Chapter 9

Harm stretched his left hand over his head slowly. He could feel where the skin over his ribs was still tight and tender, but his ribs weren't showing anymore. Aside from the tenderness and a little discomfort, he was feeling better than he had in a week. Jack had been right that Sam wouldn't be able to fully heal him, but he was amazed all the same what she'd done with the Gould "hand thingy."

Laying back on his bed Harm closed his eyes and remembered Patterson's death. His team continued to tell him it wasn't his fault; General O'Neill had told him it wasn't his fault; Daniel, Teal'c, Sam; they had all told him it wasn't his fault. But he knew it was. He'd written the letter to Patterson's parents that afternoon and sent it to Jack for a final approval before it was dispatched. They couldn't have any particulars about the mission getting out to the public.

Watching Patterson die in his mind's eye for the umpteenth time, he was interrupted by a sharp knock on his door. Slowly getting up he opened the door to find Jack standing on the other side, holding a piece of paper in his hand.

"Is this a joke? You are no longer allowed to make jokes if it is." Jack said pushing past Harm into the quarters.

"I'm guessing it's the letter to Patterson's family, sir." Harm closed the door and turned to face his obviously ticked off CO.

"I can't send this, Harm," Jack said, dropping the letter onto Harm's bed.

"Why not, sir? I didn't reveal anything classified in the letter. I said that their son died in the line of duty."

"You said it was your fault!"

"It was my fault!" Harm snapped back. "I sent him in to get video because I didn't trust my judgement. I told him to run back to our position. I put him in the way of that glider so that he could die! I killed him!"

"Did you pull the trigger? Did you want him to die? Did you plan on him dying?"

"No, but I was responsible all the same." Harm sank onto his bed wearily. "I killed him Jack. I killed him and I think that shows I don't have what it takes to lead off world teams."

Turning around one of the chairs at Harm's small table, Jack sat down with his arms crossed over the back of the chair and ignored Harm's slip up. "I decide who is fit to lead teams, Harm. Not you, not Carter, not even that cute little grey Thor. Me."

"Still…"

"Still nothing. You were a lawyer, Harm, think it through," Jack prompted, trying to get the stubborn leader of SG-13 to see the light. "Was there intent?"

"No, sir."

"Did you know that the glider was going to make a strafing run?"

"No, sir."

"Can you see the future?"

"See the? No Jack, you know I can not see the future," Harm said a little sharper than he meant to, once again slipping and using his CO's first name.

"Then how is Patterson's death your fault? Harm, I know it sucks to lose people; I've done it more times than anyone should have to. Damn it Harm, I've lost Daniel…three times now? No, there was that one time we thought he'd died, but didn't really. He was just taking a swim, so I guess it's four times, maybe three and a half. I know what you're feeling, but it's not your fault. You brought him home Harm, that's all you could do. It's more than most have managed to do."

Narrowing his eyes, Harm stared at Jack as if he'd suddenly grown two heads. "You're a lot smarter than you want people to believe, aren't you, Jack?"

"Don't tell anyone," Jack instructed with a little bit of a smile. "I have a reputation to keep up."

Despite his morose mood, Harm chuckled at that. He'd learned within his first week on base that his CO used humour and sarcasm as skilfully as a pilot dropped chaff and flares. He'd also guessed that there was a shrewder mind behind the penetrating gaze of Jack O'Neill than he let on.

Getting up, Jack slapped a hand on Harm's right shoulder. "Get up, get your jacket."

"Where are we going, sir?"

"Out."

"Out?"

"Out out. Come on, no arguments."

Reaching into his locker Harm grabbed his worn old flight jacket and pulled it on. "Aye, aye, sir."

"And cut the 'sir' crap for the rest of the night, unless you want me to call you Commander all night."

"I guess that depends on where we're going," Harm shrugged as he followed Jack to the elevator and waited while O'Neill used his keycard to open the doors.

"Beers," Jack said, returning to the one word answers.

"Beers?"

"Beers, an alcoholic beverage best served at just about freezing cold. You my friend need a drink, and we need to lift one to Corporal Patterson."

"I don't know…"

"Are you still on medication?" Jack asked, remembering Harm's recent stay in the infirmary. If he was, maybe beers wouldn't be such a good idea at the moment.

"No. Doctor Mengala gave me some pain pills, but I hate taking those things."

"Good. Commander, I am ordering you to come out and have a beer with me in honour of your fallen team member," Jack said smugly, knowing that Harm wouldn't argue an order. Maybe he could order Carter to go fishing with him...

Sighing, Harm gave in and leaned against the wall of the elevator while they rode up to the surface.