Chapter 5

Jack sat on his couch with a beer in hand as he stared blindly at the episode of the Simpsons playing on the television. He'd been sidelined. Ordered to go home for the evening and get some rest. Like he could rest.

After having passed his post-mission physical with flying colors, Dr. Brightman had ordered him a week's worth of light-duty. Jack flat-out refused medical leave, and since Allison wasn't prepared to override the base commander, she instead strongly recommended he go home and get at least eight hours of sleep.

As if he could sleep.

As if he wanted to be left alone with the echoes of Sam's cries for help rattling around his brain.

Usually Jack would have politely scoffed at the doctor's idea and resumed his role as base commander; however, Hammond had pulled rank and ordered him to follow Brightman's advice and to go home until 0930. The silent command was obvious. Go home and get your head on straight before you deal with this FUBAR of a situation.

"Jack," Daniel's voice called from the other side of the front door, preceding the sharp rap of knuckles against wood. "I see your light on. Let me in."

Jack sighed, completely unsurprised, before slowing getting up and walking to the door.

"Daniel," he nodded in greeting as he invited the man inside. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Jack glanced at his watch. "At 0400?"

"Yes, well," Daniel tossed his jacket onto a chair and flopped down onto the couch. "We both know you weren't going to actually sleep, despite Hammond's order."

Jack let out a humph and sat on the opposite end of the couch, saying nothing. Several minutes passed in silence and just as he was thinking Daniel was only on babysitting duty, the man opened his mouth and spoke.

"Are you alright, Jack?"

Not even wanting to dignify that ridiculous question with an answer, he grunted noncommittally.

"Okay, stupid question," Daniel admitted, taking Jack's attitude in stride. "What can I do to help?"

Jack opened his mouth to give a sarcastic reply, but he paused. He'd asked Sam that exact same question. It hit him now how thoughtless it had been when there was no possible way for her to have an answer.

"I don't know, Danny," Jack replied instead. "I wish I knew."

"Do you have an opinion on the matter?" Daniel asked hesitantly.

"An opinion?" Jack looked at him like he'd grown two heads.

"On what Sam should do," Daniel clarified.

"No, Daniel," Jack bit out. "I don't. And neither do you." He jabbed a finger in the younger man's direction.

"I didn't say that I did," Daniel kept his voice calm, "but then I'm not directly involved in this situation. You are."

"It's Carter's body," Jack reminded him, running a hand over his face in frustration. "It's her decision."

"I agree," Daniel told him. "But the fact remains that she could be carrying your child. That gives you the right to at least have an opinion, Jack."

"And if it wasn't mine?" Jack growled and surged to his feet needing to move. He'd been desperately trying to not think about the fact that it was his child Sam might already be carrying. His son or daughter who she might choose to terminate. "If your teammate and friend had been raped by someone else, would you be having this conversation with him? Would you be asking if he had a fucking opinion about what she should do?"

"You didn't rape Sam," Daniel stood up, blocking his path.

"They used me to hurt her!" Jack yelled at him. "You weren't there," he accused him, pleased with the quick flash of hurt he saw. "You didn't hear—" he shook his head as the memory of Sam screaming his name rolled over him. "She begged them to stop," Jack took a step forward. "She fought. And when they—when it happened," his breath came out in heavy pants as the memories closed around him. "She screamed. Carter screamed for me to save her," he was nose to nose with Daniel, his fist clenched and ready to strike when the emotions crashed through him. Darting away, Jack barely made it to the bathroom before the contents of his stomach emptied.

"It wasn't your fault, Jack," Daniel said from the doorway.

"I couldn't stop them, Danny" Jack looked up at him with an expression Daniel had never seen before. "I tried—" his voice broke and his face crumpled.

"It wasn't your fault, Jack," Daniel said again, kneeling in front of his friend.

"They hurt her," Jack said as the first sob racked through his body. "Oh god, they hurt Sam," the torrent of emotions burst free as Jack let out a deep guttural sound.

Daniel moved, time seeming to slow down as he silently wrapped his arms around Jack, the man who had been his rock through losing Sha're, who had stayed by his side during his sarcophagus withdrawal. The man who'd literally and figuratively pulled him back from the ledge countless times.

His own eyes filling with tears, Daniel felt Jack's hands grip the back of his t-shirt, causing the material to stretch tight against the front of his neck. He felt Jack kick out, blindly striking the wall with his foot in anger, the force enough to drive the picture of a fishing boat crashing to the ground, the glass shattering in a fitting representation of the man whose heart was shattering as well.

And still Daniel held onto Jack, fighting back his own tears, as his best friend purged the horrors of what he'd experienced. Daniel said nothing, knowing no words were needed as he became the rock Jack had shown him how to be.