Fic: Fishing, Take Two
Mar. 16th, 2004 08:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
galaxysoupFANDOM: Stargate SG-1
RATING: PG-13
CATEGORY: hurt/comfort, angst, humor
SUMMARY: The first time it was appendicitis and a replicator invasion. What can go wrong now?
SPOILERS: Small Victories, Orpheus, Revisions, Lifeboat, Ascension, Absolute Power, Fallen/Homecoming, Urgo, The Serpent’s Lair, Enemy Mine
AUTHOR’S NOTE: All hail Barb, the Beta Formerly Known As the Goddess of Feedback.
AUTHOR'S NOTE UPON REPOSTING: Originally published in the zine Foundations 5
FISHING, TAKE TWO
Daniel tapped his pencil against the page and squirmed in his chair, glancing at the clock.
One more hour.
He sighed and dropped the pencil. He was never going to get anything done at this rate. It had been a long few weeks, what with Jaffa death camps, Twilight Zone computer-controlled towns, and downloadable personalities. Jack had stumbled across Daniel and Sam chugging coffee at four AM one morning in a vain attempt to prove there really were twenty-four usable hours in every day, and had snapped and told the General they were all taking a vacation whether he gave them permission or not.
The General had fortunately agreed wholeheartedly, and as a result Teal’c was leaving to help Rya’c and Bra’tac through the aftermath of Erebus, Daniel was being summarily kidnapped by Jack and abducted to Minnesota, and Sam was under strict orders to take up gardening. Daniel, remembering Sam’s reaction to Jack’s knitting suggestion during the Orlin fiasco, had winced at that one.
For himself, even taking into account Teal’c’s predictions of disaster, Daniel was actually looking forward to going fishing. His memory had come back almost completely except for the largely blank year of his ascension, and he was pretty much back into the swing of things SGC-wise, but there remained moments of awkwardness with his teammates. Erebus had gone a long way towards erasing those from his friendship with Teal’c, but conversations with Sam and Jack still had occasional stiff pauses and forced good humor. He was hopeful that three days of fishing would help with Jack at least.
There was another part of him, the superstitious part that popped up at odd moments in dark places, that wanted this trip to be a success for a completely different reason. The last time Jack had invited Daniel to go fishing he’d been laid up in the infirmary following an emergency appendectomy, and while logically Daniel knew that his inability to go fishing with Jack had absolutely nothing to do with the gradual deterioration of their friendship over the next two years, he didn’t particularly want to put that theory to the test. Come Asgard or high water, he was going fishing, and he was going to enjoy himself.
There was a discreet throat-clearing from the door to his office. Daniel turned and smiled.
“Hi, Sam. Decided what you’re going to do this weekend?”
Sam grinned and perched herself in Daniel’s spare chair, avoiding the ubiquitous stacks of books and papers with the ease of long practice. “Yes. Don’t tell the Colonel, but I have a hobby that is much more relaxing than gardening.”
“Oh?” Daniel asked warily.
Sam leaned forward, eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “A nineteen fifty-two Vincent Black Shadow.”
Daniel blinked. “Motorcycle?” he hazarded.
“Oh, yes,” Sam breathed. “One of the most spectacular motorcycles ever made. 1000 cc V-engine - ”
“What happened to your Indian?” Daniel broke in quickly, before Sam could describe every last one of the motorcycle’s specs.
Sam gave him an amused look. “I’ve still got it. It’s fixed.”
Daniel hid a smile. “What kind of shape is the Vincent in?”
“It’s a mess,” Sam said happily.
“Daniel Jackson.”
Daniel smiled at the new arrival. “Hey, Teal’c.”
“You have packed?”
“Yes.” Probably overpacked, but whatever. He’d rather have unnecessary supplies than be without something vital, like the first aid kit or the extra candles or the climbing rope or the three cell phone battery packs.
Maybe he could convince General Hammond to let him bring a zat...
“You have... bug juice?”
Daniel blinked. There was only one person Teal’c could have learned that phrase from. “Two bottles. I’ll be fine.”
The corners of Teal’c’s mouth turned down. “There are many bugs,” he said forbiddingly.
“They’re large bottles. I’m only going to be gone for three days,” Daniel reassured him.
“Very well,” Teal’c said grudgingly. “At what hour do you depart?”
Daniel glanced at the clock. “Nineteen minutes.”
Sam bit her lip to hold back a smile. “But who’s counting?” she asked rhetorically. Daniel scowled at her.
“Have you been to see Doctor Fraiser?”
Daniel frowned. “No. Should I?”
“Yes,” Teal’c said firmly.
“Did she send you?”
“No. But it is prudent.”
Daniel blinked. “Why?” he asked cautiously.
“We do so every time we embark on a mission,” Teal’c pointed out. “This is no different.”
“Teal’c, I’ll be fine,” Daniel reassured him. “I had a post-mission check-up yesterday and Janet cleared me.”
“Besides, Janet’s busy with SG-11,” Sam pointed out. “I doubt she’d really welcome you with open arms.”
Daniel winced. Lieutenant Forrester had caught a particularly potent strain of the flu from his niece, passed it on to his team, and they had all ended up in the infirmary puking their guts out. Daniel would be the first to admit he didn’t particularly get along with Colonel Edwards, Unas treaties notwithstanding, but that was the kind of fate he wouldn’t wish on anybody but the Goa’uld.
Teal’c gave a miniscule sigh. “Very well,” he said. “I have accomplished all that is possible.”
Daniel stared at Teal’c in astonishment. “Teal’c, were you trying to give me an excuse not to go?”
“Indeed.”
Daniel had to smile. As far as Teal’c was concerned, Minnesota was Netu, Hadante, and Erebus all wrapped into one, and anyone who ventured into it was either naive or Jack. “Teal’c, it’s okay. I want to go. I’m looking forward to this.”
Teal’c gave him a hard look. “You,” he said ominously, “are mentally deficient.”
“That’s ‘you’re crazy’, Teal’c,” Jack said from the doorway. “And no, he’s not.” He glanced around at the increasingly cramped office. “What is this, party at Daniel’s?”
Sam grinned. “One last goodbye for the condemned man, sir.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “For crying out loud, guys, I’m taking him fishing! He’ll be fine! We’re coming back in three days!” He grabbed Daniel by the arm and began hauling him towards the door. “Come on, Daniel. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
“Bye!” Daniel called over his shoulder.
“It has been an honor to know you, Daniel Jackson. You will be missed,” Teal’c called back.
****
“Geez, Daniel, how much did you bring?” Jack gaped at the large duffel bag Daniel was struggling to toss into the back of his truck.
“I’ve never been fishing before,” Daniel huffed. “I didn’t know what to bring and I wanted to be prepared.”
Jack gave the bag a suspicious look in the rearview mirror as he got into the driver’s seat and started the truck. “There better not be any work in there.”
“Even I’m not that nuts,” Daniel said, fastening his seatbelt. “I brought a book in case it rains, but it’s a novel, I swear.”
“All right,” Jack said dubiously. “Next stop Minnesota! Land of a thousand lakes!”
“Yeah, but how many fish?”
The drive passed quickly. Daniel contented himself with looking out the window at the passing scenery, nodding in response to Jack’s increasingly less probable fish stories but mostly letting himself drift. He tried not to be bothered by the strange looks Jack kept sending in his direction. Getting Jack to admit to any kind of emotional upset was about as easy as getting technology from a Tollan and probably not a good thing to try while Jack was driving, so he’d just have to be patient and wait it out until they got to the cabin. There would be time while they were fishing to talk, hopefully.
Daniel missed the easy banter they used to have. It was still there, but every time they seemed to be really getting into the swing of it, a strange look would come over Jack’s face and he would falter. He covered quickly, but the mood was aways ruined. To his dismay, Daniel hadn’t even been able to figure out if it was some strange Jack-thing, or something he himself was doing wrong that was causing it. It was like his ability to read Jack had gotten lost during the year of his ascension, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get it back.
For the majority of the drive they traveled by interstate, but after a while Jack turned onto a dirt road which switched back on itself more times than Senator Kinsey in a budget meeting. The fact that Jack persisted in taking every curve like he was in the pilot’s seat of a death glider really didn’t help much, and by the time they pulled up in front of a snug little cabin next to a lake Daniel was feeling decidedly queasy.
“It’s not that I’m not happy you got us here in such a short time or anything, Jack, but did you have to drive quite so fast on the last part?” he moaned, clinging to the side of the truck until the horizon stopped moving.
Jack just laughed. “Come on, city boy, grab your stuff.”
Daniel scowled at Jack’s retreating back and hefted his bag out of the truck. “I was raised in the desert, Jack!” he called loudly.
“Nice flat desert?”
“Yes, since you ask. With nice straight roads and nothing to run into.”
“Wuss.”
The cabin was small but surprisingly airy, with a central room that acted as both kitchen and living room, and two bedrooms down a short hall. There was a squat little potbellied wood stove between the couch and kitchen table, and Daniel brightened immediately. Wood heat meant there was less of a chance of getting too cold if Jack’s generator died. All allegations of wussiness aside, human beings were functionally tropical animals, and it was Daniel’s considered opinion that man was not meant to live in a place that required thermal underwear.
He deposited his bag in the bedroom without Jack’s stuff and wandered back into the living room. Jack was doing mysterious things with the pipes under the sink and muttering to himself, so Daniel continued on outside to look at the lake.
There was a short dirt path that went from the front door of the cabin down to a small wooden dock. Daniel stood at the end of the dock and cast an appreciative look over the lake. It was a small lake, as lakes went, really more of a large pond, bordered by woods on three sides but open to the cabin on the fourth. Daniel crouched down and tentatively stuck one hand into the water, pleased to discover it wasn’t even that cold. He bet it would be a lot colder, of course, if he was fully submerged, but so far an accidental dunking wasn’t looking too bad.
Jack’s footsteps on the dock behind him made him turn, almost losing his balance because of his crouched position. Jack stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.
“So... what do you think?” The question was casual, but Daniel thought he saw a hint of nervousness in Jack’s eyes, and it struck him for the first time that Jack might be as anxious to make this vacation work as he was.
Daniel smiled and stood up. “It’s beautiful, Jack. Really lovely.”
Jack beamed at him. “It’s a little too late to do any good fishing today, so I thought we could just get settled in. You up for chopping a little wood?”
Daniel spread his hands. “Show me the way, Fearless Leader.”
Jack snorted and threw his hands up in mock irritation. “See? Why don’t you ever do that in the field, Daniel? On missions it’s ‘But Jack, look at the squiggles!’ ‘But Jack, we just got here!’ ‘But Jack, they might look like beavers but I’m positive that chittering means something!’ Why, why must you wait until we are on vacation to do what I say?”
Daniel followed him up the path, hiding a smile. “I could start arguing with you instead, if you prefer.”
“No!” Jack said hastily. “Or... you could, I guess.”
Daniel stopped. “What?”
Jack turned to glance back at him. “I mean, if it made you feel...” he hesitated and looked away. “Never mind.”
“Jack?”
But the bantering Jack was back, the uncertain one pushed aside for the time being. “Grab an axe, Danny-boy, and make like Daniel Boone!”
Daniel picked up the axe absently, watching Jack closely, but he could find no clues in his friend’s sudden carefree manner.
****
Daniel awoke the next morning to the unfortunately unforgettable sound of Jack singing opera. Loudly. He stumbled into the kitchen blearily trying to convince himself consciousness was a good thing, which failed utterly when Jack hit a particularly piercing note with a lusty exuberance that made Daniel want to bash him over the head.
Fortunately, Jack was well-used to Daniel’s waking-up habits. The opera continued, but at a reduced volume, and a large cup of steaming coffee was placed ceremoniously on the table. Daniel gulped his coffee and grudgingly decided he’d let Jack live another day. There was no guarantee he’d be so gracious the next morning, though. Jack had better pray they didn’t run out of coffee.
“Good morning, Daniel,” Jack sang when it appeared Daniel had managed to reconnect most of his neurons. Daniel gave him a black look. “Whaddya want for breakfast?”
“I’m not hungry,” Daniel grumbled, slouching protectively over his mug. “The opera killed my appetite.”
“Your generation is sadly lacking in culture,” Jack groused, setting his plate down across from Daniel. “At least Teal’c has good taste.”
Daniel snorted. “Teal’c likes the Backstreet Boys, Jack.”
Jack dropped his fork. “He what?!”
Daniel smirked. “Gotcha.”
Jack retrieved his fork and shook it ominously in Daniel’s direction. “You better watch it, Daniel. In Minnesota no one can hear you scream.”
Daniel eyed him mildly over the rim of his mug. “I bet you didn’t tell Teal’c that before you took him up here.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “First Prime of Apophis and the man couldn’t take a few mosquitoes,” he complained to his toast. “And for the record, he never screamed. Bellowed, maybe a little bit, but that was only when I mentioned I was thinking of asking General Hammond to extend our downtime. Screaming is such an exaggeration.”
Daniel chuckled. “You know, he tried to get me to go see Janet before I left, just so I’d have a plausible excuse not to come.”
“Yeah, well, that’s Teal’c – always looking out for your best interests,” Jack said dryly, and for a moment the haunted look was back in his eyes. Before Daniel could say anything, he shook himself and kept talking. “By the way, have you ever been fishing before?”
Daniel drained the last of his coffee to give him a moment to reorder his unsettled thoughts. “Never. Didn’t I tell you that?”
“Probably,” Jack grinned at him and deposited his plate in the sink. “Go get dressed and I’ll get the gear ready. Wear layers – it’s cool now but it’ll warm up as the day goes on.”
Daniel dropped his mug in the sink next to Jack’s dishes. “Yes, Mom.”
Jack swatted him on the back of the head with his dishtowel. “And don’t forget to make your bed!”
By the time Daniel was done getting dressed, Jack had not only finished the dishes (a very cursory job that Daniel decided he wasn’t going to think about too much), he’d also carried their gear down to the dock and set up two lawn chairs. Daniel was particularly glad to see this because he’d noticed a canoe by the woodshed the day before and just the thought of fishing from a boat made him nauseous. There was something about floating above untold depths filled with who-knew-what that triggered his heights thing like crazy.
Jack spent a few minutes showing Daniel the rudiments of fishing, stressing that it was the act of fishing, not the fish, that was important. The fact that he spent more time explaining the philosophy of the practice than the execution made Daniel suspect that had been the part Teal’c had had the most trouble with. They settled into their chairs, poles wedged in place to allow the least amount of physical effort possible, and as Daniel stared across the lake through heavy-lidded eyes he decided he could definitely see the appeal of the whole thing. It was extremely relaxing. He turned his head to say as much to Jack and found the older man staring at him again.
“What?”
Jack looked away. “There might be some loons out, later. We’ll probably hear them tonight.”
“Jack...”
“Daniel.”
Daniel sighed. “Jack, I swear to God, if you don’t tell me what’s bothering you I’m going to strangle you with my fishing line and dump you in the lake.”
Jack scowled out over the water, and for a moment Daniel didn’t think he was going to answer.
“How much do you remember now? I mean, honestly?” he asked quietly, as if he was afraid of the answer.
Daniel was silent for a moment. The question was not entirely unexpected. Teal’c and Sam had both asked him at some point over the past few months.
“It wasn’t so much that I didn’t remember,” he said finally. “It was that I couldn’t fit it all together right away.”
“What do you mean?”
Daniel pursed his lips. “It was like... when you wake up from a dream and for a moment you’re not sure if the dream was real, or if everything else was. You know?”
Jack thought for a moment, giving his pole a contemplative flick. “I guess.”
Daniel sighed. “Okay, look at it this way. What’s the stuff you remember that makes you you?”
Jack gave him a sideways look. Daniel decided to spare him the agony of touchy-feeliness and answered the question himself. “You remember the major events of your life, right? Like... getting married. Graduating from college. In your case, joining the Air Force. Everything else you remember is still there, but it’s not as present. With me so far?”
Jack nodded. “I think so.”
“I didn’t have that,” Daniel said, rubbing the handle of his fishing pole with one finger. “It was all equal. The important stuff was just as important as a trip to the supermarket, or a dream I’d had, and for a while I couldn’t even be sure what was real and what wasn’t.”
Jack nodded. “I think I see what you mean,” he said slowly. “That’s what you were talking about when you said that thing in the locker room right after you’d gotten back, right?”
“About remembering enough?” Daniel asked. “Yeah. The team stuff I could be pretty sure of. It was other things, like the stuff that happened in the dreams Sha’re and Shifu gave me, that were really messing me up. It took me a while to convince myself I hadn’t actually blown up Moscow.”
Jack snorted. “I can see how that might have been confusing.”
Daniel nodded. “So it wasn’t as much remembering the events themselves, it was remembering where they all fit.”
Jack gave him another sideways look. “But you remember now, right?”
Daniel smiled. “Test me.”
Jack sat up a bit more. “Okay. Um... Chicago.”
“A city in Illinois. I went to grad school there, and you lived there when you weren’t in Minnesota.”
“Urgo.”
“Invisible annoying guy who reminded Sam of her Uncle Irving.” He frowned. “Can you imagine Jacob having a brother Irving?”
“Maybe it was her mom’s brother.”
“Hmmm.”
Jack chuckled. “Anise.”
Daniel grimaced. “Tok’ra Barbie. Why are you choosing all the really obnoxious people?”
Jack gave him a mischievous look. “Spacemonkey.”
“See, that’s not fair, because I never understood that,” Daniel complained. “But trust me, there’s no way I could ever forget it. Not with Ferretti around to remind me at every possibly embarrassing moment.”
Jack laughed. “Okay, I believe you.” He settled back in his chair and closed his eyes.
Daniel gave him a fond look and picked up his near-empty water bottle, waving it in Jack‘s direction. “I’m going to go refill. You need anything from the cabin, Jack?”
Jack didn’t even bother to open his eyes. “Mmm. No.”
Daniel stood and hesitated. Jack cracked one eye open. “Something wrong?”
“I’m glad you asked me to come. I mean, I like it here.”
Jack glanced at him with a small smile, and then stared out over the lake. “Well, then I’m glad you came,” he said, deliberately diffident. Daniel smiled and turned towards the cabin.
It was a step – and a bigger one than he’d been expecting, actually. He knew from experience it did no good to rush Jack on these sorts of things. Patience was the key... and stubbornness, and an in-depth knowledge of Jack’s personality, and frequently a great deal of liquor, when all else failed. He just hoped he’d gotten back enough of his rapport with Jack to pull it off.
He ambled into the kitchen and stuck his water bottle under the tap. He’d been a little surprised that Jack hadn’t brought beer on this trip, since that seemed to be such a culturally ingrained part of the fishing experience, but Jack had explained that fishing was about being peaceful and beer would just get in the way. Daniel imagined it was like Teal’c and his meditating, or Sam and her bike. It was an opportunity to concentrate so completely on one thing that everything else faded away for a while.
A sudden wave of nausea caught him by surprise. He dropped the water bottle, feeling the bile rising in the back of his throat, and barely made it to the bathroom before losing what little breakfast he’d had.
He hung panting over the toilet bowl and fought the urge to cry in frustration. He was not going to have the flu. It was just too unfair. This vacation was supposed to be the anti-first-fishing-trip. It was supposed to be fun, and relaxing, and repair his friendship with Jack instead of ruining it.
He dry-heaved and slumped back on his heels, his arms wrapped protectively around his chest. Flu. Goddamn stomach flu. Goddamn Lieutenant Forrester and his sick niece, anyway.
Why was it always him?
He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and stood up unsteadily. He would be fine. It was just the flu. He would be careful to drink a lot of water so he wouldn’t get dehydrated, and above all he would not tell Jack. He rinsed his mouth out, applying a judicious amount of toothpaste, and studied himself in the mirror. A little pale, perhaps, but he could blame that on fatigue.
He returned to the kitchen, turning off the still-running kitchen sink and fastening the top of his water bottle, moving on autopilot. He took a deep breath and went back down to the dock.
As soon as he left the cabin he could see that something had happened. Jack was out of his chair, kneeling at the edge of the dock, Daniel’s pole lying haphazardly beside him. Daniel set down his water and peered over Jack’s shoulder.
“What happened?”
Jack turned to smile at him. “You caught a fish, Daniel. Or rather, your pole caught a fish. Pretty good-looking bass, too. Fresh fish for dinner tonight!”
Daniel forced a smile. “Cool! Wish I’d been here for it.”
Jack grinned. “Well, I could always stick it back on the hook and throw it in so you could pull it out yourself, but it would lose a bit of the urgency.”
Daniel chuckled. “That’s okay, I’ll just take your word for how exciting it all was.”
Jack reached over to his tackle box and pulled out a knife. Deftly positioning the fish with one hand, he sliced it open, obviously preparing to gut it.
Daniel turned away quickly, swallowing hard. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. In through the mouth, out through the nose. Deep breaths. He was not going to throw up.
“Daniel? You okay?”
“Fine.”
Concern laced Jack’s voice. “I can do this inside.”
Daniel gave him a wan smile. “That’s okay, Jack. I think I’ll just explore the woods for a few minutes. Let me know when you’re done.”
“If you’re sure,” Jack said doubtfully.
“I’m sure,” Daniel reassured him. “It just caught me by surprise is all.”
He made his way hastily into the woods and sank down at the foot of a large oak tree, resting his forehead on his knees. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Gradually, the nausea faded and he got back to his feet.
That had been close. It was a good thing he’d had the fish to blame.
When he returned to the dock, all evidence of the fish had been cleared away. Jack gave him more concerned looks and was inclined to hover, until finally Daniel snapped at him and he relaxed. It was a mark of their rather bizarre relationship, Daniel reflected as he sat in his chair and tried not to move too much, that losing his temper could restore equilibrium instead of upsetting it.
Neither of them caught anything else for the rest of the day, and by the time they packed up their gear and returned to the cabin Daniel’s nausea had mostly disappeared. Daniel was particularly glad of this last development because lack of appetite, like lack of sleep, was one of the things most guaranteed to send Jack into full-blown overprotective sheltering team-leader-Mother-hen mode.
“What can I do to help?”
Jack stepped hastily in front of the half-prepared fish. “Why don’t you set the table?”
Daniel rolled his eyes. “It just surprised me, Jack. You don’t have to start thinking I’ll get sick every time I see a fish.” He reached past Jack and grabbed a knife, prodding the fish carcass. “See? No problem.”
Jack snatched back the knife and gave him an annoyed look. “You turned green, Daniel. You looked like Kermit. I’ve never seen anyone turn green like that before.”
“I did not turn green,” Daniel scoffed as he took some plates out of the cupboard.
“You did,” Jack insisted, turning back to his fish. “I was afraid I was going to have to explain all sorts of weird things to Fraiser when we got back.”
“You’re exaggerating,” Daniel sing-songed, coming back for the silverware. “I was slightly pale at best.”
“I do not exaggerate,” Jack said with great dignity. “I embellish. I improve upon existing situations. I do not exaggerate and I most certainly do not lie.”
“Of course not,” Daniel agreed.
Jack slid the fish into a pan with a flourish. “The fish’ll be ready in a couple minutes. Want to make the salad?”
“Sure.” Daniel opened the refrigerator and got out the salad drawer, immediately regretting it when bending over made his stomach roil. He took a few deep breaths and stood up slowly, putting the drawer on the counter.
There. He could do this. No problem.
“What do you think Carter’s doing this weekend?” Jack asked. “I told her to plant something but she didn’t seem that interested in gardening. Actually, I think she was about a minute away from telling me where to plant my suggestion.”
Daniel laughed and chopped carrots. “Well, she told me, but she also made me promise not to tell you, so you’re out of luck.”
“Oh, come on,” Jack said, leaning around Daniel to steal a slice of cucumber. “She’ll never know.”
Daniel smacked his hand away. “You’re kidding, right? You remember what happened last time.”
Jack shuddered, and Daniel grimaced in agreement. It had taken weeks for him to get the purple dye out of his hair, and although the new look had certainly gotten him ‘cool’ points with Cassie and her friends the reactions of the soldiers on base and certain alien allies (most notably Selmak, who seemed to share Jacob’s warped sense of humor) had left a little something to be desired. Not, overall, something he’d care to try again.
Daniel finished with the salad and set it on the table, fending off Jack’s attempts at the cucumbers.
“No! Hey! Get your own!”
“They are my own,” Jack complained, retreating to the kitchen. “Fish’s ready. Sit down and I’ll bring it out.”
Daniel did as he was bidden and put his napkin in his lap. Jack set down a plate of fish in front of him with all the panache of a waiter in an expensive restaurant.
“Monsieur,” he said, in a truly hideous French accent, “Le diner, it is served.”
Daniel glanced down at the fish, swallowed hard, and bolted for the bathroom. He was vaguely aware of Jack calling after him but he didn’t stop, throwing himself down in front of the toilet and losing all the water he’d managed to drink that afternoon. He felt Jack’s hand on his back, rubbing gently as he dry-heaved, and then a cool cloth on the back of his neck as he finally stopped retching and sank back, trembling.
“You done?” Jack’s voice asked softly.
Daniel nodded, wiping his mouth with the washcloth. “I’m fine.”
He felt Jack’s hand on his forehead. “You feel a little warm. How long have you been sick?”
Daniel sighed and shifted around until he could rest his head on his knees. “Since this morning. I’m really sorry, Jack.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah, damn you for getting the flu on purpose, Daniel.” He gave Daniel’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “Why don’t you go get in bed?”
Daniel lifted his head and opened his eyes. “I’m fine, Jack. I don’t need to go to bed.”
Jack gave him a friendly smile. “Your choices are the couch or the bed, Daniel. The bed is closer to the bathroom and the couch is closer to the food. Take your pick.”
Daniel swallowed, feeling his nausea return a bit. “Bed.”
“Thought you’d see it my way. Can you get up?”
Daniel nodded. “Yes. I’m not that sick, Jack.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “I’m going to get you some water and if you aren’t in bed by the time I get back we are going to have words, Daniel. Unhappy words.”
“Mother hen,” Daniel muttered.
Despite his protestations, it did feel really good to lie down. The world was a little less inclined to spin when he wasn’t standing, and being able to stay perfectly still was definitely a good thing for his stomach. He burrowed under the covers and sighed.
Great. Way to kill a vacation, Daniel.
A noise at the door made him open his eyes. It was Jack, armed as promised with a glass of water. He set it on the table next to Daniel’s head.
“This is for when you’re feeling up to it. Drink slowly and in small amounts, but don’t forget to hydrate.” He reached back outside the door and produced a bucket, setting it down on the floor. “And this is for when you feel sick again.”
Daniel smiled. “Thanks, Jack.”
“Don’t mention it.” He patted Daniel on the shoulder. “I’m going to be outside, but don’t hesitate to shout if you need anything, okay? I mean it.”
“Okay.”
Jack gave his shoulder a last pat. “Now go to sleep,” he said. He got to the door, hesitated, and abruptly turned back. Daniel blinked at him in surprise.
“Jack?”
“I’m... I’m glad you’re back.” He gave Daniel a pained smile, and made a break for the door.
“Jack - ” Daniel sat up, reaching for him, and the room swooped. He closed his eyes and held on to the quilt with both hands waiting for his nausea to die down again.
Jack grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back down on the bed. “Geez, Daniel, when I said go to bed I didn’t mean do sit-ups.”
“Ha, ha,” Daniel said thickly, trying to convince himself not to throw up.
“You going to be sick?”
Daniel swallowed and shook his head.
“Good.” Jack straightened. “Now go to sleep.”
Daniel let him go this time. He had a sneaking suspicion that any further opening of his mouth would lead to nastily unpleasant things, and he really didn’t think military hand signals were eloquent enough for situations like this one.
The next few hours passed mostly in a blur. Daniel catnapped, rousing himself only to take a few more sips of water, and measured time by the growing shadows in the room. He managed almost half the glass of water before getting sick again. Jack was there immediately, having been apparently listening from the kitchen for any sounds from Daniel’s room.
“It’s okay,” he said supportively. “Fraiser says it gets worse before it gets better, so just think of this as getting better.”
Daniel coughed and spat. “You called Janet?” he asked wearily.
“Yeah. She says it’s on-world flu as opposed to off-world, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
Daniel gave a little huff of laughter and slumped back on his pillow. “Our lives are so weird,” he groaned.
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“Jack?” He waited for Jack to look at him. “I’m glad I’m back. I mean... you don’t have to worry I’m going to try and leave again. I won’t.”
For a split second, Jack looked startled, and then he grinned and poked Daniel in the arm. “Ah, you’re just saying that because I’m letting you puke in my best bait bucket.”
Daniel winced. “I know this wasn’t the vacation you had planned.”
Jack raised one eyebrow. “Okay, first of all: I’d much rather have you get sick here when I can keep an eye on you than alone or off-world. Second: if you apologize one more time I’m going to make you sleep on the dock, flu or no flu.”
Daniel held his gaze. “Okay. No more apologizing.”
Jack smiled slightly. “That’ll be the day.” He reached out and felt Daniel’s forehead again. “You feel warmer. Think you could handle a thermometer for a few minutes?”
Daniel nodded, and a thermometer was quickly produced. Jack eyed it, frowning.
“So, am I going to live?”
Jack waved the thermometer to reset it. “Oh, you’ll live to lecture another day. Unfortunately.”
Daniel glared at him. “If you’re not nice to me I’ll throw up on you.”
“On second thought, go back to apologizing.”
True to Janet’s word, it got worse. Daniel gave up on the water – it made him sick as soon as it hit his stomach. His abused back and abdominal muscles protested every time he threw up, and it felt like he’d pulled something in his stomach which throbbed every time he moved. He was pretty sure from the increasing severity of Jack’s frown that his fever was getting higher, too. Time faded into a miserable fog of nausea and exhaustion as he shivered abjectly under two of Jack’s heaviest quilts.
Jack’s hand on his shoulder shook him out of a light doze.
“Think you can get up?”
Daniel blinked blearily at him. Jack looked worried. “Why?” he rasped.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“No, I’m fine, really,” Daniel mumbled, and then got sick again. When he was done, Jack pulled him into a sitting position, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. Daniel was vaguely aware of Jack putting his sneakers on his feet and tying the laces for him, and then he was back, one arm around Daniel’s waist.
“Okay, Daniel. Up you get.”
They shuffled through the house and out to the truck, Daniel hunched over and shivering in the cold early morning air. Jack installed him in the passenger seat of the truck and disappeared for a moment, returning to place the bucket in Daniel’s lap. Daniel leaned his head against the window of the truck and closed his eyes.
****
The sting of an IV in his hand, that was always the first clue. Then there was the smell: antiseptic, with a faint edge of lemon that suggested a civilian hospital, not a military one. Daniel wondered if it was a bad sign he could tell what kind of medical facility he was in by smell alone, and decided it was okay because it at least meant he was alive.
He opened his eyes. Definitely civilian – a military hospital wouldn’t be caught dead with pale pink walls and a stencilled flower trim.
His gaze rose to take in the small forest of IV bags hanging above his bed. He was guessing at least one of them was something to get rid of nausea, because he actually felt pretty good. A little fuzzy-headed, but good.
“Hey, you awake?”
He turned his head to find Jack sitting in a chair next to his bed. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“How long have you been here?”
Jack shrugged. “Couple of hours. Not too long.”
Daniel eyed the impressive stack of magazines strewn on the floor around Jack’s chair and decided not to call his bluff. “They let you stay?”
Jack grinned. “I played the national security card.”
Daniel frowned. “Wasn’t that a little...” his voice trailed off as he searched for the word.
“Not really, Daniel.” Jack leaned forward. “You are officially the first person on this planet to have two appendectomies.”
Daniel stared at him. “That’s not funny, Jack.”
Jack waved one hand. “Trust me, you’ll laugh in a few years.” He settled back in his chair. “Apparently Oma did a little too good a job putting you back together when you descended – you ended up with the appendectomy scar and the appendix. Fraiser didn’t think to check because the scar was still there, and there was no reason to suspect you were regenerating.” He looked amused by the whole thing, damn him.
“But it didn’t feel the same,” Daniel protested.
Jack just shrugged. “Apparently it was still a normal progression, according to Fraiser. You even told me your stomach hurt, remember?”
Daniel’s jaw dropped. “I thought I pulled a muscle,” he said faintly.
Jack smirked. “Incidentally, the doc who did your appendectomy told me he was able to go in through your existing scar, so there shouldn’t be any new marks there. He was quite curious as to how you came to have one in the exact right spot for an appendectomy if you still had your appendix, so I told him you’d been in a car crash.”
Daniel was still staring at the ceiling. “I had appendicitis twice,” he repeated in shock. “I’m going to kill Oma.”
“Can you do that?” Jack asked, sounding mildly curious.
“I’ll find out,” Daniel said grimly. “And I think I’d better start having preventative appendectomies a few weeks before we go fishing, just in case. Fishing with you doesn’t seem to be very good for my internal organs.”
Jack looked relieved. “You want to go fishing again?”
“Of course,” Daniel said reassuringly. “It was fun until the appendix went.”
Jack beamed at him. “Great! Because I think I can convince Janet to give us all some down time while you recover, considering what happened last time.”
Daniel grinned back.
“Oh!” Jack slapped his forehead. “Before I forget: Teal’c said to tell you ‘I informed you an incident such as this might occur.’ I’m going to go out on a limb and say that’s a Jaffa told-you-so. And Carter’s around here, somewhere. She came as soon as she heard.” He glanced at the door and leaned in conspiratorially. “You know she came on a motorcycle?”
“No kidding,” Daniel said dryly.
“Carter,” Jack repeated. “On a motorcycle.” He peered at Daniel, as if to make sure he was really getting it. “Carter on a motorcycle, Daniel.”
“I got it, Jack, thanks.”
“No, you don’t,” Jack grinned. “What do you think Jacob’s going to say when he finds out? I see Get-Out-of-Lecture-Free passes in our future.”
Daniel laughed and winced, holding his side. “Oh, geez.”
“Oh, hey, and I brought your book,” Jack said, digging around the pile of magazines. “In case you get bored, you know.”
Daniel took the book. “Thanks, Jack.”
Jack gave it a dubious look. “What is it? It’s in Russian. I couldn’t tell.”
“War and Peace.”
Jack stared at him for a moment, then took the book back. “I’m confiscating this. War and Peace in Russian is not relaxing, Daniel, it’s torture.”
Daniel rolled his eyes. “Maybe for you, Jack.”
“No,” Jack shook his head emphatically. “Not for me. I don’t speak Russian.” He waved one hand dismissively. “Now go back to sleep so I can keep reading my magazine.”
“I can see why Janet kicks you out of the infirmary so much,” Daniel muttered.
“I hear talking, Daniel,” Jack said, not looking up from his reading. “Unless you’re talking in your sleep I don’t want to hear it.”
“Scratch that. You’d make a great Napoleonic Power Monger.”
“Not so. I am at least eight inches too tall. And why are you still talking?”
Daniel stuck his tongue out in Jack’s general direction and obediently closed his eyes. He fell asleep to the gentle sound of rustling magazine pages, and Jack’s occasional muttered reaction to whatever he was reading.
THE END
RATING: PG-13
CATEGORY: hurt/comfort, angst, humor
SUMMARY: The first time it was appendicitis and a replicator invasion. What can go wrong now?
SPOILERS: Small Victories, Orpheus, Revisions, Lifeboat, Ascension, Absolute Power, Fallen/Homecoming, Urgo, The Serpent’s Lair, Enemy Mine
AUTHOR’S NOTE: All hail Barb, the Beta Formerly Known As the Goddess of Feedback.
AUTHOR'S NOTE UPON REPOSTING: Originally published in the zine Foundations 5
FISHING, TAKE TWO
Daniel tapped his pencil against the page and squirmed in his chair, glancing at the clock.
One more hour.
He sighed and dropped the pencil. He was never going to get anything done at this rate. It had been a long few weeks, what with Jaffa death camps, Twilight Zone computer-controlled towns, and downloadable personalities. Jack had stumbled across Daniel and Sam chugging coffee at four AM one morning in a vain attempt to prove there really were twenty-four usable hours in every day, and had snapped and told the General they were all taking a vacation whether he gave them permission or not.
The General had fortunately agreed wholeheartedly, and as a result Teal’c was leaving to help Rya’c and Bra’tac through the aftermath of Erebus, Daniel was being summarily kidnapped by Jack and abducted to Minnesota, and Sam was under strict orders to take up gardening. Daniel, remembering Sam’s reaction to Jack’s knitting suggestion during the Orlin fiasco, had winced at that one.
For himself, even taking into account Teal’c’s predictions of disaster, Daniel was actually looking forward to going fishing. His memory had come back almost completely except for the largely blank year of his ascension, and he was pretty much back into the swing of things SGC-wise, but there remained moments of awkwardness with his teammates. Erebus had gone a long way towards erasing those from his friendship with Teal’c, but conversations with Sam and Jack still had occasional stiff pauses and forced good humor. He was hopeful that three days of fishing would help with Jack at least.
There was another part of him, the superstitious part that popped up at odd moments in dark places, that wanted this trip to be a success for a completely different reason. The last time Jack had invited Daniel to go fishing he’d been laid up in the infirmary following an emergency appendectomy, and while logically Daniel knew that his inability to go fishing with Jack had absolutely nothing to do with the gradual deterioration of their friendship over the next two years, he didn’t particularly want to put that theory to the test. Come Asgard or high water, he was going fishing, and he was going to enjoy himself.
There was a discreet throat-clearing from the door to his office. Daniel turned and smiled.
“Hi, Sam. Decided what you’re going to do this weekend?”
Sam grinned and perched herself in Daniel’s spare chair, avoiding the ubiquitous stacks of books and papers with the ease of long practice. “Yes. Don’t tell the Colonel, but I have a hobby that is much more relaxing than gardening.”
“Oh?” Daniel asked warily.
Sam leaned forward, eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “A nineteen fifty-two Vincent Black Shadow.”
Daniel blinked. “Motorcycle?” he hazarded.
“Oh, yes,” Sam breathed. “One of the most spectacular motorcycles ever made. 1000 cc V-engine - ”
“What happened to your Indian?” Daniel broke in quickly, before Sam could describe every last one of the motorcycle’s specs.
Sam gave him an amused look. “I’ve still got it. It’s fixed.”
Daniel hid a smile. “What kind of shape is the Vincent in?”
“It’s a mess,” Sam said happily.
“Daniel Jackson.”
Daniel smiled at the new arrival. “Hey, Teal’c.”
“You have packed?”
“Yes.” Probably overpacked, but whatever. He’d rather have unnecessary supplies than be without something vital, like the first aid kit or the extra candles or the climbing rope or the three cell phone battery packs.
Maybe he could convince General Hammond to let him bring a zat...
“You have... bug juice?”
Daniel blinked. There was only one person Teal’c could have learned that phrase from. “Two bottles. I’ll be fine.”
The corners of Teal’c’s mouth turned down. “There are many bugs,” he said forbiddingly.
“They’re large bottles. I’m only going to be gone for three days,” Daniel reassured him.
“Very well,” Teal’c said grudgingly. “At what hour do you depart?”
Daniel glanced at the clock. “Nineteen minutes.”
Sam bit her lip to hold back a smile. “But who’s counting?” she asked rhetorically. Daniel scowled at her.
“Have you been to see Doctor Fraiser?”
Daniel frowned. “No. Should I?”
“Yes,” Teal’c said firmly.
“Did she send you?”
“No. But it is prudent.”
Daniel blinked. “Why?” he asked cautiously.
“We do so every time we embark on a mission,” Teal’c pointed out. “This is no different.”
“Teal’c, I’ll be fine,” Daniel reassured him. “I had a post-mission check-up yesterday and Janet cleared me.”
“Besides, Janet’s busy with SG-11,” Sam pointed out. “I doubt she’d really welcome you with open arms.”
Daniel winced. Lieutenant Forrester had caught a particularly potent strain of the flu from his niece, passed it on to his team, and they had all ended up in the infirmary puking their guts out. Daniel would be the first to admit he didn’t particularly get along with Colonel Edwards, Unas treaties notwithstanding, but that was the kind of fate he wouldn’t wish on anybody but the Goa’uld.
Teal’c gave a miniscule sigh. “Very well,” he said. “I have accomplished all that is possible.”
Daniel stared at Teal’c in astonishment. “Teal’c, were you trying to give me an excuse not to go?”
“Indeed.”
Daniel had to smile. As far as Teal’c was concerned, Minnesota was Netu, Hadante, and Erebus all wrapped into one, and anyone who ventured into it was either naive or Jack. “Teal’c, it’s okay. I want to go. I’m looking forward to this.”
Teal’c gave him a hard look. “You,” he said ominously, “are mentally deficient.”
“That’s ‘you’re crazy’, Teal’c,” Jack said from the doorway. “And no, he’s not.” He glanced around at the increasingly cramped office. “What is this, party at Daniel’s?”
Sam grinned. “One last goodbye for the condemned man, sir.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “For crying out loud, guys, I’m taking him fishing! He’ll be fine! We’re coming back in three days!” He grabbed Daniel by the arm and began hauling him towards the door. “Come on, Daniel. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
“Bye!” Daniel called over his shoulder.
“It has been an honor to know you, Daniel Jackson. You will be missed,” Teal’c called back.
****
“Geez, Daniel, how much did you bring?” Jack gaped at the large duffel bag Daniel was struggling to toss into the back of his truck.
“I’ve never been fishing before,” Daniel huffed. “I didn’t know what to bring and I wanted to be prepared.”
Jack gave the bag a suspicious look in the rearview mirror as he got into the driver’s seat and started the truck. “There better not be any work in there.”
“Even I’m not that nuts,” Daniel said, fastening his seatbelt. “I brought a book in case it rains, but it’s a novel, I swear.”
“All right,” Jack said dubiously. “Next stop Minnesota! Land of a thousand lakes!”
“Yeah, but how many fish?”
The drive passed quickly. Daniel contented himself with looking out the window at the passing scenery, nodding in response to Jack’s increasingly less probable fish stories but mostly letting himself drift. He tried not to be bothered by the strange looks Jack kept sending in his direction. Getting Jack to admit to any kind of emotional upset was about as easy as getting technology from a Tollan and probably not a good thing to try while Jack was driving, so he’d just have to be patient and wait it out until they got to the cabin. There would be time while they were fishing to talk, hopefully.
Daniel missed the easy banter they used to have. It was still there, but every time they seemed to be really getting into the swing of it, a strange look would come over Jack’s face and he would falter. He covered quickly, but the mood was aways ruined. To his dismay, Daniel hadn’t even been able to figure out if it was some strange Jack-thing, or something he himself was doing wrong that was causing it. It was like his ability to read Jack had gotten lost during the year of his ascension, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get it back.
For the majority of the drive they traveled by interstate, but after a while Jack turned onto a dirt road which switched back on itself more times than Senator Kinsey in a budget meeting. The fact that Jack persisted in taking every curve like he was in the pilot’s seat of a death glider really didn’t help much, and by the time they pulled up in front of a snug little cabin next to a lake Daniel was feeling decidedly queasy.
“It’s not that I’m not happy you got us here in such a short time or anything, Jack, but did you have to drive quite so fast on the last part?” he moaned, clinging to the side of the truck until the horizon stopped moving.
Jack just laughed. “Come on, city boy, grab your stuff.”
Daniel scowled at Jack’s retreating back and hefted his bag out of the truck. “I was raised in the desert, Jack!” he called loudly.
“Nice flat desert?”
“Yes, since you ask. With nice straight roads and nothing to run into.”
“Wuss.”
The cabin was small but surprisingly airy, with a central room that acted as both kitchen and living room, and two bedrooms down a short hall. There was a squat little potbellied wood stove between the couch and kitchen table, and Daniel brightened immediately. Wood heat meant there was less of a chance of getting too cold if Jack’s generator died. All allegations of wussiness aside, human beings were functionally tropical animals, and it was Daniel’s considered opinion that man was not meant to live in a place that required thermal underwear.
He deposited his bag in the bedroom without Jack’s stuff and wandered back into the living room. Jack was doing mysterious things with the pipes under the sink and muttering to himself, so Daniel continued on outside to look at the lake.
There was a short dirt path that went from the front door of the cabin down to a small wooden dock. Daniel stood at the end of the dock and cast an appreciative look over the lake. It was a small lake, as lakes went, really more of a large pond, bordered by woods on three sides but open to the cabin on the fourth. Daniel crouched down and tentatively stuck one hand into the water, pleased to discover it wasn’t even that cold. He bet it would be a lot colder, of course, if he was fully submerged, but so far an accidental dunking wasn’t looking too bad.
Jack’s footsteps on the dock behind him made him turn, almost losing his balance because of his crouched position. Jack stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.
“So... what do you think?” The question was casual, but Daniel thought he saw a hint of nervousness in Jack’s eyes, and it struck him for the first time that Jack might be as anxious to make this vacation work as he was.
Daniel smiled and stood up. “It’s beautiful, Jack. Really lovely.”
Jack beamed at him. “It’s a little too late to do any good fishing today, so I thought we could just get settled in. You up for chopping a little wood?”
Daniel spread his hands. “Show me the way, Fearless Leader.”
Jack snorted and threw his hands up in mock irritation. “See? Why don’t you ever do that in the field, Daniel? On missions it’s ‘But Jack, look at the squiggles!’ ‘But Jack, we just got here!’ ‘But Jack, they might look like beavers but I’m positive that chittering means something!’ Why, why must you wait until we are on vacation to do what I say?”
Daniel followed him up the path, hiding a smile. “I could start arguing with you instead, if you prefer.”
“No!” Jack said hastily. “Or... you could, I guess.”
Daniel stopped. “What?”
Jack turned to glance back at him. “I mean, if it made you feel...” he hesitated and looked away. “Never mind.”
“Jack?”
But the bantering Jack was back, the uncertain one pushed aside for the time being. “Grab an axe, Danny-boy, and make like Daniel Boone!”
Daniel picked up the axe absently, watching Jack closely, but he could find no clues in his friend’s sudden carefree manner.
****
Daniel awoke the next morning to the unfortunately unforgettable sound of Jack singing opera. Loudly. He stumbled into the kitchen blearily trying to convince himself consciousness was a good thing, which failed utterly when Jack hit a particularly piercing note with a lusty exuberance that made Daniel want to bash him over the head.
Fortunately, Jack was well-used to Daniel’s waking-up habits. The opera continued, but at a reduced volume, and a large cup of steaming coffee was placed ceremoniously on the table. Daniel gulped his coffee and grudgingly decided he’d let Jack live another day. There was no guarantee he’d be so gracious the next morning, though. Jack had better pray they didn’t run out of coffee.
“Good morning, Daniel,” Jack sang when it appeared Daniel had managed to reconnect most of his neurons. Daniel gave him a black look. “Whaddya want for breakfast?”
“I’m not hungry,” Daniel grumbled, slouching protectively over his mug. “The opera killed my appetite.”
“Your generation is sadly lacking in culture,” Jack groused, setting his plate down across from Daniel. “At least Teal’c has good taste.”
Daniel snorted. “Teal’c likes the Backstreet Boys, Jack.”
Jack dropped his fork. “He what?!”
Daniel smirked. “Gotcha.”
Jack retrieved his fork and shook it ominously in Daniel’s direction. “You better watch it, Daniel. In Minnesota no one can hear you scream.”
Daniel eyed him mildly over the rim of his mug. “I bet you didn’t tell Teal’c that before you took him up here.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “First Prime of Apophis and the man couldn’t take a few mosquitoes,” he complained to his toast. “And for the record, he never screamed. Bellowed, maybe a little bit, but that was only when I mentioned I was thinking of asking General Hammond to extend our downtime. Screaming is such an exaggeration.”
Daniel chuckled. “You know, he tried to get me to go see Janet before I left, just so I’d have a plausible excuse not to come.”
“Yeah, well, that’s Teal’c – always looking out for your best interests,” Jack said dryly, and for a moment the haunted look was back in his eyes. Before Daniel could say anything, he shook himself and kept talking. “By the way, have you ever been fishing before?”
Daniel drained the last of his coffee to give him a moment to reorder his unsettled thoughts. “Never. Didn’t I tell you that?”
“Probably,” Jack grinned at him and deposited his plate in the sink. “Go get dressed and I’ll get the gear ready. Wear layers – it’s cool now but it’ll warm up as the day goes on.”
Daniel dropped his mug in the sink next to Jack’s dishes. “Yes, Mom.”
Jack swatted him on the back of the head with his dishtowel. “And don’t forget to make your bed!”
By the time Daniel was done getting dressed, Jack had not only finished the dishes (a very cursory job that Daniel decided he wasn’t going to think about too much), he’d also carried their gear down to the dock and set up two lawn chairs. Daniel was particularly glad to see this because he’d noticed a canoe by the woodshed the day before and just the thought of fishing from a boat made him nauseous. There was something about floating above untold depths filled with who-knew-what that triggered his heights thing like crazy.
Jack spent a few minutes showing Daniel the rudiments of fishing, stressing that it was the act of fishing, not the fish, that was important. The fact that he spent more time explaining the philosophy of the practice than the execution made Daniel suspect that had been the part Teal’c had had the most trouble with. They settled into their chairs, poles wedged in place to allow the least amount of physical effort possible, and as Daniel stared across the lake through heavy-lidded eyes he decided he could definitely see the appeal of the whole thing. It was extremely relaxing. He turned his head to say as much to Jack and found the older man staring at him again.
“What?”
Jack looked away. “There might be some loons out, later. We’ll probably hear them tonight.”
“Jack...”
“Daniel.”
Daniel sighed. “Jack, I swear to God, if you don’t tell me what’s bothering you I’m going to strangle you with my fishing line and dump you in the lake.”
Jack scowled out over the water, and for a moment Daniel didn’t think he was going to answer.
“How much do you remember now? I mean, honestly?” he asked quietly, as if he was afraid of the answer.
Daniel was silent for a moment. The question was not entirely unexpected. Teal’c and Sam had both asked him at some point over the past few months.
“It wasn’t so much that I didn’t remember,” he said finally. “It was that I couldn’t fit it all together right away.”
“What do you mean?”
Daniel pursed his lips. “It was like... when you wake up from a dream and for a moment you’re not sure if the dream was real, or if everything else was. You know?”
Jack thought for a moment, giving his pole a contemplative flick. “I guess.”
Daniel sighed. “Okay, look at it this way. What’s the stuff you remember that makes you you?”
Jack gave him a sideways look. Daniel decided to spare him the agony of touchy-feeliness and answered the question himself. “You remember the major events of your life, right? Like... getting married. Graduating from college. In your case, joining the Air Force. Everything else you remember is still there, but it’s not as present. With me so far?”
Jack nodded. “I think so.”
“I didn’t have that,” Daniel said, rubbing the handle of his fishing pole with one finger. “It was all equal. The important stuff was just as important as a trip to the supermarket, or a dream I’d had, and for a while I couldn’t even be sure what was real and what wasn’t.”
Jack nodded. “I think I see what you mean,” he said slowly. “That’s what you were talking about when you said that thing in the locker room right after you’d gotten back, right?”
“About remembering enough?” Daniel asked. “Yeah. The team stuff I could be pretty sure of. It was other things, like the stuff that happened in the dreams Sha’re and Shifu gave me, that were really messing me up. It took me a while to convince myself I hadn’t actually blown up Moscow.”
Jack snorted. “I can see how that might have been confusing.”
Daniel nodded. “So it wasn’t as much remembering the events themselves, it was remembering where they all fit.”
Jack gave him another sideways look. “But you remember now, right?”
Daniel smiled. “Test me.”
Jack sat up a bit more. “Okay. Um... Chicago.”
“A city in Illinois. I went to grad school there, and you lived there when you weren’t in Minnesota.”
“Urgo.”
“Invisible annoying guy who reminded Sam of her Uncle Irving.” He frowned. “Can you imagine Jacob having a brother Irving?”
“Maybe it was her mom’s brother.”
“Hmmm.”
Jack chuckled. “Anise.”
Daniel grimaced. “Tok’ra Barbie. Why are you choosing all the really obnoxious people?”
Jack gave him a mischievous look. “Spacemonkey.”
“See, that’s not fair, because I never understood that,” Daniel complained. “But trust me, there’s no way I could ever forget it. Not with Ferretti around to remind me at every possibly embarrassing moment.”
Jack laughed. “Okay, I believe you.” He settled back in his chair and closed his eyes.
Daniel gave him a fond look and picked up his near-empty water bottle, waving it in Jack‘s direction. “I’m going to go refill. You need anything from the cabin, Jack?”
Jack didn’t even bother to open his eyes. “Mmm. No.”
Daniel stood and hesitated. Jack cracked one eye open. “Something wrong?”
“I’m glad you asked me to come. I mean, I like it here.”
Jack glanced at him with a small smile, and then stared out over the lake. “Well, then I’m glad you came,” he said, deliberately diffident. Daniel smiled and turned towards the cabin.
It was a step – and a bigger one than he’d been expecting, actually. He knew from experience it did no good to rush Jack on these sorts of things. Patience was the key... and stubbornness, and an in-depth knowledge of Jack’s personality, and frequently a great deal of liquor, when all else failed. He just hoped he’d gotten back enough of his rapport with Jack to pull it off.
He ambled into the kitchen and stuck his water bottle under the tap. He’d been a little surprised that Jack hadn’t brought beer on this trip, since that seemed to be such a culturally ingrained part of the fishing experience, but Jack had explained that fishing was about being peaceful and beer would just get in the way. Daniel imagined it was like Teal’c and his meditating, or Sam and her bike. It was an opportunity to concentrate so completely on one thing that everything else faded away for a while.
A sudden wave of nausea caught him by surprise. He dropped the water bottle, feeling the bile rising in the back of his throat, and barely made it to the bathroom before losing what little breakfast he’d had.
He hung panting over the toilet bowl and fought the urge to cry in frustration. He was not going to have the flu. It was just too unfair. This vacation was supposed to be the anti-first-fishing-trip. It was supposed to be fun, and relaxing, and repair his friendship with Jack instead of ruining it.
He dry-heaved and slumped back on his heels, his arms wrapped protectively around his chest. Flu. Goddamn stomach flu. Goddamn Lieutenant Forrester and his sick niece, anyway.
Why was it always him?
He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and stood up unsteadily. He would be fine. It was just the flu. He would be careful to drink a lot of water so he wouldn’t get dehydrated, and above all he would not tell Jack. He rinsed his mouth out, applying a judicious amount of toothpaste, and studied himself in the mirror. A little pale, perhaps, but he could blame that on fatigue.
He returned to the kitchen, turning off the still-running kitchen sink and fastening the top of his water bottle, moving on autopilot. He took a deep breath and went back down to the dock.
As soon as he left the cabin he could see that something had happened. Jack was out of his chair, kneeling at the edge of the dock, Daniel’s pole lying haphazardly beside him. Daniel set down his water and peered over Jack’s shoulder.
“What happened?”
Jack turned to smile at him. “You caught a fish, Daniel. Or rather, your pole caught a fish. Pretty good-looking bass, too. Fresh fish for dinner tonight!”
Daniel forced a smile. “Cool! Wish I’d been here for it.”
Jack grinned. “Well, I could always stick it back on the hook and throw it in so you could pull it out yourself, but it would lose a bit of the urgency.”
Daniel chuckled. “That’s okay, I’ll just take your word for how exciting it all was.”
Jack reached over to his tackle box and pulled out a knife. Deftly positioning the fish with one hand, he sliced it open, obviously preparing to gut it.
Daniel turned away quickly, swallowing hard. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. In through the mouth, out through the nose. Deep breaths. He was not going to throw up.
“Daniel? You okay?”
“Fine.”
Concern laced Jack’s voice. “I can do this inside.”
Daniel gave him a wan smile. “That’s okay, Jack. I think I’ll just explore the woods for a few minutes. Let me know when you’re done.”
“If you’re sure,” Jack said doubtfully.
“I’m sure,” Daniel reassured him. “It just caught me by surprise is all.”
He made his way hastily into the woods and sank down at the foot of a large oak tree, resting his forehead on his knees. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Gradually, the nausea faded and he got back to his feet.
That had been close. It was a good thing he’d had the fish to blame.
When he returned to the dock, all evidence of the fish had been cleared away. Jack gave him more concerned looks and was inclined to hover, until finally Daniel snapped at him and he relaxed. It was a mark of their rather bizarre relationship, Daniel reflected as he sat in his chair and tried not to move too much, that losing his temper could restore equilibrium instead of upsetting it.
Neither of them caught anything else for the rest of the day, and by the time they packed up their gear and returned to the cabin Daniel’s nausea had mostly disappeared. Daniel was particularly glad of this last development because lack of appetite, like lack of sleep, was one of the things most guaranteed to send Jack into full-blown overprotective sheltering team-leader-Mother-hen mode.
“What can I do to help?”
Jack stepped hastily in front of the half-prepared fish. “Why don’t you set the table?”
Daniel rolled his eyes. “It just surprised me, Jack. You don’t have to start thinking I’ll get sick every time I see a fish.” He reached past Jack and grabbed a knife, prodding the fish carcass. “See? No problem.”
Jack snatched back the knife and gave him an annoyed look. “You turned green, Daniel. You looked like Kermit. I’ve never seen anyone turn green like that before.”
“I did not turn green,” Daniel scoffed as he took some plates out of the cupboard.
“You did,” Jack insisted, turning back to his fish. “I was afraid I was going to have to explain all sorts of weird things to Fraiser when we got back.”
“You’re exaggerating,” Daniel sing-songed, coming back for the silverware. “I was slightly pale at best.”
“I do not exaggerate,” Jack said with great dignity. “I embellish. I improve upon existing situations. I do not exaggerate and I most certainly do not lie.”
“Of course not,” Daniel agreed.
Jack slid the fish into a pan with a flourish. “The fish’ll be ready in a couple minutes. Want to make the salad?”
“Sure.” Daniel opened the refrigerator and got out the salad drawer, immediately regretting it when bending over made his stomach roil. He took a few deep breaths and stood up slowly, putting the drawer on the counter.
There. He could do this. No problem.
“What do you think Carter’s doing this weekend?” Jack asked. “I told her to plant something but she didn’t seem that interested in gardening. Actually, I think she was about a minute away from telling me where to plant my suggestion.”
Daniel laughed and chopped carrots. “Well, she told me, but she also made me promise not to tell you, so you’re out of luck.”
“Oh, come on,” Jack said, leaning around Daniel to steal a slice of cucumber. “She’ll never know.”
Daniel smacked his hand away. “You’re kidding, right? You remember what happened last time.”
Jack shuddered, and Daniel grimaced in agreement. It had taken weeks for him to get the purple dye out of his hair, and although the new look had certainly gotten him ‘cool’ points with Cassie and her friends the reactions of the soldiers on base and certain alien allies (most notably Selmak, who seemed to share Jacob’s warped sense of humor) had left a little something to be desired. Not, overall, something he’d care to try again.
Daniel finished with the salad and set it on the table, fending off Jack’s attempts at the cucumbers.
“No! Hey! Get your own!”
“They are my own,” Jack complained, retreating to the kitchen. “Fish’s ready. Sit down and I’ll bring it out.”
Daniel did as he was bidden and put his napkin in his lap. Jack set down a plate of fish in front of him with all the panache of a waiter in an expensive restaurant.
“Monsieur,” he said, in a truly hideous French accent, “Le diner, it is served.”
Daniel glanced down at the fish, swallowed hard, and bolted for the bathroom. He was vaguely aware of Jack calling after him but he didn’t stop, throwing himself down in front of the toilet and losing all the water he’d managed to drink that afternoon. He felt Jack’s hand on his back, rubbing gently as he dry-heaved, and then a cool cloth on the back of his neck as he finally stopped retching and sank back, trembling.
“You done?” Jack’s voice asked softly.
Daniel nodded, wiping his mouth with the washcloth. “I’m fine.”
He felt Jack’s hand on his forehead. “You feel a little warm. How long have you been sick?”
Daniel sighed and shifted around until he could rest his head on his knees. “Since this morning. I’m really sorry, Jack.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah, damn you for getting the flu on purpose, Daniel.” He gave Daniel’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “Why don’t you go get in bed?”
Daniel lifted his head and opened his eyes. “I’m fine, Jack. I don’t need to go to bed.”
Jack gave him a friendly smile. “Your choices are the couch or the bed, Daniel. The bed is closer to the bathroom and the couch is closer to the food. Take your pick.”
Daniel swallowed, feeling his nausea return a bit. “Bed.”
“Thought you’d see it my way. Can you get up?”
Daniel nodded. “Yes. I’m not that sick, Jack.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “I’m going to get you some water and if you aren’t in bed by the time I get back we are going to have words, Daniel. Unhappy words.”
“Mother hen,” Daniel muttered.
Despite his protestations, it did feel really good to lie down. The world was a little less inclined to spin when he wasn’t standing, and being able to stay perfectly still was definitely a good thing for his stomach. He burrowed under the covers and sighed.
Great. Way to kill a vacation, Daniel.
A noise at the door made him open his eyes. It was Jack, armed as promised with a glass of water. He set it on the table next to Daniel’s head.
“This is for when you’re feeling up to it. Drink slowly and in small amounts, but don’t forget to hydrate.” He reached back outside the door and produced a bucket, setting it down on the floor. “And this is for when you feel sick again.”
Daniel smiled. “Thanks, Jack.”
“Don’t mention it.” He patted Daniel on the shoulder. “I’m going to be outside, but don’t hesitate to shout if you need anything, okay? I mean it.”
“Okay.”
Jack gave his shoulder a last pat. “Now go to sleep,” he said. He got to the door, hesitated, and abruptly turned back. Daniel blinked at him in surprise.
“Jack?”
“I’m... I’m glad you’re back.” He gave Daniel a pained smile, and made a break for the door.
“Jack - ” Daniel sat up, reaching for him, and the room swooped. He closed his eyes and held on to the quilt with both hands waiting for his nausea to die down again.
Jack grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back down on the bed. “Geez, Daniel, when I said go to bed I didn’t mean do sit-ups.”
“Ha, ha,” Daniel said thickly, trying to convince himself not to throw up.
“You going to be sick?”
Daniel swallowed and shook his head.
“Good.” Jack straightened. “Now go to sleep.”
Daniel let him go this time. He had a sneaking suspicion that any further opening of his mouth would lead to nastily unpleasant things, and he really didn’t think military hand signals were eloquent enough for situations like this one.
The next few hours passed mostly in a blur. Daniel catnapped, rousing himself only to take a few more sips of water, and measured time by the growing shadows in the room. He managed almost half the glass of water before getting sick again. Jack was there immediately, having been apparently listening from the kitchen for any sounds from Daniel’s room.
“It’s okay,” he said supportively. “Fraiser says it gets worse before it gets better, so just think of this as getting better.”
Daniel coughed and spat. “You called Janet?” he asked wearily.
“Yeah. She says it’s on-world flu as opposed to off-world, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
Daniel gave a little huff of laughter and slumped back on his pillow. “Our lives are so weird,” he groaned.
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“Jack?” He waited for Jack to look at him. “I’m glad I’m back. I mean... you don’t have to worry I’m going to try and leave again. I won’t.”
For a split second, Jack looked startled, and then he grinned and poked Daniel in the arm. “Ah, you’re just saying that because I’m letting you puke in my best bait bucket.”
Daniel winced. “I know this wasn’t the vacation you had planned.”
Jack raised one eyebrow. “Okay, first of all: I’d much rather have you get sick here when I can keep an eye on you than alone or off-world. Second: if you apologize one more time I’m going to make you sleep on the dock, flu or no flu.”
Daniel held his gaze. “Okay. No more apologizing.”
Jack smiled slightly. “That’ll be the day.” He reached out and felt Daniel’s forehead again. “You feel warmer. Think you could handle a thermometer for a few minutes?”
Daniel nodded, and a thermometer was quickly produced. Jack eyed it, frowning.
“So, am I going to live?”
Jack waved the thermometer to reset it. “Oh, you’ll live to lecture another day. Unfortunately.”
Daniel glared at him. “If you’re not nice to me I’ll throw up on you.”
“On second thought, go back to apologizing.”
True to Janet’s word, it got worse. Daniel gave up on the water – it made him sick as soon as it hit his stomach. His abused back and abdominal muscles protested every time he threw up, and it felt like he’d pulled something in his stomach which throbbed every time he moved. He was pretty sure from the increasing severity of Jack’s frown that his fever was getting higher, too. Time faded into a miserable fog of nausea and exhaustion as he shivered abjectly under two of Jack’s heaviest quilts.
Jack’s hand on his shoulder shook him out of a light doze.
“Think you can get up?”
Daniel blinked blearily at him. Jack looked worried. “Why?” he rasped.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“No, I’m fine, really,” Daniel mumbled, and then got sick again. When he was done, Jack pulled him into a sitting position, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. Daniel was vaguely aware of Jack putting his sneakers on his feet and tying the laces for him, and then he was back, one arm around Daniel’s waist.
“Okay, Daniel. Up you get.”
They shuffled through the house and out to the truck, Daniel hunched over and shivering in the cold early morning air. Jack installed him in the passenger seat of the truck and disappeared for a moment, returning to place the bucket in Daniel’s lap. Daniel leaned his head against the window of the truck and closed his eyes.
****
The sting of an IV in his hand, that was always the first clue. Then there was the smell: antiseptic, with a faint edge of lemon that suggested a civilian hospital, not a military one. Daniel wondered if it was a bad sign he could tell what kind of medical facility he was in by smell alone, and decided it was okay because it at least meant he was alive.
He opened his eyes. Definitely civilian – a military hospital wouldn’t be caught dead with pale pink walls and a stencilled flower trim.
His gaze rose to take in the small forest of IV bags hanging above his bed. He was guessing at least one of them was something to get rid of nausea, because he actually felt pretty good. A little fuzzy-headed, but good.
“Hey, you awake?”
He turned his head to find Jack sitting in a chair next to his bed. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“How long have you been here?”
Jack shrugged. “Couple of hours. Not too long.”
Daniel eyed the impressive stack of magazines strewn on the floor around Jack’s chair and decided not to call his bluff. “They let you stay?”
Jack grinned. “I played the national security card.”
Daniel frowned. “Wasn’t that a little...” his voice trailed off as he searched for the word.
“Not really, Daniel.” Jack leaned forward. “You are officially the first person on this planet to have two appendectomies.”
Daniel stared at him. “That’s not funny, Jack.”
Jack waved one hand. “Trust me, you’ll laugh in a few years.” He settled back in his chair. “Apparently Oma did a little too good a job putting you back together when you descended – you ended up with the appendectomy scar and the appendix. Fraiser didn’t think to check because the scar was still there, and there was no reason to suspect you were regenerating.” He looked amused by the whole thing, damn him.
“But it didn’t feel the same,” Daniel protested.
Jack just shrugged. “Apparently it was still a normal progression, according to Fraiser. You even told me your stomach hurt, remember?”
Daniel’s jaw dropped. “I thought I pulled a muscle,” he said faintly.
Jack smirked. “Incidentally, the doc who did your appendectomy told me he was able to go in through your existing scar, so there shouldn’t be any new marks there. He was quite curious as to how you came to have one in the exact right spot for an appendectomy if you still had your appendix, so I told him you’d been in a car crash.”
Daniel was still staring at the ceiling. “I had appendicitis twice,” he repeated in shock. “I’m going to kill Oma.”
“Can you do that?” Jack asked, sounding mildly curious.
“I’ll find out,” Daniel said grimly. “And I think I’d better start having preventative appendectomies a few weeks before we go fishing, just in case. Fishing with you doesn’t seem to be very good for my internal organs.”
Jack looked relieved. “You want to go fishing again?”
“Of course,” Daniel said reassuringly. “It was fun until the appendix went.”
Jack beamed at him. “Great! Because I think I can convince Janet to give us all some down time while you recover, considering what happened last time.”
Daniel grinned back.
“Oh!” Jack slapped his forehead. “Before I forget: Teal’c said to tell you ‘I informed you an incident such as this might occur.’ I’m going to go out on a limb and say that’s a Jaffa told-you-so. And Carter’s around here, somewhere. She came as soon as she heard.” He glanced at the door and leaned in conspiratorially. “You know she came on a motorcycle?”
“No kidding,” Daniel said dryly.
“Carter,” Jack repeated. “On a motorcycle.” He peered at Daniel, as if to make sure he was really getting it. “Carter on a motorcycle, Daniel.”
“I got it, Jack, thanks.”
“No, you don’t,” Jack grinned. “What do you think Jacob’s going to say when he finds out? I see Get-Out-of-Lecture-Free passes in our future.”
Daniel laughed and winced, holding his side. “Oh, geez.”
“Oh, hey, and I brought your book,” Jack said, digging around the pile of magazines. “In case you get bored, you know.”
Daniel took the book. “Thanks, Jack.”
Jack gave it a dubious look. “What is it? It’s in Russian. I couldn’t tell.”
“War and Peace.”
Jack stared at him for a moment, then took the book back. “I’m confiscating this. War and Peace in Russian is not relaxing, Daniel, it’s torture.”
Daniel rolled his eyes. “Maybe for you, Jack.”
“No,” Jack shook his head emphatically. “Not for me. I don’t speak Russian.” He waved one hand dismissively. “Now go back to sleep so I can keep reading my magazine.”
“I can see why Janet kicks you out of the infirmary so much,” Daniel muttered.
“I hear talking, Daniel,” Jack said, not looking up from his reading. “Unless you’re talking in your sleep I don’t want to hear it.”
“Scratch that. You’d make a great Napoleonic Power Monger.”
“Not so. I am at least eight inches too tall. And why are you still talking?”
Daniel stuck his tongue out in Jack’s general direction and obediently closed his eyes. He fell asleep to the gentle sound of rustling magazine pages, and Jack’s occasional muttered reaction to whatever he was reading.
THE END
