Chapter 5
"Where are we going?"
Jack inwardly winced at the flat, lifeless tone. The fact it had taken Daniel this long to notice they weren't headed home spoke volumes about his state of mind. He'd walked out of the therapist's office with the pale, pinched look of a battle-weary soldier. That mood hadn't improved in the fifteen minutes they'd spent in the car.
"I stopped by the deli while you were with Atkinson. It's a nice day--thought we'd eat lunch at the park."
Daniel chuffed a bitter little laugh. "Now you figure I'm due for some fresh air--is that it?"
"No, I figure I'm due for some fresh air. You're just along for the ride."
Daniel tightened his lips and turned back to the window.
Jack stared resolutely at the road, wondering if he'd miscalculated. He'd hoped that a little time communing with nature might soothe Daniel's ruffled feathers after the grueling therapy session. Probably didn't matter. Lately he was damned if he did, damned if he didn't as far as Daniel was concerned.
A picnic table in the sunshine, snow-capped mountains, and a cloudless blue sky appeared unable to penetrate Daniel's cloud of gloom. He chewed doggedly, without pleasure, eyes fixed on the pitted wooden tabletop. Jack watched from the corner of his eye, irritation and helplessness turning his own sandwich to lead in his stomach.
"I could go back to the mountain."
He glared at Daniel. "You sick of my sparkling wit and magnetic personality already?"
The gentle jibe earned him nothing--not the ghost of a smile, elaborately rolled eyes, or even a scowl. Daniel set down the sub, pinning him with a probing gaze.
"This can't be any fun for you, Jack. I don't blame you. I'm not exactly the nicest person to be around right now."
He dropped his own lunch, swiping viciously at his mouth with a napkin. "*Fun*? Is that why you think we're here right now, why I brought you home with me? You think I was after a good time? Looking for a way to spice up all this enforced down time, cut the boredom?" He shook his head. "You don't have very high expectations for me, do you?"
"That's not what I--"
Jack held up a finger. "Remember when my brain was nearly fried by that do-it-yourself download from the Ancients? I could barely communicate, had little or no control over my own actions. I look back now, and I don't even recognize that person. You stuck by me, Daniel. The way I hear it, you even took on Hammond when he tried to send you back to the planet with Carter and Teal'c. Was that fun? Did you follow me around with that damn Latin translation book because you were having a really good time?"
To his surprise, the faintest of smiles curved Daniel's lips. "No, I wasn't, actually."
"Well, there you have it. No more talk about going back to the mountain. And no more self-pity."
"Fine. Then stop managing me. I don't need Janet making my appointments. And as nice as this little impromptu picnic may be, I don't need you handling me like a kid who needs an ice cream after a bad day. I'm an adult, and I expect to be treated like one.
"Fine. Was it?"
"What?"
"Bad?"
"Atkinson--Tammy--ran some diagnostics."
"Such as?"
"Oh, name the picture on the card, point to the right shape, remember these three items... You know, simple things any third grader could do." Daniel looked away, swallowing.
"But not so simple."
"I, um... There were a lot of blanks. And Tammy was...was..." Daniel grimaced. "She didn't pull any punches. Right now she can't say for certain I'll get any of those missing pieces back."
Is that what had him tied in knots? Jack grinned. "You will."
Daniel jerked his head around, scowling at Jack's apparent flippancy. "You can't know that, Jack. Tammy's the expert and she--"
"Hasn't been around you the last forty-eight hours. Listen, Daniel. From what Janet told me this woman is used to working with people who have had strokes. People who are permanently disabled. What happened to you is completely different, something she's got no frame of reference for--even if she had the clearance."
"Granted, you're right about that. But it doesn't necessarily follow that I'll recover what I've lost."
"Ah, ah! You keep forgetting. Nothing is lost, just misplaced." Jack gestured to his friend's feet. "Who tied your shoes this morning?"
"Jack! It doesn't--"
"Who?"
Daniel growled, impatient. "*I* did."
"Could you tie your own shoes twenty-four hours ago?"
Daniel's forehead smoothed and he looked at Jack with interest. "No."
"See? Not lost, misplaced. Tell me, Dr. Jackson, what do you call those lovely angels of mercy who insist on escorting you to the bathroom just so they can get a peek at your ass?"
Daniel flushed, mouth dropping open. "They do not!"
"Hey, I hear yours is ranked number three, right behind Anderson's and Detwiler's. Not bad, considering."
"They're nurses! What happened to patient confidentiality?"
"Nurses. That's the word I was looking for. And--refresh my memory here, Daniel--how did you say you want to be treated?"
Daniel went very still. "Like an adult." He said it in little more than a whisper.
Jack cupped a hand behind his ear. "Speak up, I can't hear you."
"I said...like an adult."
"Hmm, adult. Yeah. Funny, I seem to recall you having trouble with both those words earlier. What do you suppose happened?"
"I didn't even have to think about it. They were right there." Daniel blinked, delight seeping in to replace shock. "They were right there, Jack!"
"Misplaced, Danny. Not lost. Believe me?"
Daniel's smile rivaled the sunshine. "I do now."
Jack grinned back. Now they were cooking with gas.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Did General Hammond say what this was about?"
Daniel fiddled with the air vent, then reached for the radio. Jack slapped his hand away, punching buttons until the strains of opera filled the truck.
"Just that he needs us both, ASAP. We'll find out when we get there. For crying out loud, Daniel! Stop fidgeting."
Daniel let go of the seatbelt, tucking his hands under his arms and slumping backward. He'd had a string of bad days, and Jack's patience was frayed to its limits. As was his own.
He'd cruised along on a cloud of near euphoria for a full day after Jack's revelation in the park, giddy with relief. Then, as always, reality had come stomping in to bite him on the ass. Maybe--all right, probably--Jack was right, and he would eventually recover. That still left him where he was now--grounded, on forced medical leave and woefully dependent on Jack in more ways than he cared to admit.
And therein lay the problem.
Each time he tried to stretch his wings, to prove himself capable of independence, he ran smack into the brick wall of his limitations. The result left Daniel humiliated and Jack infuriated, in equal measure.
So much he'd taken for granted now resided behind that wall. Thanks to his attempt at washing clothes, three of Jack's white tee shirts were now pink while several others had shrunk to a size more suitable for a ten year old. He'd overdosed himself on painkillers by incorrectly reading the time, spending 18 hours in a drugged sleep that had Jack frantic with worry. And tonight he'd almost burned down the house trying to cook dinner.
The spaghetti debacle had occurred only minutes before General Hammond's phone call; they'd been forced to leave the mess for later. Daniel surreptitiously sniffed his shirt, wrinkling his nose--they both smelled like charred marinara.
Daniel feigned interest in the scenery, in reality observing Jack. His friend's rigid spine and clenched fingers betrayed the anger he tried to suppress. Daniel closed burning eyes. Jack had bent over backwards to remain patient and understanding. He'd endured more in the last five days than anyone ought to. Everyone had a breaking point--no surprise he'd finally pushed Jack past his.
Surprisingly, when they reached the SGC they were directed to Hammond's office, rather than the briefing room. Daniel sank cautiously into one of the cushy chairs, the uneasiness that began with the general's phone call ratcheting up a notch.
As if sensing his disquiet, Hammond smiled at him. "How are you, Dr. Jackson?"
He couldn't look at Jack. Keeping his gaze on Hammond, he managed a weak smile. "I'm fine, General."
"Glad to hear it. I know you have a lot on your plate right now, and I deeply apologize for dragging you in here during your medical leave. The fact of the matter is, I had no choice."
Jack sat forward. "Sir?"
"You both are aware that SG-11 has been engaged in diplomatic relations with the inhabitants of P3X-755?"
"The Smurfs?"
Hammond shot Jack an exasperated glare. "Sumerians, Colonel."
"Small blue guys," Jack said to Daniel.
"General, I was under the impression they had little to offer us," Daniel said, ignoring him. "Their culture is primitive, lacking in either technology or...or..."
"Weapons." Jack winced apologetically.
"You are correct; that was our initial assessment. A geological survey, however, turned up rich deposits of naquada. With Dr. Jackson sidelined and SG-1 unavailable, SG-11 has been negotiating the treaty that would allow us to mine the material in exchange for food and medicine. Things were proceeding nicely, until yesterday."
"What happened?"
"We're not sure. Major Kovacek was meeting with the elders when all hell broke loose. The Sumerians became extremely agitated. They took Captain Escobar prisoner and insisted the others return through the 'gate. All further attempts to communicate have been rebuffed."
Hammond looked at Daniel. "Son, I'm at the end of my diplomatic rope. If we can't determine what went wrong, I'll be forced to consider Captain Escobar's detainment as a hostile act and respond accordingly."
Daniel clutched the arms of his chair. "General, I...I... Of course, I'll do anything I can, but..."
"I've spoken with Dr. Fraiser; I'm aware of your current situation. But frankly, even laboring under this handicap you're still the best we have. You may be our only chance for a peaceful resolution."
Daniel looked into Hammond's compelling brown eyes, heart sinking. How could he possibly refuse?
"I'll do my best."
Two hours later he was ensconced in his office, papers strewn across his desk and a pencil clamped between his teeth. Transcripts of Kovacek, Miller, and Warren's debriefings. Documents outlining the Sumerians' surprisingly complex justice system. Even the proposed treaty. The Sumerians spoke English, but many of their ancient documents were written in a bastardized form of cuneiform that would be frustratingly tedious to translate on a good day.
Today was not one of those.
Daniel rubbed the flesh just above his right eye, unable to soothe the painful throbbing that reverberated through his skull. Two hours and he was chasing his tail. There was an overwhelming amount of information, more than he could hope to assimilate in such a short period of time. To make matters worse, the gaps in his memory forced him to look up what he would normally know by rote.
He glanced up at the clock for the fifth time in as many minutes, clenching his trembling fingers into fists. Time was running out. Hammond needed him, Escobar needed him--hell, the Sumerians needed him to figure this out. Abilities he'd once taken for granted now eluded him, and people were going to die because of it. Because of him.
He needed something, anything, to help him focus.
Daniel's gaze locked onto the coffee machine and he licked his lips. Jack had gone to give Hammond a progress report--he huffed humorlessly--not that there was any progress to report. Daniel pulled open his desk drawer and stared at the bag of coffee. Damn Janet and her caffeine restriction. If they were allowing him to work, they could allow him a decent cup of coffee.
He filled the pot with water, then stood in front of the machine, frowning. He picked up the bag of coffee, weighing it in his hand. How much did you use? Fingering the small scoop, he struggled to think around the headache. Still coming up blank, he jerked open the compartment and began shoveling in the dark, rich grounds. He snapped it shut and poured in the water, flicking on the power.
He rummaged through four cupboards before finally locating a reasonably clean mug and heading back to the machine. Practically salivating with anticipation, he pulled up short, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the sharp, acrid smell.
Dark, thick sludge trickled into the pot. Daniel snatched it up, scowling at the thick clumps of coffee grounds. As he stabbed at the power switch, his gaze fell on a package sitting just behind the machine.
Filters.
Daniel stared, heat creeping up the back of his neck and flushing his cheeks.
Jack was halfway down the hall when he heard a loud bang followed by the crash. He broke into a run, sliding to a stop just outside the door to Daniel's office. Peering around the corner, he watched a carafe soar through the air, hit the wall, and explode in a spectacular shower of coffee grounds and shards of glass. He heard Daniel curse in Abydonian, his voice thick and raspy, then a red mug joined the broken pot.
"Daniel! What the hell--?"
At the sight of his friend, the words died in his throat. Wild, tear-filled eyes huge in a pale, thin face. For a moment Jack felt himself transported back to a dark, cold storeroom. Taking a deep breath, he slowly edged closer.
"Ah...Daniel?" He scanned the room, taking in the smashed coffee machine and the debris from several broken cups, finally settling on the one currently clutched in Daniel's hand. "Don't ya think maybe you're going a little overboard on the no coffee rule?"
"I can't do it, Jack. How can I possibly help Escobar when I can't even make myself a fucking cup of coffee?"
Shit. Jack raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. "It's all right, Daniel."
"It's not all right! How can you say it's all right when a good man is being held...being held...is trapped on another planet? He may have been given a death sentence; he could be dying, for all we know. I should be able to save him, Jack. General Hammond is depending on me to save him."
"You're wrong, Daniel. General Hammond is grasping at straws. He knew this was a long shot. He doesn't expect a miracle."
"No, *you're* wrong. He expects Dr. Daniel Jackson, linguist, expert on ancient cultures. The whiz kid who opened the stargate. Instead he got this." Daniel flung out his arms with a choked little laugh, then his legs folded and he slid slowly down the wall. He drew his knees to his chest and ground the palms of his hands into his eyes. "What a colossal disappointment."
Jack eased himself down beside his friend. He cleared his throat, staring at his clasped hands. "Daniel. You are the bravest, brightest guy I know. You've pulled my ass out of the fire more times than I care to remember. Believe me, you have never been, nor will you ever be, a disappointment."
Daniel dropped his hands, looking at him with world-weary eyes. "Give it time, Jack. I'll get there eventually. I always do."
Jack could have sworn heard an audible click, as pieces fell into place. "Is that why you left?" Daniel turned his face away, expression blank. "It is, isn't it? I could never quite figure out why you were so eager to get glowy with Oma. You figured you'd save us all from the ultimate disappointment that's Daniel Jackson."
"I'd already failed enough people, Jack. Sha're, Sara, you--"
"*Me*?"
"Oh come on. I know I never lived up to what you needed me to be, as a team member, as a friend. Some days I'm not so sure we even liked each other any more."
The words cut like knives--not because they were true, but because he could understand why Daniel believed them to be true.
"You're so wrong, Daniel. The problem was never you, it was me. I knuckled under to pressure from above, let traveling through the 'gate become all about what we could get instead of what we could learn. I pushed you to become a soldier because I thought it would keep you alive. But when I saw how it sucked the joy, the passion out of you, I hated myself for it."
"You didn't push me into anything, Jack. I asked to be a part of the SGC--I practically twisted the General's arm to get on the team. But after Sha're...well, it got harder and harder to find a reason to continue. It felt as if I was just spinning my wheels, never getting where I needed to go. I thought with Oma I could make a difference." He tipped his head back against the wall with a soft thud. "The fact that they kicked me out would indicate I failed."
"See, that is so not true. You helped me hang on when I was ready to throw in the towel. And Teal'c would be dead right now if you hadn't intervened. Now, I may be biased, but I consider that making a difference." Jack sighed. "You know, you've always been your own worst critic. Nobody expects as much from you as you do."
Daniel lifted one shoulder. "Prospective parents don't want average, Jack. They want brilliant, the little genius they can show off to all their friends. Unfortunately, geniuses can be a pain in the ass."
"Oh, I don't know. It's been my experience they kind of grow on you." Jack shook his head. "Buy a clue, Daniel. We're not going to kick you out. Far as we're concerned, the glowies' loss is our gain. Nothing you do, or don't do is going to change that. We're family. You getting the picture?"
Daniel's lips curved. "Yeah. I think I am."
"Good. Now if you behave yourself, maybe I'll smuggle you some coffee from the commissary." Jack stood up, poking at a piece of smashed mug with his toe. "But as for this mess? You're on your own."
Concluded in Chapter 6