Daniel is avoiding him.
He’d been in and out of the infirmary while Jack was recovering; at first he’d been installed at Jack’s bedside, with a book in his hand when Jack was out of it, and various more Jack-centric activities when he wasn’t (Jack had found his agreement to read aloud from the most recent issue of a fishing magazine most entertaining). But, Daniel had become increasingly distant the better it seemed that Jack was doing. His visits had tapered off and then stopped entirely before Janet released the colonel.
Following the reports of cornered, growled at marines he traipses from infirmary to the mess, mess to the labs, labs to the training rooms, each time seemingly missing Daniel by ‘just a few minutes, Sir’. It’s getting quite late and he is standing at the elevator, following the most recent report that ‘Dr. Jackson was headed home, Sir,’, when he pauses, and heads back to Daniel’s office on a whim.
The corridors are dim at this time of night, to help simulate some sort of regular circadian rhythm for base personnel, and the office doors are dark as he passes them, since all of the reasonable people who are not on-duty have either left the base or retired to base quarters for the night. But there’s a sliver of extra light shining into the corridor from Daniel’s office, and Jack gives himself a mental pat on the back as he props himself up in the doorframe, arms crossed across his chest, and watches the archeologist hunched over a book, mouth moving silently as he reads.
He’s figured out that Daniel didn’t want to talk to him tonight, he just can’t figure out why.
He goes for the element of surprise and just walks in, closing the door behind him. The halls might be mostly deserted, but if they’re going to have an argument, there’s no reason for the rest of the base to hear it. Daniel’s head jerks up and he blinks a couple of times before he can focus on Jack, coming to drop into a chair on the opposite side of his desk.
“Jack!”
“Daniel.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Did you bribe those marines to lie to me all afternoon?”
“Uh – no.” But to Jack’s experienced eye, Daniel looks a little sheepish, so he leans forward a little and lifts both eyebrows to elicit further information. “I didn’t ask any of them to lie to a commanding officer. It’s not my fault they take everything I say to them at face value.” He pushes his glasses up his nose and marks his place in his voluminous text slowly.
“So?”
“So, what, Jack?”
“So, why are you going out of your way to avoid me?”
“Jack…”
“Daniel?” He responds, gesturing invitingly with his hands, but his friend turns away. Daniel shuffles some papers, shelves a couple of books, taps his fingers on his desk, and Jack prepares to wait him out, slouching in the chair and stretching his legs out in front of him. The linguist shoots him a look of intense annoyance, and then tries to go back to work.
It lasts, but Jack’s rough estimate, about fifteen minutes before Daniel flings his pencil down on the desk and leans forward to growl, “I’m mad at you, okay? Leave me alone and I’ll get over it.”
Jack considers this, then shakes his head. “No can do, Dannyboy. I thought we weren’t doing the long argument and cold shoulder thing anymore.”
“It’s not…you didn’t do anything wrong… you couldn’t have done anything differently, so it’s not the same.” Daniel pushes his hair away from his face, and scoffs, “and, besides, it’s not like I am going to spank you and make everything better.”
They both imagine this for a moment, Jack watching the distaste at the very idea flicker across Daniel’s expressive face, but Jack knows that it wasn’t a serious suggestion. He could never submit himself to Daniel like that, and unlike on Ospar, he can’t just report to one of his own superiors for similar treatment. “No,” he says at last, “but you can talk to me about it, instead of keeping it bottled up inside. We do that now, right?”
Jack offers a disarming smile in the face of Daniel’s glare, and is rewarded with a heavy sigh from the other man, resignation seeming to overtake his anger. “It’s just…you almost died! Twice! I wasn’t sure whether you were coming back from the eight chevron address, or even if Janet could save you if you did, and then a week later while I was on SG-6 you volunteered for what was basically a suicide mission! And – no, Jack, don’t interrupt me. I know that it’s part of the job, it could have easily been me who looked into the Ancient device after Teal’c and you wouldn’t have stopped me; and I know you were the best option to get the time dilation fixed. I know, okay? It’s just that…”
It’s tempting, for a just a moment, for Jack to point out how many times Daniel has almost died, but he successfully refrains. An eye for an eye was never the answer between friends, and he doesn’t actually want Daniel to feel that fear or loss. “Just what, Danny?”
“It’s just that I am not used to being on this side of things.” The linguist gives Jack a faint, lopsided smile. “I know our jobs are risky, and you were just doing yours. Who better to know than me? But I thought we might lose you – twice – and that was hard. I guess it was easier to be mad than scared. I’m pretty sure you understand.”
“Yeah, I do.” Jack thinks he understands what’s going on. With Sha’re still missing, Daniel has few people he cares about on Earth except SG-1, and nobody as close as Jack has become. He leans forward, meeting his friend’s blue gaze squarely. “I expect you to take care with your life, and I promise I will do the same. I won’t die on you unless there’s really, seriously no other option.”
“No man gets left behind.” Daniel mumbles Jack’s mantra, and Jack nods firmly.
“Damn right.” He sits back, studying Daniel, and is pleased to see that he is calmer, his body language more open, and no longer actively avoiding even looking at Jack. It’s gratifying, to be able to talk his friend off the ledge instead of the two of them devolving into senseless argument. Not that he’s under any illusion that they won’t have plenty of disagreements in the future, or that all of them will be handled this well, but a victory is a victory. “So. If you’re done brooding, then, how about you get us out of here? I’m craving a beer and a game, and some non-cafeteria food, and Doc still doesn’t want me driving. You’re my ride.”
“Sure, Jack,” Daniel rolls his eyes and grumbles, but he also turns to shut down his computer and gather his things, so the colonel knows he’s won this round. He swings his arm over Daniel’s shoulder on the way to the elevator and teasingly asks if he happened to record the hockey games he missed while he was unconscious in the infirmary, just to hear Daniel stumble through am indignant denial.
