…Tick…Tick…Tick…Tock…Tick…Tick…Tick…Tock…

The swinging of the pendulum was mesmerizing. The tiny cuckoo clock was a ‘treasure’ Annika had found at a yard sale. Every second right swing was a little louder than the others. It kept terrible time. Speeding up or slowing down as the fancy took it. She’d joked that it kept ‘Daniel Time’, since he worked to his own timetable that had nothing to do with minutes and hours. Annika had planned to get it repaired but had never gotten around to it. There were a lot of things that she’d never gotten around to. Cleaning out the hall cupboard…repainting the spare bedroom…explaining why she…He stopped the thought before it really began.

Daniel pulled the chain, resetting the weights so it would give another day of wrong time. He did it partly out of habit, partly because it was a physical display of time passing. It was the only indication to him that he was alive. God knew he didn’t feel alive. According to the dictionary the definition of life was ‘existence in the physical world; the entire period during which somebody is, has been, or will yet be alive’. A bitter laugh spat from his throat. Well, I am existing…actually it was more like drifting. He drifted from his home to the SGC and back again, not taking in his surroundings, having no desire to acknowledge his friends or colleagues. He ate and slept…at least he was pretty sure he did. Couldn’t quite remember the last time food had passed his lips, however he was almost positive he’d had a dream last night. A wonderful dream where he was married and happy for the briefest of times and then it had turned into a nightmare…Oh, wait. That hadn’t been a dream. He’d woken up from that place of happiness and the nightmare had been real.

He’d become a master at blocking his emotions. Janet was worried he was in denial. He wasn’t. He knew what had happened. Just refused to acknowledge the emotions that threatened to burst through his stubborn mental barrier at any given second. He wasn’t sure he could cope with that. Didn’t know if he would be totally buried by the pain so deeply he’d never survive. But that’s what you want, isn’t it? a voice in the back of his mind taunted him. Yes!…No!…Maybe…Possibly not… The point was, it was a choice he was never meant to be given.

He allowed the hard knot of anger in the pit of his stomach to slightly unravel. Not enough to consume him, for his rage at the moment was as strong as the pain he held back. Just enough seeped through to stain his pasty cheeks with a dash of color. Of all the emotions, anger was the only one he felt safe dealing with…at least in small doses. And he had many people he could direct his anger at, if only in his mind. Sam was as good a person to start with as anyone. Anger at Sam for getting injured and needing emergency surgery. Angry at the doctors who had died that day, leaving Janet the only one qualified to operate. Angry at Janet for not realizing how severe other people’s injuries were. He didn’t listen to his conscience whispering that hadn’t been the doctor’s fault. Angry at Teal’c and Sam (again) and Jack for that matter, for not picking up on the presence of not just one, but three Goa’uld. Again he ignored the voice reminding him that also hadn’t been his friends’ fault. Daniel was working on a good old fashioned rant where little details like facts had no business intruding. I never claimed that it was a rational anger. Just anger, pure and simple. Now, who else am I mad at? Jacob and Selmak. Those two had allowed Annika to study the symbiote/host connection, had planted the seed of how to do what she’d done. Jack. He’d been there. Had been in the place Daniel should have been, had every right to be as Annika’s husband. Angry at himself for not realizing what things Annika had been blocking through their bond, things that would have alerted him to the reality of the situation.

There was one other person he was enraged with. Someone who was the primary focus of his anger. Someone he couldn’t demand an explanation from, could never speak to again. His eyes skimmed to the mantle, skipping over the icing sculptures of Hathor chewing his shoe from their first date and the castle she’d lovingly created for their wedding cake, to the candid photo taken in their marriage ‘costumes’. Damn you! You had no fucking right to do it!

If it wasn’t for the soft little whimper from Hathor who cowered on the couch, Daniel wouldn’t have known he’d yelled out loud.

With a sigh he scooped up the little bundle of fluff. Joyce had unofficially adopted the puppies, even though they still spent most of their time with him when he was home. He was grateful to the elderly woman. He had enough trouble trying to take care of himself without the added responsibility of the puppies. Hathor’s dark little eyes blinked quizzically up at him, and if she could speak he knew the question she would ask. It had been two months, and still whenever he walked through the door they would run around his legs in greeting and then wait eagerly for Annika to follow him in. Every time she didn’t, they turned back to him with a confused look as though to say, ‘Where is she?’ It threatened to tear him apart every time.

He spent a few minutes playing with Hathor. Thor heard his sibling and scampered into the room to join in, not wanting to miss out on this now rare occurrence of frolicking with his owner. After Daniel had worn them both out he settled on the couch, his hand dipping into the box of off-world artifacts beside him. Watching the puppies curled happily asleep at his feet he wished he could drop off that easily. He had tried working out at the base gym, hoping to tire his body to the point of exhaustion so he could just collapse into bed. However the problem with repetitive exercise was that it freed up the mind to wander in whatever direction it chose, and it inevitably took a path he was steadfastly trying to ignore. So he had given up on that and made sure that he kept his brain busy with other things.

His work was his salvation. He holed himself up in his office for hours at a time, quite often staying through the night, not noticing the passage of time. It was only when Janet would order him off the base that he left. However he always took with him a pile of mission photos, tablets, manuscripts, even a few small inscribed jars, knowing that he’d need them to get through the hours until he could go back for more endless, mind numbing translations. To the outsider this was one aspect of Daniel’s routine that hadn’t changed. He’d always been caught up in his work, always immersed himself in the next alien script, the next ‘new’ language to be deciphered. It was just that the reason had changed. Well, it was more a case of regression. As a child he’d surrounded himself with the written word to escape the pain of his parents' death. Turning page after page, chapter by chapter, he’d been transported to the world the author dictated. A thrilling piece of fiction or a dry history of a long dead civilization, it didn’t matter. When reading he didn’t have to think about the current set of foster parents he’d been foisted on, nor the school bullies who liked to pick on the scrawny kid with glasses. Daniel loved the world he’d created in his mind, even if it was at times a lonely existence, knowing that he could escape reality with just the turn of a page.

He concentrated on the tablet in front of him. SG-5 had found it a week ago and it appeared to be a deviation of Phoenician they’d never encountered before. Vaguely he heard a series of knocks, but ignored them. He was officially off duty. He didn’t have to report in to anyone, wasn’t obligated to answer his door if he chose not to.

The knocking turned into pounding and he heard his name called. Recognized the voice, but he didn’t particularly want to talk to him right now. In truth he didn’t want to talk to anyone full stop. He was sick of small talk, of people hedging around him, of the sympathetic smiles and gestures; everyone treating him with kid gloves, afraid that he’d break if they accidentally made some imagined inappropriate comment. It rankled him to admit that he had that same fear. He didn’t want to deal with it now. It was much easier to tune out the banging and continue on with what he was doing, hoping his visitor would get the message and just go away. Considering who he knew was attacking his door, Daniel should have known better.

A few seconds later there was a brief silence and then a loud ‘whump’. The door burst open, splintering the lock, and Jack stumbled into the hall.

Daniel didn’t look up from the tablet. "I hope you’re going to replace that."

Jack quickly schooled his slightly wild expression at the sight of Daniel sitting on the couch. Tried to calm the thumping in his chest that had nothing to do with the exertion of breaking down the door. "I knocked."

"I heard."

"You didn’t answer."

"Nothing wrong with your ears."

"I thought…" he cut off.

"What? That you’d bust in to find I’d slashed my wrists?" Daniel held out his left hand palm up. The other kept scratching away at his notebook. "You can report back there’s not a mark on me."

"Dammit, Daniel!" Jack ran a shaky hand through his grey hair. "Why didn’t you answer me?"

His eyes flickered over to his friend, then back down. "Didn’t feel like talking."

There was an uncomfortable silence which Daniel eventually (and grudgingly) broke.

"Why didn’t you use the key?"

"What key?"

"The one in between your car key and your house key."

"I’ve got a key to your house?" It was a ridiculous topic of conversation given the circumstances. Jack wasn’t complaining though, at least it was a conversation. There hadn’t been much of that in the last two months.

Daniel’s eye roll was automatic. "You’ve had it since New Year, when you picked up the box of art supplies Annika had forgotten for you to take to Mirrin."

"I didn’t give it back?" He fished out the bundle of keys from his pocket and carefully examined each one until he came to an unfamiliar one. "Huh."

"Is there something you wanted?" Daniel demanded. "Or did you just have the sudden compulsion to destroy my door?"

Jack sucked in a deep breath and spoke in one continuous rush. "Teal’c’s visiting Ry’ac Sam’s involved with some do-hickey I was gonna go to the lake to fish."

"Thanks for the update."

"Thought you’d like to join me. Get out of the house for a while."

"I’ve been out of the house all week," he countered. Technically it was true. He’d been on base since Monday. He’d probably still be there except Janet had become suspicious, checked the sign in sheets and discovered he’d been working for five straight days without a break.

"Get some fresh air then." Jack wasn’t about to give up. Daniel wasn’t the only stubborn member of SG-1.

"You’ve just added a new ventilation system." His response was dry.

"Get away from work."

"I’ve got to get this done for SG-5." Daniel was trying to be patient, but it was hard when Jack was in one of his ‘wanna annoy Daniel’ moods. "They’ll need it for when they go back on Monday."

"That piddly thing?" the older man scoffed. "It’ll take you all of an hour. Do it tomorrow."

"And I’ve got another dozen to do after that." He gestured to the box of scrolls and tablets.

"They can wait."

Daniel gritted his teeth. "There’s no reason they should."

"Then we’ll take the damned things with us. I’ll fish, you’ll read. It’ll be nice and peaceful."

"It was peaceful here before."

Jack glowered. Daniel pretended not to notice.

The colonel released a huff of air then strode over to the couch and plunked himself next to the archaeologist. He plucked the tablet away from Daniel. "What’s it say?"

"You really want to know?" he asked exasperated.

"Nope."

"Then why ask?"

"’Cause."

Daniel firmly reclaimed the ancient stone and tried to finish the translation. Which would have been a hell of a lot easier if Jack wasn’t noisily rifling through the box.

"What’s this?"

"I don’t know. That’s why I brought it home to study." He didn’t miss the scowl that was shot towards him. "You’re not leaving, are you?"

"Nope. What’s this?" He waved another as yet unidentified thing-ummy under his friend’s nose.

"Jack, I just want to be alone."

"Been alone too much," he fired back, picking up a rock at random. "This looks interesting."

Daniel threw down his pen irritably. "If I go with you to the cabin, will you stop with the incessant babbling?"

"Yep."

"And you’ll shut up and let me finish my work?"

"Scout’s honor."

"Fine." Daniel rose with great reluctance. "I’ll grab a shirt."

"And I’ll…um, do a patch job on your door. Drop round tomorrow to fix it."

"Sure…fine…whatever," he mumbled.

Jack tried to mask his shock at how thin Daniel had become. It had been months since he'd seen Daniel shirtless. With SG-1 being off active duty there had been no reason for them to use the communal base showers. While sitting it hadn’t been so noticeable. His face looked gaunt, but Jack had put that down to a visual trick caused by the huge circles under his eyes. When Daniel uncoiled from the couch he could see the outline of his friends ribs and his previously snug jeans hung loosely on his hips. "How about we pick up a pizza on the way?" Not exactly a healthy meal, but the man was obviously in need of a bit of grease and some carbs.

"Whatever," Daniel replied not really hearing the suggestion. He was concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. His ascent upstairs slowed to a snail’s pace the closer he got. It was hard for him to enter the bedroom, their bedroom. Whenever he did he was bombarded with memories of the glorious hours they had spent making love, of the hundreds of pillow conversations when they teased each other, spoke of their hopes and dreams, their fears and everything in between. It was the ‘everyday’ memories that got to him the most. Of Annika brushing her hair, hunting around for a stray sock that had gone AWOL under the dresser, giving him a delectable view of her rear end, or rousing him from sleep with a kiss and a cup of his favorite coffee. He dragged his feet, bracing himself as though he were about to enter the Gates of Hell. Taking a deep breath he stepped inside, keeping his eyes downcast as he walked passed their bed.

He hadn’t been able to sleep in it, had taken to sleeping on the couch when his body demanded rest. Joyce had been fussing around like a mother hen and had taken it upon herself to do some of his washing and housework. Daniel wasn’t sure if she’d washed the sheets as well. For all he knew the bedclothes were untouched, would still have the lingering scent of vanilla and their lovemaking from that ordinary day that had ended with his world crashing around him figuratively, and in the case of the SGC, literally.

Daniel strode across the carpet and yanked open a draw. The first shirt his fingers touched was the one he snatched up and in three long strides he was back in the relative ‘safety’ of the hall. Only then did he release the breath he’d been holding. Sucking in a fresh lungful of air he cursed himself for not stepping further away from the entrance. The soft sweet smell of his wife invaded his nostrils and he battled to control the emotions that once again threatened to overwhelm him. He could cope with it throughout the rest of the house, just not here.

Jack was in the process of nailing the front door to the surrounding architrave. The entire side would have to be replaced, so a few nails wouldn’t matter. "We’ll have to use the back door."

The archaeologist shrugged into a jacket, picked up the box of artifacts and tossed his notebook inside. He waved for Jack to precede him and the two of them left by way of the kitchen. After making sure Hathor and Thor were outside he locked the door.

The ride to the cabin was a silent one, both men distracted by their own thoughts.

For a change Daniel’s mind wasn’t running a million miles a minute. He stared out the window, simply studying the everyday surroundings they were cruising by. It all seemed so normal. Men and women going about their daily business, rushing off to wherever they needed to be. Families piled into cars for their weekly outing to parks or shopping malls. Brothers teasing sisters, mothers the harassed referees trying to stop first blood, wondering where in hell they got the notion that having children was a good idea. Friends strolling by, lovers holding hands, joggers in the park. Their lives had gone on, while his had ground to a halt.

Jack’s thoughts on the other hand were in the middle of a triathlon. He’d been given the monumental task of trying to get Daniel to talk about what had happened. He wasn’t under orders exactly, but everyone was worried about their archaeologist. And if the truth be known Jack had already planned this outing. He knew better than anyone what bottling up grief could do to a person.

Janet and Hammond were concerned that Daniel would try to commit suicide. Jack had dismissed the idea, even if he had let their fear control his actions when Daniel hadn’t answered the door. Daniel wasn’t the suicidal type. He’d sacrifice himself to save a friend or a even a perfect stranger. He’d volunteer for a suicide mission, if he thought the cause was just. But to pop himself because he was depressed? Nuh uh, not gonna happen. He may think about it. The man never stopped thinking no matter what. He’d examine all the options from every different angle, however he’d never take that road. It went against his morals. Jack secretly harbored the idea that Annika had known that too. He’d promised her that he’d help Daniel get past the grief to have some semblance of living. (Both had known he would never fully recover.) His best friend wasn’t exactly making it easy to uphold that promise, not that Jack ever thought that he would. Only Daniel wasn’t reacting the way he’d expected. A wry smile twisted his lips. Well, really that was just typical Space Monkey behavior. Daniel had grieved for Sha’re from the moment he realized she was dead. Grieved and then slowly healed. With Annika, he hadn’t as yet shed one tear. He hadn’t actually begun to grieve. No grieving, no healing. It was as simple as that. He was in limbo and Jack was determined to get the ball rolling.

The problem was he had no idea how he was going to go about it. If he pushed, Daniel would only dig his heels in from sheer stubbornness. That much he knew. It would require subtlety and finesse… Hmmm, maybe I should have brought Sam along. Being subtle wasn’t quite his strong suit. For the moment the colonel was working on small steps. He’d gotten Daniel away from the house and base. True, he still had work with him, but it was a victory nonetheless. Step two was to get Daniel to talk. He didn’t care about what. He’d let him chatter on about the latest rock translation in whatever language he chose, and Jack would even try his best to look interested. The topic wasn’t important, the speaking was. Daniel didn’t speak anymore. Oh, he gave debriefs on the off-world do-dads brought back and if he was asked a question then he’d respond most of the time. But he didn’t initiate a conversation.

And Jack missed that. He wasn’t accustomed to this silent Daniel. Missed the snarky banter that to those who didn't know them, gave the impression that they couldn’t stand each other. It was something they’d played up on. Was a damned useful tool during certain predicaments off-world and was a comfort to both men who didn’t find speaking about emotions easy. There was an honesty in the tone they used and after eight years a certain inflection was all it took for the other to know precisely what was meant, needed or felt.

For the last seven weeks Jack hadn't been able to get a reading from his friend. Daniel had been in a coma for a week after it happened, which according to Lya wasn’t surprising. One of the first things they had done once they had the Stargate working again was to contact the Nox in the vain hope that she would be able to weave her magic. Her doe eyes had filled with anguish when she had told them too much time had passed to restore life to Annika’s body. When Daniel had woken, he’d stared blankly at the ceiling, non-responsive to Janet’s questions or examinations. Nobody, including Lya who understood more than anyone about the physical and mental connection Daniel and Annika had shared, knew what the aftereffects would be. The doctor had been beside herself with worry. She’d finally broken down when Sam, recovering from her own injuries in the next bed, had expressed her own fears about Daniel’s condition.

"His scans show nothing is physically wrong…I don’t know what else to do. I know he’s awake but I can’t tell if anything’s getting through…if he even understands what’s happened, if he remembers…"

Something in Janet’s voice must have penetrated the haze of Daniel’s mind. He may have been lost in his own private hell but he was aware enough on some level that he didn’t want to cause anyone else anymore grief. So he had spoken, even though his traumatized mind wasn’t ready to deal with the real world. It was said softly, flatly, void of any emotion. "I remember everything."

It was the tone he’d been using ever since. Jack had tried to be patient in the ensuing weeks, hoping that Daniel would give him some sign that he was coping…or not coping. Hell, Jack had even started ‘eavesdropping’ outside the briefing room and found himself actually listening to the linguistic mumbo-jumbo about some rock to try and catch a hidden glimpse that Daniel was ready to talk. Today, he had given up on waiting and taken the bull by the horns. He was pretty sure that it had been the right time to do so. The banter at the house, while reflexive to Jack’s deliberate goading, had contained a hint of Daniel’s old self.

The colonel didn’t stop to get the pizza he’d suggested earlier. Buoyed by the small steps of progress made, in typical SG-1 fashion he was going to push his luck. Plan B, or was it C?…was to get him to take an interest in something other than the box of artifacts. Not an easy task even in normal circumstances, but Jack O’Neill was always up for a challenge. It would be another baby step, and yet all journeys began that way. Jack was going to throw a couple of steaks on the barbecue and whip up a salad. What he was counting on, was Daniel’s ingrained fastidiousness for cuisine perfection to rear its head. Most people would be surprised to learn, that the one man who off-world was always the first to try the usually odd native food, was very careful about what passed his lips at home. He wasn’t finicky, would in fact eat just about anything, as long as it was prepared correctly. Jack on the other hand had the tendency to throw everything together and hope for the best. It had been the cause of many a good-natured debate between them. With Jack’s habit of turning anything on the barbecue into a nice, crunchy charcoal, he was hoping Daniel’s ‘survival instinct’ would kick in and force him to abandon work if only for the few minutes it would take to cook the meat.

Jack pulled into his driveway and Daniel silently climbed out, clutching that damned box to his chest like a life preserver. Both men bypassed the front door of the cabin and wandered around the back. Daniel dropped down on a patch of grass near the jetty. Straight away he pulled out the Phoenician tablet he’d been working on earlier, making the not so subtle point that he was there under duress.

Jack unlocked his back door. "Beer?"

Slim shoulders lifted up and down in an apathetic shrug.

Oy, I’ve got my work cut of for me, he thought, sliding the glass door open and tossing his keys on the table. He grabbed two beers from the fridge and headed back outside. Daniel was already focused on the rock, however when Jack tapped the bottle against his shoulder, his tapered fingers accepted the drink and he took a sip. Jack settled himself in the camping chair that was permanently set up in the middle of the jetty with his trusty fishing pole. He was about to make some asinine comment about the peaceful solitude of fishing, just to break the silence, but before he could utter a word Daniel cut him off.

"Jack, you promised."

Does the man have eyes in the back of his head? Jack silently grumped. He hadn’t even looked up from his notebook! Irritated that he’d been hogtied by his own words he restlessly stood up out of the chair he’d only just gotten comfortable in and paced the jetty, his boots clomping on the wooden planks. Crap! How am I supposed to get Daniel to talk without talking myself? I knew I should have brought Sam along, she is much better at this sort of thing than I am…

"So much for nice and peaceful."

Jack’s head shot up at the quiet comment. It had been said in that unreadable flat tone but he was sure there was a possibility of a smile tilting Daniel’s bowed face. He tried to act nonchalant, covering up the grin that threatened to spread across his lips with an ‘annoyed’ glower. He made a show of casting the line, quietly slipping the pole in the holder and tiptoeing back to his seat. Folding his hands across his stomach and stretching his legs out he gave the impression of getting ready to take a nap, all the while watching Daniel out of the corner of his eye. Yep, that was definitely the makings of a smile.

A  A  A  A  A  A

Daniel glanced at his friend. He hadn’t wanted to take this excursion, but now he had to admit he was glad Jack had provoked him into coming. Jack O’Neill, who’d made an art form of playing dumb and ignorant, was more perceptive than most people gave him credit for. His built-in radar had picked up the hint that Daniel himself had been ignoring, that he needed this outing. On some level he must have realized it too, for the ‘fight’ he’d put up at the house hadn’t been very strong. He wanted to tell Jack that he had missed this. It seemed like a lifetime ago since they’d simply hung out. They used to do it all the time, practically lived in each other’s pockets during their down time, with or without the rest of the team. Jack seemed to be lost in his own thoughts and he was reluctant to intrude. Then he saw something he’d never seen before and had seriously doubted that he ever would.

The fishing pole tucked into the rod holder at the end of the jetty gave a slight jerk.

"Jack," he whispered, not daring to speak louder in case the ‘miracle’ he was witnessing got scared away.

"What?" he grunted.

"Jack, look." Daniel pointed to the rod.

The colonel followed his finger. For a moment he simply stared blankly at the line being dragged out deeper into the lake, not quite comprehending what his eyes were showing him, then he sprang to his feet. "Holy Crap!" He ran to the jetty end, not paying attention to where he put his feet, more intent on grabbing the pole to reel in the first fish he’d actually hooked in his lake. He totally forgot about the loose plank he’d been meaning to fix for years and his foot snagged on the raised corner. "Whooooa! Arrrrrrgh!"

Daniel who’d also jumped to his feet, could only watch as Jack went flying through the air, managed to catch the rod on his way before disappearing over the edge. The inevitable almighty splash followed abruptly cutting off his outcry.

Jack came up spluttering, the pole being waved madly about as he tried to ignore the icy wetness, regain his footing and keep the line taut all at the same time. Much to his disgust the line he wound back was slack, the hook empty of bait and fish. "Dammit!" Wiping the water from his eyes he turned back to the jetty, to find Daniel doubled over, arms wrapped around his stomach. Instantly concerned he began to wade back to shore. "Danny?"

"Hmmmph," was all the reply he received.

"Daniel, you okay?" He tried to move faster but kept slipping on the lake’s silt bottom. His heart pounded when Daniel collapsed to the ground with a muffled groan. "Daniel!" Jack’s foot became entangled with a water reed and he once again went face first into the murky depths. When he resurfaced, it was to see his friend still on the ground, however the sound that greeted his ears was a soothing balm.

Daniel was laughing. A full on, split your sides, laugh your socks off, belly laugh. Laughing so hard that he couldn’t stand up, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything except let the fit of pure hilarity run its course. Which took quite awhile, because every time he managed to start…just start mind you…to control himself, he’d take one look at the glaring, sopping colonel with a reed draped decoratively over his head, and another round of guffaws would burst forth.

"So glad I could amuse you," Jack growled sarcastically in his typical fashion even as he felt his own legs threaten to give way with relief. It was a break through, the first sign of any real emotion his friend had shown since Annika had died. He bobbed up and down in the water, fighting the urge to dance a jig. The muddy sludge would only bog him down anyway. "Hey, chuckles, get over here and give me a hand up."

It took a few minutes, but eventually Daniel was able to get his legs under him. Still chortling he peered over the edge of the jetty. He squatted down but instead of taking Jack’s hand he plucked the slimy reed from his head and another genuine hoot of laughter rendered him useless. "Jack O’Neill, master fisherman!" He made the mistake of waving the offending plant in Jack’s face.

"Oh, that’s it, Space Monkey!" Jack’s eyes gleamed. Quick as a flash he grabbed Daniel’s hand and yanked him into the water with him.

Daniel emerged still laughing and immediately swiped a leg towards the colonel, knocking him off balance to dunk him under again. To which of course Jack retaliated in kind. They spent a couple of minutes horsing around, eliminating any chance of luring that lone fish back any time soon. For that brief time both men tuned out the harsh reality of life and mucked around with the innocence of children.

Jack knew the moment Daniel crashed back to the real world. He glanced over his shoulder to throw a comment to his wife. An automatic response because he had forgotten that she wasn’t there. The laugh stuck in his throat, the sparkle in his eyes shut off like a light bulb. With a scratchy sigh Daniel heaved himself out of the water then leant down to give Jack a hand.

"You’re allowed to laugh ya’ know." Jack accepted the help and they sat side by side on the jetty edge, legs dangling in the water.

"Am I?" he asked quietly.

"There are no rules." Jack paused. "And even if there were, since when did you ever follow them?"

The small smile that touched his lips was sad. "I feel guilty."

"For what? For having a bit of fun?"

He didn’t answer and Jack realized that his question hadn’t been quite right.

"For wanting to have a bit of fun?"

Daniel’s head bowed in confirmation.

Jack didn’t know how to respond. There were a million platitudes he could choose from, none of them seemed right. Plus he remembered how he’d hated those words of ‘wisdom’ when they had been spouted at him when Charlie died.

Blue eyes ghosted towards him. "Thank you for not saying it." He had heard every damned variation of ‘Annika would have wanted you to be happy’ from well meaning friends and he was getting sick of it. He didn’t care what she would have wanted, he was more focused on what she had done.

"Hey, you know me, I’m a man of few words," Jack wisecracked. "You’re the linguist."

For the longest time, Daniel simply stared out across the lake, watching a pair of ducks paddling in circles, looking for tasty morsels just below the surface. "Did you know that swans mate for life?" he asked almost absently. "If one is killed then the other pines for it until the day it also dies."

"No. I didn’t." Jack wasn’t game to ask if the remaining swan committed the equivalent of animal suicide. He knew Daniel wouldn’t do that, but there was no point in giving the man ideas.

There was silence for a while longer and when Daniel did once again speak, he was barely audible. "I don’t want to die…but at the same time I don’t want to live without her."

His friend wanted to tell him it would get easier, but didn’t. It was another of those irritating platitudes that while true, was of no relevance until things actually started to get easier. He cleared his throat. "Janet thinks you’ve got some sorta survivor’s guilt."

"It’s not survivor’s guilt. Guilt implies I was given a choice."

Jack heard the bitterness in his voice. Dare I push? If Daniel clammed up, he clammed up, nonetheless Jack had to try. "A bit pissed off, are we?" He purposefully kept his tone light.

The laugh that hit the back of Daniel’s throat was harsh. "That’s an understatement if ever I heard one." He paused, fighting back his rage. "I am so angry I can hardly see straight."

"At anyone in particular?" He already had pretty good idea who he was mad at, but the point of the ‘exercise’ was to get Daniel to admit it.

"Anyone and everyone pretty much covers it." Daniel could feel Jack’s eyes boring into him. He didn’t say anything, but he knew Jack wouldn’t let him off the hook with just a flip remark. Would voicing his anger out loud siphon off some of the pressure that was building within him? Would he be able to stop the flow before it consumed him? Or would it be like a dam with a crack, once it started leaking the trickle becoming a gushing torrent? "I was mad at you, Jack. I am mad at you," he finally confessed.

Jack sighed. "I know."

"You were with her when she died."

"She wanted it that way. And you know Casper, what she wanted she got."

"She kicked me out of the room."

Beneath the anger, Jack could feel his friend’s hurt. "That’s not what happened…well, yeah, it is, but she had her reasons. Reasons I happen to agree with."

Daniel glared at him. "I should have been there. Not you."

"Yes. You should have," he agreed.

"You just said you agreed with Annika!" He thumped the jetty with his fist.

Jack had the sneaking suspicion Daniel would have much preferred to hit him. "I do. You both had valid points. It was an impossible situation. No right or wrong."

"I just can’t seem to get passed the one year mark with the women I love." That bitter tone was back, then as quickly as it had come it was replaced with agonizing regret. "I barely had six months."

"Better to have those six months than none at all." Jack cringed at the platitude that spilt from his mouth. Could I get any more clichéd?

Daniel didn’t seem to notice. "Is it? I’m not so sure."

"I am," Jack’s voice was gruff. "Despite the hell of Charlie’s death, I wouldn’t give up one day of the time Sara and I did have with him."

Blue eyes studied his friend for a long moment. Is that what life is about? A few brief spots of happiness in between the hardship? Would he really want to swipe those six months from his life? He still hadn’t recovered his memory from when he was Ascended. Would his mind be any richer if he knew what he’d experienced, would his perception of the world be any different? He thought about how much his life had changed from the day he’d met Annika. She had turned his world upside-down and inside out and he’d loved every second of it. Loved her and been loved back. So, no, he wouldn’t trade those memories for the world, but those same memories made living today almost impossible. Daniel noticed a tiny smirk on Jack’s lips. "What?"

"Just thinking about the day that you, Sam and Teal’c ambushed me here to convince me Casper was psychic." He took a swig from his beer. "I thought you’d all flipped the lid."

He took a long gulp from his own bottle, trying to ignore the hurt that sucker punched him at the memory. "What was it that finally convinced you anyway?"

Jack was surprised by the question. "Annika didn’t tell you?"

Daniel shook his head. "She said it was your secret, and as cute as it was, it wasn’t her place to reveal it. She wasn’t even going to tell you if she could help it."

The colonel told of the tiny ‘detail’ that he had purposefully left out of the mission report when he and Teal’c had been stuck in the time loop. His respect for the little psychic jumped up a notch. He’d assumed that despite her promise she had shared the vision with Daniel, especially since the non-frat rule no longer applied. "That woman sure knew how to keep secrets."

He knew he’d accidentally struck a nerve by the way Daniel’s fist clenched around the beer bottle.

Yeah, Annika knew how to keep secrets. She hadn’t told him about the severity of her injuries. Hadn’t mentioned that she’d powwowed with Jacob and Selmak exploring ways to break their bond... Daniel could feel his rage re-emerge however this time he didn’t try to curb it. "She had no right to do it!" he exploded. "It should have been my choice. It was a life bond. She took it upon herself to break it and leave me here alone..." His foot lashed out at the supporting beam of the jetty, needing to physically expel some of the rage.

Jack tried not to wince as the wood beneath his backside rocked. A few more kicks like that and they’d find themselves once again dunked in the lake. Still, he didn’t try to stop him. The anger inside Daniel had been festering too long. If it meant having to rebuild his jetty then so be it.

"…I’d taken comfort in the knowledge that I would never have to live without her, that I wouldn’t have to go through losing the woman I love again. Sha’re’s death almost killed me. And my love for her was nothing like what Annika and I shared. Annika knew that. Knew I never wanted to go through that again. Why, Jack? Why did she do it?"

That was his cue. "She wanted you to live."

"But that’s just it! I’m not living." Again his switch of emotions was quick. The anger was gone, the bitterness retook its place. "My heart may still be beating, but I’m dead inside."

Jack didn’t have a clue what to say to that, so he said nothing.

Daniel didn’t want or expect a response. Jack had moments of ‘inspiration’, but giving emotional advice was not his forte. It didn’t matter. Most of the time Jack was just a willing sounding board for Daniel to work off of. It was enough that his friend was there.

They sat somberly, watching the darkening clouds of an approaching storm roll in. The wind coming off the lake turned suddenly chilly, reminding both men that they were wearing wet, dirty clothes.

Jack cleared his throat. "Well, I’m up for a shower, how about you?" He clambered to his feet.

Daniel agreed, shaking excess mud from his boots.

"You want first dibs?" the colonel was shucking his shoes, to leave them outside.

"My mother always taught me to give way to my elders." Daniel surprised himself with the quip as he gathered the tablet and box of artifacts he’d abandoned.

"You’ll keep, Danny-me-boy," Jack mock growled, pegging a sodden sock in his direction. He disappeared inside with the echo of Daniel’s snort of laughter in his ears. This afternoon had gone better than he could have imagined. Not only had Daniel begun to acknowledge some of his pent up feelings, but his sense of humor was making a comeback. Oh, he knew his friend had a long way to go, but it was a definite start down the road of recovery.

Daniel planned on removing his shoes on the porch so as not to traipse mud inside. The heavens had other ideas. A loud clap of thunder and the clouds that had been growing darker all afternoon decided then and there to release its deluge. Not wanting to damage the ancient scrolls he ducked into the kitchen and deposited the box on the table. He then hunkered down to untie his boots. Working the saturated laces loose, he absently glanced up, not needing to watch what he was doing. He found himself looking at Jack’s fridge, which was covered with scraps of paper, takeaway menus and the occasional photo, all held up by magnets.

A child’s crayon drawing showed a comical version of Jack with a little person by his side, carefully labeled ‘To Unkle Jack, luv Tessa’, a gift from one of Hammond’s granddaughters. Above it was the photo of Sam being promoted to major. With the non-fraternization rule lifted for SGC personnel, such ‘incriminating’ evidence no longer had to be hidden in his sock draw. There was a picture of Charlie in his baseball uniform and a team shot of SG-1 partially covered by a discount voucher to the local fishing tackle shop. He stood up to study it closer, tugging it free from its magnetic hold and a few bits of paper fluttered to the floor. Judging by the style of Sam’s hair and that Jack was more brown than grey, it was taken during their second year at the SGC.

Stooping down to pick up what had fallen Daniel’s breath hitched in his throat. His fingers closed around the photograph. It was a candid shot that he hadn’t even known had been taken. The crumbling ruins in the background identified it as being off-world. He remembered that mission. It had been one of the rare times that things hadn’t gone to hell and they’d been able to explore the area at their leisure. The planet had been a literal treasure trove of ancient relics and the moment that had been captured was a few seconds after Annika had unearthed an intricately carved jade box. She was proudly showing Daniel her discovery, her face smudged with streaks of dirt, her violet eyes twinkling at finding the delicate stoneware intact. He’d been equally excited, immediately identifying the carved symbols as a deviation of Ancient.

Daniel felt his knees go weak and he let himself slide down the fridge to the floor. The photographer, he assumed it was Sam, had captured a perfect moment. The joy of discovery, the wonder at holding something tens of thousands years old. And mixed with the excitement, as clear as day, was the love that had existed between him and his soul mate. Daniel hadn’t realized that it was so visually obvious. Did we always look like that? Always have that glow to our faces? Have that gleam in our eyes?…Had, not have, he mentally corrected. It would never be have again. He felt a burning behind his eyes and he fought back the tears that blurred his vision. It's just a photo…no different from any other…he tried desperately to convince himself. Deep breaths…a few deep breaths and this moment will pass…he’d be able to maintain control. He attempted to draw air into his lungs but it was like a tight band had constricted around his chest. The best he could manage was a few short gasps. No! Can’t give in, can’t let go…. He’d be sucked into the whirlpool of heartache that was surrounding him. What if I can’t pull myself out?

Years of military efficiency had trained Jack to shower quickly. Within a few minutes he’d washed and was tugging on a fresh pair of chinos. He dug out another set of clothes for Daniel to wear, then after a moment of consideration, hunted around for a belt, guessing correctly that it would be needed. Pulling a shirt over his head with one hand he grabbed a spare towel with the other. "All yours," he called out, tossing the towel on the vanity. When he received no response he retraced his path to the back door, thinking Daniel hadn’t made his way inside yet. He stopped short at the sight of his friend slumped on the kitchen floor with his back to him, clutching the photo of Annika and him giddy at finding an apparently rare rock box. Saw the battle being fought, Daniel’s body shaking with the mammoth effort of keeping his emotions at bay. Jack hesitantly approached, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Let it out, Danny."

He jerkily shook his head. "Can’t…If I do that I…I’ll be swamped…I’ll drown."

"No, you won’t," he softly promised, understanding the metaphor. "I’m here. I won’t let that happen."

Daniel tensed beneath Jack's hand, felt the reassuring squeeze. Then with a shuddering breath that encompassed his whole body, he finally let the tears rimming his eyes spill over. They fell slowly at first, trickling down his cheeks in tiny rivulets. But as he at last caved in to the sorrow he’d been denying for too long, they came faster and hotter. He let the agony of his grief pour out of him, yet at the same time he felt it begin to consume him, closing over him like a wave, suffocating him, just as he feared it would. His free hand scrabbled up, snatching at Jack’s hand, clinging to the lifeline his friend had pledged would be there. "God, I miss her so much," he sobbed.

"I know," Jack’s voice was hoarse from both witnessing Daniel’s grief and his own at the loss of his teammate. He dropped down to his knees, his other hand offering the same solace as the first

"How do I go on without her, Jack?" he choked, releasing his hold on the photo and clasping the second proffered hand.

"One day at a time, my friend," he murmured. "One step at a time." Jack hugged Daniel to him while his best friend cried out the agony of his shattered heart, supporting him for as long as he was needed.

Jack didn’t know how long they sat there, however, it was long enough for the storm raging outside to come and go. Eventually this particular bout of grief ran its course. From personal experience he knew it wouldn’t be the last, but the first was always the hardest and he’d be there should Daniel need him again. When Daniel finally released his hold on Jack’s hands, he pulled away and the two friends shifted sideways so they were both leaning with their backs against the fridge.

The archaeologist picked up the photo that had been unwittingly creased by his grip. He gently smoothed out the corners, his thumb a loving caress over the image of his wife. "I didn’t know this had been taken." There was touch of curiosity in his voice.

"I’ve got a whole box of ’em somewhere around here," Jack shrugged. He’d been collecting them on the sly for years, an unusually sentimental act that he knew didn’t go with the flip blasé demeanor he showed to the world. "I can dig it out if you like."

"Some other time," he sighed. He got to his feet and carefully replaced the photo under its magnet. "I think I’m ready for that shower now."

Jack nodded, watching his friend retreat from his place on the floor. "Hey," he called him back. "You okay?"

Daniel twisted his torso from the threshold, his blue eyes unsurprisingly still ravaged with pain. "No," he answered honestly. "But I think I will be."

The colonel nodded again, content for the moment that Daniel was telling the truth. He scooted forward a little so he could open the fridge door and snake a hand inside for another beer.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?" His head rose to see Daniel still in that twisted position looking down at him. A myriad of emotions crossed his face and to Jack’s immense relief he could read every single one of them. Gone was the impassiveness that had shuttered his friend’s thoughts from him for the last two months. Grief, hurt, no longer any anger, a warmth of thankfulness and gratitude, of friendship. The best friends communicated silently, not needing words.

They shared a smile and then Daniel disappeared down the hall.

"You want another beer?" Jack hollered to be heard over the sound of running water.

"Coffee," came the warbled reply.

"How about a feed?" The colonel pulled out the coffee machine that was only ever used when Daniel was about.

"’kay."

By the time he’d pulled out the steaks, wiped down the barbecue from the rain and fired up the hot plate, the shower had been switched off.

"Move away from the grill, colonel, and put the tongs down."

Daniel stepped outside, cinching the belt to his waist. How he did it while holding a steaming cup of coffee at the same time Jack never knew.

"Not gonna let you cremate those poor unsuspecting steaks." There was a small teasing light to his blue depths.

Jack held his hands up in playful surrender. "Was just getting it ready for you," he grinned. Yep, Daniel will be okay. It’d be a slow process but he’d be okay.