Daniel finally prints out his mission report, signs it, and drops it off for General Hammond.
For what it's worth, there's not a false word in it.
He stops by the infirmary on his way back to his office. Jack and Sam are in adjacent beds, and there are a few nurses hovering nearby, checking vitals. Sam's still out cold, but her face has more color than it did, and she looks healthier.
Jack's watching her sleep, something unreadable on his face, but he looks up when Daniel gets to him.
"Hey, Jack. How are you feeling?"
Jack grimaces. "Really hungover."
"Sorry." Daniel shoves his hands in his pockets. "But you're both going to be fine?"
"That's what they tell me."
"Good."
Jack nods slowly. "Look, Daniel. I just want to say - what you saw -"
"You were drugged. So was she. It was an accident." Jack still looks wary. "You were both disoriented. And that's what my report says."
"Okay -"
"That's all my report says."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
They fall silent for a while. Jack picks at an invisible thread on the infirmary blanket and watches Sam out of the corner of his eye. Daniel's used to this. Jack doesn't really do big emotional conversations.
And SG-1 has an unspoken understanding that no one talks about Jack and Sam. They all just pretend there's nothing there.
"Thanks," Jack finally says.
Daniel shrugs. "You and Sam should really talk about it."
"Yeah." Jack glances over at the sheet. "When she wakes up."
"Of course." Daniel doesn't have much more to say. "Well, I should go. Just wanted to see how you were doing."
"Right."
"See you later?"
"Yeah."
Daniel and Teal'C get lunch together in the commissary. It's late; there are only a few other people around, and they grab SG-1's usual table.
"Did you finish your report?" Daniel asks around a mouthful of turkey sandwich.
"I did."
"What did you write?"
"I gave a truthful accounting of the facts." Teal'C fixes him with a keen look. "I stated that Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter ingested an unknown substance. It made them ill. You and I assisted them in returning to the Stargate."
Daniel smiles into his coffee cup. "Yeah, that's what I wrote." Great minds." Not for the first time, he wonders if SG-1 are developing a hive mind.
"I see no reason to burden General Hammond with a lengthy report of irrelevant facts."
"I agree."
The two of them finish their lunch in companionable silence.
Daniel staggers into the elevator, his arms full of reference books, and manages to jam his elbow into the button for the floor he needs without dropping anything. It's a necessary skill for a scholar. He's gotten good at it.
As the elevator slowly rises, he finds himself thinking about his teammates. Normally, he stays out of Jack and Sam's relationship. He's known Jack longer than she has, sure, but the two of them have the Air Force in common, combat experience, careers that have given them particular perspectives.
And as if that weren't enough, there's all that…tension.
Daniel shifts the books in his arms. He's not military, but he's worked here long enough to know that there are some very concrete rules. Rules that don't bend. Rules that Sam and Jack are careful not to break.
Of course, now that they've accidentally been drugged into making out like a pair of horny teenagers, how awkward would that conversation be?
Jack might ignore it. Let time diffuse the discomfort. After all, they're both professionals. And heaven knows they've all done some dumb things by accident off-world.
The elevator dings, coming to a halt, and Daniel steps out into the corridor and heads for the office.
Halfway there, though, he notices Jack. Janet released him earlier, Daniel knows; being physically smaller, Sam got the worse end of the dosing, so she's still in observation.
Jack's headed back towards the infirmary, though, oblivious to Daniel's presence.
He's carrying a dish of blue Jell-O. And two spoons.