“Oh, Daniel…” Sam’s voice at the door lets him know his period of solitude is over. He isn’t surprised that she found him, but he thought he’d hidden better. She hesitates, and then quietly closes the door behind herself to give them privacy. Glass crunches under her boots as she carefully picks her way over to his small debris-free space, and slides down the wall to sit beside him. On second thought, it’s possible that someone heard Daniel lose it and tipped her off. 

Daniel had convinced himself he was going to keep rolling with the punches: Jack being locked away in Antarctica, each and every time the diplomatic talks stalled keeping Daniel from being there too, every day that passes without a word from the Asgard, the regretful apologies from their other allies who all say they don’t know how to fix him or that they can’t get to Earth...

Elizabeth’s refusal to allow SG-1 use of the Gate or cargo ship had been the last straw. He’d headed for the quiet refuge of his office, but when he got there he’d realized that he was shaking with impotent fury; anger he can’t afford to show to Washington or Weir or the world. Almost blindly, he’d gone instead up a few floors and down the hall to a storage room where they keep a whole bunch of stuff that is rarely needed - decorations for staterooms, china and serving dishes for parties, things left behind that had no use elsewhere. 

Daniel had smashed more than a few of them, resulting in the mess that he and Sam are now in the middle of. He drops his head to his knees with an embarrassed groan; the action serves the double purpose of hiding his face and his tears from Sam. Maybe if he ignores her, she’ll go away. Or not, he supposes as she puts an arm around him and leans her head against his shoulder. The silence between them is soothing as if sharing the pain somehow lessens it. 

“I want to hate her,” he confesses, in a voice that is less than steady. 

“I know.” Sam doesn’t sound all that steady either.

“She’s just-” Daniel swipes a hand across his face. “She’s just doing her job. I know that.”

“You’re allowed to be upset,” Sam counters. “You’re even allowed to be mad.”

Daniel shakes his head. It’s a truth, but it’s not the truth. There’s an acceptable level of emotion he is allowed to display for a friend, an acceptable level of demanding that the world put Jack O’Neill ahead of everyone else’s concerns. He constantly has to check himself - does this fit into the neat little box of how a friend would act? How angry is too angry? If he doesn’t walk the line, it won’t matter if they can save Jack. He’ll have either outed them to the military chain of command, putting Jack in a terrible spot, or he’ll have convinced them that Daniel himself isn’t stable enough to keep going off-world, that he’s at risk of falling apart if the worst happens.  

Neither of those is an acceptable option. He shakes his head again. “I-I can’t. I can’t afford to fall apart.”

He hears her take a deep breath, and then she grabs his hand, enfolding it in her own. “Daniel, everybody knows you and the Colonel are more than just friends. Nobody expects you just to be okay,” her voice is gentle, a direct contrast to the way he knows his mouth has fallen open, and his reply is more of a startled squeak.

“What?! No, we’re just...nobody has…” he tries in vain to jerk his hand back from her grasp but she doesn’t let go. He feels like he might be sick. “We’ve been so careful…”

“What?” Sam blinks, her mouth dropping open in turn, and then she turns bright red. “That’s not what I meant. God, Daniel, no, nobody knows that. I meant, some people do or they think they do but it’s not….common...knowledge…” He keeps trying to pull away, trying to get his feet underneath him to flee, but she squeezes his hand again and tugs him back against her side. “Wait, Daniel, just wait a second, okay?”

He stares at her, still appalled, and she just blinks back for a minute, clearly gathering her wits. “Okay, um, I guess first I should tell you that I do know. The colonel-”

“If we’re going to have this conversation, I think you should probably just use ‘Jack’,” Daniel protests weakly. Sam grimaces but seems to concede the point.

 “He didn’t come out and just tell me, but he made his point pretty clear anyway. He didn’t want to, exactly, but he was worried about you, Daniel. He didn’t...if something like this happened, he didn’t want you to be dealing with it on your own.” Daniel looks at the destruction around them, making a strangled sound, and she gives him a sideways look that couldn’t say ‘because this is what happens when you do’ any clearer. But it’s only censorious for a moment before she softens. “You’re not alone, okay?”

She waits until he nods, looking away, and then goes on. “I think Teal’c knows. Or suspects, anyway. I did before the Co-Jack made it clear. But it’s because we know you, not because you’re not careful.”

“Who else?” he mumbles, and he still can’t bring himself to look right at her. 

“Nobody for sure has ever said anything to any of us. If I had to take a guess? I’d say my dad suspects, and Janet did. I wouldn’t rule out Cassie, she’s always been too observant, or General Hammond. Ferretti, maybe.”

The list is thankfully short. Daniel chews on his lip, huffs out a breath. He trusts all of those people, even if they do more than suspect. He would add Walter Harriman to the list - the man knows everything, if anyone knows he would - but that isn’t a cause for alarm either. 

“Really, Daniel, that’s it. Everyone else knows you’re close but most people see brothers, or maybe a familial thing. Everyone here knows what we’ve been through, and what kind of bonds are forged in those experiences. And if they do see something else, people around here respect you and the Colonel too much to entertain much gossip about possibilities getting thrown about. DADT may be a terrible policy,” Daniel snorts his agreement, “and a backhanded weapon in some places, but the people in the SGC have seen too many things and been too many places to be so simpleminded.”

Sam falls silent, letting him digest all of that, starting up a slow massage of his hands and wrists while they’re thinking. She knows how to get him to relax, better than anyone except Jack (and their methods are quite different). The anger drains away, leaving behind just a vast well of sadness and fear. Eventually, he slumps against the wall, dropping his head back on her shoulder. “I’m scared, Sam,” he admits in a whisper.

“He’s safe where he is now. We’ve got time to work the problem. We’re going to save him, Daniel.” She sounds so certain, Daniel lets himself believe her. 

The translation of the Goa’uld transmission takes longer than it should - too much of Daniel’s attention is on Elizabeth’s threat to revive Jack, despite that almost certainly being a death sentence for his partner. His best efforts notwithstanding, he can’t put that out of his mind to focus on his work. 

Relief swamps him when he decodes enough to realize it’s good news for Jack - reinforcements aren’t coming for the Goa’uld today. It’s not good news for Earth, necessarily, because it puts Ba’al one step closer to coming for them when he’s finished with his former friends and other system lords, but Daniel can’t quite bring himself to worry about that yet. Deciding to reward himself with a fresh cup of coffee, he climbs out of his chair and stretches, wincing at the way the muscles across his back pull tight. 

The shrill ring of his office phone interrupts him before he can make it to the coffee machine, grating against the tension headache he was already brewing. One of the technicians had changed the ring tone for him, once upon a time, to something more pleasant but Jack had had it changed back when the less annoying tone failed to rouse him to answer when he was particularly involved in something. Normally it annoys him but today it brings a bittersweet smile to his face as he picks up the handset. 

“Jackson.”

“Doctor Jackson, you are needed in the control room immediately,” Walter speaks into the other end, and Daniel mourns the timing as he sets his empty coffee mug on the desk, acknowledging that desire is going unfulfilled for now. 

“I’m on my way. Tell Doctor Weir I finished decoding this message, and it’s good news.”

He hangs up before Walter can say anything else, and grabs his papers off the desk before running for the elevator. The men and women queued in front of it take one look at his face and step aside, so he’s by himself when the doors close and he stabs the button for level 28, catching his breath on the way. The last thing he needs is to appear discombobulated in front of their guests. He can hear Elizabeth speaking as he climbs the stairs up to the briefing room from the control room. 

“I have just received word that the Asgard have arrived. They want to witness the demonstration of our new Ancient defense technology that you have forced us into. There's still time to call off the attack.”

“We would also like to witness the demonstration,” this comes from Amaterasu, as the Goa’uld stubbornly cling to their bluff. Of course, Daniel is impressed by Elizabeth’s chutzpah, too, to claim the presence of the Asgard, escalating the subterfuge quite rapidly for not knowing what ‘good news’ Daniel is bringing.

“Your ship isn't coming,” he swings around the banister, schooling his face into impassivity. “It was destroyed en route by Ba'al. The collective forces of the System Lords are bowing, and you're losing the war.”

“Then so are you,” Lord Yu counters, a fact Daniel can’t exactly refute. He plants his hands on his hips, preparing to try to do so anyway, but is saved from coming up with a suitable lie when he’s engulfed in a familiar bright light, and the roller-coaster-esque feeling of his stomach dropping out. 

It takes a minute for his eyes to adjust and he blinks at the blurry forms of Thor and Teal’c. “Hey guys,” he greets them with forced cheer. As soon as his balance seems returned he spins around to glance out of the windows behind him, where sure enough Earth glitters below. Apparently, Elizabeth wasn’t bluffing about the arrival of the Asgard.  

That would have been nice to know. Walking slowly towards his friends, he tries to wrap his mind around the bright surge of hope and fear (what if Thor can’t help Jack? this was their last idea) at the same time as he tries to focus on what Thor is telling him. Even when it’s happened to you more times than you care to count, being beamed places unexpectedly always leaves him feeling dazed.

“Our new colony is in grave jeopardy. The replicators escaped from the time dilation device and are threatening to destroy the Asgard.”

“Okay,” he blinks, mentally pivoting. It makes sense that the Asgard are in some sort of trouble, given the way they’d been unresponsive to SG-1’s communications about Anubis and then Jack, but since Thor is here, surely he can spare a few minutes to save Jack? He’s not sure he entirely likes the look on Teal’c’s face, either, though he can’t pin down why. “So, what can we do?”

“Thor believes the Ancient knowledge stored in O'Neill's mind may be the key to defeating the replicators once and for all,” Teal’c offers, which honestly, does sound nice. While the Goa’uld are Earth’s more pressing problem currently, the replicators are arguably a worse one. At least the system lords die if you shoot them right. He sees one problem in the plan, however, and he can’t help but voice it. 

“Jack's frozen,” he points out helpfully, wondering if somehow they have failed to convey this information to Thor.  “Down in Antarc-” The chime and hiss of the Asgard beaming technology interrupts him and he looks over in time to see Jack’s body materialized there, stasis pod and all. He finishes his sentence more out of instinct than any remaining willpower. “-tica.”

Neither Teal’c nor Thor says anything as he walks a couple of steps to the pod, looking down with his heart feeling like it’s trying to win a Nascar race or something. Jack looks the same - which is to say, he doesn’t look any worse than when they’d left him. Which is also to say, he doesn’t look good, but he’s alive, and closer to Daniel than he’s been for months. Daniel bites his tongue to ground himself, to react like a friend and not like Jack’s lover.

“As I was saying,” he spins back around, searching for something to say that won’t humiliate himself, and settles on,  “where's Sam?”

“She was captured by the replicators.” Ah. That would be the look on Teal’c’s face that Daniel was having trouble interpreting. Grief. Their Jaffa teammate is ever stoic, but it sits as heavy on him as it punches Daniel in the gut. It was just a few days ago that she was comforting him, holding him. She can’t just be gone. “The ship was destroyed.”

Would fate be that cruel? Do they get Jack back on the same day they lose Sam? God, what are they going to tell Cassie? She knows how dangerous their job is, knows that they might not come home, but Daniel just thinks she’s had enough loss for a while (or a lifetime). 

While he’s reeling, Thor has climbed down from his podium and walked over to Jack, contemplating the controls on the healing pod silently. It might make him drown in shame later, but he pushes his grief for Sam aside in a heartbeat to focus on what may or may not be happening to his lover. “What are you going to do?”

“I am going to merge O'Neill's mind with the ship's computer.”

He sounds so matter-of-fact about it, but fear squeezes Daniel’s heart with an icy hand. “To do that you're gonna have to defrost him first, right?” He fights to keep his voice even, to modulate the distress into something less like panic. “I bring this up because he was near death when we froze him.”

“Hopefully, the pod will sustain his life.”

“Hopefully?” Okay, so maybe he’s not going to succeed in sounding calm. Teal’c’s eyes are on him, but Daniel only glances over for a second before keeping his gaze focused on Thor. Pleading.

“What other choice do we have?” 

“Well, can't you just save him, like the last time this happened?” That seems easy enough to Daniel. “Just wipe the Ancient knowledge from his mind.”

“And lose any chance of learning a means to defeat the replicators.”

Right. Daniel had, momentarily, forgotten about the replicator problem. “You have no right to risk his life.” If it were Daniel’s life, he would give it for the Asgard without hesitation. To defeat the replicators, and keep countless planets safe, he would give almost anything. But he isn’t willing to give Jack. Not when he’s this close to saving him, again.

“I believe O'Neill would approve,” Teal’c admonishes, and though the words are firm, his voice is quiet. His eyes, when Daniel glances over, are gentle. He doesn’t want to lose Jack either, but he has always been good at the ‘greater good’ concept. 

“We can't make that choice for him no matter what's at stake,” Daniel argues,  “Can't you just extract the Ancient information into the ship's computer? Then we can all benefit from it, maybe even learn how to use the Ancient weapons on Earth.” He feels desperate - his skin starting to feel hot and tight, his heart still racing up his throat, his breathing shallow. He knows these signs, but after living in basically some version of this state for a month, he can function within it. Is it still a panic attack if you’re living it all the time? 

“You cannot even begin to comprehend the extent of what was unfolding in O'Neill's mind.” Thor’s retort is as harsh a tone as Daniel has ever heard from him. Even though the Asgard haven’t always agreed with SG-1, and some of them were certainly less friendly than others, Thor has never been anything but patient with them. “Our scientists, long ago, extracted parts of the Ancient Library of Knowledge and learned much from it. But we have been studying it for as long as I can remember and we have barely scratched the surface.”

A part of Daniel knows that Thor would never risk Jack’s life if it wasn’t the only way he could see to get through this mess. “So it would be looking for a needle in a haystack.” 

“A haystack of infinite size.”

“That's big,” he glances at Teal’c again, who gives him a minuscule nod. Daniel knows he’s going to give in, even if his heart is breaking; he couldn’t stop Thor from doing it anyway, but he’s also realized that Thor could easily have left Daniel Earthside and done as he wished; the Asgard had recognized enough of Daniel’s place in Jack’s life to want his consent, even if he didn’t require it. 

Possibly they should add the little gray guy’s name to Sam’s shortlist of people ‘in the know’. It’s starting to not be such a short list.

“I am hoping O'Neill's conscious mind can provide us with a direct conduit to the information we need.”

Daniel inhales, exhales, inhales again, and rubs his hands over his face, before finally murmuring, “Alright. Okay.”

It’s weird, seeing Jack as a hologram and hearing him as part of the ship. Not as stressful as knowing his health isn’t out of the woods, however; it doesn’t help that Daniel has nothing to do on this big vast ship that is uncomfortably named after him. Teal’c seems content to stand quiet watch over the bridge and Thor seems to be keeping some sort of track of what Jack is doing behind the scenes and Daniel is at loose ends. 

He paces for a while, but he can tell it’s annoying Teal’c. He tries to sit in the viewport and look out at Earth, but he spends just as much time looking back at the medical pod that it seems stupid to pretend, and he gives up and takes up his own guard right beside Jack’s motionless form. With a seemingly endless chain of breathing exercises and intentionally forcing his muscles to unclench, one by one, working from head to toes, he manages a light meditative state. He sets himself to considering a text SG-7 had brought him before Gate travel was suspended, and translating it from memory. He doesn’t surface again until Thor and Teal’c join him beside the pod.

“I do not know how much longer his life can be sustained,” Thor tacks the statement thoughtfully onto the end of something about the computer, and simultaneously an alarm starts going off. 

Daniel looks at the ceiling, which is illogical since the ship is all around them, but he can’t bear to address his partner’s unresponsive face. “Jack, can you hear me?”

“I must revive him now,” the little alien exclaims with some obvious alarm. 

“Wait,” Jack’s voice echoes around them, “Not yet!” 

Daniel struggles to come up with something appropriate to say in response - he’s torn between a scathing scold about Jack’s disregard for his wellbeing or just plain begging. Thankfully, it seems Thor isn’t as ready to let Jack die as his earlier comments led Daniel to believe; the Asgard scans the readout on the device one final time and then presses the big button in the middle. 

It hums, high-pitched electronic noises, and something scans Jack’s head. For a moment nothing happens, but before any of them can consider doing anything about it, the pod opens with a hiss of released air. The airforce colonel inside starts moving almost immediately, the slight movements of someone waking up that had been long absent as he was frozen in stasis. True awareness seems to come to him on a pained groan, and before even opening his eyes he lifts a hand to his forehead. 

“Oy! What a headache,” he grumbles. 

Daniel leans down into the pod, intentionally pitching his voice low in deference to his partner’s complaint of headache. “Take it easy,” he murmurs, “you've been through a lot.” He’s aching to touch, to hold, but he settles for resting his hand on Jack’s closest arm. He can’t just throw all caution to the wind, even if Teal’c and Thor know...something. 

Brown eyes crack open an infinitesimally small amount, as if to test whether the light will worsen the headache. Daniel would tell him not to bother testing, of course the light will be bloody awful, but there’s no way Jack would stay prone and unaware of his surroundings long even if there’s a whole brass band pounding in his head. “What now?” Jack’s tone is one of long experience with the Stargate program and the ways one can end up waking up from unconsciousness. 

Daniel exchanges a look with Teal’c before offering, “What's the last thing you remember?”

After a moment’s consideration, Jack answers. “Getting my head sucked.” He starts to push up, looking less than steady. Daniel leans in and assists, relishing the excuse to touch, to reassure himself that Jack is really fine. Even the brief contact is an instinctual reassurance; his heart rate starts to slow and he can feel himself taking deeper breaths. “By one of those dang...Ancient head suckers…” Jack continues, sounding a little out of breath from the effort of getting upright, “and something about twins.”

Daniel, unsure for a moment if he should be concerned or if Jack is using his off-color humor already to lighten the situation, looks over to Teal’c. The Jaffa smirks. The full expression says at once he is relieved to have Jack alive and well, and also that he, too, finds their friend’s immediate retreat to sarcasm endearing. 

“Teal'c,” Jack has become aware enough to notice that he and Daniel aren’t alone. “What's with the hair?” 

“O'Neill,” Thor interrupts before any of them can find out of Teal’c has an answer to why he has stopped shaving his head. 

“Thor,” Jack is still squinting, but doesn’t allow himself to appear surprised to be in the presence of the Asgard. Maybe he recognized the ship’s ceiling, or maybe he remembers more than he’s letting on. “You got aspirin?”

“You should feel better momentarily and your memory will slowly return,” the little alien intones, instead of just saying ‘no, I don’t have aspirin’. It’s a scolding tone, Daniel thinks. Jack seems to feel the same way about their gray friend’s response, if his grimace is anything to go by. Thor seems to expect Jack to get with the program and tell them what he’d done inside the ship.

“Teal'c,” Jack repeats instead, “what's with the hair?” 

Teal’c looks at Daniel, a clear indication that he believes it’s Daniel’s job to get Jack to focus. Daniel, still reeling with the overwhelming relief and not quite steady enough yet himself to go head-to-head with Jack at his most belligerent, rolls his eyes. 

“The specifications for the device you created remain in the computer. I believe I can synthesize it.” Thor does just that, of course, and something appears just beyond the pod, on a pedestal. It’s obviously a weapon, though of what type Daniel doesn’t care to investigate. If Teal’c and Thor couldn’t figure it out, Daniel’s not going to bother. It looks kind of like a jellyfish on the business end, and that’s the end of his thoughts on the matter.

“Sweet,” Jack deadpans. “What is it?”

“We don't know,” Daniel explains, “but you made it.”

He gets a simple, not entirely unexpected response from Jack. “No.”

“Yes,” he says firmly, gratified when Jack takes a minute to think it over, squinting at the device on its stand. But when Jack looks back up at him...

“No,” Jack, whining.

“Yes.” Daniel, still trying to sound firm. 

“No,” Jack, stubborn.

“Yes,” Daniel stresses, rapidly losing his cool; this isn’t getting them anywhere. Thor agrees, because he interrupts before Jack can say ‘no’ again. 

“You accessed the Ancient knowledge in your mind and instructed the ship's computer to design it.”

“Doesn't mean I know what it is,” Jack points out. 

“It was doubtful at best that he would remember,” if Daniel didn’t know better, he’d suspect that Thor was baiting the colonel, his tone resigned as he continues, “the knowledge of the Ancients is gone.” 

Intentional or not, it works, goading Jack into movement. “All right. Let me have a look.” He swings his legs over the side of the pod and starts to stand up. It’s a good thing Daniel and Teal’c are right there, or he would have fallen on his face. “Ah!” he exclaims as they haul him upright, one on each arm. “Got legs. Wow!” Each step towards the device he is a little steadier, and he brushes off their support for the last foot or so as he peers down at the weapon. “All right, I've got it, I've got it.” 

Daniel and Teal’c hang back as Thor joins him next to the pedestal; nobody speaks as Jack tentatively reaches out, and taps a single finger against the part of it that doesn’t look like a metal jellyfish. “Yeah,” he says, and Daniel thinks everyone in the room takes a sudden inhale, hope flaring at the tone of his voice, but they all deflate when he follows it up with, “I got nothing.”

Thor walks away, back towards his control center. “I will set a course for Orilla. We must make all haste.” A moment later, the ship jolts into hyperspace. Teal’c picks up the device, inspecting every facet of it; Thor pulls the schematics back up on the screen to study. Daniel shoves his hands into his pockets, at loose ends again. 

“You know, I could really use the head,” Jack states to the room at large. They all glance at him, nonplussed. He lets it hang in the air awkwardly for a minute, and then adds, “Daniel? You know where that might be? Ship’s named after you, after all.”

Daniel’s face goes hot and he hesitates, but there’s no barb behind the words, just a hint of impatience. “Yeah, um, this way,” he gestures and they go out into the hallway. “Thor reconfigured one for humanoids when he picked up Sam and Teal’c but it’s a bit of a walk honestly-” he falters, remembering that they haven’t told Jack about Sam. Thor said he would regain his memory but how fast? 

Jack stops too, and turns towards him. Daniel looks up into his face, opens his mouth to say something about Sam, and the words wither on his tongue. Jack’s eyes are hot. Not angry hot - intense hot. Hm. “Danny,” he rumbles, and then he is pressing them against the wall, and Daniel’s kissing him back. When they have to come up for air, Jack rests their foreheads together. 

“Pee?” Daniel manages, though has no desire to release Jack or be let go. 

“Nah,” his partner’s laugh is nearly inaudible, but Daniel can feel it vibrate through them. “Just wanted to get out of the room, so we could do this.”

Daniel’s not complaining, but… “Jack,” he leans away from the embrace, trying to find the right words.  Jack makes an encouraging noise, but doesn’t let go. “Do you remember...about Sam?” 

“Yeah,” he sighs, “I know.” 

Daniel halfway expects his partner to let go, step back, but drops his head onto Jack’s shoulder when the other man just tightens his grip. The tears he didn’t have time for earlier, when grief for Sam was overshadowed by fear for Jack, soak into the warm material of Jack’s uniform and Jack still doesn’t let go. Despite the grief, there is a solace in the human touch he has essentially been without since Antarctica - the occasional hug from Sam or Cassie or hand on the shoulder from Teal’c or Ferretti wasn’t the same - and he feels himself start to unwind, muscle by muscle. 

He even manages a chuckle - he refuses to admit it might sound more like a hysterical giggle - when Jack’s first words when he finally does pull away and steer him back towards the command room are a grim, “Now, when was the last time you really slept?” 

He tries to brush it off and resist Jack’s mothering, but gives in when his partner fixes him with a glare. It’s the one Jack’s perfected over the years that says, ‘don’t bullshit me’ and ‘you might be a civilian but you’re my civilian damn it’ and ‘Daniel for the love of god’ all at the same time. 

Daniel’s not above arguing with it, but today it doesn’t seem worth the fuss. It’s not like he’s going to be the one who figures out the device, and he has nothing else to do while they’re in transit. He finds a chair near the edge of the room and lets himself get his first real rest in at least a month.

Later, after they’ve saved the Asgard, and rescued Sam, and suffered through lengthy med exams, and debriefed, and finally made it home, it’s a different story. Later, Daniel asserts his right to not sleep in favor of doing his own very thorough examination of every inch of his lover’s body to make sure he’s in the same condition he left him in before Antarctica. Jack isn’t complaining at his very physical methods - and even proves his health might be better, after another session of doctoring at the hands of the Asgard. 

Daniel is sure that they aren’t getting more than a few days of peace in any case, but temporary catharsis is still catharsis, and he sleeps peacefully for at least this night.