DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions; all the powers that be, not me; This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement intended. The story is the property of the author and may not be posted without the author's consent.
SPOILERS: minor ones to Need, Maternal Instinct, Abyss, the Changeling, Full Circle
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I wrote the major part of this fic as a season 7 fic before season 7 had started airing. As a matter of fact, I haven't seen anything of the 7th season yet, so I am merely speculating on the events…. Somehow I believe that it will fit in somewhere. Thanks to Tanya, Mary, Elizabeth and Judy for all their help.

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Daniel Jackson sat in his car, parked on the street where his CO and friend Colonel Jack O'Neill lived. From where he was, he had an excellent view of the house. He'd brought a cup with hot steaming coffee and was sipping out of the mug while keeping his eye on the upper level bedroom window.

It was way past midnight.

It was pitch dark outside and Daniel had deliberately parked well away from any compromising streetlights.

Jack, Daniel knew, had gone to bed around half past twelve. The lights in the house were all out, but Daniel also knew the pattern by now.

They wouldn't stay out for long.

Daniel had been parked out here for four nights in a row now, and if his theory proved to be correct, just as in each of the previous nights, the lights would go back off and on many times.

Jack wasn't getting much sleep.

They'd returned from a mission five days ago, and after their regular medical check up and debriefing, General Hammond had given them a few days off.

Jack had left the base before Daniel had even realized it. Normally, the team would spend some time together, meeting for a pizza night, a barbeque or an evening watching some hockey game on television.

Of course, normally referred to before.

Before he'd called Jack a stupid son of a bitch.

Before he'd turned to Jack and asked him to stop Jacob Carter from attempting to heal him.

Before he'd ascended.

Before that, they used to be friends. A friendship Daniel valued more than anything and as hard as he tried he couldn't figure out when the friendship had begun to drift away.

Sure, he was back on the team. They'd seemed to have been pleased to have him back... well, at least, Sam was, Daniel thought bitterly. Teal'c was his old stoic self and Jonas had been understandably nervous at first. Jack had been... reluctant to show him how he really felt, but at first, it hadn't really bothered him. Jack *never* showed anybody how he really felt.

They'd been on several missions already. Everybody was back in his or her role; Sam was doing her job, Teal'c was watching Daniel's back again and Jack was being his old sarcastic self.

Everything back to normal.

Except it wasn't really normal.

At first, Daniel had explained it away. He'd been gone for a year, and everyone needed time. It took him a while to realize that wasn't really the case. There was something else.

Something between Jack and him and he couldn't put his finger on it.

Their relationship was nothing but professional and that in itself should have sent up a red flag. No bantering amongst each other, no private talks, no good or bad jokes. No matter how he tried to re-establish their comfortable camaraderie, eventually Daniel had realized that Jack was keeping a distance, and that it was going to be very hard for Daniel to cross it.

He'd tried, while on missions. Baiting his friend, without success. He'd tried on base, but came up empty handed. Most of all, though, he'd tried to regain the off base contact they'd had before his ascension, in order to re-establish their relationship, but Jack wouldn't let him near. There was always something, some reason or excuse for why they couldn't spend some time together.

Any serious discussions he'd started ended in a word fight, with one of them escaping before anything had been settled. Jack would maintain his distance, coldly giving some sort of excuse to leave or Daniel would rush out of the room, angrily throwing a door shut behind him.

Whatever the problem was, it was something he needed to deal with. Now, more than ever, Daniel felt alone and he longed for the old days, when he'd had the team as his family.

Sam had been upset with him, too. Somehow, it became clear during one of the missions, and he'd paid a visit at her home just three days ago, trying to patch things up. She'd been upset he'd left without letting her know where he was and what he was doing. He'd showed himself to the Colonel and Teal'c, hadn't he? So he could have come to her, too. Which, all in all, wasn't an unreasonable request and he could understand why she was upset with him. They'd talked, they'd cried... they'd made up and he figured them to be okay.

He figured there was nothing standing between Teal'c and himself. The Jaffa had treated his as if he'd never left, giving him no need for concern. Especially since, even though Teal'c never said much about it, Daniel knew his alien friend was deeply grateful for his company during those terrible days when he and Bra'tak had lost their symbiotes.

That left Jack.

Jack, who wasn't open and honest with his feelings like Sam was. Jack O'Neill was somebody you needed to deal with wearing kid gloves at the best of times, taking small steps towards getting him to reveal a hint as to what was really bothering him.

So, Daniel had been parked outside in the street for some nights now. The pattern of how his friend lived through the night indicated to him that Jack wasn't sleeping much lately. It just as well could be that nightmares were plaguing his friend again. They had been before, Daniel remembered, nightmares about situations and missions from Jack's past, some he knew, and some of which Jack would never openly speak.

Despite trying to figure out how to best approach and confront Jack, Daniel hadn't had the courage to walk up to the house the nights before.

This time, however, he would. For old times sakes. Because they both deserved better. Whatever had come between them, he would do his best to ferret it out and deal with it.

Tonight.

He didn't have to wait for long. Only thirty minutes later, the light in O'Neill's bedroom was turned on. A tall shadow was visible through the curtains, and then disappeared.

Jack was going downstairs, Daniel knew, to grab a beer and then he would climb up on his top observatory. He'd witnessed the same routine over and over the last three nights.

Resolutely, Daniel got out of the car and crossed the street. Walking up the driveway, he immediately headed toward the back of the house, grabbed the railing and climbed up.

"Hi, Jack," the linguist greeted the older man who was sitting with his back against the railing.

"Daniel." The answer was short.

"Mind if I join you?" Daniel asked, stepping onto the roof, closer to his friend.

"Uh-huh." The expression on Jack's face showed he was annoyed.

Looking down on O'Neill, Jackson waited patiently, wondering if that was all the answer he was going to get. Shrugging, he lowered himself next to the silent man.

O'Neill didn't react, but kept his eyes locked on the sky. One arm was resting on his knees, the other held the beer bottle, which sat on the ground.

"Beautiful night," Daniel started, one hand indicating in the direction of the sky. "Lots of stars tonight."

"Yep."

"Do you still come up here a lot?" Jackson asked, although he already knew the answer to the question.

"I like it here." The answer was short and distant.

Nodding, Daniel slightly turned his head to glance at his friend. O'Neill hadn't moved much, only to sip from his beer, but his eyes never left the dark blue sky.

"So... watcha looking at?"

"What do you think?" O'Neill responded, slightly irritated. "The *stars*, Daniel..."

Shifting nervously, Daniel tried to explain. "I know that, Jack. I was just wondering whether there was something special to see tonight."

"Nope."

They fell silent again, Daniel mentally kicking himself for not making much progress. He was never sure what the best way was to get his friend to talk. He'd always managed, though, so he told himself to just keep on trying hit or miss and maybe he'd get lucky and stumble on the key to unlock Jack's taciturnity.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"What, you came all the way up here in the middle of the night to tell me to go to bed?" O'Neill asked, sarcasm stinging his voice. "Who do you think you are, my mother?"

"No, I was just wondering..."

"Don't."

"Why not? I am worried about you, Jack..." Daniel tried.

"No need to be." Again, O'Neill's face was a stoic mask, the lips only moving to sip some more of the beer, his eyes hooded and half hidden in the shadows.

"Look, Jack," the stubborn linguist continued. "Somehow I have the feeling that there's something bothering you. You haven't really been yourself since my return and for some reason you've tried real hard to either avoid or ignore me. Aren't you happy that I've returned?"

Sighing, Jack put his bottle down, then moved his arm to wipe off his mouth with his sleeve. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

Jackson frowned. The words were there, but the underlying hint of sarcasm told him a different story. "Then you have a real funny way of showing that, Jack."

"What did you expect?" O'Neill raised his voice, turning his head to look at the archaeologist for the first time that night. "That I'd throw myself at your feet, pull out the champagne and throw a party?"

Surprised at this sudden outburst, Daniel carefully studied his friend's face, trying to read through the barriers always surrounding O'Neill's features. "Well, a party sounds nice... but come on, avoiding me is really a whole other thing. We hardly talk anymore, you don't crack any bad jokes and you don't even get mad at me for wandering off during a mission. It's just like..." the linguist paused, thinking how to phrase it, "it's like you don't care anymore."

The gray haired man moved his head again, turning away from the archaeologist, lips tightly pressed together, one hand restlessly drawing circles on the opening of the now almost empty bottle. He remained quiet for a long time.

Daniel crossed his arms in front of his chest, his eyes never leaving the man next to him, wondering whether he would get any response to his latest comment at all or that it had shut down his friend altogether.

Then, after a long time, the response came, the words spoken softly, barely audible, but Jackson heard.

"Of course I still care."

Biting on his lip, Daniel took in the much needed reassurance, realizing that if Jack admitted to this, Daniel could be sure it was actually true. He knew his friend too well. That left the big problem of figuring out why their relationship wasn't running very smoothly lately. Before he could decide on his next step of action in this conversation, Jack surprised him and took the lead.

"Have you ever considered that I might not really be over your death yet?" O'Neill now turned his head completely away from the man next to him, one hand moving towards his face as he started rubbing and massaging the bridge of his nose.

Jackson closed his eyes as the meaning of those words sunk in. "I wasn't dead..."

"What difference does that make? For us, you were," O'Neill spat, slightly irritated. "Besides... you know I don't deal with semi-dead-kinda situations very well."

Biting back a grin, Daniel shifted to find a more comfortable position. "But you can't deny that I'm back," he continued. He examined the still figure next to him, wondering what was going on inside the other man's head. "Can you? Are you?"

When O'Neill failed to respond, Jackson started reasoning out loud. "Are you, Jack? Why would you do that? You've just admitted to still caring... are you..." a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Are you afraid of losing me again?"

O'Neill closed his eyes, sighing deeply. "I don't think I can do this anymore, Daniel..."

Sensing he was getting somewhere with this conversation at last, Daniel silently nodded, giving his friend some time to gather his thoughts and emotions.

Softly, the Colonel continued. "I've lost so many people... so many deaths... I've lost you more than once, for crying out loud..."

O'Neill paused briefly, regaining control over his breathing. "The last time was... the last straw, Daniel. I don't wanna go through that again."

Quickly wiping across his suddenly moist eyes, Daniel didn't know anything else to say but to apologize. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," came the typical O'Neill response.

Daniel snorted. "Not yours, either."

"Humpf."

The shiver that crept over the Colonel's spine didn't pass without being noticed by the observing anthropologist. "Excuse me?" he jumped in. "What was that? Please, tell me you aren't blaming yourself for my ascension..."

No answer was forthcoming. Instead, the hand that was previously rubbing the forehead now covered both of O'Neill's eyes.

"Jack?" Daniel demanded sharply.

"Carter did," O'Neill whispered softly after another one of his famous long pauses.

"What?" Stunned, Daniel stared at Jack, his mouth half-open in shock.

"Fraiser, too, although she didn't let it show..." O'Neill continued, without uncovering his eyes.

Shaking his head in disbelief, the linguist tried to make some sense of it all. "Why?"

"Why?" O'Neill lowered his hand, facing Jackson, his eyes displaying anger. "What do you think, Daniel... Jacob was there, really giving his best to heal you and here comes Colonel Smart-ass, telling him to stop 'cause it was what Daniel wanted? How did you think they would take that single statement, huh? Come on... they hadn't spoken to you somewhere.... somewhere... wherever we were." O'Neill was almost shouting now. "I told Jacob to stop, you did your disappearing act and I had nothing and no way to explain..."

Now it was Daniel who fell silent for a long time. Turning his head away, he stared into the dark sky without really focusing on anything. "I... I didn't realize that."

"Yeah... well," O'Neill shrugged, his anger already vanished. Tiredly, he leaned backwards, his head resting against the railing. "At one point I even doubted we really had that conversation, and figured it had all been a hallucination."

It was a simple statement but Daniel got the underlying message. "Sam must have given you a hard time," he guessed, deliberately not going into details on the last revelation.

"Uh-huh." As usual the Colonel downplayed the situation.

Mustering up his courage, Daniel sat up straight in order to face the older man. "Jack, I'm so sorry. I really haven't thought about the consequences of my decision to stop the healing. There really wasn't much time, either. But I'm sorry I've put you through this. I was talking to Oma Desala and had to make a decision, and had to stop Jacob from healing me, 'cause I didn't want to stay anymore. So I turned to you."

"Why me?"

"Why you?" Daniel frowned. The question of whom he should turn to hadn't really been an issue at the time, he'd just naturally turned to Jack. "Gee, why? Because... because you are my friend."

O'Neill pulled a face. "So are Carter and Teal'c..." he objected.

"Yeah... but," Daniel hesitated. "I guess I just knew you would help me. That you would be able to call Jacob off."

Sighing, O'Neill angrily gestured with his hand. "Cause that's what I do? Make the tough decisions?"

"Yeah, something like that," admitted the linguist. "But I really hadn't given it a second thought. I just came to you. Trust me."

"Humpf," smirked O'Neill.

Stunned, Daniel's head snapped back facing Jack. "What?"

Shaking his head, O'Neill lowered it to let it rest in the palm of his hand, the elbow leaning on the drawn knee.

"Jack..." Jackson challenged his friend, realizing he had more issues to deal with that night now that he had pried the lid off the proverbial Pandora 's Box. "What was that?"

O'Neill paused, taking a couple of deep breaths before continuing. "You *always* seem to be asking me to trust you.."

"I don't."

"You do."

No, I don't," said Daniel and for a moment the argument felt so right he almost smiled until he took in the serious expression on O'Neill's face. He gave in. "I really do, do I?"

"Yes, you do, Daniel. Despite the fact that I've shown on many occasions that I do." The Colonel cocked his head, rubbing his chin with one hand. "Like... like on Kheb. Here we are, facing an army of Jaffa that is about to blow us to hell and you tell us to drop our weapons. I mean, we might as well have strapped a dartboard to our chests telling the enemy where to hit us! Here I am, ordering my team to lower their weapons in a situation they really shouldn't, because I *trusted you*."

"I know that..." stumbled Daniel.

"I risk my whole career, going AWOL to a destination you think you remembered after touching that quantum mirror..."

Jackson just nodded briefly.

"Not to mention all those times we got in trouble after *I* decided to do something *you* suggested, because I *trusted* you..." to emphasize his statement, O'Neill was wildly gesturing with his hands now.

"Yeah, yeah, point taken..." muttered Daniel, squeezing his eyes shut for a brief moment. "And then you called Jacob off..."

"Because I trusted you when you tried to tell me it was what you wanted," O'Neill filled in, giving a slight nod. "God, what a mess..." Sighing deeply, he lowered his hands and stared at the dark sky, letting his eyes drift from one star to the other.

Jackson followed his gaze, then looked back, trying to determine how much of a mess it all really was and how he could fix it. He noticed how still his friend sat, unusually still, as he gazed at the stars, making Daniel wonder what was going on in Jack's mind at the moment.

The answer came, surprisingly from Jack, without Daniel having to ask.

"You left." The words were whispered softly.

Daniel's eyes widened, a deep frown appearing on his face. "I ascended..."

The Colonel remained silent for a while, his eyes never leaving the stars above him. When he spoke his voice was the barest whisper above the night breeze. "You told me you'd stay with me till the end."

"Ah..." Daniel nodded, understanding Jack wasn't referring to his ascension now, but to the time he'd spend imprisoned by the system lord Ba'al. "I did stay ‘till the end..." he objected.

There was not a part of O'Neill's body that moved, even the hands remained where they were, although a slight shiver seemed to run over his body. "You left... when it was only beginning..."

"I came back!" Daniel said, wondering what parts of his time as Ba'al's guest Jack did and didn't remember. "I was only gone for a little while, but I came back!"

O'Neill remained quiet, and kept staring at the sky, lost in his thoughts.

Jackson waited, wondering whether or not to interrupt his friend's musings and if they'd reached the bottom of it all or not. Their conversation up until now had brought up more than he'd thought possible and he really needed to think it all over.

After several minutes where he'd mentally ticked off all issues they'd dealt with that evening, Daniel looked over at the older man, who hadn't moved yet.

"Anyway, I'm sorry. For everything." Breaking the silence, Daniel knew the words sounded inane and inadequate, but it was all he could come up with at the moment. "Guess we're quite a couple, aren't we?"

Jack snorted.

"I'm getting cold. Wanna go inside and have another beer?" Daniel suggested, gesturing with one hand into the directions of the stairs.

Silently nodding, O'Neill scrambled to his feet, took the empty bottle with him as he followed the archaeologist climbing down the stairs back into the house.

----

They went to the living room, after each making a quick stop at the bathroom and Daniel grabbing two bottles from the kitchen.

With the new beer in his hand, O'Neill settled down on the couch. Jackson held his as he stood at the window, looking outside into the street.

"So... how have you been?" Daniel asked.

"Fine."

"No, I meant, how have you really been?" Daniel pushed, turning around now, his back facing the window.

"Fine, Daniel."

Jackson sighed. "Ja-ack..."

"What, Daniel?" O'Neill didn't even lift his head to look up, apparently too tired or bored to bother.

Deciding to go for the direct approached, Daniel carefully picked his next words. "A little more details, please? You've been tortured by Ba'al and who knows what else has happened last year.... so how are you coping?"

"I'll live."

Never let it be said Jack made anything easy. With mounting frustration, Daniel shook his head at this typical O'Neill answer. He wasn't going to get more out of his friend easily, he knew that. He just wondered which buttons to push to withdraw more information. "I can see that. But did you talk to anyone about what happened? Who helped you, did Janet send you to McKenzie or something?"

"There wasn't much to talk about, Daniel," O'Neill sounded annoyed when he answered. "Ba'al killed me, revived me and killed me again. Yu attacked, I escaped... and yes, Doc sent me to talk to some people..."

"Did it help?"

"Hmm." The sound was short and sharp.

"Was that a yes, or a no?" Daniel wondered.

A long pause followed, in which Jack silently took some sips from his beer, then showed some uncharacteristic interest in the label wrapped around the bottle.

"I think it helped them more than it helped me..." O'Neill finally said, then fell silent again. Bending forward, he placed the bottle on the table.

Jackson took a few steps further into the room, then stopped when he reached the dining table. Leaning back, he rested his hips against the wooden frame, thinking about O'Neill's last statement.

"What did they talk about?" Daniel asked, looking back at the man seated on the couch. He had no love of McKenzie himself and he couldn't imagine Jack being ordered to spill his guts to the psychiatrist. It was tantamount to a second round of torture.

Throwing an annoyed glance in the direction of the younger man, Jack pulled a face. "What do you think?"

Jackson raised his brows, waiting for more.

Turning his head away from Daniel, O'Neill softly continued. "You know, they kept asking me how many times Ba'al actually killed me..."

"And?" Daniel commented, wondering where this was going.

"Wrong question..."

Daniel frowned. "What?"

"It was the wrong question," Jack repeated softly, staring at his hands, the long, slender fingers absentmindedly drawing circles around each other.

Jackson waited silently, staring intently at his friend, all the while trying to figure out what Jack was trying to tell him now. The answer wasn't coming, though, and Daniel wasn't patient enough to figure it out by himself. Softly, he spoke up. "Why?"

O'Neill moved one now trembling hand towards his face, massaging his brow then moving slowly into the direction of his temple. His eyes were closed, a deep sigh escaping from his lips indicating how much he was struggling to continue. "It didn't matter how many times he'd killed me," Jack said, his voice lowered now, barely audible, almost as if talking to himself. "The real question is, how much of me he has killed.

Daniel's eyes widened at this response, his eyes never leaving his friend, absorbing the information as he tried to comprehend what exactly it was that had been revealed to him just now.

O'Neill wasn't moving, his eyes still closed and his trembling hand still wearily rubbing above his eye and bridge of his nose.

"Come on, Jack," Daniel started gently. "Give yourself a break... and some time... You're doing great."

Jack raised his head, his hand dropping in his lap as he sharply looked at the man leaning against the wooden table across the room. "Am I?" he shot back. "For crying out loud, Daniel! It's been a year already and still..." He didn't finish his sentence, but dropped his head in his hands instead.

"It's*only* been a year, Jack. Come on, after what you've been through? You're still successfully leading SG-1 as far as I know, you're living with this, dealing with it in your own way, but you *are* only human, you know. Things like that take time."

"Time, huh?" The answer was short and scornful.

"Time, yeah. What did you expect, that it would just disappear?" Daniel couldn't help but asking.

"No, I was kinda hoping it was all a bad dream."

"But it isn't..."

"I know that," the older man shrugged.

"It's gonna take time, but you're gonna be all right, Jack," Daniel said, trying to sound convincing.

"You know, I've heard that one before," O'Neill said, his voice a little sharper now, as he suddenly lifted his head to look at the archaeologist.

Daniel shifted on his feet. "Yeah, I guess I have told you so before. It's because you are, Jack. If anyone can make it through this, it's you."

"So you said," O'Neill responded, helplessly gesturing with his hands. "And I *trusted* you. Again."

"And what's so wrong about that?" Daniel frowned.

Jack didn't answer. He slumped back into the couch, letting out another deep, long sigh.

"What?" Jackson pushed on. "You're mad at yourself for believing me that everything would be all right, is that it?" Staring at his friend he barely noticed the slight shrugging of the shoulders and then suddenly he knew. Moving towards the couch, Daniel continued. "So that's it. But Jack..." he now sat down beside the other man. "It *is* going to get better. Like I said, you just need more time."

"Patience is not one of my better qualities, Daniel," Jack objected softly.

"Is this what keeps you from sleeping at night, Jack? You're having nightmares every night, aren't you?"

"Hmmm."

"I've been watching you, Jack. You aren't sleeping much and it's showing all over your face, by the way. You have dark circles around your eyes that tell me all I need to know."

"For crying out loud, Daniel. What are you now, my night watchman?" O'Neill muttered, pulling an annoyed face.

"Wanna tell me what the nightmares are about?" Jackson stoically continued.

"What do you *think* they are about," O'Neill snapped, rather irritated now.

"I can think of many things, Jack, but I'd rather you tell me," Daniel said softly.

Taking a deep breath, Jack reached for his bottle again and brought it to his mouth. Sipping slowly, he leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes as he swallowed.

"I can't get him out of my head, Daniel," Jack softly confessed, a shiver creeping over his spine. "Whenever I close my eyes, he's there. With his knives, or acid, or both... And that smile.... God, I hate that smile..."

"And then what, you wake up?"

"Oh, yeah. That describes it nicely..."

"Do you get any sleep at all after that or do they keep coming back?" Daniel questioned.

"Does that matter?" O'Neill shot angrily. "I close my eyes, he's there, smiling at me and I open my eyes again, okay?" He jumped up, and stamped outside the room, leaving a stunned Daniel Jackson behind.

One hand absentmindedly rubbing his temple in an unconscious imitation of Jack, Daniel closed his eyes, wincing as he thought about what his friend must be going through. And the saddest thing about it all was that there was not a single thing he could do about it. Not anymore.

Except for being there.

That was the reason of this whole conversation. Finding out what was bothering Jack and being there for him.

Slowly, Daniel rose to his feet and left the living room, as he searched for the man that had rushed off a couple of minutes ago.

He didn't have to look far.

Jack was standing on the deck, two hands leaning on the railing. His head was bowed and he didn't react to the approaching footsteps of the younger man.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Daniel softly started. "I'm sorry you had to go through all this."

"You could have stopped it..." the shoulders trembled slightly, other than that the Colonel didn't move.

Wincing, Daniel shook his head. "No, I couldn't... I couldn't interfere."

"Yes, you could. You did for the people of Abydos." O'Neill raised his head, but his eyes were closed. The hands seemed to be crushing the railing.

Jackson bit on his lip. Deep down inside he knew this was going to come up sooner or later. The rest was just a masquerade, all minor problems, which had to be dealt with in time, but at this moment they were covering up the core of the problem. He wasn't sure if Jack was ever going to forgive him, and he seriously wondered if he could ever do that himself. "Jack... I couldn't. Oma taught me..."

O'Neill sharply turned around, facing the archaeologist, his face now showing fury. "Oma was pretty damn good at interfering herself, Daniel! So don't give me that bunch of crap!"

"What do you mean?" Jackson asked, slightly surprised at the venom in the sudden outburst.

"Have you forgotten what she did on Kheb? How far she interfered, in order to protect the child? She fucking burnt those Jaffa down to ashes, Daniel! She could have just disarmed them, sent them back to where they came from, or killed them nicely..." O'Neill was almost shouting now, all built up anger coming out. "But no, she left nothing behind but bones and ashes... For somebody with all those great powers that's kinda overdone!"

Defeated, Daniel dropped his head until his chin touched his chest. One hand moved to scratch the bridge of his nose as he forcibly breathed slowly, in order to keep his emotions under control. "I can see why it's impossible for you to understand..." he started.

"Then *explain* it to me," O'Neill snapped.

Helplessly shrugging his shoulders, Daniel looked up until his eyes found those of the still angry man in front of him. "I don't think I can, Jack. Right now, I can't understand anything of what's happened myself, so I can't possibly give you a logical explanation." He blinked, and paused for a brief second. "All I can do is apologize for what has happened."

The lips tightened, the eyes still showing the anger, O'Neill slowly nodded without responding, then turned his head to look at the sky.

"Jack, do you remember that day back in the storage closet when I was going through withdrawal and almost shot you?" Daniel paused, searching for the right words. In the dark he saw Jack staring intently at him, as if wondering where he was going with this line of thought. Daniel wondered that himself. "There's a lot I don't remember about that day, but I do remember you holding me and I remember you telling me to trust you. That everything would be okay. Trust, Jack. It's what you and I do best. I trusted you and you trusted me. We need to get that back."

Jack turned away staring into the deep shadows on the night and the past.

Daniel sighed. Stepping forward, he stood next to O'Neill and also placed his hands on the fence before searching the stars his friend seemed to be gazing at.

They stood like that for a long time, each lost in his own thoughts.

Then, finally, Daniel broke the silence. "Gosh, you must be really mad at me."

"Humph."

"I need to know one thing, though, Jack. It's obvious you're mad at me and you have every reason to be. Yet, you still took me back on SG-1, and you're still talking to me... Why?"

It took the Colonel a while to find the strength to continue, but after a while, he spoke up again. "I've done the silence-revenge-thing to Frank Cromwell..." he paused, staring at his trembling hands before continuing. "Look where that's got me..."

Jackson swallowed. "Oh."

Structuring his thoughts, Daniel realized he gained much that night. Everything that was bothering his friend had been brought to the surface. And, despite the anger, Jack was still talking to him, had shown he still cared, so if second chances existed, this had to be his and he wasn't going to let it pass. "Thank you."

O'Neill faced him. "Thank you?"

Nodding, Daniel gave him a weak smile. "Yes. For talking to me tonight. I know how hard that is for you and it means a lot to me. I'm glad our friendship still has a chance and I'll do my very best to make it up to you."

The older man just stared at the younger man, unable to speak up.

"What?" Jackson hastened to ask. "Isn't that what you'd expected?" Looking into the dark brown eyes, Daniel saw the turmoil there, and it didn't take him long to figure it out. "You thought I would leave you, didn't you? That because you showed your anger at me, I would get mad at you, too, and I would leave..."

The other man slowly shrugged.

"Not gonna happen, Jack. We'll get through this together." Jackson reached out, and wrapped one arm around his friend's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Come on, it's late. Let's go inside and get some sleep..."

O'Neill turned around. "Daniel," he said. "Next time you decide we have to have a heart to heart… Don't sit out in your car for three nights working up your nerve. "

Daniel dropped his arms, dumbfounded. "You knew I was out there?"

A ghost of a smile was his only answer.

---

A still sleepy Jack O'Neill wandered into his kitchen, slightly stunned at finding his friend there, having already made coffee and prepared breakfast.

"Morning," Daniel greeted him. "You slept well for a couple of hours." He knew, because he'd been watching over his friend like a hawk that night, determined to be there in case of a new round of nightmares. "How are you feeling?"

Confused, Jack looked around. "Drained, is all I can think of right now," he responded. "We need to hurry or we'll be too late for the briefing." It was a statement, not a question.

"No, we won't," Daniel said, grabbing a mug from the cupboard, filling it with coffee then handing it to O'Neill.

"We're not?"

"No. I've told General Hammond that we weren't ready yet, so he postponed the mission to PXR-462."

O'Neill stared at the man in front of him with his mouth half open. "You *told* General Hammond?"

"Well, I didn't exactly phrase it that way," Daniel hastened to say. "I just kinda explained that I'd noticed you hadn't slept much... and that I figured I might be the source of the problem... So I requested more time for us to solve things... anyway, I guess what I'm saying is... he told us to take our time."

"Take our time..." O'Neill still had a hard time believing it.

"Yes. He also wished us good luck. So sit down, relax and enjoy breakfast."

"Yes, sir," Jack commented dryly, but sat down anyway, placing the mug in front of him on the table before putting two fresh rolls on his plate. "Seems I have all the time in the world."

"No, you don't."

"Daniel... stop doing that!"

"Doing what?" the linguist asked innocently while spreading butter on his bun.

"First you tell me we have time, then you tell me we don't... My head isn't really with me this morning, so humor me, okay?" Jack sipped from his coffee, glancing across the table.

"We're leaving as soon as we're ready," Daniel said, then took a bite of his roll. Ignoring the looks thrown at him, he finished chewing then swallowed the bite before explaining. "There's this giant lake with a bunch of fish, a nice little cabin in the mountains, and it's all waiting for us."

O'Neill's face lit up. "What do you mean?" he still wondered, not willing to jump to conclusions.

"Well... although I've given many excuses up until now, you never stopped inviting me, so I guess it's only fair to take you up on your offer. We'll do some fishing... talk a little, drink some beer, throw some hotdogs on the grill, share some nightmares... Could be fun! That is... if the offer still stands." Daniel looked up, munching on his next bite.

"Sharing nightmares?" O'Neill couldn't help but ask. "Fun?"

"Sure... Just like old times." Jackson grinned before a serious expression again appeared on his face. "Now, seriously, Jack, have you considered the possibility that you haven't really given yourself the time to deal with those nightmares? Knowing you, you probably got home, had some restless nights here and quickly went back to work, didn't you? While on missions, the nightmares stayed at bay because you had something else on your mind, but when you got home they were back. So you fled. Back to work, suppressing the images plaguing you at home. Am I right?" The archaeologist searched the other man's features, looking for any sigh that would tell him his theory was true.

Jack shifted uncomfortably on his chair, putting the mug back on the table. Moving his head, he locked his eyes on the kitchen window, staring at the trees back in the yard.

"Thought so," Daniel concluded softly. "You know, you can't keep running away..."

"For crying out loud, Daniel..." Jack muttered. "Besides... nobody stopped me."

Jackson's eyes widened. "Nobody stopped you? What do you mean?"

O'Neill remained quiet, taking a bite of his breakfast.

"You mean nobody talked to you about it? Told you to take time to deal with all of this..."

"They were letting me deal with it my own way, okay?" Jack snapped angrily. "I went back on missions, everything was fine, so what's the big deal?"

"And you probably told them you were fine, too. Gee, Jack! But the truth is you aren't dealing with it at all!" Daniel stared at his friend, wondering if there was another message lying underneath. "I can't believe this. Even I can see that you're not all right, what are they, blind?"

"No, they aren't, Daniel," O'Neill answered softly. "They just know when to stop pushing."

Daniel tried to structure the bits and pieces that had been revealed to him, trying to make some sense out of it all. It suddenly struck him, and his face lit up. "Where I wouldn't." Nodding now, he continued. "I would never leave you alone until I knew you were doing fine, no matter how much of that military crap you would give me."

"You *were* kinda half-semi-ascended-dead-sort-of dead, Daniel. That's a pretty good excuse to not be there..."

"But you needed me. That's what you've been trying to tell me the whole time now... I just didn't get it. All those times that I've pushed you, further and further, and you would get cranky and all... you're trying to tell me that it did actually help? That no matter how mad you'd get, it made a difference? God, Jack, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for not being there for you after what Ba'al did to you. I should have been there. Now I understand what you said last night, that it was only the beginning. You needed me *after* you got home and I left. I'm sorry."

O'Neill sighed. "Daniel..."

"No, Jack, let me finish," Jackson continued. "I cannot undo the things that have been done. I'm sorry for turning to you to help me ascend. I can never, ever explain to you why I didn't interfere when you were captured by Ba'al, while I did choose to interfere for the Abydonian people. I don't really know why it happened that way myself. But for that I'm also sorry. You mean the world to me, please believe me. And as for not being there for you.... I'm here now, so please, don't shut me out. Let's get through this together. Okay?"

O'Neill didn't respond, his lips tight as his gaze was turned outside again. The fingers holding the piece of bread trembled slightly, but other than that the man kept still.

Jackson sighed. He was extremely glad to have figured out the other man had admitted in his own unique way that he actually needed Daniel's help but he was sad at the same time. Jackson knew he couldn't stay in the past, though. What's been done, had been done. Now he needed to concentrate on the future. "It will be all right, Jack. I promise. We're going fishing and all, you always love that. And at night.... well, I'll be right there this time. You don't have to do this all by yourself anymore. I won't let you."

"You know, the next time you die..." Jack snapped. It irritated him that the linguist had pushed him this far, it annoyed him that, of course, his friend was right, but most of all he was embarrassed. Embarrassed to take the proffered help, because deep down, he knew he needed it.

Jackson looked at him, slightly amused by the way his friend reacted, knowing too well he had finally managed to break through the military man's barriers. "What, Jack?"

"You... you..." the Colonel hesitated, pulling a helpless face. "You'd better stay dead."

Daniel chuckled. He rose to his feet and slowly started cleaning up the kitchen table. He knew Jack needed a breather and he respected that. When he was finished, he turned back to his friend, who was again staring out of the window. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Jack quickly responded. He remained silent for a little while, then added with a softer voice, "No... But I will be. And..." O'Neill now turned to face his younger friend, making sure he had his full attention. "Don't even think of asking me to trust you any time soon. I don't think I will take that too well."

Jackson smiled, knowing that Jack's honesty was the best "thank you" he could get. "Fair enough. Now please, let's get going. We don't want to keep the fish waiting, do we?"

<<< THE END >>>

Chez Corine