“We could be on our way to discovering an entirely new Ancient civilization. The best case scenario, we meet actual Ancients who are willing to help us, but if we don't…”

Jack has to pause, giving a long glance at the row of stasis chambers in the corridor. He doesn’t remember being trapped in one, but thanks to however Thor had fixed his brain this time around, he does have some memories of what it had felt like to try to deal with the ancient knowledge. He hasn’t let on about remembering this time, but he has to admit to himself that it’s only a matter of time before something he knows becomes relevant to an issue they’re facing in the SGC and he has to own up to it. 

Daniel won’t be pleased to find that out, because he would surely argue that Jack’s presence here in the Antarctic Outpost would speed along their studies. But there are more important things he has to keep on top of at home, and he knows better; he only remembers random and inconsistent things. It’s not like his brain has become a computer that can scan the entire database at will. Not even the Asgard had managed that. 

Of course, Daniel is going to be pretty displeased with Jack regardless, so maybe he should go ahead and admit it to his partner and let Daniel roll all of his sins into one issue. Right now, his favorite civilian is still distracted by the thrill of discovering the Atlantis gate address, but Jack knows that the implications of the destination being in another galaxy haven’t occurred to him. When they thought the Lost City was a simple Gate trip to and from Earth, Daniel had been on the expedition roster without a doubt…but they can’t afford to send him on a potentially one-way trip. Earth can’t afford to lose his expertise. Daniel just hasn’t realized it yet, and Jack knows he’s in for hell when his lover does.

“General, we need him,” Weir interrupts his thoughts and Jack bristles inside, swallowing the urge to snap at her.

“Sorry, Doc, I need Daniel here.”

Weir gives him a little bit of a knowing look. “I'm talking about Major Sheppard.”

“Oh,” Jack does some mental gymnastics to arrive where Weir has gone, not letting his chagrin show on his face. The last thing he needed to do was add fuel to the rumor mill about himself and Daniel, damn it. And as for the other, he’s only been here for a few hours. What does Weir know of him? It comes back to him slowly, the novelty of Sheppard having woken the chair lost momentarily to concerns about the Lost City. “Don't you have a dozen or so people already who can use the Ancient technology?”

“Yes, with concentration and training, they can make it work, but John Sheppard, he does it naturally.” 

Jack considers this as they pause by the elevator. He hadn’t thought of it before now as being a skill for which they’d have to consider competence, but it’s true that Sheppard’s use of the chair had been as instinctual as Jack’s, which was stark comparison to the near disaster that had been forcing the Scottish doctor into the chair. Daniel hadn’t reported Beckett having any issues with other Ancient technology on the outpost, but the chair was particularly complicated. 

“You know, I've checked into his record,” Jack cautions her. Okay, maybe Jack had tagged Sheppard as a possible SGC recruit already - there was a reason he’d been flying that helicopter today - but he’s not so sure about sending the man on this particular mission. With the new further away Gate address, the new mixed nationality and civilian-led forces, and the possibility of it being a one-way trip, it has a lot of unknown variables even beyond the unknowns of regular Gate travel.  

“I know about the whole supposed black mark in Afghanistan,” Weir counters, having clearly found time to look up Sheppard herself. She wouldn’t have been privy to most of the details in Sheppard’s military file, but maybe she called in some favors or had a friend in the pipeline. “He was trying to save the lives of three servicemen.”

“Disobeying a direct order in the process,” Jack argues, feeling the need as General to at least put the information on the table. He has a feeling about John Sheppard, a good one, but he’s a risk, at least on paper. 

“I have read your own file, General,” Weir reminds him. “Please.”

“Right.” Jack sighs. He knows full well whatever he may say in an official capacity, there are times when the orders aren’t the right thing. He has, as she reminds him, done his fair share of going rogue. It is, if he’s being totally honest, a quality he cultivates in his own people, as long as they have the ability to determine when they really need to go off the plot, and follow orders the rest of the time. Sheppard’s actions to go back for his men despite official orders to the contrary are what put him on Jack’s radar, and if he’s going to take Daniel away from Weir he supposes it’s only fair to let her have his shiny new recruit. “Okay, it's your expedition. You want him, you ask him.”

“Can you pass me the bread knife?” Daniel interrupts his monologue of his day to ask. Jack’s already in the drawer, getting the bottle opener, so he fishes the requested item out and hands it over. The rest of dinner smells ready, and delicious, some sort of pasta concoction that his partner has bubbling up on the stove. “Oh, and there must be some paperwork snafu. I was going over the final expedition roster with Elizabeth and my name got left off.”

The words that flash across Jack’s brain start with ‘shit’ and devolve from there. He thought that Daniel had been going offworld with SG-3 today to look at something they’d found and wouldn’t be around when Elizabeth received approval of her lists from the member’s respective governments, so he’d thought he had more time to find a time to talk to Daniel about it. He’d been trying to prepare a speech that somehow broke the news gently and in a way that emphasized how important Daniel was here, both to the program and to Jack. All of his carefully chosen words escape him now and he just says, “It’s not a snafu.”

“What?” Daniel glances over, confusion written clearly across his face, but goes on cutting slices of bread. “I thought Elizabeth said that was the final roster.” 

“It is the final roster,” Jack sets his untouched beer down on the counter and turns to face Daniel. “Daniel, you aren’t going.”

Daniel’s strangely calm as he sets down what he’s working on and steps away from the counter, turning towards Jack. “It’s Atlantis,” he says, too quietly. 

“You’re too important to risk that way,” he crosses his arms. “Your proteges will have to deal with this trip.”

“If they’re good enough to go on this kind of trip, they’re good enough to stay at the SGC.”

“They’re not you.”

“It’s been my project since the beginning, Jack!”

“It was your project until it involved a one-way trip to another galaxy,” Jack can feel his calm slipping away. Somehow, in the chaos of discovering the address for Atlantis, wrapping up the expedition’s work at the Outpost, and coming home to plan the trip, had Daniel seriously not stopped to consider what it might actually mean, if the expedition couldn’t get back from their destination?

“I need to be on this trip,” Daniel tries one more time, and when Jack just scowls at him and shakes his head something flares in his gaze. “I’ll go over your head if I have to. I never thought you’d abuse being a General like this, to keep me here!”

Jack doesn’t, quite, recognize the feeling in his gut as hurt that Daniel seems to have so little consideration for their relationship or from Daniel’s accusation. It manifests as anger, and he chuckles coldly. “Hammond and the White House are going to back me up on this one, and good luck getting the IOA to take you as a civilian without a government’s sponsorship, especially given your track record for getting into trouble. You’d be more of a risk than they’re interested in.”

That was too far. Daniel’s barb hadn’t been kind, but Jack knows his own words were too harsh when Daniel’s pleading gaze shutters off and he turns and walks away. The front door closes quietly behind him, leaving the General standing alone in his kitchen. Jack wishes he’d slammed it. He scrubs a hand over his face and rakes it through his hair. 

“Shit!”

On autopilot, or near enough, he turns off the stove and the oven. He doesn’t have an appetite anymore, and he doubts Daniel does either. Some of the tension he wasn’t fully aware of eases when he glances into the hallway - Daniel’s car keys are still on the hall table, casually tossed alongside Jack’s when he’d arrived him, so he can’t have gone far. He’ll come back when they’ve both had a chance to cool off and regroup.

When the windows have long gone dark, Jack knocks back the last of the glass of bourbon he’d poured himself - which had come after he’d drained the beer and eaten a serving of cold pasta - and admits that Daniel isn’t coming inside. Staring down into the wood grain of his kitchen table, he gives going to bed by himself serious consideration. But, well, Daniel might not be going to Atlantis but he is scheduled to go offworld in the morning, and nobody’s return is guaranteed when they ste; through the Gate, as experience has taught them the hard way. 

Jack’s learned his lesson from all of the other times; when Daniel leaves Earth, he always wants them to be on good terms. Regret on top of grief was a particularly bad experience. 

Wandering over to the counter, he starts up Daniel’s fancy coffee machine and programs it to make two cups. He wants the fortification of something in his hands, and a bribe never hurt anyone. He’d prefer another glass of bourbon, but his partner is way less likely to waste coffee by tossing it in his face than any other beverage. 

A glance as he walks down the front hall reassures him that he hadn’t missed Daniel coming back inside for his keys, so he makes his way outside. No Daniel on the front steps or drive, and their vehicles are still in the driveway. He walks around to the back - no Daniel there either, which leaves the roof. It’s a bit of a juggle to get up the ladder with two mugs of coffee, but Jack O’Neill is nothing if not a stubborn SOB, and he makes it to the top without spilling any on himself (the landscaping below the ladder might get a bit of a caffeine kick). 

His linguist’s shoulders are hunched up by his ears, his arms wrapped around his body. Classic Daniel body language. Jack’s glad they’re not going to engage in a shouting match, but he hates the lost look nearly as much. Daniel has to know Jack is there - the ladder makes enough damn racket when you aren’t trying to climb up it with your hands full, much less today’s noise - but he doesn’t look up until Jack shoves the mug under his nose and lowers himself into the second chair.

He doesn’t say anything as Daniel studies him in silence, his eyes looking ridiculously large behind his glasses. It’s Daniel who looks away first, dropping his gaze to his lap. “Sorry,” he says quietly. “I didn’t intend to get mean about it. You’re a good officer, Jack. I know you wouldn’t abuse your command like that.”

“Me too. Daniel, everyone wishes you were going to Atlantis. Everybody wants you on their side going into the unknown. But the need is greater here - when the next threat comes for Earth, you can’t be stuck god knows where with no way to get back if we need you to save the world again.” Jack swirls the coffee in his mug, empties it, sets it aside, and forces himself to keep talking. “Your value far outweighs the risk of taking you on missions.”

That earns him a quick flash of a smile, but it’s gone as quick as it appeared, the deep wrinkles reappearing above his eyebrows. “They’re more likely to be able to get home if I go along,” Daniel wheedles. 

“We’re betting against the odds that there are more alien batteries in that galaxy. They could all be dead - even alien batteries can’t last forever. We might never see any of those people again. We can’t afford for that to be you,” he knows his voice has gone sharp, which wasn’t why he came out here, so he forces himself to take a breath, but the rest still comes out as a growl. “No, you know what, forget about the SGC! I can’t bear for that to be you.” He shoves out of the low chair and stalks towards the edge and back, fighting the urge to pace. If he’s sure of anything in life, generally Daniel’s affection is one of those few sureties; but this feels as if Daniel would pick this possible discovery over him. 

Daniel is startled into momentary and unusual silence, his mouth dropping open. When he gathers himself enough to speak, it still comes out in a series of false starts and jumbled thoughts. “I didn’t think…I don’t want to…realize…I would never…Jack,” he abandons his mug on the decking with a clatter and hurries to intercept Jack’s path, transferring his hold from his midsection to Jack’s. “I wouldn’t leave you on purpose. Not even for this. I wasn’t thinking that far ahead, I’m sure they’re going to be fine, I’ve just been focused on how amazing it is going to be, I’m sorry, I’m an idiot. I wasn’t thinking.”

He wraps his arms around his lover, returning the embrace, tightening his hold even as he breathes in on soul-deep relief. “It’s my job to think about it,” he explains. “I hope you guys are right, and the other galaxy is full of batteries, but we’ve been planning for the opposite. Most of the men and women we’re sending have nothing to keep them here. They’re single, they don’t have kids or parents to support, they aren’t irreplaceable in their communities or their jobs. I know it sounds harsh, but…” Jack trails off, the reality of his command decisions heavy in the air between them. 

“You’re doing the right thing. And that’s not me,” Daniel concedes it, his voice full of understanding as he tilts his head up to meet Jack’s clouded gaze. “I might seem like a good candidate on paper, at least as far as my personal life goes, but I’m not single. I wouldn’t leave you for this. And I’m not replaceable at the SGC,” he adds with an attempt at a smirk (Jack won’t tell him it doesn’t work with that soft look in his eyes), “not unless you have a whole battalion of language and culture experts you’ve been hiding in the wings and a big honking budget to pay them all.”

“A little egotistical, aren’t you?” Jack drawls but doesn’t loosen his grip on Daniel even as he teases, “I think McKay is rubbing off on you. Good thing he’s going to be a galaxy away, or we’d have to be worried.”

His lover shudders in his arms, and it’s not because he’s cold. Daniel gets along better with McKay than Sam does (which says more about Daniel’s ability to get along with everyone than McKay’s likeability), but Jack knows the very idea of being that much of a self-centered dickhead is abhorrent to his boy. 

“I am sorry I didn’t think it all the way through before I got mad at you, Jack,” Daniel laments. “I do understand.” He’s a little worried that Daniel took his tease as true censure when he gets that instead of a snarky comeback, but the way his partner sighs shakily and wistfully adds, “It’s just…it’s Atlantis. It might be the biggest archaeological find of our time. I was caught up in my own excitement.” tells a different story. Yeah, he feels bad for tonight’s escalation, as bad as Jack does for leaving it this long, but mostly he’s mourning, and that Jack can understand. Honestly, he wants to go as much as Daniel does, but they are stuck here.

“I know,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry, I wish it was different.” 

Daniel pushes away far enough to look up at him, and finally he smiles, and though the edges are forlorn, his affection is clear and warm. “I know,” he agrees. “I love you, you know?”

“I know.”

The Gate is open, locked onto their first-ever intentional 8-symbol address. The team is assembled in the Gateroom, and they may have been selected with Jack’s no-attachment criteria in mind but they are still among the best and brightest their countries have to offer, and it’s no small thing to send off their first true international mission.

 He gives Weir the final go-ahead and she joins the last stragglers in front of the event horizon, leaving just Daniel standing beside Jack, nearly vibrating with the effort of keeping quiet. She nods a farewell, which is meant as much for Daniel as it is for the General, and steps through with the first two security teams. Everyone else mills around the room, waiting for the go-ahead to follow.

Daniel loses the battle with himself. “Jack, it-it’s not too late for me-” he blurts.

“No,” Jack interrupts him. 

“I can just grab my kit,” he pleads, melancholy bleeding into every syllable.

“No.” This time Jack doesn’t take it personally - he’s sure that it isn’t because his partner wants to leave him, this is just the very thing Daniel has always wanted and the one thing he can’t have right now, and it hurts. Jack understands. He wishes he could put an arm around Daniel’s shoulders, or squeeze his hand, but he has to settle for bumping his shoulder into his lover’s and waiting; he has to settle for exchanging a long and understanding look when Daniel lifts his head. But that’s all he needs - Daniel understands, and Jack gets a half-hearted smile before he has to turn away, towards the stairs. He has a last present to send through the Gate before it closes.