"O'Neill does not seem to share your belief that the note is authentic,"
Teal'c told Shawn in the silence that followed the Colonel's abrupt
departure.
"He's just worried," Shawn said, coming to Jack's defense. "I understand why he's worried, but I'm sure it's safe, or he wouldn't have sent the message." It was confusing to be discussing the same person in two different tenses.
Daniel bent down and picked up the note that Jack had dropped on the floor.
"This is only about an hour from now."
"I know."
"I'll go talk to him, Shawn. I'm sure he'll-"
"I'll go talk to him, Sam," Shawn said, shaking his head. "This is about me, and it's something we have to work out before I go. Otherwise it'll affect his relationship with the younger version of me."
That made sense, and Carter nodded, conceding the logic.
"I'll be back as soon as I can."
"We'll get the coordinates into the dialing computer. Look in his office, you'll probably find him there."
Shawn nodded, and walked out of the room.
"Are you sure, Major?" Hammond asked. "Colonel O'Neill's instincts are usually pretty good when it comes to spotting traps."
"I know, Sir." It had saved SG-1 more than once. "This time he's not using his instincts, though." She didn't explain, instead she took the note from Daniel and headed for the command room to get started entering the coordinates into their computer along with the precise time the gate needed to be activated.
~*~
Sam had been right. O'Neill was in his office, sitting at his desk. One hand was pressed against the bandage on his side, idly trying to massage out the ache from the stitches he'd already managed to rip, and the other was resting on Jaffer's neck, one of the few places on the black lab that didn't have cuts or bandages. The big dog was sitting on the floor between Jack and his desk, his head resting on the uninjured thigh and his body between O'Neill's knees. It was a comfort position for the two of them; one that Jaffer had decided he liked a long time before. Having one of Jack's knees pressing in on either side of his body gave him the feeling of being cuddled, and he always liked being cuddled, even now, when he wasn't a puppy any more.
"Jack?"
He looked up when Shawn's voice broke into his dark thoughts, and saw the young man standing at his door. Still wearing nothing but a pair of pants.
"Shawn?"
"Can I come in?"
"If I say no are you going to do it anyways?" Jack asked. "You're not paying attention to anything else I've said."
"That's not true, and you know it." Shawn said, walking into Jack's office and sitting in the chair across the desk from him. He looked over at the man who had been his mentor for more than half his life, thinking back on things that this Jack didn't even know were to come. How many times had Shawn sat in this chair while he was growing up? Occasionally watching Jack brood over some problem or the other, but usually just listening to stories or advice about everything from girls to combat tactics and first kisses and dates.
"It is this time."
"I trust this note."
"Why?"
"Because it's from you, Jack."
"What if it isn't?"
"It is."
"I could send Jaffer with you," Jack said, looking down at the black lab. Jaffer would protect Shawn as ferociously as Jack himself would.
Shawn knew Jack meant it, and he felt his eyes sting as he had yet another reminder of just what the man was willing to sacrifice in order to keep him safe. As if he needed another reminder after the last evening.
"No, Jack. Jaffer's your dog and he belongs with you. Besides, I won't need him." Chances were Jaffer wouldn't listen to Shawn, anyways, but that was the last excuse Shawn would use. "The note's real."
"You're willing to bet your life on it?"
"Yup."
O'Neill sighed, and shook his head.
"You need to trust me on this one, Jack. Like I've always trusted you." He smiled, leaning forward. "I'm not a little boy, now, and it's been a long time since I've done something foolish and put myself in danger."
O'Neill sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking at Shawn. He was right; he wasn't a child. Not in his time, anyways. It was just hard for Jack to differentiate between the boy he'd seen only the day before, and the young man that was sitting with him now. He wondered if in twelve years he'd be having just as much trouble, and decided it probably wasn't going to ever change.
Shawn didn't say anything as he watched Jack, knowing that the older man was thinking things through and giving him a chance to do it without being nagged. Snap decisions were something Jack was very good at, and changing his mind once it was made up was something that took a bit longer. Shawn knew and understood this.
Finally, after what seemed like hours but was only about ten minutes, Jack nodded.
"You're going to need some clothes."
"I know." With the hand that wasn't in the sling, Shawn gestured to Jack's bandages, which were seeping blood from his ripped stitches. "You'd better get a shirt on before Doctor Fraiser sees you're bleeding, or she's not going to let you-"
"I will." Jack told him, interrupting. "You're sure?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
Just like that.
"But, in case I'm wrong-"
"In case you're wrong?" Jack's eyebrows went up, and his face was clouded with doubt once again, and Shawn was quick to reassure him.
"Not that I am, since I know I'm not," he said hastily. "But on the off chance that something happens and I don't make it back to the right time, or back to the SGC – and you – I... well..." He hesitated, stumbling over words that he'd meant to tell Jack long before then.
"Are you happy, Shawn?" Jack asked, suddenly, his brown eyes looking carefully at the young man. This Shawn – the adult one – knew who he was, and what he was, and Jack needed to know if he was content with what he'd become.
"I'm exactly what I want to be, Jack." Shawn said, firmly. "I've known forever what I wanted to do when I grew up, and I'm doing it. And doing it well, I hope. I couldn't be happier." Shawn's sincerity was obvious, and Jack nodded. "I owe you everything, you know?"
Jack shook his head. "You don't owe me anything, and you never will."
Shawn wasn't going to argue the point, but he knew better. He stood up. "I'd better go get ready to go. Do you want me to bring you a shirt?"
"And boots." His feet were cold, even though he had them resting under Jaffer's warm butt.
"I'll be right back."
"Bring me the shirt, first, and I'll help you pick what you need to take with you."
He wasn't completely sure it was the wisest course of action, but at least he could make sure Shawn had everything he needed. Just in case.
"Yes, Sir."
"He's just worried," Shawn said, coming to Jack's defense. "I understand why he's worried, but I'm sure it's safe, or he wouldn't have sent the message." It was confusing to be discussing the same person in two different tenses.
Daniel bent down and picked up the note that Jack had dropped on the floor.
"This is only about an hour from now."
"I know."
"I'll go talk to him, Shawn. I'm sure he'll-"
"I'll go talk to him, Sam," Shawn said, shaking his head. "This is about me, and it's something we have to work out before I go. Otherwise it'll affect his relationship with the younger version of me."
That made sense, and Carter nodded, conceding the logic.
"I'll be back as soon as I can."
"We'll get the coordinates into the dialing computer. Look in his office, you'll probably find him there."
Shawn nodded, and walked out of the room.
"Are you sure, Major?" Hammond asked. "Colonel O'Neill's instincts are usually pretty good when it comes to spotting traps."
"I know, Sir." It had saved SG-1 more than once. "This time he's not using his instincts, though." She didn't explain, instead she took the note from Daniel and headed for the command room to get started entering the coordinates into their computer along with the precise time the gate needed to be activated.
~*~
Sam had been right. O'Neill was in his office, sitting at his desk. One hand was pressed against the bandage on his side, idly trying to massage out the ache from the stitches he'd already managed to rip, and the other was resting on Jaffer's neck, one of the few places on the black lab that didn't have cuts or bandages. The big dog was sitting on the floor between Jack and his desk, his head resting on the uninjured thigh and his body between O'Neill's knees. It was a comfort position for the two of them; one that Jaffer had decided he liked a long time before. Having one of Jack's knees pressing in on either side of his body gave him the feeling of being cuddled, and he always liked being cuddled, even now, when he wasn't a puppy any more.
"Jack?"
He looked up when Shawn's voice broke into his dark thoughts, and saw the young man standing at his door. Still wearing nothing but a pair of pants.
"Shawn?"
"Can I come in?"
"If I say no are you going to do it anyways?" Jack asked. "You're not paying attention to anything else I've said."
"That's not true, and you know it." Shawn said, walking into Jack's office and sitting in the chair across the desk from him. He looked over at the man who had been his mentor for more than half his life, thinking back on things that this Jack didn't even know were to come. How many times had Shawn sat in this chair while he was growing up? Occasionally watching Jack brood over some problem or the other, but usually just listening to stories or advice about everything from girls to combat tactics and first kisses and dates.
"It is this time."
"I trust this note."
"Why?"
"Because it's from you, Jack."
"What if it isn't?"
"It is."
"I could send Jaffer with you," Jack said, looking down at the black lab. Jaffer would protect Shawn as ferociously as Jack himself would.
Shawn knew Jack meant it, and he felt his eyes sting as he had yet another reminder of just what the man was willing to sacrifice in order to keep him safe. As if he needed another reminder after the last evening.
"No, Jack. Jaffer's your dog and he belongs with you. Besides, I won't need him." Chances were Jaffer wouldn't listen to Shawn, anyways, but that was the last excuse Shawn would use. "The note's real."
"You're willing to bet your life on it?"
"Yup."
O'Neill sighed, and shook his head.
"You need to trust me on this one, Jack. Like I've always trusted you." He smiled, leaning forward. "I'm not a little boy, now, and it's been a long time since I've done something foolish and put myself in danger."
O'Neill sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking at Shawn. He was right; he wasn't a child. Not in his time, anyways. It was just hard for Jack to differentiate between the boy he'd seen only the day before, and the young man that was sitting with him now. He wondered if in twelve years he'd be having just as much trouble, and decided it probably wasn't going to ever change.
Shawn didn't say anything as he watched Jack, knowing that the older man was thinking things through and giving him a chance to do it without being nagged. Snap decisions were something Jack was very good at, and changing his mind once it was made up was something that took a bit longer. Shawn knew and understood this.
Finally, after what seemed like hours but was only about ten minutes, Jack nodded.
"You're going to need some clothes."
"I know." With the hand that wasn't in the sling, Shawn gestured to Jack's bandages, which were seeping blood from his ripped stitches. "You'd better get a shirt on before Doctor Fraiser sees you're bleeding, or she's not going to let you-"
"I will." Jack told him, interrupting. "You're sure?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
Just like that.
"But, in case I'm wrong-"
"In case you're wrong?" Jack's eyebrows went up, and his face was clouded with doubt once again, and Shawn was quick to reassure him.
"Not that I am, since I know I'm not," he said hastily. "But on the off chance that something happens and I don't make it back to the right time, or back to the SGC – and you – I... well..." He hesitated, stumbling over words that he'd meant to tell Jack long before then.
"Are you happy, Shawn?" Jack asked, suddenly, his brown eyes looking carefully at the young man. This Shawn – the adult one – knew who he was, and what he was, and Jack needed to know if he was content with what he'd become.
"I'm exactly what I want to be, Jack." Shawn said, firmly. "I've known forever what I wanted to do when I grew up, and I'm doing it. And doing it well, I hope. I couldn't be happier." Shawn's sincerity was obvious, and Jack nodded. "I owe you everything, you know?"
Jack shook his head. "You don't owe me anything, and you never will."
Shawn wasn't going to argue the point, but he knew better. He stood up. "I'd better go get ready to go. Do you want me to bring you a shirt?"
"And boots." His feet were cold, even though he had them resting under Jaffer's warm butt.
"I'll be right back."
"Bring me the shirt, first, and I'll help you pick what you need to take with you."
He wasn't completely sure it was the wisest course of action, but at least he could make sure Shawn had everything he needed. Just in case.
"Yes, Sir."