AN: I'm on the Mini-Jack C2? Wow. That's cool :) I hope you guys are still liking this... here is the next part.
Dumping his school bag on the floor, John headed straight for the fridge. Daniel followed quietly, still in observer mode.
When John downed a two whole bottles of beer in less than a minute and then made to do the same with a third, Daniel stepped in.
"Woah there. Slow down." Daniel took the bottle from his friend's hand. Turning John to face him, Daniel was more than a little thrown to see tears just beginning to streak down the boy's face. Jack O'Neill did not cry – and as far as Daniel knew, neither did his clone.
John swiped at his face angrily. He was so angry. The tears were hot and unfamiliar. He barely cared that Daniel was here to see them because the fact that he was embarrassing the hell out of himself didn't seem to be that important compared to what he'd seen today.
Besides, he'd seen Daniel cry in the past and it had never made John think less of him. Hell, he'd held Daniel in his arms while the man sobbed as if his heart would break. Well, not these arms. And not him. It had been the Real O'Neill who'd been there for Daniel. Not him. Whatever. It was Daniel's hands on his shoulders now though. And Daniel's blue eyes filled with compassion searching his face. Not Jack O'Neill's face or shoulders but John's. Shoulders that were shaking in rage.
"John?" Daniel's voice was so gentle. So caring. It made John angrier if that were possible. Daniel would never have been quite so kind to that bastard Real O'Neill. Daniel was speaking to him like he was an upset teenager. Like an overemotional upset teenager. But he knew that was unfair. Daniel really did care. Not because John was a kid but because he was his friend. And because Daniel knew Jack O'Neill well enough to know he was beyond merely upset.
However, Daniel being so nice was making it difficult to keep his emotions under control. John felt like he was hanging on by a very thin thread. The fury and frustration within rose up to strangle him, to steal every breath he tried to take. Fogging his brain and his vision with red spikes of heat.
"Not at my school." He forced out between locked together teeth. "Not on my watch."
"It's not your fault…" Daniel began but the words were cut off as John wrenched out of his grip, grabbed the two empty bottles and flung them against the wall with such force that they practically became powder. Then the phone and papers on the kitchen counter flew through the air. Daniel grabbed John's arms but by then the rage had been spent and all that was left was grief. John slid down to the floor and let the feeling take him.
Daniel sat beside him.
"It's all my fault. I missed the signs. God knows how long it's been going on while I did nothing about it!"
"You didn't know."
"I should have! Those kids are my responsibility, Daniel! I'm supposed to take care of them and I screwed up."
"That isn't your job." Daniel pointed out. "The teachers are supposed to do that."
"Well, they suck at their job – and they don't have my training." John ran an agitated hand through his hair. "I can't just pretend that I'm not him anymore, Daniel. I've accepted my screwed-up circumstances but it doesn't change who I really am. Although, I realise that saving the world is no longer my responsibility – that school is mine. If bad shit goes down then I have to take care of it."
"It's what we do." Daniel gave him a small smile.
"Ya gotta do the right thing." John shrugged. "Had that beaten into my head – well, technically the other O'Neill did – by a certain know-it-all archaeologist."
Daniel flashed an innocent look at him. John looked up to the third beer on the counter above their heads – somehow it had escaped his wrath.
"Can I have that?" He asked Daniel. He had to ask him because his stupid kid arms weren't quite long enough to reach it from his sitting position and he was in no mood to get up.
"Sure." Daniel easily twisted and reached up to get it. "As long as you sip, not scull."
"Whatever." John just wanted to hold it. To know that some additional alcoholic haze was within reach if it became necessary. The bottle was cold and wet, a contrast to the hot dampness of his eyes. His head felt a little foggy already. This stupid child's body didn't have his well-earned tolerance to alcohol that he'd been refining for years.
This stupid child's body had let him down pretty much every day. As much as he worked on building muscle and honing reflexes, his combat skills were only a shadow of what they once were. Sure he had amazing vitality and both knees functioned beautifully 100 of the time but he could have inflicted so much more pain and damage today if he'd been in the Real O'Neill's battle ready version. Not to mention the clarity of his soldier's mind. Instead, today – cursed with the instability of his teenage systems – he'd reacted with mindless rage and his attack had been unfocussed. If he'd been thinking more clearly he might have been able to inflict serious suffering onto the teacher without getting himself suspended. Maybe things would go better for the girls if that bastard wasn't able to play the victim.
The girls. God, those poor girls. Six of them at least. Six! The five that had come forward afterwards and the one who'd been with Frankston when John had walked into that room. It had been pure chance that he'd been walking by and heard a noise. His military senses had been what compelled him to investigate such an innocuous sound. What he had found within had been one of the most truly horrifying scenes he'd ever witnessed.
"We've seen some bad stuff, haven't we, Daniel?" John lifted the bottle to his lips briefly. "All those years through the gate. We've come across some true evil."
"Yeah." Daniel replied, knowing there was no need to remind John that these were borrowed memories. They were as real to John as if they'd actually happened to him and not to Jack O'Neill.
"And before I met you there's lots of stuff I don't want to remember. Stuff I did. Stuff I saw."
"When you did black ops."
"Yeah." John took another swig of beer.
"And today?" Daniel asked carefully.
"It was worse, Daniel. God, it was worse." John's voice cracked. "Because it was on earth. Because it was in a school. Because you hear about shit like this and its awful but seeing it with your own eyes… it was too much… and I was too late to really do anything, Daniel. Too late to save her. I could end her immediate suffering by taking out Frankston but she has to live with that for the rest of her life. They all do."
He felt Daniel's hand lightly resting on his shoulder as they sat side by side. John drank more beer and tried to maintain what was left of his composure as he kept talking.
"If it hadn't been a teacher, the girls would have come to me. Everyone knows to come to me if they need help. If they're in trouble."
"They were probably too scared. Too ashamed." Daniel told him gently. "You can't blame yourself. At least now the situation has come out into the open and he can't hurt anyone else."
"I hope you're right, Daniel." John's head was swimming now and he started to feel a little nauseous. "I have to put my head down just for a second… stupid kid's tolerance for booze."
He used Daniel's leg as a pillow. Daniel wouldn't mind. God, his eyes were watering so badly. Daniel's jeans would get wet. Serve him right for… for something… for being a nerd. A supportive warm hand was on his upper arm as he lay on his side on the kitchen floor. Why couldn't he stop shaking? Why wouldn't that image in his head go away? Why could he still see that haunted look in her eyes?