Daughter of My Heart, Chapter Seventeen
Daniel set the table, a steaming lasagna already in the centre, waiting to be eaten.
"Cassie, dinner!," he called, raising his voice to be heard over the TV.
"Do we have to eat in here?," she asked a moment later, eyeing the table warily.
"Yes," Daniel replied matter-of-factly.
"I'm going to miss the ending of my show."
"Well, that's too bad. Family dinners have always been at the table."
"Since when is this a family dinner?," Cassie retorted, sinking into her seat.
"Like it or not, we're family, and this is dinner. Ergo, 'family dinner'," Daniel replied.
"What happened to eating with Mom and Janet?," Cassie demanded. "Ever since you guys went missing, everything's been wrong!"
Daniel sighed. It was enough of a strain seeing Sam and the team every day at work. Friday dinners would be torture. "Look, Cassie, it's complicated."
"What isn't?," Cassie said, exasperated. "You can't just skip out on Friday dinners just because you and Mom had some sort of fight!"
"I don't want to get into this with you, Cassandra."
"Nobody does, but who does it effect? Me!"
Daniel sighed once more. "Cass, we're doing our best. It's just a change, that's all. You'll get used to it."
"What if I don't want to get used to it?"
Daniel paused mid-scoop, looking her in the eye. There was a challenge in her voice, a hidden threat. Silence hung between them as a host of fears raced through his mind. What if she stopped speaking to him? What if she never wanted to see him again? What if he lost this last and most precious member of his family? It nearly killed him just to think of all the ways his angry daughter could break what little was left of his heart.
"Please. Can we just try it my way?," he urged softly.
"Why can't you just talk to Mom?," Cassie begged. "You used to be friends!"
Daniel shook his head. "I can't, Cass."
"Why not?"
Daniel looked down at his plate, avoiding the question.
"Dad. Why can't you talk to Mom?," she repeated.
"You wouldn't understand," Daniel sighed wearily.
"Try me."
"Just eat your dinner," he said instead.
The rest of the meal passed in an almost deafening silence.
"How was your weekend?," Sam asked, pressing a kiss to her head.
"Fine."
"Fine?"
Cassandra shrugged.
"You know, you don't have to go over there if it makes you unhappy," Sam observed.
Cassie stared at her in mute horror. "I'm not unhappy," she said at last.
"Could have fooled me."
"Mom, what really happened between you and Dad?," Cassie blurted, not liking where the conversation was headed. She had enough friends with divorced parents to know how messy visitation rights could get. And the kids never seemed to have a say.
"What did he say?," Sam asked suspiciously.
"Nothing. And that's the problem, isn't it?," Cassie spat.
"It's complicated," Sam muttered, turning away.
"Mom, we need to talk about this!," Cassie shouted.
"No, Cassandra, we don't," Sam retorted. "This is between me and Daniel and the rest of SG-1."
"Thentalkto them! Please!," Cassie begged.
"Enough, Cassandra."
"Yeah, definitely enough," Cassie spat, brushing past her Mom to get to her room. She slammed the door.
Maybe Janet would let her stay at her place for a while. At least she was still the same as before!
"What the hell did you say to her?," Sam growled the next day, slamming him bodily against the lockers.
Aside from the two of them, the locker room was deserted.
"What are you talking about?," Daniel retorted.
"Cassie!"
"Cassie barely spoke to me all weekend," Daniel huffed, glaring straight into her eyes.
"Yeah, well, now she's not speaking to me either. So what did you do to piss her off?"
"Who says it was me?," Daniel demanded. "Maybe she's angry at you!"
"What could I have done? She was with you all weekend!"
Daniel pushed her off, glowering. "All I know is that she's not happy with the new arrangement."
"And whose fault is that?," Sam demanded.
Daniel pulled away, stalking from the room without another word.
"You wanted to see me, Sir?," Janet said, stepping into the General's office.
"Doctor! Take a seat," he answered. Shuffling the papers in front of him, he found what he was looking for. "I've had a number of reports regarding unusual behaviour from the members of SG-1," he began, waving the page. "Unbecoming behaviour," he clarified. "It's been nearly two months since their return. Is this still a medical concern, or should I simply court-marshall them all now?"
Janet sighed. "Physically, Sir, they should be their old selves. But having watched them interact...There's a lot of strain between them. I almost get the feeling we never heard the full account of what really went on down on that planet."
"I need some suggestions, Doctor, because I'm running out of patience."
"You're not the only one," Janet sighed. "Of the four, Teal'c is the most like his old self, probably because the stamp never took full effect on him in the first place. But the others..."
"Are a mess."
"Yes, Sir."
"Doctor, I'm authorizing you to use whatever means necessary to get our people back for good. I can't keep sitting on these incident reports while my top team spirals out of control."
"I understand, Sir."
"Good. You're dismissed."
"Doctor Frasier," Teal'c greeted, one brow raised in mild surprise. "How may I be of assistance?"
"I need to know what really happened on your last mission," she said, cutting straight to the point. "There is no physical or chemical reason I can find for your team's behaviour. And frankly, I think the General is only one incident report away from scrapping the whole team."
"I see," he answered solemnly.
"Can you think of anything that might have happened down there that would have had this sort of impact on their judgment?"
"I can."
"Can you tell me?," she asked hopefully.
"No."
"Dammit, Teal'c! I need to know how to help the others sort themselves back out!," she shouted, exasperated.
"I believe Colonel O'Neill would be a more suitable candidate for this line of questioning," he replied. She knew it was the most she was likely to get.
"Thank you, Teal'c," she sighed.
"Doctor."
"Colonel," she greeted, indicating the seat in her office.
"What's this all about?," he asked, still standing by the door.
"There's nothing wrong with you."
"O-kay...," he said slowly, brow creasing.
"There's nothing wrong with Major Carter or Doctor Jackson either."
"And this is a problem because..."
"Colonel. You and I both know that your team is off active duty until I clear them. And I can't do that as long as you're all behaving like surly teenagers."
"We're not..."
"You are," she interrupted. "Now, I assume that if I ask you what really happened on that planet, you'll either clam up or lie, correct?"
"Uh, probably," he answered, off-guard.
"Fine."
"That's it?"
"Hardly," she answered, cocking an eyebrow. "Now I call the Tok'ra."
"What do those slimy snake heads have to do with any of this?," he demanded.
"Their Za'tarc detector is much more advanced than anything we have here," she replied evenly. "If you won't take this situation seriously, then I'll be forced to take more drastic measures."
"You wouldn't."
"Try me, Colonel."
"What's this all about, Jack?," Daniel grumbled, slumping into one of the conference room chairs.
"Frasier. She's threatening to bring in a Za'tarc detector to make us talk."
"That doesn't sound like Janet," Sam frowned.
"She might be bluffing, I don't know. But we have to end this. Now," Jack replied.
"And how do you propose we do that?," Daniel asked.
"Carter. I assume you're still one-hundred percent off-limits?"
"Yes, Sir," she ground, scowling.
"Good. Fight's over. Let's get back to work."
"You're an ass, you know that?," Daniel retorted.
"Maybe I am! Who cares!? Let's just get the doctor off our backs."
"You want us to pretend like everything is all right?," Sam questioned.
"Whatever it takes! Just so long as I never have to sit strapped to one of those damned Xerox machines again!"
"Yeah, I could second that," Sam muttered.
"Truce?," Jack asked, looking to Daniel.
Daniel looked to Sam. "Truce," he agreed, holding out his hand. The two men shook.
"Good," Jack said. "Now all we have to do is stop fighting in public, and everything will be just fine.