Author's note: translation of the run-on sentence is at the end of the story.
+*+
Ringing.
My phone is ringing.
I'm in the middle of a crucial translation and my phone is ringing.
This had better be important.
Without looking up from the microscope where I'm studying a fragment of clay tablet, I reach for my phone.
"Hello?"
"Daniel! I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
It's Jack, of course it's Jack. With such an important translation in front of me and such a short time to accomplish it, it could only be Jack.
"Well, as a matter of fact Jack -."
He doesn't wait for me to finish.
"Have you got the game on? Did you see that call they just made?"
Now I lift my head to peer around my lab. Monitors, computers, microscopes, technical equipment everywhere. Not one television. Never has been.
"Well, as a matter of fact -."
"How can they say that was no goal? Anybody who was looking could see it made it all the way over the goal line. Am I right?"
"Well, as a matter of -."
"Exactly! They don't know what they're talking about!"
Ever since Jack went to Washington, and I *didn't* go to Atlantis, he has developed this habit of calling me at odd times – odd for me – to discuss whatever sports game he happens to be watching. Usually hockey. Usually when I'm in the middle of something delicate and important.
"So – whatcha working on?" He asks. We must be at commercial. "Anymore stuff of life…stuff?"
"Well as a matter –."
"What! No! How could you – you blind…"
Why do I bother?
His tirade rolls off into a mixture of despair and anger at some anonymous referee. I guess we *weren't* at commercial. This happens every time he calls. I don't know why I never hang up on him, I should. He probably wouldn't even notice.
"So -." He goes on as though I've answered him. As though he's given me the chance. "Not much going on?"
Knowing my window of opportunity is small, if non-existent, I try to get my answer out in as little time as possible.
"*WellasamatteroffactJackSG11broughtbackaclaytabletyesterdaythatseemstomakementionofaweaponverysimilartotheonewethinkMerlincreatedagainsttheOrisoIhaveithereundermymicroscopetryingtotranslateitbeforewegoonournextmission.*"
"Wow." He sounds impressed. But it's not with the clay tablet. "How'd you manage to say that all in one breath?"
Why do I even bother?
"How'd anybody write anything on something so small you need a microscope to read it anyway?"
So he *was* listening.
"Well as a -."
"Reminds me of a spy decoder ring I sent away for from Cocoa Puffs when I was a kid. It had the whole Declaration of Independence inside of it, you could read through a special lens."
Sort of listening.
"Hey, did you ever play Tiddly Winks when you were kid? They used to give those away in Cocoa Puffs too."
Why do I even bother?
"Well, as -."
"No, you're too young for Tiddly Winks. What did they have over there in Egypt anyway when you were a kid? Camel tipping? What – no! It was in the crease!"
Ah, the game is back on and not going the way Jack wants it to.
"So – everything's OK there? Nothing you need me to take care of for you? Mitchell's not putting too much on you, is he? I know you Daniel, you've gotta learn to delegate to your underlings."
"Well-."
"Are you busy? Because I can call later..."
Why do I bother?
"…I just wanted to see how you're doing."
I bother because I like talking with him, even if it's mostly listening to him. Because I like knowing that Jack knows he can call me whenever he wants, to talk about whatever he wants. Because he's listened to similar pointless conversations from me when all I really wanted was company, even long distance company.
Because we're friends.
"Well, as a matter of fact Jack, I was just about to take a break. What's the score?"
The End.
"Well as a matter of fact Jack, SG11 brought back a clay tablet yesterday that seems to make mention of a weapon very similar to the one we think Merlin created against the Ori so I have it here under my microscope trying to translate it before we go on our next mission."