Sometimes the cost was just too high. Or maybe she was pissed that Jack had been so utterly merciless. If she respected him less as a result then so be it. He guessed that his paying the price was better than the whole planet having to. So what if it made him look like a ruthless son of a bitch. That's because he was one. Tough as they come. Someone had to be. Let them all think that he was.
Of course Daniel had been right to be more cautious on that occasion. Whereas he had been a total bastard, ready to deal with almost anyone to get what he wanted. There were, however, limits. The Jack O'Neill code couldn't allow him to deal with people like that. Once he'd opened his eyes to the truth he had made the right decision. He guessed he could be too focussed on the goal sometimes and blind to the nuances. It was part of his job to look at the bigger picture - and to follow SGC standing orders about gathering technology that would help their battle against the Goa'uld scum.
Besides, it wasn't unknown for Daniel to make some pretty strange choices. He thought himself so goddamned ethical, the moral voice of the team Who the hell was he to do that? Who died and made him king of righteousness? If only he thought through the end result of his actions sometimes. What about that time with the Unas? He'd started a civil war, for crying out loud. Jack himself had been the voice of reason and peace, which was a weird reverse of the norm. All right, so it had worked out OK in the end, but Daniel couldn't have possibly known what would happen.
He wondered whether Daniel had ever woken up in cold sweats about that. Maybe he got some small inkling of what it was like to live on Planet O'Neill. No, patently not; he had no idea about any of that, not judging by the pissed looks he kept giving Jack today. Daniel thought it could all have been avoided. He was wrong.
Who were they to judge him? They may not know it but there was no sterner critic of Jack O'Neill than Jack O'Neill himself. Except, perhaps, for God Almighty. He hoped that his time for eternal torment in the fire pits of hell was a long way off yet. Didn't he have enough fire pits already burning inside of him right here on Earth? No one could beat Jack O'Neill at the self-torment game.
They expected an emotional reaction from him that they rarely got. Did they think that he cared less because he didn't express it? What did they think, that he would cry in his beer about it? No siree. He'd do his own crying in private, if at all. He'd got pretty good at hiding his emotions over the years. It wouldn't do for Jack O'Neill to go around openly displaying them. So he kept a tight reign on them. A good soldier had to. A good soldier couldn't afford to fall apart at the seams in the middle of an awkward situation. Particularly a good soldier who had been ordered to do some of the dirty stuff he had been ordered to do in his time. The job had to be done. It was as simple as that. Jack O'Neill got it done.
It didn't mean he didn't feel anything though. Oh yeah, he felt all of it. Every single death at his hands was another part of his soul being ripped to shreds. Every single ethically blurred decision he made tore a piece out of him. He figured there must be one hell of an ugly picture of Jack O'Neill in someone's attic somewhere. Or maybe all that nasty stuff just showed up on the inside. Pity the poor guy who had to open up Jack O'Neill to take a look.
He already had enough self-loathing about some of the things he had done. So why did they have to add to the weight of it? They were his friends, for crying out loud. They should support him, realise how hard it was for him, that he was hurting inside. They should just be there for him. Jack laughed bitterly to himself. If that's what his friends thought of him, he dreaded to think about his enemies.
So what if killing was the one thing he was very good at. It was almost all he'd known for most of his life. Yeah, Jack O'Neill, the mean green killing machine. What sort of an accolade was that? There was more to him than that. Wasn't there more? Sure. He would do anything to help his friends, his team. That was good, wasn't it? He'd put his life on the line for them, for his country and his planet, so many times that he'd lost count. He had sacrificed so much of himself for that.
For crying out loud, he had been near to death, even dead, for all their sakes. And that wasn't including all those times he just got badly injured. What about when he was speared to the concrete by that alien probe thing? That sucked. And there was far worse than that. He'd nearly got himself blown up when they connected to that black hole on P3W-451. Frank Cromwell had got sucked right into it, along with poor Hank and his team.
He shivered at that thought, he'd been the lucky guy that time. He knew that one of these days his luck was going to run out. The more he went out there, the more likely it was. Unless he bought it from the NID or some other sneaky bad-assed guys right here on Earth first.
Jack continued to rant internally, listing to himself the injuries he'd received while trying to save their butts. He'd been shot - with guns, arrows, and a variety of sharp and nasty implements: zatted; blasted by staff weapon, those nasty Jaffa pain giving things, and Goa'uld hand devices; even had knives and acid kill him slowly only to be raised from the dead. That probably didn't even describe half the ways in which he'd been injured over the years. Not only that, he'd been snaked, duplicated, cloned, rapidly aged, stranded, lost and god knew what else. He'd lost track it happened so frequently. What did it take to prove that he really was one of the good guys?
With him the team always came first. Being loyal to his team was important to him. Was it too much to ask the same thing in return? Okay, so he hadn't believed that alternative reality crap that Daniel spouted, nor had he believed Carter when she claimed an alien had moved into her house. Ultimately, though, he had stuck by them.
He'd risked his career to gate to those co-ordinates of Daniel's; told Simmons that Carter had been acting on his authority. Not that lying to Simmons was significant in itself, of course. He was a man who was unaccustomed to the truth and, therefore, undeserving of it. Jack had stuck by her, though; got her out of one hell of a jam before it was all through. She'd done the right thing in the wrong way, that's all; she of all people should understand what he went through. And Daniel had been right. After all, they'd saved the planet and the SGC; become heroes.
Jack was doggedly determined to remain negative, so tried to push away any thoughts that showed his team in a good light. He turned his mind to another long term gripe, that they thought him dumb. Ok, so he played to his audience on that one, but how in the hell did they think he'd become a colonel in the USAF, for crying out loud? Stupid men did not get to be colonels. Oh boy, no. Although as he reflected he could think of one or two he'd come across in his years of military service. But they hadn't really been stupid, as such, just blinkered, old-fashioned, and set in their ways; old school USAF. Times had changed and you had to change with them. If he was honest, he knew that he could do with a little changing himself, sometimes. The SGC had changed him, to a degree, but he could still be pretty hard-core. It was what the USAF expected, and it was what they got.
Sam and Daniel thought themselves so smart. They didn't know everything, they could be wrong; just like he could be. We are all human with the failings that come with that honour; we just carry different baggage is all. Jack started to turn his anger on himself, and he hit his target too well. The thought of human failings reminded him that he had many of them. He could be a total pain in the butt sometimes; he was lucky his team put up with him and hadn't requested transfers years ago.
Suddenly fed up with feeling bad, he got up and left his office, stalking down the corridor, deciding to have a shower. Screw his report, it only made him think about the mission more; he felt hot, clammy and uncomfortable and a shower would be refreshing.
He stripped himself naked and eased under the hot streaming water, soaking his head and letting the water beat over his body. God, that felt good. Rubbing shampoo into his grey hair, he massaged his scalp. A good shampoo could be so relaxing, although it is so much nicer when done by someone else, he thought wistfully. What was that song about washing that man out of your hair? He'd wash his damned team out of his hair. Sighing with satisfaction, he started to feel slightly less tense and fraught.
Then he worked his sponge up into good lather with shower gel. As he started to slowly rub the sponge over every reachable inch of his body, he wondered whether a shower could wash his sins away. No it could never do that, but there was no doubt that it could help to ease his pain. Starting at his neck he worked slowly over his shoulders and arms, squeezing the soapy sponge to let the suds run down his back, where he couldn't reach. Then he moved down to his chest, mourning the loss of his dark chest hair, and debating whether he was getting too old for this game. Looking down at himself, he thought that he wasn't in such bad shape for an old guy.
Working downward towards his navel, he reached around to his back, washing his buttocks and thighs, then moving his hands back around to his groin and rubbed firmly, quickly and efficiently relieving himself to ease the tension further. Oh boy, did this feel good, he thought. He could feel his muscles starting to relax, the everyday little aches he felt seemed to be oozing out of his pores, as if the lather were sucking them up. He'd already had a shower when he returned from the mission, but he obviously had been unappreciative of what a palliative it could be.
Then he let the shower wash over him, rinsing away the suds that covered his nakedness, and some of his ill humour with them. He stood under it for a long time, soaking up its warmth, revelling in the feel of the pinpricks of water on his skin and running down the length of his body. He was beginning to feet like a new man.
His thoughts turned to the number of times that Carter and Daniel had saved his butt, and there were many. Teal'c too, for that matter, but Teal'c's loyalty and friendship wasn't in question. He was a constant, Jack's rock, although even Teal'c had his moments. Right now it was the other two who had depressed him. Although he was loathed to admit it, they had thought the team out of some pretty tricky situations. They were a good team, good people. He was their commander, but without them he'd be lost.
Carter had worked her ass off to get him back from Edora and he'd never even thanked her properly. And he knew damned fine that she done the same thing when he was stranded with that rat bastard Maybourne, also working half of the SGC into the ground along with her attempt to bring him home. How many times had she done that kind of stuff and he'd just taken it for granted? He was a selfish bastard.
Daniel had sacrificed himself for the team, for Earth, and for others. He had nearly been killed that time on Apophis' ship; Jack had thought him dead. The guy was a civilian, for crying out loud, and shouldn't be in some of these situations anyway. And he had saved Jonas' people believing that he was paying the ultimate price. Jack had been angry with him, but who was he to be angry with someone else for doing what he himself would have done in an instant?
Despite their faults, he cared about them all deeply and knew his life would be a whole lot worse without them in it. It was Daniel who had made him want to live again, during that first mission to Abydos. Daniel, and Skaa'ra, who had reminded himself of his own son. Don't go there, Jack, that place is too dark.
Both Daniel and Sam had transformed him into someone else; someone who wasn't so bad to have hanging around the place and taking the food from his refrigerator, or sleeping in his bed. Of course, his life was far from perfect. Too much had happened over the years for him to ever have a hope of healing all the wounds, but his friends were a welcome balm that salved some of them.
They'd had as big an impact on his life as Sara and Charlie; had changed him irrevocably from that wreck he had once been into a better person. Also into a much nicer guy. Sure he could be a grumpy, stubborn old fool, but they had taught him much when he thought he was beyond learning. They had taught him to be less hard-core; to see things in a slightly different way. Life could be real good sometimes and his team played a huge part in making it that way.
Getting out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around himself and padded out to his locker. A kernel of anger still lay inside him ready to grow to Redwood tree proportions. He returned to fertilising it.
That they could bring some pleasure to his life did not excuse them their disloyalty to him; the way they could gang up on him; their abandonment. It didn't make things right. Sure, they had saved his sorry ass, saved the planet, made sacrifices above and beyond the call of duty. They all had. Sure they had been supportive, often; good friends, frequently. Maybe that's why it hurt so much when they weren't. Sure, they were a good team, complimenting each other, backing each other up, being there for one and other. It was what they were supposed to do and, he had to confess, SG-1 did it better than most.
He had never worked with a team quite like them. Well, who had? An alien who had once been an enemy, a flaky and over exuberant archaeologist, and an obsessive science geek who couldn't explain anything using words of less than three syllables. They were pretty unusual alright. He was probably no less strange; a burned out, cynical old ex-Special Forces colonel who had been brought back from the living dead to nuke a planet, then got offered the best job he could have wished for.
He'd been brought back from the living dead often since then, as well. Jack laughed bitterly to himself. Crap! Just when he was beginning to get in a better frame of mind, the old O'Neill brain manages to get back into a terminal downhill slide. Damned typical. Maybe he should go and beat the shit out of the punch bag in the gym, then he could take another shower. He tried to recall the deep sense of satisfaction the shower had given him, but the feeling eluded him.
He needed someone to care about him; about whether he lived or died. He needed something to make it worthwhile getting up to face himself each morning. His team, this place, was the closest things he had. That was a sad condemnation of his life. He sighed miserably as he dried himself, fluffing his grey hair with the towel, than sat for a while, with just the towel around him, sinking back down into a depressive and bitter mire.
Just as he was thinking he should get into a fresh set of BDUs, the door opened and there was silence.
"Teal'c old buddy." He said, without turning.
Teal'c said nothing and sat next to O'Neill. Finally, Jack leaned back and looked aside at Teal'c.
"Well?" He said. Teal'c did not reply, just cocked his head at O'Neill. "You been sent to find me, or did you find me all by yourself?" He said it angrily and sarcastically, then regretted it as none of this was Teal'c's fault. He didn't deserve Jack's ire.
"I found you all by myself, O'Neill." As, so often, taking O'Neill literally. "You have been missing for a considerable while. Are you feeling well, O'Neill?" Jack thought that Teal'c was probably the only one with the courage to face him. Nothing ever seemed to faze Teal'c. Jack envied that about him sometimes.
"Oh, real warm and fuzzy, Teal'c, real warm and fuzzy." Teal'c raised an eyebrow enquiringly and Jack said nothing, just fidgeted with his hands.
"You are angry with MajorCarter and DanielJackson." It was a statement.
Jack thought it typical that Teal'c should see so much. For an alien he sure understood a lot about human behaviour sometimes. Teal'c was one of life's natural people watchers. Some people did it as a hobby but with Teal'c it was a vocation, an art. He might be a little off on Earth culture but he had learned a whole hell of a lot about human behaviour since he'd been here. God, these days he even smiled. It was a wonder to behold. And he could see through Jack in an instant. Not much point in lying to the big guy.
"You might very well say that, Teal'c old buddy, but I couldn't possibly comment."
"Your anger does you no justice and serves them poorly."
Jack wondered whether he meant that his anger did him no credit, or whether it was unbecoming to him. Yeah, got that right on both counts, T.
"Ya think?"
"They both care about you a good deal, no matter what you might think, O'Neill."
"Sure."
"You doubt my word?"
"No, T, of course not. Maybe this isn't a good time for this conversation, huh?" He thought, god, T, leave me alone; just let me get it out of my system in my own way, damn it.
"It is, in fact, precisely the correct time for this conversation, O'Neill."
"OK. Have it your way." He replied, then stubbornly said nothing.
After a long silence, Jack saw Teal'c smile slightly, in that enigmatic way he had about him. Then Teal'c broke the silence.
"I believe that DanielJackson and MajorCarter plan to get slightly intoxicated and they request that you join them."
"Is that an invitation or a demand?" Jack had to repress a slight smile at the way Teal'c said it. Teal'c just raised an eyebrow again, unsure of why O'Neill might think it a demand. "I don't think so Teal'c. I'm not really in the mood. I don't want company."
"You do not wish to show them your irritation."
"Something like that." More likely that he didn't want to be tempted into banging their heads together.
"But you must attend, O'Neill, to participate in a celebration of victory over our enemies." Jack just downright laughed.
"I don't think either Daniel or Carter want to celebrate a victory. They'd probably rather I said no anyway."
"Indeed they would not."
""Well I ain't coming."
"Indeed you are."
Jack turned towards Teal'c to study his face. He could see a look that spoke grim determination. Might as well give up now. Teal'c was no Daniel Jackson, but his persistence was more difficult to ignore, despite that it lacked the whining and wheedling Jackson approach; or maybe because of it. For crying out loud, surely to god spending time in their company was the very worst thing he could do right now?
"Why, Teal'c? Give me a good reason."
"Because you are their leader and you must, therefore, lead."
Can't beat them apples, thought Jack. Teal'c could be inexorably logical; and right. He sighed resignedly.
"OK. Where you going? I'll join you, I need a little more time."
"I will accompany you, O'Neill." Jack got the picture. Teal'c was going to make sure he got there whether he liked it or not.
"Right! I'll get into my civvies."
As he put away the BDUs and got dressed he realised that he felt a little better. Teal'c's solid companionship had helped. They'd been here for over half an hour, sitting mainly in silence, but the silence had comforted him. The prospect of a drink with Carter and Daniel did not seem so bad; it might reconcile them. No doubt this was Teal'c's purpose. Jack wondered what his life would have been like if he and Teal'c had never met; if Teal'c had never made that moral decision to defy his god. He'd probably be dead a dozen times over by now, and he would certainly be all the poorer for the lack of having T around.
As they left the locker room Jack grinned at Teal'c and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Thanks big guy."
Teal'c just inclined his head in a slight bow, the shadow of a smile on his lips. And Jack thought that Planet O'Neill suddenly seemed a much more welcoming and pleasant place to live.