The Road Home Part 3

By Icarus

Sonja was used to hearing odd stories in the commissary. It had been so strange, years ago, all those security checks for just a cooking job. Then she found out why cooking soup was Top Secret.

For a long time she'd thought they were all kidding, until Major Carter hooked up that machine and a glowing giant bug floated right through her kitchen wall. After that -- okay. This was a no-joke, crazy kind of place.

It was two am when Dr. Jackson slumped into the commissary, his boots loud in the near-empty room. General O'Neill was asleep on folded arms, with the soft swish of a broom working its way around him.

Dr. Jackson touched his shoulder, and O'Neill jerked awake.

"Sorry."

After fifteen years, Sonja knew every voice, even knew little bits and pieces of their lives. It had been some time since these two had been in here for anything more than coffee. She started making a roast beef sandwich for General O'Neill, and a ham and cheese for Dr. Jackson. Sandwiches were all there was at this hour: no more chili. The pots were already scrubbed.

"Sorry I'm late." She peered around as Dr. Jackson sank to the seat across from O'Neill. Their voices sounded hollow, echoing off concrete walls.

O'Neill stretched and groaned. "Again."

Dr. Jackson sighed. "We were attacked -"

"Attacked?" O'Neill squawked, rubbing his eyes and blinking. "Wait-a-minute. You got attacked on this thing? I only retired because I knew you were safe."

"That's…" Dr. Jackson looked up as he accepted his sandwich, smiled, then glanced away. He was both nicer and more evasive than most. He never said much about his life. He'd mentioned that his apartment was too small once or twice, but no word of a girlfriend or family. "…that's, um, not why you retired."

"It was part of it!" O'Neill shouted. "A big part."

They sat in silence for a long moment. Since they were the only ones in the commissary, Sonja listened with practiced skill, used to being invisible.

Finally O'Neill prompted, "So…? Attacked -?"

"We're shut down for now." Dr. Jackson rubbed his eyes. "Until further notice."

General O'Neill nodded, accepting that. "What happened? Thought we had the Gou'ald high-tailing it to greener galaxies."

"It's not the Gou'ald. There's something in there the Tokra doesn't want us to have, or doesn't want to exist." He'd folded his arms in that self-protective irritated way he had. Uhm-hmm. Dr. Jackson was not a happy camper. "Either way, they gave us two days to leave."

"But you didn't."

"We were negotiating." O'Neill gave him a Look and Dr. Jackson huffed out a breath. "They're on our side! These ruins are some of the best preserved on any cleared world. I spent months pouring over photos deciding and…."

"And?"

"…annnnd… I'm not going to have another shot at this. Not if I can't prove it's safe," he sighed. "So we're gonna continue our ditch and run 'technique' of archeology for the next fifty-odd years, until someone finally figures out that what we're trampling on is valuable. But by then it'll be too late. It's worse than the Christian digs."

"Christian?" O'Neill squinted at him.

"Oh. Um, yeah," Dr. Jackson hurriedly explained. "The first people to try to locate old ruins were Christians who wanted to prove various stories in the bible. To be fair, everything we know about modern archeology began with them, the search for Troy, for Babylon. But it's more like a rogues gallery of what not to do."

"Trial and error." O'Neill snorted.

Dr. Jackson nodded. "Ironically, by the time we figured out how to do it right, the information they sought was lost beyond recovery. But we know better now. I know better." He ran his hand through his hair. "My name's going to be synonymous with the destruction of Heliopolis and everything like it."

Their eyes met. O'Neill chewed his lip as he leaned back in his chair, his hair ruffled from sleep.

"Hmmph," he said.

"Hmmph?" Dr. Jackson's eyebrows raised. "That's it? That's all you have to say?"

The General tipped his head. "Well. It sorta sounds like you did do too good a job picking that site."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I dunno. You don't think it's really gonna be shut down, do you? I mean if I were from Washington, I'd be pretty curious about what's in there. I'm curious."

"Well, yeah, me too. But General Hammond sent me home and does not want to see me right now." The Doctor turned a bright eye towards him. "You're hoping it's a big cache of weapons, aren't you?"

"With racing stripes." The General spread his hands. "Hey, all my best stuff's from the Tokra."

"They love you for it too, you know."

O'Neill chuckled, eyes gleaming. "Eat your sandwich."

Sonja smiled to herself, glad someone was making Dr. Jackson eat, as she started cleaning the kitchen. Their conversation was drowned out by the sound of running water, until she heard them approaching, and the clatter of trays set on the counter.

"…you're worse than I am," Dr. Jackson was saying.

"Hey! I finished those book cases."

"Oh?" Dr. Jackson answered, snatching the last half of his sandwich off his plate. They stood there as Dr. Jackson finished.

"And they're full." The General gave him a tight smile. "Already. The living room, the bedroom's got more books than I can stand looking at -- it's like a library or something. I feel like I've gotta whisper. Can't you just-?"

"I'm not going to stop buying books, Jack."

"How 'bout a yard sale? For the ones you don't read?" Dr. Jackson sighed in exasperation. "There's gotta be at least some you haven't looked at in a while."

"Jack. Okay. Let's say I did have a yard sale. How many people in Boulder do you think will buy Epistemology in Ancient Mesopotamia for fifty cents?"

"If it has pictures we could probably get a buck for it."

"Jack…."

"Fine, fine. I'll just put in an addition for Doctor Daniel's library. You want an engraved plaque to go with that?"

"No. The library will be fine. I assume I don't have to cut the ribbon during opening ceremonies."

The sweep of the broom paused. And then continued. Up until that moment, Sonja had assumed they were talking about Dr. Jackson's apartment. But no one put an addition on an apartment. The General had a house. Had Dr. Jackson bought a house and never mentioned it?

"You already have the keys to the castle."

Dr. Jackson paused, looking over at O'Neill. "Okay…" he said slowly, pursing his lips. "I'll help you."

Help him put an addition on his own house? This had to be O'Neill's place.

"What do you know about carpentry?" O'Neill scoffed.

"Hello?" He raised his hand. "Scaffolding? Archeology -?"

"Yeah, well, it's not the same." General O'Neill turned serious for a moment, changing the subject. "If you can wait around a few hours, I'll talk to Hammond." He toyed with his coffee cup, not looking up as he turned it on the counter. "I have a little favor to ask anyway."

The cup kept turning. Left, right.

"Favor?" Dr. Jackson blinked; then a look of understanding dawned. "Oh, that favor?"

"It can't go on much longer. People are gonna figure it out."

"So you're going to ask him both -- at the same time? What? You can't ask him for a million dollars too while you're at it?"

"Nah," O'Neill grinned. "That might be pushing my luck."