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galaxysoupFANDOM: Stargate SG-1
RATING: PG
CAEGORY: Humor, a little Angst
SUMMARY: Epilogue for Legacy: How is everyone doing, really?
SPOILERS: Legacy, duh.
FINE
Jack was waiting for an explosion.
Maybe not even an explosion. He'd settle for a bang, a loud crash, hell, even a whimper. Whimpers he could deal with. What he was having trouble dealing with was...
Silence.
Okay, so it wasn't complete silence. Daniel was currently rattling on about something Minoan that wasn't a minotaur because minotaurs were cretins and that added up to quite enough noise on a normal day, thank you very much. No, the silence was more specific than that. It was the silence that took the place of whatever you were waiting for, that you knew was coming and wanted to avoid but kind of hoped for too because it was expected even as it was dreaded.
He sneaked another look at Daniel, who looked fine. That was something else Jack was having a hard time dealing with. Daniel looked like he'd gotten eight hours of uninterrupted sleep, a good breakfast, and his mandatory caffeine fix. He didn't look like he was having nightmares and going into toxic coffee meltdown, and it was damned unnerving. Daniel didn't even look like he'd had a restless night, but was coping anyway. He wasn't coping. He was fine.
Jack sneaked another look, and found Daniel looking back at him. Daniel arched an eyebrow, the left one, which meant "What's your problem?" in Daniel-speak. Jack arched both eyebrows and widened his eyes, which meant "Who, me?". Daniel's eyebrow got a little higher and very sardonic, which Jack didn't bother to translate. He scowled and Daniel turned back to the briefing.
So, okay. Daniel was fine and Jack was being a paranoid Mother Hen. No big news there, only Jack thought he'd gotten acquainted with Daniel's degrees of 'fine'-ness and this had never been part of the equation.
Carter started talking about neutrinos and why they shouldn't have children and Jack took the opportunity to sit back and compile a mental checklist.
Point one: Last week they'd gated to the Linvris' unfortunately-not-secret-enough-base and gotten snapped in the ass with a landmine from Machello's boudoir.
Yep. So far so good.
Point two: Said landmine infected Daniel, made him see event horizons in his closet, think that nine Goa'uld corpses were trying to use him for a host, and just generally screw with his brain chemistry in a way never approved by Timothy Leary.
Uh-huh. Looking good, Jack.
Point three: Said screwed-with brain chemistry eventually landed Daniel in a white padded cell of the sort used in particularly cliched TV movies, huddled in a corner laughing hysterically at things only he could see and being held down by guys twice his size who could have worked for the World Wrestling Federation, intent on drugging him until he stopped screaming.
Yeah, all true. Like Gospel true.
Point four: Daniel was now leading a spirited discussion on Island economics in ancient Greece and why that was important enough for General Hammond to send a mostly military first-contact team to videotape wall paintings, looking none the worse for wear aside from a little residual trembling in his hands as a result of the cocktail of drugs MacKenzie shot him up with in an attempt to control his non-existent psychosis.
Well, see, now there Jack had a little problem. The problem wasn't that Daniel was fine. Jack liked it when Daniel was fine, preferred it in fact - although here he had to be a bit more specific, because Daniel could be lying on the floor with a sucking chest wound and still probably find some way to be fine. No, this 'fine' on the Daniel Scale of Fine to Unconsciousness was actually...fine.
As far as Jack could tell.
He snuck another look at Daniel. Nope, no explosion yet.
Daniel kicked him under the table and wrote STOP LOOKING AT ME in large, very pointed letters on his pad.
Actually, he kind of felt bad thinking Daniel was being weird by being fine. After all, Jack spent a lot of time cursing the universe on Daniel's behalf when something new came up to knock him through a cosmic loop, and not quite as much time but still an appreciable amount of time putting Daniel back together after every karmic sucker punch. And while he would love to put his constant attentions on a pedestal as the reason Daniel was fine, it wouldn't be true. Jack hadn't done anything. He'd gotten Daniel out of the padded room, sure, but there hadn't been any late-night post-nightmare hugs neither one of them would ever admit to in daylight, no drunken confessions or soul unburdenings, no need for gentle name-calling or shoulder-slapping to remind Daniel the rest of the world didn't hate him even if he hated himself, usually for no reason known to or believed in by anyone but Daniel.
Daniel was...fine.
Jack kicked Daniel under the table and wrote MY OFFICE on his pad, looked at it, and added MI OFICINA underneath just in case Daniel was feeling stubborn and linguist-y. Daniel rolled his eyes and stacked his papers, bringing Jack's attention to the fact that General Hammond had ended the briefing and was giving him the sort of look he'd always gotten from his mom for trying to hide peas in his napkin during dinner. He gave the General his cockiest, most I-am-the-man grin, and sauntered out of the briefing room with the shreds of his dignity draped like a cloak across his shoulders.
Daniel was already standing outside of Jack's office, looking impatient. He followed Jack in and sat himself down in Jack's rickety spare chair, mindful as always of not leaning back too far because the seat cushion would collapse.
"What's on your mind, Jack?"
Jack folded his hands on his desk and felt like a school principal. "How're you feeling?"
"I'm fine, Jack."
Jack gave up the school principal idea and slumped back, settling his legs on top of the desk. "Yeah, but fine as in fine or fine as in we may have to amputate?"
Daniel gave him a surprised look, which was followed in quick succession by puzzlement, irritation, understanding, and a sort of embarrassed gratitude Jack always hated because it reminded him that Daniel still wasn't used to people being worried for him.
"I'm fine as in fine, Jack. Honest."
"You're sure? No nightmares? No insomnia? No more event horizons?"
"None of the above. I really am fine, Jack."
Jack gave him a dubious look. "If you're sure."
Daniel gave Jack a rueful smile. "I'm sure. It's not the first time people have thought I was crazy, Jack." He looked suddenly thoughtful. "Although it IS the first time it's been true, now that I think about it. Huh."
Jack felt himself relax. The Comeback Kid struck again. Unexpectedly, inexplicably, Daniel was fine. Again. Really and truly.
Cool.
Jack grinned. "Well, that's all. I just wanted to check in. You can go play with your rocks now."
"Artifacts," Daniel corrected automatically, grinning back, and left.
Jack spun himself around in his desk chair and picked up a rubber band to shoot at the computer monitor. So, no explosion. No bang, no loud crash, not even a whimper. More like a fizzle. But that was okay. Hell, it was more than okay.
It was...fine.
FINIS
RATING: PG
CAEGORY: Humor, a little Angst
SUMMARY: Epilogue for Legacy: How is everyone doing, really?
SPOILERS: Legacy, duh.
FINE
Jack was waiting for an explosion.
Maybe not even an explosion. He'd settle for a bang, a loud crash, hell, even a whimper. Whimpers he could deal with. What he was having trouble dealing with was...
Silence.
Okay, so it wasn't complete silence. Daniel was currently rattling on about something Minoan that wasn't a minotaur because minotaurs were cretins and that added up to quite enough noise on a normal day, thank you very much. No, the silence was more specific than that. It was the silence that took the place of whatever you were waiting for, that you knew was coming and wanted to avoid but kind of hoped for too because it was expected even as it was dreaded.
He sneaked another look at Daniel, who looked fine. That was something else Jack was having a hard time dealing with. Daniel looked like he'd gotten eight hours of uninterrupted sleep, a good breakfast, and his mandatory caffeine fix. He didn't look like he was having nightmares and going into toxic coffee meltdown, and it was damned unnerving. Daniel didn't even look like he'd had a restless night, but was coping anyway. He wasn't coping. He was fine.
Jack sneaked another look, and found Daniel looking back at him. Daniel arched an eyebrow, the left one, which meant "What's your problem?" in Daniel-speak. Jack arched both eyebrows and widened his eyes, which meant "Who, me?". Daniel's eyebrow got a little higher and very sardonic, which Jack didn't bother to translate. He scowled and Daniel turned back to the briefing.
So, okay. Daniel was fine and Jack was being a paranoid Mother Hen. No big news there, only Jack thought he'd gotten acquainted with Daniel's degrees of 'fine'-ness and this had never been part of the equation.
Carter started talking about neutrinos and why they shouldn't have children and Jack took the opportunity to sit back and compile a mental checklist.
Point one: Last week they'd gated to the Linvris' unfortunately-not-secret-enough-base and gotten snapped in the ass with a landmine from Machello's boudoir.
Yep. So far so good.
Point two: Said landmine infected Daniel, made him see event horizons in his closet, think that nine Goa'uld corpses were trying to use him for a host, and just generally screw with his brain chemistry in a way never approved by Timothy Leary.
Uh-huh. Looking good, Jack.
Point three: Said screwed-with brain chemistry eventually landed Daniel in a white padded cell of the sort used in particularly cliched TV movies, huddled in a corner laughing hysterically at things only he could see and being held down by guys twice his size who could have worked for the World Wrestling Federation, intent on drugging him until he stopped screaming.
Yeah, all true. Like Gospel true.
Point four: Daniel was now leading a spirited discussion on Island economics in ancient Greece and why that was important enough for General Hammond to send a mostly military first-contact team to videotape wall paintings, looking none the worse for wear aside from a little residual trembling in his hands as a result of the cocktail of drugs MacKenzie shot him up with in an attempt to control his non-existent psychosis.
Well, see, now there Jack had a little problem. The problem wasn't that Daniel was fine. Jack liked it when Daniel was fine, preferred it in fact - although here he had to be a bit more specific, because Daniel could be lying on the floor with a sucking chest wound and still probably find some way to be fine. No, this 'fine' on the Daniel Scale of Fine to Unconsciousness was actually...fine.
As far as Jack could tell.
He snuck another look at Daniel. Nope, no explosion yet.
Daniel kicked him under the table and wrote STOP LOOKING AT ME in large, very pointed letters on his pad.
Actually, he kind of felt bad thinking Daniel was being weird by being fine. After all, Jack spent a lot of time cursing the universe on Daniel's behalf when something new came up to knock him through a cosmic loop, and not quite as much time but still an appreciable amount of time putting Daniel back together after every karmic sucker punch. And while he would love to put his constant attentions on a pedestal as the reason Daniel was fine, it wouldn't be true. Jack hadn't done anything. He'd gotten Daniel out of the padded room, sure, but there hadn't been any late-night post-nightmare hugs neither one of them would ever admit to in daylight, no drunken confessions or soul unburdenings, no need for gentle name-calling or shoulder-slapping to remind Daniel the rest of the world didn't hate him even if he hated himself, usually for no reason known to or believed in by anyone but Daniel.
Daniel was...fine.
Jack kicked Daniel under the table and wrote MY OFFICE on his pad, looked at it, and added MI OFICINA underneath just in case Daniel was feeling stubborn and linguist-y. Daniel rolled his eyes and stacked his papers, bringing Jack's attention to the fact that General Hammond had ended the briefing and was giving him the sort of look he'd always gotten from his mom for trying to hide peas in his napkin during dinner. He gave the General his cockiest, most I-am-the-man grin, and sauntered out of the briefing room with the shreds of his dignity draped like a cloak across his shoulders.
Daniel was already standing outside of Jack's office, looking impatient. He followed Jack in and sat himself down in Jack's rickety spare chair, mindful as always of not leaning back too far because the seat cushion would collapse.
"What's on your mind, Jack?"
Jack folded his hands on his desk and felt like a school principal. "How're you feeling?"
"I'm fine, Jack."
Jack gave up the school principal idea and slumped back, settling his legs on top of the desk. "Yeah, but fine as in fine or fine as in we may have to amputate?"
Daniel gave him a surprised look, which was followed in quick succession by puzzlement, irritation, understanding, and a sort of embarrassed gratitude Jack always hated because it reminded him that Daniel still wasn't used to people being worried for him.
"I'm fine as in fine, Jack. Honest."
"You're sure? No nightmares? No insomnia? No more event horizons?"
"None of the above. I really am fine, Jack."
Jack gave him a dubious look. "If you're sure."
Daniel gave Jack a rueful smile. "I'm sure. It's not the first time people have thought I was crazy, Jack." He looked suddenly thoughtful. "Although it IS the first time it's been true, now that I think about it. Huh."
Jack felt himself relax. The Comeback Kid struck again. Unexpectedly, inexplicably, Daniel was fine. Again. Really and truly.
Cool.
Jack grinned. "Well, that's all. I just wanted to check in. You can go play with your rocks now."
"Artifacts," Daniel corrected automatically, grinning back, and left.
Jack spun himself around in his desk chair and picked up a rubber band to shoot at the computer monitor. So, no explosion. No bang, no loud crash, not even a whimper. More like a fizzle. But that was okay. Hell, it was more than okay.
It was...fine.
FINIS
