Dr Daniel Jackson

Captain Cochran and I have just discussed the investigation. He had little to offer.

'I'm still working on it.'

'These things take time.'

His words are meant to be reassuring and I agree with what he says. But I had the strangest feeling he wasn't telling me everything, I couldn't put my finger on just what it was, but he seemed to hedge a bit here and there. Maybe I'm imagining it?

Searching for Jack, I found him as he was leaving the Control Room.

"Trouble?"

He shortens his stride as I ask my question, accommodating mine automatically. Showing me once more just how different he is from most people, different from those who would expect me to lengthen mine or walk faster.

"Naw, just a computer glitch."

"Got Sam to handle it?"

"Nope, wasn't that big of a glitch. You know me and computers."

Yes, I did. On the surface, he is totally inept with them, that's all show and just another facet of the facade he projects. If the Control Room is looking for help, they need expert help and Jack's pretended level of knowledge would be woefully inadequate. None of the techs are actually fooled by Jack's act. Oh, they go along with it, but I've heard them whisper about his late night visits and the tricks they've all learned from him. Yes, from him, not the other way around. It's a secret that they keep well. After all, they are supposed to be the experts.

Sam is probably the only one who knows more about the base computer than Jack does. And, she has confided in me that she's not even sure what he's done to them. Complaining that he's too subtle to track through the system. Both of us think its part of his Special Ops training. He keeps his talents from those days strictly under wraps.

Sometimes I find Jack's 'dumb' act infuriating, I hate to think people perceive him as... well, stupid.

Sam and I are geniuses, certifiable ones. That may sound egotistical, but it's true. Separately we should be able to outthink Jack. Yet, together even we can't do that. While Sam and I are wading through minutiae, he's already mapped out a plan of attack. His ability to reduce complex problems to their simplest basics in the blink of an eye lets him do what neither of us can.

Oh sure, he doesn't have my or Sam's knowledge, and that can and does slow him down. However, when he's given the information he needs, he then retains it and can easily regurgitate it at will. Even so, he spends a great deal of time pretending he hasn't the faintest idea about the subject.

I'm positive he has a photographic memory.

There are small proofs of it if you look. For example, when we were wearing the Atoniek armbands and he read that book really, really fast. And I, in my frustration at not being able to duplicate that trick, asked him that question about it to test his retention. He slipped up. He repeated word for word what was printed in the book. I checked. Of course, the armbands might have something to do with that, but he gives too many clues that say otherwise. There doesn't seem to be any kind of time limit on his retention of information either. What Sam or I have told him no matter how long ago he heard it, he can produce it. I've caught him unawares enough times, he just spits out the correct answer, and usually an answer I would have to look up. He only chooses not to remember.

Jack possessing an eidetic memory explains his nightmares and reluctance to discuss the horrific events of his life.

He remembers it all.

Most people tend to forget over time, but he doesn't, each event is as fresh and clear as the second it happened. It would be better for him if he didn't have this ability, but then Jack wouldn't be... Jack. To me, that would be far worse.

Still, I wonder just how Jack can stand to have people think of him as being a little on the dense side. He either has no ego at all or is so confident and comfortable in his own abilities as to not give a hoot what anyone thinks. I like to think he's simply confident.

"Simple problem huh?"

"Yep, very simple."

"Jack, do you have a little time to discuss what Captain Cochran has found so far?"

"Yeah, let's go to my office. Okay?"

"Jack, what's wrong?"

"What makes you think something is wrong?"

He looks at me from the wrong side of his own desk, sitting on the very edge of one of those massive wooden chairs and leaning over the floor, elbows propped on his knees. The pose is so uncharacteristic of him. He spreads his fingers at my assessing stare and flips his arms out in a show of 'huh?' Pushing up my glasses, I decide to get serious about finding out what is bothering him. It can't be what we're discussing; all of his reactions were in the wrong places for that. He reacted to the sound of a certain name -- every time.

"You get this strange look when you talk about Eric?"

"Don't"

"Do."

"Don't you have anything better to do than pry stuff out of me?"

He abruptly stands and begins to pace before the desk, just a couple steps, back and forth. His hands are shoved into his pockets, head down watching his boots. His behavior screams to me that he is reluctant to voice his concerns -- to anyone.

"Well... no. Besides it's good for you."

He shoots me a nasty glare, slowing his pace across the office. In a low growl, he answers.

"I think you enjoy this way too much."

I grin at his discomfort; we know each other so well. And, being that familiar with him, I know that he has just conceded defeat, giving me his unspoken promise to speak of his inner thoughts. I make it official.

"Give."

"Okay, okay. I've been... ah, having some feelings surface lately."

At this admission, he stops to face the wall; his back is partially to me. My stomach goes cold with dread. Is this about that 'resonance' he mentioned that night on his deck? I reluctantly ask.

"Such as...?"

"Kinda... nurturing ones."

My complex friend doesn't move, apparently fascinated by the wall before him. His words take more time than they should to sink in and even more time for me to feel relief once I comprehend them. A kind of euphoria suffuses me at his worry over such a little thing. I jerk myself up short at that thought, to Jack; this is not 'such a little thing.' This is a BIG thing to him and I need to keep that in mind. However, I still find his trepidation amusing.

"Jack, you have those every time you go near one of the Cadets... Oh, Cadets... like Eric. You have feelings for Eric don't you?"

"Jeez, Daniel, you make me sound like a dirty old man."

He swings around to bark that out at me, looking very unhappy. His eyes are dark and hard, missing are their usual flashes of amber.

And this makes you feel..." I take a guess. "...Bad. Why?"

"How do you feel when you're attracted to a woman?"

What! Darn, what is he talking about? Oh, wait, nah, not possible.

How do I feel?

I felt incredibly guilty after Shyla, but that was the sarcophagus. I felt guilty after Ke'ra, but she was a mass murderer. I feel guilty about thinking about Anise since she's actually interested in Jack. Maybe I felt guilty because I also felt like I was betraying Sha're.

That's it. Jack feels he's betraying Charlie, Darn! This is not good.

I look across the desk to a man who is more than friend, more than brother, more than father even. He is my safe haven in a world gone insane.

Where does he find his safety?

Sometimes in me, occasionally in his friendship with Sam and at times in his ability to relax with Teal'c at his back. Where does he go for that emotional recharge that I can only rarely give him?

Nowhere -- he has no one.

Well... except for us. SG-1. We're closer to each other than anyone I've ever seen, but not quite that way. His son is dead; his wife has left him.

So, even among his loving friends -- he is alone.

Jack is gregarious, with a loving heart, which barely beats from lack of the unconditional love it craves. The love of a child, a mate, of a real family. I know this because I feel it too. Sam probably does in a lesser degree as she still has some family. Teal'c knows even less, he has a child and wife whom he visits at every opportunity.

Going home.

When Jack goes home, even to the cabin, it is empty. Well, not exactly empty, each is filled with the memories of when he had a child, a wife. Those very clear memories he can never forget or forgive.

My memories of Sha're and our one year of bliss on Abydos still sears my soul with longing, regret and loneliness. What must Jack feel? He had Charlie for ten years and was married even longer. Going home must be the most horrific agony I can imagine.

Having the love of three people who would die to protect him cannot replace the love lost in his life.

Even if he allowed it, how many lesser loves would it take to fill the void in his heart and soul?

That's the problem; he feels that allowing the 'lesser loves' cheapens the memories of those that were lost. Doesn't he realize that's impossible, that new links to his heart can only enhance the old, never diminish them?

"To think of another woman would be betrayal... I would feel like I was cheapening what Sha're and I had."

Jack is staring at the floor, blocking out the world that so cruelly reminds him of his loss.

"Jack..."

"Yes Daniel."

"How does it make you feel when you have feelings for me?"

His gaze snaps up abruptly revealing amber eyes so dark that they're black, like polished coal. Immediately, his hand scrubs over his face to hide his pain from me. He won't look at me. I know this. It's just his way of limiting the emotion he knows he'll feel when he speaks about such things.

"I... I feel proud... pissed on occasion... scared as hell... frustrated..."

"Love?"

His eyes suddenly reappear, brightly burning into me.

"Yeah... Yeah that too."

Not once does he look away, the force of that admission, causes my heart to skip a beat. Slowly I smile and then cringe inwardly as I notice the shimmer in his eyes before they return to study the floor again.

"I'm glad that you do, really. But does that love you hold for me diminish your love for Charlie?"

While thinking I know what his answer will be, I hold my breath in anticipation of it, but with Jack, you can never be sure. Even knowing as much as I do about what he'll do and how he'll react, he can still throw me for a loop. Not just occasionally, but constantly. He's a very well known unknown.

His booted toe starts drawing little circles on the floor, he's thinking and thinking hard.

Seconds drag into minutes.

Slumping in the chair, my hope for a resolution to Jack's little emotional dilemma begins to blossom into the realization that he's probably going to choose denial as his coping mechanism. It just hurts too much for him, so why acknowledge it at all? Feeling an ache start in...

"No."

What? Since I seemed have been studying my hands rather than looking at my friend, I glance up.

My eyes lock with Jack's intensely alive and horribly revealing eyes. Seldom are his emotions so clearly written in those windows to his soul and I've been drifting while he struggled to express his emotions at my insistence. Damn!

A smile erupts across his face, to be reflected in those suddenly expressive eyes of his. The rare amber color burning with a love and mirth that stuns me. I begin grinning like an idiot at him.

"Caught ya nappin?"

"Ah... yes."

"It did take me a while, but 'no'. What I feel for you doesn't diminish what I felt... feel for Charlie. Actually, I kinda think it... Uh, this'll sound terrible... but I think it shows me what I've lost better."

That Jack saw on my face, I don't exactly know. As for what I felt, I'm not really sure, except for a dusky desolation at his words. His reaction gave me a clue.

"Danny." Jack's voice is soft as his hand reaches for me. "You know me. I'm so bad at telling anyone about how I feel."

His eyes scrutinize my face, concern and guilt slowly shows on Jack's face. The pain I must have just caused him causes me to shudder.y pain is so minor compared to his forever wounded heart. My petty pain flashes into shame before the enormity of his. My mistake was to let this transformation show on my face.

"Don't do that! I didn't mean what I said was bad. It's just... different. What I feel for you is close to what I had for Charlie. But, it's not the same, it doesn't... well, try to take away from my love for Charlie. It kinda protects it. Keeps it burning. Am I making any sense here?"

A desperate Jack is a humbling sight; I hasten to reassure him that I do indeed understand. Anything to kill the desperation this man rarely shows.

"Yes, I do understand. I do Jack. I loved my parents deeply, but I think of you as my second family. A brother, a father even, what I feel for you lies like a shell of protection over my love for my parents. I'm deeply grateful for having you in my life."

A warmth surges outward from my heart, Jack is so important to me and I'm gratified by his reaction to my words. His eyes dim a bit, a little grin grows and his mask begins to reappear. He's gaining control. Becoming Jack once more. Inside I heave a sigh of relief for these signs of normalcy.

"That's good Danny. I think I see what you've been driving at. My fatherly feelings towards these kids aren't an insult to Charlie's memory. More of a celebration of it. There's no reason for me to feel guilty for passing on what I held for my son to others that can use it. Charlie's legacy will live on in them."

"Yes! Charlie's legacy. All those kids you've helped and will help. A living monument to the love that existed between you. Exactly."

He chuckles softly at my exuberant words and I smile happily at the lifting of guilt the revelation has allowed him.

"You're still the best shrink I've ever had."

He squeezes my hand in his; how they came to be joined I have no idea... actually, just not much of one. As much as Jack does, I would bet he's wondering the same thing.

With a self-conscious movement we both break contact, ginning foolish at one another, hoping to hide our mutual embarrassment at such an intimate sharing of our inner selves.

Now the door is open for Jack. He can let out those feelings without the guilt eating at him. He has so much love to give and so little opportunity anymore to give it. For five years he has nurtured Sam, Teal'c and I to the point that further nurturing isn't possible any more.

He's suffering from Empty Nest Syndrome and doesn't know it. Eric can fill that nest for a while; both will benefit greatly from it.

But, will Eric permit it?

Teal'c

"O'Neill."

My brother starts at my words, a rarity. It would seem that the papers laid out across his desk consume his attention. Wishing to know what can cause such a warrior to leave himself vulnerable to attack, I forego the ritual of an invitation. Striding across the room, I stand close enough to view these papers that so endanger one I hold as close as blood family.

"Teal'c..." O'Neill hesitates, glancing back down to the papers before him before bringing his eyes to mine. "I... didn't hear you."

"Indeed. You were distracted."

Having learned much of my friend, I read the lack of comprehension upon his face. Fleeting as it was, it was rapidly replaced with an expression I have since learned means a type of regret known as 'chagrin.' An acknowledgement of catching him unprepared on his home ground, a grave tactical mistake my friend would not normally have committed, unless a problem of great import held him enthralled.

"Yeah, ya could say that, I'm human Teal'c."

"A human who is Tau'ri and therefore legend."

"Duh! Teal'c I'm just a man. Not a hero, legend, 24/7 super warrior or a god. Just a man -- fallible. Distractible."

Typically, O'Neill punctuates this entirely untrue statement with loud words of denial, arm waving and rolling of eyes. Why he persists in denying his true nature baffles me. It is evident that he is a man. I myself have witnessed his acts proving him a hero. To I, and other Jaffa, Tau'ri are legend. And, it has been my privilege to have personally stood at his back in battle; he is truly a great warrior. As to being a god, I have seen him with children, this may not be an accurate label, but to their innocent minds, there is no difference. As to his fallibility and perchance for distraction, that is his opinion alone.

"These would be the source of your distraction?"

My eyes direct his to the papers before him.

"That would be a yes."

My friend's demeanor indicates he may be suffering from low blood sugar. It is mid-afternoon and I do not believe he has eaten. O'Neill tends toward irritability under stress. This trend I discussed with DanielJackson who suggested the malady. DrFraiser was able to confirm that suggestion and offered various remedies for it.ince than, I have made it a point to include 'snacks' in my pack. I do not believe he has realized that I routinely replenish his own supply by slipping them into his pack. To insure his ignorance of my actions, I have shown him a pronounced desire for his supply his freeze-dried peaches, boldly 'robbing' him of it while leaving behind my own offerings.ajorCarter has since remarked that O'Neill seems to have 'mellowed.'

"I require sustenance."

"Good. Because this conversation sucks. Let's go."

O'Neill gathers up his paper distraction, neatly stacking the folders before locking them in his desk. The care he exhibits indicates that these papers are not 'work,' but something much more important to him. He places few things above his work; perhaps my assumption of requiring food is erroneous?

"I have upset you."

"Nah, I'm... I don't know, distracted."

His laughter at himself lightens my heart. I had no wish to cause him discomfort. Locking his office, we proceed to the commissary.

"And what distracts you?"

"You know there are only so many forms of that word and we've about used them up. Besides, it's a 'who,' not a 'what.'"

"Lt.VanSickle."

"Crap, does everybody know my business?"

O'Neill stops just short of the main corridor and faces me, a surprised and amused look upon his face.

"I could inquire."

"Teal'c, one of these days you're gonna pull my leg completely off, that humor of yours is lethal. You know that don't ya?"

"Indeed."

"Okay, okay. I give. I was going over the kid's plan for the survey."

"And."

"He makes me look like an idiot."

I weigh the option of a humorous answer versus a serious answer. Studying his face, I find my answer.

"He has proven his potential once more?"

"Yeah, he has. Damn it, Teal'c. It makes me ill knowing that I lost him. He would have made a real difference here."

"You did not lose him. He is still here; he can still make a difference. Blaming yourself diminishes you and Lt.VanSickle."

Seldom am I able to shock his man, but I have.

"How so?"

"You each made a decision. Yours based on a lifetime of experience, his on untried knowledge garnered from an undeniably wise man. Each on the surface appears sound; each would have remained sound, but for fate. It is a matter of calculated risk. Many young warriors die learning how to gage such risks. Lt.VanSickle is fortunate his lesson did not require his life."

O'Neill gazes at me calmly, thoughtfully. Many seconds pass before he speaks.

"I'm hungry."

Pivoting, he resumes his way towards the commissary. Having the same desire, I follow.

Major Sam Carter

"Daniel!"

Holy Hannah! He wants me to go behind the Colonel's back!

There is no way I'm going to betray the Colonel that way. Too many others have done that to him already and I will NOT be one of them. How dare Daniel suggest such a thing?

My anger skyrockets as the heat builds on my face, my eyes feel like they are crossing as I stare him down.

"Uh, Sam..."

"Daniel," I bite out coldly from between clenched teeth.

"What's wrong?"

He stands there looking so innocent, those lipid blue eyes swimming in just a little too much lubricant. He is so convincingly innocent. No, he will not use those baby blues to wiggle out of this.

"What's wrong! Oh, nothing much, just a very good friend wants me to betray a man I hold close to my heart. That's all."

'Damn, did I say that?' I need to shove those thoughts back into that room.

"What! No, no. Darn, Oh! I... I would never do anything against Jack. You know that. Don't you?"

He's so flustered maybe I'm jumping to a conclusion too fast. He looks sincerely shocked.

"Yet you expect me do this behind his back?"

"Well... yes."

"Tell me, Daniel. How is that good for the Colonel, a man who trusts us to be honest with him? How can you ask me to betray that trust?"

"Ah... well, I'm not exactly asking you to do that."

"What then?"

Standing stiffly, with my arms crossed, I stare at Daniel who stands practically backed up against the closed door of my lab. He starts explaining in a hurried, breathless voice, as if all the oxygen is being sucked from the room. He appears crushed at my accusations, he should be. He is supposed to be the Colonel's friend. His best friend.

Daniel being Daniel, is good, very good with words, he sucks me in and I unwillingly relax as his story unfolds. He tells me of the Colonel's fear relayed to him that night on the man's deck and how Captain Cochran was asked to help and the Captain's own night of discovery. The photos and Daniel's own fear that Cochran has his own agenda. And, how Daniel actually withheld the existence of the photos from the Colonel.

While I'm sure when the Colonel, uncharacteristically, allowed Daniel to look into this problem, he never expected Daniel to not tell him everything. The Colonel holds trust above all else and is stinting in it's gifting. Daniel is playing with fire; he could very well burn us all in the conflagration if the Colonel accidentally finds out what he has done.

I'm now certain Daniel has only the best intentions in keeping this from the Colonel. But then again, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

And like a fool, I agree with what he has done.

The Colonel needs our help; he is too involved with Lt. Van Sickle and his hopes for the creation of the Mirror Site. Both goals I wholeheartedly agree with. There doesn't seem to be a threat from the investigation, despite the rough goons Captain Cochran encountered, as long as the Lieutenant stays on base. Besides, I'll only be trying to identify the men in the photographs, not confronting them.

His explanation makes me feel better about what he is doing, not great, but better. Happy, I'm not.

"Daniel, do you realize the chance you are taking?"

"I'm sure Jack will understand why I'm doing this."

Staring at him again, I wonder how he can be so naive sometimes, but his trust in Jack's understanding might protect him.

"Colonel Cromwell probably thought the same thing."

Where did those come from? I cringe at my cutting words. They hit Daniel hard; he flinches and blanches alarmingly. Putting out my hand to him, I wish I could snatch back such ill-considered words. But, are they? The Colonel can be most unforgiving when his trust is violated.

"Daniel, I'm sorry, I never meant to say that. It just came out. Please, forgive me."

His eyes rose from the floor that they had been studying. They burned like blue fire in his shock-paled face. Fear radiates from him, Jack is very important to him and he must have just realized he could be the living dead to the Colonel if this all blew up in his face.

I wondered if he could survive that. Could SG-1?

he Colonel thought of Frank Cromwell as dead for seven long years, even in the end he refused to relent. Only the man's death got through to him. Way too late.

Suspecting that Colonel Cromwell probably died unforgiven, and being unsure if the Colonel learned anything from the resulting pain and guilt of that death. I fear that if he finds out what Daniel has done and reacts in a similar manner, neither of them could survive it. Unable to cope, each taking one emotional hit too many, I could see each of them backing away from life. To withdraw into a living death.

"Daniel, please I'm sure what you're thinking won't happen. The Colonel thinks of you as a brother, his love is unconditional."

I hope that my lie isn't too bald.

The Colonel would die for each of us, he trusts us with his life. Unfortunately, so complete is his trust, he leaves himself too open to emotional betrayal, too easily could any of us hurt him so badly he might never recover from it. This is what Daniel is risking, and now I. However, I intend that Daniel and the Colonel survive this.

My fingers finally make contact with Daniel's arm; I grasp it gently and pull him towards me. He looked confused and pleading at the same time. My smile lets him see that everything would be all right, I hope.

"Sam...?"

"It'll be okay Daniel. Do you have the photographs?"

"Ah... no, not with me. I... ah, e-mailed them to you."

"Okay, why don't you sit here next to my computer. I'll lock the door. We don't want just anyone walking in while we're both doing something to help the Colonel without him knowing. Okay?"

"Sam, I... I didn't think what this would look like to him. God, I just didn't think."

"Daniel, you did think. You thought about helping him, about how much you care for him. You only wanted to save him some pain. Your intentions were good."

Yeah, I hope you're right. Is it hot in here?"

[see Chapter Seven]