STRANGE DAYS  BY PHOENIX E

Mmmmmm….so long, so thick, so chocolaty…

  Um - focus, Daniel, focus!  You had a lovely weekend, wonderfully exciting, but it’s over and now it’s back to work.  We’re not going to be going off-world for the next three days; there’s no excuse for not bucking down and tackling this backlog of…stuff, so get your mind off other…stuff, and get down…to it.

I can’t help it, images of Jack in all his priapic, chocolate-covered glory…

It’s hard to concentrate as long as I keep remembering how incredible he is when he’s…. hard.

Not to mention tasty…

With a sigh I resolutely push aside images of chocolate phalluses dancing through my head, reluctantly reaching for the first folder from atop the precariously leaning stack of same currently taxing my groaning inbox.

I’ve barely cracked my chosen victim open when Sam comes strolling into my office.  What is she doing here, it’s only just turned nine AM – excuse me, make that oh nine hundred hours; if she drops in at all, which to be honest, lately, is practically never, it’s certainly not this early in the day.

She looks extremely cheerful.  Almost excessively so.  Should I be concerned?

“Hey Daniel,” she greets me, perching her hip on a corner of my desk.  “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

What?  What’s she talking about? 

“Um…better?” 

Than what, perchance?

“Sunday,” she supplies, her eyes raking over the objects on my desk like she’s looking for something.  “The colonel said you left early because you weren’t feeling well.  I’m glad to see you’re over it,” she smiles, finally looking at me.  “Whatever it was.”

“Oh, that,” I shrug. “It must have been something I ate.”

“Certainly couldn’t have been the company,” she grins again.

Ooookay, what the heck is going on here; no matter what she’s saying Sam didn’t stop by to inquire after my health. She’s known about my supposed malady since yesterday: if she was that ‘concerned’ she’d have phoned to check up on me, which she didn’t, so that’s not it, and like I said before it’s not like she makes a habit, especially lately, of dropping by just to shoot the breeze, or whatever.

No, other than the perpetual quest for Jack there’s not much that can tear her away from the various assorted and sundry esoteric off-world technological mysteries her lab is fairly burgeoning with.  Sam never abandons her post and shoots my way these days unless there is something very specific on her mind.

Wondering what it could possibly be…that’s what’s got me…concerned.

Now, hold the phone just a minute, Daniel, you’re not being fair to Sam, sure, okay, maybe that’s the way it’s been for the past…oh wow, quite a long time, now, actually, come to think of it, but anyway, give her the benefit of the doubt, maybe, just maybe she doesn’t have an ulterior motive, maybe she really did just stop by to see me.  Sure, it hasn’t happened a lot recently, but that doesn’t mean that maybe Sunday made her realize we haven’t exactly been…close…lately and she’s decided to do something about it, mend a few fences, rebuild some bridges, make a fresh start.

Hey, that could be what’s going on here.  Let’s just hear her out and hope for the best.

“So, Daniel,” she ventures casually, swinging her leg for just the right ‘I didn’t really come here with the specific intention of picking your brains, I was just passing by and as long as I’m here I thought I’d ask’, effect.

“You spend a lot of time with the colonel, right?”

Okey doke, here we go. So much for that idea.  Hoping I was wrong, but, of course…

No.

Oh Sam, it never used to be like this.  We spent a lot of time together, hanging out, doing lunch, loitering around each other’s offices for hours, talking about all sorts of stuff, even things that had absolutely nothing to do with Jack.  Whatever happened to just, talking, and being together, simply because we enjoyed each other’s company, not because one of us, usually you, had an agenda? 

Once upon a time I was your friend, not simply a means to your ends.

I miss that Sam, I miss her a lot, actually, but right now she’s not here and I have to deal with the Sam I have.

“Yeah,” I casually return, looking back down at the folder splayed out on my desk.  As much as I was previously procrastinating about diving into my work right now I’d give anything to be knee-deep in translations as opposed to having this conversation.

“So,” she picks up my pen and starts examining it.  “What do you guys do?”

Fuck like bunnies?  As often as we can?  Take one colonel twice before bedtime, repeat frequently, and don’t call me in the morning?

What, what’s your problem, you asked!

Nah, I can’t say that to her.  I’d love to, but I can’t.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I shrug and reclaim my pen.  Hey, it’s mine, call me petty if you will but I have a real problem with people messing with my…stuff.

She wants a pen to play with she can find her own.

 Mine’s taken. 

“Stuff,” I toss off with a casual wave.

“Like?” she leans forward, prompting.

“I dunno, hang out,” I shrug again, desperately casting about for ways to answer the question without being too specific.  Or making things sound too interesting, because I’m getting those creepy vibes again.

“And do what?” she presses.

Dammit, I’m going to have to get more specific; she’s not gonna let this go.

“Oh, I dunno, we order a pizza, drink some beer, watch the game or a movie or whatever, sit around, burp, grunt, fart, scratch our balls,” I rattle off, trying to make things sound as mundane as possible.  “Nothing special.  You know, guy stuff,” I finish casually.

Nothing you’d be interested in.

“Okay!” she says brightly, pushing herself off my desk.  “Thanks Daniel!” she beams.  “I’ll see you later!”

And she’s off, striding briskly out of my office, a considerable spring in her step.

Oh dear, what just happened here and why am I desperately hoping her parting remark was simply a figure of speech…

And not something else she’s figuring.

“Hey honey, I’m home,” I jokingly call out to Jack after I close the front door and drop my brief case beside it.

“Save it, ‘sweetheart’,” Jack bellows back at me from the kitchen.  “You’d better have remembered the Tabasco sauce or you can just turn around, get your ass out the door and go get it.”

Ah, love, ain’t it grand?

“Yeah, I got it,” I holler back at him, fishing the plastic bag containing said requested condiment out of my coat pocket while en route to the kitchen.  “I had to go out of my way to get this, I’ll have you know, not that you give a damn.  And as long as I’m bitching, I don’t see why the responsibility for procuring this fell upon my shoulders, I don’t need it, I’m not cooking.  Why didn’t you pick it up yourself, you lazy bastard?”

Jack stops chopping as I spoon up behind him, wrap my arms around him and plant a kiss on the side of his neck.

“You do if you plan on eating tonight,” he mildly returns.  “And as to why I didn’t get it, well, I forgot,” he cheerfully admits.  “By the time I remembered we were out I was already here.  Besides, fetching and carrying, that’s what I’ve got you for.” 

“Huh, and here’s me thinking the only reason you keep me around was for the hot sex.”

“Well, there’s that, too,” Jack chuckles, twisting around in my embrace to wrap his arms around my waist.  “Gimme,” he growls.

From the lustful gleam in his eye I don’t think he’s talking about the Tabasco sauce.

“My pleasure,” I manage to get out before Jack’s mouth clamps onto mine.

Jack kisses me hungrily, like he hasn’t seen me for a week, even though it’s only been a few hours since the last time we…kissed, but I’m having no problems with the fervor of his greeting.  In fact it gets much more avid there won’t be much cooking happening in either one of our immediate futures, at least not in the kitchen –

“Yoo hoo!”  A bright female voice sounds from the front hall.  “The door was open, Sir, I hope you don’t mind I let myself in!”

“Shit!”  Jack and I yelp simultaneously, springing apart like scalded, spooked cats, flushed and hyperventilating with shock as the unexpected interloper rounds the corner.

“Hi guys!”  Sam cheerily greets us, teeth flashing in a face splitting grin.  She sallies bravely forward, apparently oblivious to the fact we’re both red-faced, panting and more than a bit…. mussed.

Well that is, if she’s noticed she’s not saying.

“Carter?”  Jack croaks, watching wide-eyed and horrified while Sam proudly sets what looks suspiciously like a large pizza box and a case of beer on the dining room table.  “Um…what?”

Oh, God.  I know.  Just as I suspected, Sam’s visit this morning wasn’t social.  It was reconnaissance.

And I’m the schmuck who gave her the intel.

Ooooh boy.  Jack is gonna kill me.

“Don’t worry, Sir, I’ve got the pizza tonight,” Sam beams happily at us.  “And the beer.”

But – but we were having pork chops.  With Jack’s special killer hot sauce, if his sending me on a side trip for the Tabasco sauce was any indication of his ultimate plans for those delectable looking chops currently sitting abandoned in the casserole dish on the counter waiting to be sauced…

“Um, yeah, I can see that, but - but – “Jack stutters.

“I know I probably should have called,” Sam admits with a rueful grimace.  “You know you said once we should hang out more, and yesterday you said you wanted to be friends, so, well, I started thinking doing that would be a good way to get to know each other and be friends, and there’s no time like the present, so here I am!”

Tah dah.

“Yeah,” Jack says weakly, giving her a sickly smile.  “Hanging out. I did say that, didn’t I?  And here you are.”

He did?  You did?  When was this?

I never thought I’d ever hear myself saying this but dammit Jack, you talk too much!

“You don’t mind, do you, Colonel?” she asks, hesitantly, for the first time giving a faint indication she’s realized that possibly, maybe, by showing up here unannounced and uninvited and definitely unexpected she might have been slightly…

Presumptuous?  Out of line?  Down-right rude?

Not to mention just plain not wanted?

And then the smug grin settling on her face the second she finishes speaking, the knowing gleam in the eyes she fastens on Jack while awaiting his answer abruptly puts the boots to that absurd notion.

I mean, what was I thinking?

“Mind?” Jack sighs, skeptically eyeing the closed pizza box lying on his dining table we both can’t help but notice is emanating odours neither one of us normally associate with…pizza.

Or anything else even remotely edible.

What the hell is on that thing and do we really want to know?

“Of course I don’t mind,” he lies valiantly, rallying enough to favour her with a semi-sincere smile.  “Pizza, huh?” he croaks after clearing his throat, fearfully fingering a corner of the box, clearly with the intention of flipping it back and checking out what lies beneath.

He’s a braver man than I am, that’s all I can say.

“It’s great to see you, Carter,” Jack says, starting to cautiously lift the lid, eyes narrowed suspiciously.  “But…what’s with the - the…”

He can’t quite bring himself to say ‘pizza’ – especially as whatever it is we’re smelling hasn’t yet been sufficiently threat-assessed to ascertain whether or not it’s even edible, never mind classifiable as the aforementioned entrée.  Yeah, we can both read what the box says; it proclaims the contents as pizza, but it’s from a place neither one of us recognizes, so the box, it could lie!

“The pizza and the beer?  Oh, Daniel said this is what you usually do when you hang out,” Sam lands me in it with enough cheerful enthusiasm to overwhelm a regiment of clinical depressives.  “So I figured as long as I was inviting myself over I shouldn’t come empty-handed.”

“Oh, he did, did he?”  Jack’s eyes flick up from the half-raised lid of the pizza box and he fires me a murderous glare.

Why are you looking at me like that, Brunch Boy?  It’s not like I make a habit of shooting my mouth off and all but handing Sam engraved invitations to barge in on us unannounced, unlike some other people I could mention.   Especially the one who is currently giving me attitude for one little teeny, tiny lapse of judgment while he’s been racking up the stupid points left, right and centre!

This is my first offence, and it only happened because I foolishly gave Sam credit for being a much better person that it seems she’s turning out to be.

A mistake I won’t be making again.

You’ve got a lot more to answer for in the slipped lip department than me, Jack, my lad, so hold the anchovies as well as the attitude and let’s just get through this as best we can.

Jack’s nose wrinkles, I can see he’s barely suppressing a grimace what with the full force aromas from the now fully revealed pizza hitting him face on.  He leaves off glaring at me to risk a quick glance below at what could possibly be generating such olfactory offensiveness.

I’m not following suit: what I’m smelling is bad enough; I’m not quite ready to actually look at it yet, thank you very much.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I thought I’d take a chance and bring you something really special,” Sam pipes up.  “It’s my favourite kind of pizza.” 

“What is it?”  Jack says dumbly, eyes riveted to Sam’s malodorous, but well meant offering.

“Let me see, there’s sun-dried tomatoes - ”

“Tomatoes,” Jack echoes, barely audibly.  “That’s – that’s…okay, tomatoes….”

Belong on a pizza. Which ordinarily would be very okay indeed, but she said ‘sun dried’, an entirely different…vegetable.

Or would that be fruit?  Either way, not quite the same thing.

As Jack is unhappily discovering.

“Where are they?” Jack finally whines, after several seconds of futilely scanning the pizzal topography in an unsuccessful attempt to visually detect any tomato traces.  

“There, Sir,” Sam helpfully points at something.  I can’t tell exactly what from where I’m standing, deliberately out of smelling distance, or whether what she’s just obligingly identified bears even a passing resemblance to tomatoes, or not, but the expression on Jack’s face tells me all I need to know.

Definitely…not.

“Oh,” he says weakly.  “That’s them, huh? I never would have guessed.” He takes a deep breath.  “Those little white…lumps. All over.  I don’t suppose that’s the Mozzarella?” he ventures hopefully.

From the smell, I’m guessing that’s a no too.

“Well, you’re partly right,” Sam laughs.  “It’s cheese, but not Mozza.  Feta.  It’s much more flavourful than plain old Mozzarella and is an interesting contrast to the pesto sauce.”

Oh my, that explains the some of the smell, but not all, by any means.  Even from this distance I’m detecting a distinctly…distinct fishy aroma - way over and above what one might expect from an anchovy or two being tossed on top - intermingling unpleasantly with the fetid feta and there’s no way that smell is coming from the first two identified ingredients.  Or the sauce, which isn’t derived from tomatoes either, apparently.

Marine Surprise Pizza.  Oh my…

Jack’s eyes dart up, seeking me.  Help me, they silently scream from across the table. 

He’s been exceptionally brave so far, but I can plainly see he doesn’t have the heart to go on.  I guess considering I’ve so far shamelessly opted for the path of least visual offensiveness like the unrepentant chickenshit I am, the least I can do is throw him a bone, take over taking point and bear the brunt of the rest of the unsavoury revelations.

Hey, I once threw myself in front of a staff blast for this man, how bad can this be?

“So, a couple of…interesting choices.  Not ones I would have thought of but…interesting.”

No Jack, I’m not going to say what I really think any more than you are so quit glaring at me.  This isn’t my house, remember, I’m not in any way obligated to play the gracious host, I can still save myself, get the hell out of here with my taste buds unsullied and leave you to choke it down with Sam on your own.

“Yep, interesting. So, what else is on it, Sam?” I ask the question Jack can’t bring himself to voice, courageously drawing her fire.

Her big blue eyes swing my way and she opens her mouth to let me have it.

Did I mention the staff blast…thing?

“Some really good stuff, trust me, Sir,” she says to me, but she’s really talking to Jack.  “Lemme see, for starters, there’s tuna.  “Dolphin safe, of course,” she dimples.

Well, naturally.  Good God.

Hurray for the dolphins.  I’m so happy they don’t have anything to worry about vis a vis having to suffer for the sake of vile pizza.  The tuna and the rest of us poor victims here should be so lucky.

Tuna?  Did she really say tuna?  On pizza?  Okay, now that’s just wrong, on so many levels. It’s more than wrong; it’s so cosmically – incorrect – it’s almost akin to violating the basic principles of the universe.  It’s certainly bucking every unwritten but nevertheless sacrosanct precept of proper pizza construction.

The unbelieving horror in Jack’s eyes eloquently echoes my sentiments on this.

Now let me just say one thing here, in my defense, in case anyone is thinking we’re being unduly squeamish about a mere pizza, I’m not exactly…inexperienced…in the gastronomic department.  I’ve eaten around some. Although I’m primarily an archaeologist the anthropological aspect of my chosen profession has required me, while out in the field on both sides of the gate, to occasionally have to venture into some pretty kinky culinary territory, all in the interests of diplomacy and good interplanetary relations and all that sort of…thing.  I have partaken of some pretty – out there, and I do mean waaaay out there – stuff.  I like to think I have a fairly open mind, not to mention an adventurous palate, although I do draw the line at symbiotes, barbequed, or…not, and a dash of culinary curiosity.  I’m not scared to try new things, really, I mean, you’d be surprised how many things in the universe, no matter how awful they look or smell, taste exactly like chicken.

Seriously.

So, having said all that, I don’t know why I’m making such a big deal about this; compared to some of the stuff I’ve managed to choke down and survive in the past, Sam’s weird ass pizza should be a walk in the park.

Bring it on girlfriend, you don’t scare me: what’s a few unusual terrestrial ingredients thrown on a pizza, I’ve eaten baaka entrails dipped in a lovely sauce made mostly from the baaka’s blood along with a few other questionable ingredients I figured I was better off not knowing about and didn’t even throw up.

“Eggplant, broccoli, spinach, leeks, bean sprouts.”

I take it all back.

John the Baptist coming off his forty days in the wilderness, confronted with this mess as his first meal would turn tail and run screaming back into the desert.

Locusts and wild honey are definitely sounding like a much safer bet.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot! Mushrooms!” she finishes with a giggle.

“Where?” Jack yelps, latching onto the one, identifiable, genuine, acceptable ingredient in the bizarre mix.

“There,” Sam points at one of the large, amorphous black blobs festooning the unmentionable mess.

“It doesn’t look like a mushroom,” he bleats.

“They’re shitake mushrooms, Colonel, I know they look kind of,” she shrugs.  “But don’t let that put you off, they’re really tasty.”

“Shit,” Jack mumbles.

As in, looks like.  He doesn’t say it, but he’s sure thinking it.

“Well, it sure is white,” Jack finally observes with a mournful sigh.  “I don’t suppose there’s some pepperoni hiding in there somewhere.”

“Nope, it’s completely meatless,” Sam proudly informs him.  “Much better for you that way.”

“Oh,” Jack murmurs.  “And that’s what’s really important…when it comes to pizza.”

Honestly, this just keeps getting worse and worse.  You wouldn’t think there would be so many ways to violate pizza but somehow Sam has managed to get it completely wrong in just about every possible way.

I’m just waiting for her to tell us it’s got a whole-wheat crust or something equally blasphemous and that will pretty much do it.

Jack, bless him, he’s really trying to be a good sport about this, but after what’s been done to this poor pie, well it’s way more than a man should have to bear, especially one who loves his pizza as much as Jack does.  The only thing that would have hurt him even more is if she’d –

No, no, can’t think of anything much worse, this is pretty much as bad as it gets.  This is really bad. I swear he’s gonna cry any second now.

Oooh, not gonna be pretty.  I can’t look. 

“What, no blue jello?”  Jack says with a lame grin.

“Don’t be silly, Sir, you don’t put jello on pizza!” Sam shakes her head fondly at him.

Don’t look at Jack, don’t - don’t look, mustn’t look, will start laughing if you look, laughing bad, really, really bad ohgodohgodohgod don’t laugh!

Sam glances at both of us, Jack manfully swallowing his grief and me holding back an entirely different impulse and oh, lookit here, I think, I think, I think, yeeeees, the light has finally dawned, it is just hitting her that maybe, just maybe we’re not as jazzed about her prize pizza as she is.

“Look, guys,” she frowns.  “I know it looks, kind of – different, but it really does taste great!”

Yeah, I’m gonna buy this from a woman who drinks diet coke.  On purpose.  Because she likes the taste.

“And, not only that – everything on it is really healthy!”

Healthy.  Oh well, that changes everything. Everybody knows it’s a universal given anything that’s good for you is almost always, without fail, so gosh darned yummy as well!

We’re doomed.

“I have it all the time. Give it a chance, I know you’ll love it as much as I do!” she gushes confidently.

Uh huh, I’m sure, seeing as how you know so much about what Jack’s culinary preferences, as evidenced by Exhibit Ewwwww here, currently stinking up the dining room.

Oh well, the evening is not a total loss; at least she got the beer right.

“Well, I guess we’d better tuck in before it gets cold,” Sam states, starting to make for the kitchen like she owns the place, or really wants to.  “Why don’t you guys grab a beer and make yourselves comfortable I’m sure I’ll have no trouble finding my way around your kitchen, Sir, I’ll just rustle up some plates and – “

“No!”  Jack abruptly barks, her sudden intention to further penetrate into his territory snapping him out of his pizza-induced stupor.  “I mean,” he quickly amends, to head off the hurt expression commencing to gallop across her face.  “You’re the guest here it wouldn’t be – tell you what,” he deftly selects a beer from the case and hands it to her, complete with a gracious, hundred watt, melty-eyed O’Neill full bore high beam, charm ’em right out of their pants smile that has me briefly seeing little green-eyed monsters dancing before my eyes even though I know why he’s doing it…still…

I just – when he – that – that smile, he’s just so fucking – and he knows it, knows all he has to do to get whatever he wants from practically anybody -

Arrrgh!

Don’t go there, Daniel, don’t, don’t, it won’t help, and besides, it’s nothing, you know what’s going on just…get a grip, it doesn’t mean diddley, it’s purely a tactical move.

What’s more, it’s gonna work.

Damn that man and his ‘you know you want me’ smile, he’s taken me out at the knees with it more than once even though I know all his tricks; Sam doesn’t have a chance.

“Here you go, Carter,” he presses the beer into her hands, his voice low and velvety.  Just this side of bedroom. My green imps start Riverdancing with a vengeance and I have to start swatting again.

“Why don’t you take this down to the living room and get comfy.  I’ll bring everything down and we can pig out there.”

Sure enough, the smile’s the charm, and she sure is, charmed that is, practically putty in his hands, complete with drool.  Eyes a flutter, she clutches her beer to her heaving bosom and scampers on her way, no doubt to install herself in the best vantage point in the room for implementing her acquisitions strategy while she waits to be waited on hand and foot by her adoring colonel.

She’s so gone she hasn’t even noticed I’m not following her, having been snagged by the arm by said colonel, who then proceeds to haul me into the kitchen.  Pretty sure I’m not gonna get either the smile or the voice, and for sure there isn’t going to be much adoring in my immediate future.

Beaucoup de bitching though. 

“There isn’t enough beer in the world to make me eat that fucking shit,” Jack snarls once Sam is safely out of earshot.

“Stop being such a baby,” I snap back at him, breaking free of his hold and rummaging in the cutlery drawer for the requisite utensils to accompany the plates he’s angrily snatching out of the cupboard.

“Jack, you ate candied eyeballs on P7A 401 last week and didn’t even blink.  How much worse can this be?”

“Eating shit off-world is part of the job.”

Jack slams the plates down on the counter, slams the lid on the casserole dish and slams it, and the chops, alas, into the fridge.

Bye bye pork chops.  Okay, now I’m gonna cry.

“I don’t take my work home with me, so I sure as shit don’t have to eat shit in my own house on my own time!”

“Well, okay, then, fine, you go down there and tell Sam she can take her shitty pizza and get the hell out of here.”

“I can’t do that!”

“Then shut up and eat it, shit and all.”

“Tuna, Daniel, who in the hell puts tuna on a pizza, and what the hell is pesto sauce?”

“It’s a white pasta sauce generally attributed to the Liguria region of Northern Italy made from a combination of basil, garlic, Parmesan cheese, olive oil and pine nuts or walnuts, but that’s not important right now, what is – you have two choices here, and you know what they are.  You told Sam you wanted the two of you to be just friends; she’s obviously taken you at your word.  She’s showed up here expecting to hang out, because you said she could.  So, you either go down there and tell her you didn’t mean what you said, and she should go home and stop bothering you or – “

“I go down there and make nice and eat the fucking pizza,” Jack sighs, hanging his head.  “I can’t tell her to get lost, I did say we should just be friends and I did sort of, open the door about the whole, hanging out…thing…”

“Yeah, about that – “

“I can’t believe she actually remembered it, it was years ago, and ironically enough, pizza was involved on that occasion as well.  It was back when that Orlin character was floating around her place, only we didn’t know that then, just that something hinky was going on with her, you remember, you suggested Teal’c and I should go over there, check and see if she was okay, well, while I was there I might have said something along the lines of, we should hang out because we never do, I had to say something to explain why we’d come over, but I meant all of us, not just – her and me.  And so, here we are.”

“Yep.”

“I’ve gotta do this, but you – “

“Yes, Jack, I’m with you all the way.  I’ll eat my share, tuna and all.”

“So it’s definitely a fromage a trois,” he deadpans.

“Let’s just…get down there and get this over with.  It’s just one evening, and one pizza.  We can do this.”

“Yeah, we can.  I love you, you know.”

“You’d better.  And by the way, if I need my stomach pumped afterwards I’m sending you the bill.”

“We could dial up P7A 401 and send out for more candied eyeballs for dessert.  They’re not so bad, really, once you get over the whole having your food staring at you…thing.  A little crunchier than you’d expect but – “

“Jack?”

“Daniel?”

“Shut up.”

  Oh God, I’ve got so much work to do, and it seems like everybody wants it yesterday.  Well, even the indispensable need to eat, and certain people’s opinions to the contrary, I don’t work through as many meal breaks as they think I do, as evidenced by the fact I have temporarily deserted my post to stuff my face at the approximately the appropriate time the military has allotted for lunch consumption, but now I have returned, and here we are –

And here’s Jack.

Jack’s sitting at my computer, scowling at the screen.  What is he doing here, and why is he tying up my computer when he’s got a perfectly good one in his own office?

I don’t know so why don’t I ask him?

“Jack, what are you doing here?” I demand, continuing into my office and slapping the folder I’ve been carrying down on my desk.

Jack slowly raises his head, eyebrow arched in reaction to the tone of my voice.

Okay, I admit it; that came out a little more – snippy – than I intended.  I’ve been slightly, on edge, for the last few days, but we won’t get into that right now.

“I’m Googling,” Jack loftily informs me, sniffing with mild affront before turning his attention back to the screen.

“Okay, I’m sorry I snapped at you – I didn’t mean – “ 

Jack airily waves away the rest of my begrudging apology, his eyes still riveted to whatever he’s searching for.

“Okay, so you’re Googling,” I try again, taking a deep breath so whatever I say will sound a little less…you know, even though I am still annoyed.  I have work to do and it’s kinda hard to get on with it with him sitting there. 

“But what I mean is – why are you doing it here?  You have a computer, and you also have a desk, whether it suits you to acknowledge their existence or not.  They’re both waiting for you in the office you also frequently disavow any knowledge of.”

“Oh, that,” Jack murmurs with a shrug. “Yours is closer.”

Making it of course, more convenient for you, but in the meantime what am I supposed to do?

Barely resisting the impulse to scream I try again.

“Jack – I need you to – I need to get back to work!”

“No, Daniel,” Jack calmly returns.  “You need a vacation.  We need a vacation.  Which is why I am here.”

That made absolutely no sense, and my utter confusion must be showing, because Jack sighs and sadly shakes his head like he’s realized he’s dealing with a mental defective and is going to have to start using smaller words or something.

Although where you’d find a word smaller than ‘D’oh!’ I don’t know.

“Daniel, you and I both know, bad cheese jokes and occasional fantasies aside, a perpetual threesome was not the configuration either one of us had in mind for the rest of our relationship.”

Oh no, here we go, he’s not gonna throw that ‘it’s only one night, one pizza’ thing back in my face again.  How the hell was I supposed to know –

“Carter has been over every night we haven’t been off world, so need I remind you it’s been….far too long since we’ve had any ‘quality time’…

Translation: fucked, boinked, banged the drum, done the horizontal mambo, screwed our brains out, whammed, bammed, thank you Dan, done any heavy necking, even.

“And quite frankly, you’re starting to get a bit hard to live with.”

Me?  Me?  I’m getting hard to live with?  Why, you arrogant bastard, you’re the one who almost shot me the other night because I tried to change the channel!

My angry rejoinder dies in my throat as Jack’s dark, sad eyes suddenly meet mine, his expression wistful and longing.

“I miss you,” he says softly.

Even though he sees me every day, and most of the evening, for that matter, I know exactly what he means. 

You see, ever since the bad pizza night, Sam has been a constant in our down time universe, which has had some serious consequences for the intimate side of our relationship, as you can well imagine.  Not only have we not been able to sleep together, we haven’t been able to sleep together either.

Just too risky for either one of us to pull an overnighter, either at his place or mine.  Sam won’t leave until I leave, which is usually pretty late, and once I’ve gone, I can’t really go back, and Jack can’t really come over to my place – it’s complicated, but trust me…

It’s just safer to stay in our own respective beds.

Safer, but a whole lot more lonely. 

“Yeah,” I tell him sincerely.  “I miss you too.  Not been sleeping so good.”

“Me neither,” he nods.

Now I feel like a schmuck for getting mad at him earlier, and also for not…

You see, it just hit me, although I have noticed we’ve both been getting on each other’s nerves recently, this is really the first time I’ve thought about it, and why.  I haven’t wanted to admit it to Jack, but even though it’s been…inconvenient… in some ways, to have Sam constantly around, I’ve kinda been enjoying it.  Being able to hang out with her, and talk to her, just like we used to, it’s almost like good old times. 

And she seems really happy too, and not just because she’s getting to be around Jack.

At least I like to think the getting to reconnect with me, part of things, she’s liking that as much as I am.

I hope so.

“Carter certainly seems to be enjoying herself,” Jack softly continues, like he’s just picked the thought right out of my head.

“Yeah, she’s really happy, isn’t she?”

“And you like having her around, don’t you?”

Shit.  This man scares me sometimes the way he can just –

I can’t hide anything from him.  But then, I don’t need to; he’s Jack.

“Yeah,” I admit, hanging my head.  “She’s my friend.  Or, at least she used to be.  Before – “

I bite my tongue and shut up, having already said more than I meant to.  I don’t want to blame Jack for what happened between Sam and I, I’m sure it wasn’t just that, things got awfully complicated in all of our lives back then and for awhile none of us were really – connecting – as well as we used to and then I…

I really don’t want to think about that, and I’m sure Jack doesn’t want to be reminded either.

“Before I bailed on you and took Carter with me and started this whole mess in the first place.”

Jack’s gentle but frank admission is as uncompromising as the fierce devotion and affection in his expression.

“I had my head up my ass for a long time, running away screaming from the best thing that ever happened to me, and I did a lot of stupid things I can never take back before I finally figured it all out. I don’t count hiding behind Carter as the worst thing, although it was pretty bad.  No, what I did to you was far worse. I hurt you, Daniel, and while I was being such an ass you lost both of us, and then…we lost you.”

Jack looks away, blinking hard.  I should say something, but, feeling pretty gut-punched, here.  Although we both know what happened, and why, he’s never come right out and….

We’ve just never talked about it.  We put it behind us and…moved on.  I was okay with that, and I thought, so was he, I didn’t really need him to, to say anything about it, or apologize, even, but now that he has…

I should…say something.

“But – it’s okay now.  Things are good.  We’re good, that’s all that matters.”

“Some things are good,” Jack nods.  “Some things are great, never doubt that. Others…not so good.”

And then I get it.  The second emotional blow to my solar plexus knocks my legs out from under me and I collapse into my chair.

Jack says nothing, watching me sit there and hyperventilate, a mildly curious expression on his face.

“You gonna live?” he finally inquires.

Okay, I can talk now.

“All this time I thought, what you’ve been doing, putting up with Sam – I thought – “

“I know what you thought,” he smiles deprecatingly.  “But then, that’s the way you are Daniel, it’s always the other guy first, always everybody else but you.”

Omigawd, I can’t talk again.  Everything Jack has done since that first night Sam showed up, every bad meal he’s eaten without a single complaint, from vile pizza to that godawful meatloaf she tried to cook last night, every chick flick and bad sci fi movie he’s sat through without so much as a whimper, every conversation Sam and I have gotten into that’s gone over his head he’s endured with quiet, uncharacteristic patience and nary an eye roll or a sarcastic comment, every night he’s walked us both to the door and said good-bye to me with Sam watching our every move – all of that – why he did it even though he could have ended it after a couple of nights, could have ended it any time, and yet he hasn’t, and clearly doesn’t intend to because I thought…I thought…

I thought he was – is - doing it for her, all this unusual tolerance and endurance, it’s been all about making Sam happy but – but – but –

“Daniel, Carter and I have about as much in common as me and bread mould.  Honestly, I don’t give a rat’s ass about what she does, except that she does it, she does it very well and she does it when I need her to.  As to her likes and dislikes and her feelings, I know all I need to know about her in order for us to relate effectively as team leader and subordinate.  Over and above that I’ve got no interest whatsoever in discovering what makes her tick, nor do I possess any great, burning desire or ambition to be her buddy. Sure I care about her and all, as one of my kids, but making her day doesn’t figure all that high on my list of priorities. You however,” he says sternly, affixing me with a serious stare, “Are another story, pal.  What make you happy is of the utmost importance to me.  Nothin’ matters more, babe.”

I don’t know what to say.

“I took your friend away from you and that hurt you, bad.  Getting the two of you back together – fixing that – well, let’s just say I’m willing to put up with a lot to make it right.  If it makes you happy, it’s more than worth it.  Besides, it hasn’t been too horrible. I’m getting a really kick out of watching the two of you together – of watching you – how wound up you get when the pair of you really get into it, and how you kick her butt nine times out of ten in the debate department.  You’re the only person I know who can think rings around Carter, and talk her under the table to boot and I’ve got my own private ringside seat for the show.  You’re shining again.  I don’t really mind I’m not the only one who can make you glow like that.”

Okay, now I’m the one who has to look away and blink.

If my mouth would work there’s so much I want to say to him right now, but as it is I have to restrain