AN: Okay, here's the first major break from canon besides Sam's pregnancy. Bonus points to the first person who picks up on it.
Jack sat in the commissary, working on the never-ending paperwork that afflicted military personnel the world over. He'd spent the morning in Sam's lab.
"How's it going?"
He looked up as Daniel slid into the chair opposite him. "Fine. They're having a physical assessment of skills this week for everyone who goes through the Gate, and everyone who might go through the gate in the future."
"What for?" Daniel asked. He studied the food on his tray. "Y'know, I didn't think I'd ever find food as gross as the stuff they served in my undergrad cafeteria."
Jack snorted. "They don't call it 'shit on a shingle' for nothing." He scraped a little bit of leftover Jell-o out of his dish. "Anyway, somebody finally put two and two together and figured out that going through the Stargate is dangerous, and that sometimes we're gonna need people to go through who aren't military. They wanna make sure that everyone is physically fit and can at least provide covering fire if things go south on a mission."
"Isn't that about a year and a half too late?" Daniel frowned. "I mean, I had no physical assessment before we left for Abydos the first time; hell, nobody even asked if I knew how to use the gun they issued me. It's just good luck that I'd learned to shoot on a dig."
"Yes, it was good luck," Jack said. He shoved down a twinge of guilt at how poorly he'd handled that mission. He'd neglected much of his responsibility, almost sleepwalking through the days until that last desperate assault on Ra's ship. If he'd paid more attention to his men, a few more might have survived; at the very least, they'd have given Ra's warriors a better account of themselves. "And they don't want to depend on it in the future. See, the thing about luck is, eventually it runs out. And then you need good training and equipment."
"Makes sense, I guess. So, when am I scheduled?"
"Today at two work for you?"
Daniel checked his watch. "Should work. Oh, did you hear about the delivery we got this morning? Somebody found a bunch of old file boxes with Stargate stuff in them tucked away somewhere. They've been put in the briefing room until we can go over them. Want to go through them with me?"
"Not really," Jack said. "I've got more than enough paperwork of my own, thanks." He picked up the folder in front of him.
"Okay."
They sat in companionable silence for a while as Daniel ate and Jack worked.
"Something wrong?" Daniel asked.
"What?" Jack looked up at him. "No, why?"
Daniel shrugged. "You just seem more restless than usual, even for doing paperwork."
"I'm fine," Jack said.
"And Sam?"
Jack shook his head. "I don't know how she's doing."
"Problems at dinner last night?"
"It got off to a rough start. The middle went okay, but he dropped a bombshell on her right before he left. At least we've got tonight off to recover—he won't be coming over." Jack snorted and closed the file he'd just finished. "I'm telling you, Daniel, I've got serious problems with that jerk."
Daniel frowned. "That sounds bad. Maybe I should check in on her, see how she's doing?"
"Be my guest. She threw me out this morning, saying I was fidgeting too much."
"Right." Daniel checked his watch. "I think I'll go do that now. Those old files can wait a day or two."
"Hey, Daniel," Sam said absently as her former teammate sauntered in to her office, hands in his pockets. "What brings you here?"
Daniel shrugged. "I was just talking with Jack. He says your dad dropped a bombshell on you last night."
Sam pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yeah, that's one way of putting it," she said. "He has cancer. Lymphoma. He just … threw it out there and left. But not before using it as the cap to a guilt trip to make me fall in with his plans for me."
"Oh, Sam, I'm sorry," Daniel said. He unfolded his arms, hands moving restlessly at his sides.
"Yeah," Sam said sourly. "So am I. I just—why does he always do this to me? I'm not his little baby girl any more. I have a life of my own. I know it's not exactly the life he wanted for me, but I'm good at what I do and I love doing it. I love him, too. I shouldn't have to choose between pleasing him and pleasing me. Isn't there some way we can both be happy? I just want us to be comfortable with each other. I want us to get along. Especially now that—" She broke off, shaking her head and forcing back tears. "And you know what the worst part is? If he really knew what I do for a living, he'd be so proud of me. But he doesn't, and I can't tell him. I—" she sniffed and looked up at Daniel. "Are all families like this? Dad and my brother Mark haven't spoken in years, and Jack's doesn't really talk with his family, either."
Daniel looked aside for a second before giving her a wistful smile. "I wouldn't know, Sam. My parents were killed in an accident when I was eight."
"Oh, Daniel," Sam said, dismayed. "I'm sorry. I had no idea. I shouldn't have gone on like this."
He shook his head. "No, that's okay. It was …" he hesitated "…it was a long time ago. And you're right, you have every right to be upset over the way your Dad is acting. Just, I don't know."
He looked away, and if he'd seemed even a bit less rigid and self-contained, Sam would have taken his hand and squeezed it. Daniel was calm, controlled, the very picture of composure. If she didn't know how passionate a man he normally was about, well, everything, she'd have thought him completely unmoved. As it was, his stillness screamed pain. This was an old grief, not the new rawness of Sha're's capture. She wondered, if they never found Sha're, would Daniel disappear into this cool façade whenever she was mentioned, or would he let them in to help console him?
"Be glad you have him for as long as he's around," Daniel continued. "Even if it's not perfect."
Sam nodded. "I know."