**15 May**
Jack O’Neill opened unwilling eyes, forcing himself to full wakefulness. The scent of antiseptic was strong, and he knew instantly where he was. Details of SG-1’s last mission came rushing to the fore, along with raw pain that made him gasp.
Carefully, he tried to roll onto his back so he could look down and take stock of himself, to see if any parts of him were missing. Blinding pain in his side stopped that movement, and he sucked in a breath between clenched teeth.
“Just lie still, Colonel O’Neill,” came a feminine voice from somewhere behind him. He knew that voice from his many visits to the base infirmary. “You took an arrow in the side, but we’ve got you all fixed up. Need some pain medication?” Nurse Chambers floated into view as she came around to the front of the bed, smiling down at him.
“Where’s Daniel?” he asked, his voice a deep croak. Looking at the next bed across from his, he could see the mammoth shape beneath the covers that had to be Teal’c. “How’s my team?”
Chambers glanced behind him. “Major Carter and Teal’c are fine. The major’s just behind you in the next bed, sleeping. Teal’c is resting comfortably, too.” She smiled reassuringly at him.
“Injuries?”
The nurse’s expression became a professional mask as she fiddled with his IV. “Major Carter sustained an arrow to the thigh. Teal’c took one in the buttock. You were hit in the side, which is why you’re lying in this position, and I’d advise you not to try to turn over just yet. Want that pain medication now?”
“Daniel?”
The older woman gave him a patient, compassionate smile. When she spoke again, her voice was soft, deeper with emotion. All of the nursing staff had a special place in their hearts for the SGC’s chief archaeologist. He was one of their most favorite – and most frequent – patients. “He’s still in surgery, sir. I’m afraid I can’t tell you more than that.” She leaned over him and patted his forearm, then pressed the back of her hand against his forehead to check for fever.
Jack’s eyes closed. He remembered how badly the mission had deteriorated, and how quickly. The natives who had attacked them for defiling their temple had gone after the archaeologist first. Their weapons had been bows and arrows, with particularly deadly tips made entirely of trinium. Jack remembered how the first one had taken Daniel down at the knee; the second had gone into his upper chest. They’d gotten him to the gate alive, but just barely, and all of them had been wounded. That was one more planet to lock out of the dialing computer. If Daniel hadn't been able to forge an alliance with them, no one could.
Swallowing a lump forming in his throat, Jack closed his eyes. “Yeah. I’ll take that morphine now, Chambers. Thanks.”
He was very familiar with the use of a morphine pump, having used one many times in the past, but the nurse instructed him in its use anyway, as she was required to do. She pushed the plunger on the delivery device to give him the first dose and then clipped the control to his bed sheet near his hand so he could take charge of his own pain management. The medication made him instantly drowsy, and he started to drift off to sleep.
Before he slipped under the influence of the drug, however, he called to the nurse. “Wake me when Daniel comes out of surgery,” he ordered softly. “I have to know, as soon as there’s any news.”
Chambers nodded and gave him a sad smile. “Yes, sir, colonel. I promise.” She hesitated. “Let me know if that’s not taking care of your pain, and I’ll get Dr. Warner.”
“Warner? Where’s Fraiser?”
The nurse shifted a little from foot to foot, obviously ill at ease. “Um… She went to the Academy Hospital with Doctor Jackson. She scrubbed in on the surgery.”
Closing his eyes, Jack struggled not to panic. “Thanks,” he ground out, his voice husky with emotion.
He heard her walk away and opened his eyes again, a cold fist of fear closing around his heart. They hadn’t taken care of Daniel’s injuries on the base. They’d taken him to the Academy Hospital in the city, so it had to be bad. Really, really bad. Jack felt his stomach lurch even as the morphine’s powerful effects pulled him under. He felt himself floating in darkness, away from the pain and anxiety.
It seemed only a moment later that someone was shaking his foot and calling his name. He struggled to rouse himself, to push past the effect of the drug and open his eyes.
“Hey, colonel,” Doctor Fraiser greeted him warmly. She looked tired, but she was smiling. “Sorry to wake you up, but I knew you’d want to know right away that Daniel came through the surgery just fine. He’ll be in the ICU at the Academy Hospital for a day or two. When he’s stabilized, they’ll transfer him back here to recover.”
That announcement was a huge load off Jack's heart. He tried to smile a little. “Okay, Doc, glad to hear he’s gonna be all right. Listen, when he comes back, you ride with ‘im, keep him company. Can you do that?” he asked hoarsely.
“Sure, I can do that. I would have anyway. Now you go back to sleep and rest.” Janet patted his arm. “And try not to worry, he’s gonna be okay.”
He nodded at her and closed his eyes. He felt himself relaxing a little, but part of him remained on edge, alert and expectant, waiting for more news.
For twelve hours he slept fitfully, refusing to use the morphine pump, allowing himself only brief naps, eager for Dr. Fraiser’s frequent reports on Daniel’s condition.
~~**~~
**16 May**
The Next Day
Fraiser missed early rounds, so Jack spent his time bothering the nursing staff for word.
Finally, near mid-morning, the petite doctor and a large male nurse wheeled a stainless-steel framed hospital bed into the room, easing it into a space right next to Jack’s, made for it moments earlier by Nurse Chambers.
Aiming his bleary eyes at the bed, Jack studied the profile of the sleeping man in it. Daniel was very pale, and there were bluish smudges beneath his closed eyes.
“He doesn’t look so good, doc,” Jack managed to say. “Is he awake?”
“He’s pretty heavily sedated at the moment. He’s been conscious, but he’s just sleeping now. He’ll be fine, colonel. Try not to worry.”
Janet bent over Daniel’s bed, stroking a hand fondly over his brow. She sighed. “It wasn’t as bad as we first thought. The arrow he took in the chest missed puncturing the pleural cavity, which is a good thing, but it did break a rib from the impact. We repaired most of the damage and fixed him up as well as we could for now, but he’s going to need another operation on his leg later on.”
She walked down beside the bed, where Daniel’s leg lay wrapped and immobilized in a contraption that looked like metal scaffolding. “We’re going to have to replace his knee with an artificial one, but even then, he’s not likely to be a hundred percent, sir.”
She turned sad eyes to meet Jack’s. “I’m afraid he won’t be going back into the field for first contact missions, colonel. I’m recommending to General Hammond that he ride a desk from here on out.”
Stunned for a moment, Jack’s mind worked desperately to take that in and process it. Daniel would no longer be part of SG-1? How was that possible? Jack needed him on the team. He’d already tried to do the job without him, during the year of Daniel’s ascension. As he thought about their future, gradually other things began to register, things much more important than the job.
Artificial knee. Not a hundred percent.
“Will he walk again?” asked Jack cautiously, staring at the contraption around Daniel’s leg. It looked like some kind of medieval torture device instead of modern medical equipment.
Frasier smiled reassuringly and nodded. “In time, yes, but it’s going to take a lot of hard work in physical therapy to get there. He’ll probably need to use a cane to help bear the weight, probably for the rest of his life.”
She looked at the scaffolding and touched it lightly, drawing Jack’s gaze there. “This external fixator is just to keep his leg from moving until we can do the knee replacement. We have to make time in the orthopedic surgeon’s schedule at the Academy Hospital, so it’ll be a few days. Next week at most.”
Jack shut his eyes quickly, willing away the images of Daniel with a cane. There had to be another way around that specter looming in the distance. They’d have to help him with that. Daniel would need his friends – his family – to find the strength to push past the limitations medical science had set for him. Jack was sure that Daniel would show them what a difference fierce determination would make in his healing process.
“He’s alive, sir,” Fraiser assured him quietly. “He’s strong and tough. He’ll adapt. I don’t think this will slow him down for more than a minute.”
“He wants to see what’s out there, doc,” Jack murmured sadly. “He wants to know everything, meet the people, touch all the carvings and see ‘em with his own eyes. If he can’t do that…”
“He will. Just not until the off-world dangers have been sorted out. No more first contact. I’m sorry.” With a last glance at Daniel, she left the room, running a weary hand through her auburn hair.
Jack again turned his eyes toward the man in the next bed.
Daniel moved slightly, and licked his lips. He winced and whimpered a little. “Chak…” he slurred.
Recognizing that mutilation of his name, Jack answered. “Right here, Daniel. You just rest, buddy. I’m right here with you.”
He called for Nurse Chambers, pointing at the next bed. “He’s thirsty,” Jack told her. “Can you bring him some ice chips?”
“He’s not even awake yet, sir,” said the nurse. “He may not wake up for several hours.”
“He’s thirsty,” Jack insisted.
She patted his hand. “When he’s awake, we’ll ask him about that, I promise.”
“Well, then, bring me some damn ice chips!” he ordered.
She shot him a knowing grin and went away to do the grumpy colonel’s bidding.
Jack continued to watch Daniel, alert to the smallest movements and slightest sounds.
“Go, Jack,” Daniel whispered. “’S’okay.” His eyes didn’t open, but a tear seeped out from beneath closed lids, trickling across his temple.
That was the same thing Daniel had said in the alien temple, just as he’d slipped into unconsciousness. Jack knew his teammate must be reliving those moments in his dreams.
“I’m right here, Daniel,” Jack told him quietly. “No one gets left behind. Especially not you.” He continued to talk softly, nonsensical stuff, just so Daniel would be able to hear the sound of his voice, to comfort Daniel, since Jack couldn’t touch him.
Gradually, Daniel’s face relaxed, his breathing deepened, and he slept.
Fraiser had said Daniel would be okay and Jack trusted in that assessment, shutting out the rest of her commentary for the moment. He relaxed into his pillow, his eyes never leaving Daniel’s face, willing his friend to be okay. When he was satisfied that Daniel was settled for the moment, he pushed the plunger on his morphine pump and let the drug do something about his own pain.
He closed his eyes
and slept.
~~**~~
A couple of hours later, Jack awoke to the soft footfalls of a nurse coming into the room. She adjusted the lighting and went to the first bed, checking vitals and making notes on the chart, then moving to the next patient. Jack barely gave her a glance, his attention turning back to his teammate.
Daniel’s eyes opened slowly. Jack felt himself grinning like a fool, relief washing over him and leaving him feeling boneless and daft. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” he said softly. “It’s about time you woke up.”
“Jack?” Daniel’s head turned towards him slowly. He squinted in the subdued infirmary light.
“You were expecting Princess Charming, maybe?” Warmth blossomed in Jack’s chest. He was happy, genuinely happy for the first time in days. He tried to change position, wincing as he used injured muscles. “How’re you feeling?”
“Not s’good.” Daniel’s eyes drifted closed and opened again slowly. “I hurt. A lot.”
Jack motioned to the nurse. “Wanna get him some pain meds?”
She smiled at him, giving Daniel a glance. “Now that Doctor Jackson’s awake, anesthesiology can get him set up with a morphine pump. I’ll let them know he’s awake and ready in just a minute.” She turned back to her duties.
Jack frowned at her back and turned his attention to Daniel.
He was trying to lift his head to look down at himself, squinting at his leg and the contraption around it. “What the hell is that thing?” he demanded.
“It’s to keep your leg still,” Jack explained. “They’re not finished patching you up yet.”
Daniel tried to lift his left arm and gasped. “Ow!”
“You took one in the chest, too. Just be still, Daniel.”
Ignoring his C.O., Daniel reached slowly onto the stand beside his bed with his right hand for the familiar sparkle of his glasses, and put them on. Then he lifted his head off the pillow and looked around the ward.
“Hey, Daniel,” Sam greeted him, now sitting propped up in her bed on the other side of Jack’s.
Teal’c twisted his body to look over his shoulder at Daniel, arching one eyebrow. He didn’t try to roll over and face his teammate, and turned away again after a moment.
“We all made it out,” Daniel said slowly, looking around at them all. “Good.”
“Of course.” Jack saw that the nurse was working on her last patient and willed her to leave the room at a dead run to get Daniel’s pain medication. She calmly continued her rounds instead. Jack turned his attention back to Daniel, hopeful he could help take his friend’s mind off his pain. “Carter’s took one in the thigh, and T got it in the ass.”
Daniel choked back a laugh, sucking in a breath and grimacing as he clutched at his chest wound. “Shit, don’t make me laugh!” He relaxed a little and looked back at Jack. “His ass?”
Jack grinned. “Yeah. Took an arrow in his right cheek. He’ll never live that one down, buddy.”
Teal’c half turned and gave them a scathing glare. That look alone had made brave men wet themselves, but the rest of SG-1 was immune to it. He turned over again with a low, disapproving rumble echoing in his chest.
Jack took that opportunity to catch the nurse’s eye and made shooing motions toward her. She grinned, took the hint and hurried away to get someone working on Daniel’s morphine pump.
“She should be back in a minute. You want anything else?” He was aware how wide his smile was, how relief filled him up and overflowed. He felt deeply grateful that they had all come home again. Daniel was alive, after yet another close call. He was awake. That was all that mattered. Jack was absolutely giddy.
Daniel coughed a little. “Thirsty.”
Jack nodded. “I told Chambers you were. Made her bring me ice chips. I’ll get her to give you the cup as soon as she gets back. If Fraiser hadn’t threatened parts of me I’m kinda partial to, I’d get up and give you some myself.” He sobered, more aware of Daniel’s pain than his own. “How’re you feeling?” he asked again. “Okay?”
“Alive.”
Nurse Chambers reappeared with one of the anesthesiologists and the morphine pump, which they hooked up with practiced precision. Chambers clipped the plunger to the pillowcase, next to his head, placing it in Daniel’s hand with the usual spiel. At Jack's request, she poured some ice chips from the pitcher into a cup and put it on the tray table, rolling it up close where he could reach it.
He pressed the plunger and hung on, as if holding the device in his hand might make the medication work faster. After a few seconds, his head lolled on the pillow. “That's better. I feel like a pincushion, though.” He frowned, his thick brows drawing together, eyes sliding closed under the influence of the morphine. “I think I remember being shot in the chest.”
“And the knee,” Jack confirmed. “Those aliens really didn’t like you.”
“Jack.”
“Yeah?” He didn’t move because it would hurt too much.
“How about you? I can see you got hit, too.”
“Yeah. But I’m fine.” He paused, unsure if this was the time or place to deliver his news. He’d done a lot of thinking over the past few days and had made some decisions. Daniel ought to know, but not right then, when he was already having such a huge adjustment to make. “Just a flesh wound. They got me in the bacon. You know, in the back of my side… or the side of my back. Whatever. Nothing serious. Just hurts like hell.”
Daniel sighed. He looked down at his leg, suspended inside the metal scaffolding. “Janet told me about my knee. I wanted her to tell you. Thought you should know right away.”
“I’m real sorry, Daniel.” He saw the defeated look on Daniel’s face, watched him close his eyes and turn away. “Don’t let this beat you, okay? We’ll get through it together. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you.”
Daniel’s eyes didn’t open. “I’m off the team, Jack. For good, this time. Sorry.”
“Not my team,” Jack returned fiercely.
“Oh, Jack, get real,” said Daniel wearily, turning to look at Jack, eyes glassy with pain and the influence of the morphine. “You know what Janet says goes.” Daniel’s dry mouth made clicking noises when he spoke.
He swallowed convulsively, trying to work up some spit to ease the dryness. “Damn it, my mouth is dry,” he croaked. He reached for the cup of ice and poured a little of the melt water into his mouth. He waved his free hand at Jack impatiently. “I can’t argue with you about this right now.” He set the cup back on the tray and dropped his right hand wearily onto the bed. Daniel just looked at him, needing and silently asking for his understanding.
Those blue eyes were filled with pain of many kinds, and Jack felt each one of them. He tried to say something, but the emotional constriction in his throat dammed up the words completely. Daniel was right, as always. Jack couldn’t face that loss, couldn’t think of going through the gate and leaving Daniel behind, stuck at a desk and worrying himself sick until he could see that Jack, Sam and Teal’c were back home, safe and sound.
He knew Daniel would do that, with all of them. He’d seen it up close and personal. Nobody cared about them like Daniel did, and nobody ever had or ever would care about Jack O'Neill with the depth that Daniel did. Doctor Jackson was one of a kind.
Daniel closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep beneath the powerful sway of the morphine, with Jack not far behind him.
~~**~~
Jack awoke in the quiet semi-darkness, his eyes automatically seeking out the clock on the wall of the ward. It was a little after 0300, and he alone was awake. He closed his eyes again and tried to sleep but couldn’t, then turned his head to check on Daniel. His friend lay just as he had been, his glasses still on his face, eyes closed and moving beneath his lids, apparently dreaming.
In the silence, Jack watched him for a long while, studying every plane and angle of his face, the long sweep of his eyelashes, the sheen of his mussed hair, rough stubble sprouting on his cheeks and chin, the full lips relaxed and still for a change. He saw the lines of pain in Daniel’s expression, still there even in sleep and beneath the effects of the morphine, and looked down at the fixator around Daniel’s leg.
Jack felt an aching deep inside, not certain what would soothe it. He wanted so desperately to touch his friend, just to reassure himself that Daniel was all right. Jack imagined caressing his shoulder, his arm, just petting and stroking him. Daniel needed that, he knew. He needed the reassurance of touch to comfort him, and rarely got it. The younger man had spent so much of his life alone and unloved.
That was over now. Jack felt a wave of determination rise up inside him. Daniel’s isolation and loneliness were going to be a thing of the past. Jack vowed to himself that he would always be there for his friend. “I’ll never leave you behind,” he whispered, his heart filling up at that thought. Jack closed his eyes and let his imagination run free, picturing his hands on Daniel’s face, cupping his cheeks while Daniel smiled up at him. He felt whole, as if all were truly right in the universe. Just because he was touching Daniel.
Jack’s eyes opened. That idea startled him, shook him to his bones the more he thought about it. What did it mean?
Every time he went back to that image, he could feel it, feel how powerful it was in his mind and heart. He stared at his friend’s face, relaxed in sleep, and recalled the flutter of excitement he’d felt when Daniel had opened his eyes in the infirmary. Any time Daniel had called his name, whether in the field, on the base or on a social outing. Any time Daniel had turned to look for him, that feeling was there. It lit Jack up inside, like a candle in a dark place.
Jack felt as if he'd been sucker punched with the realization that his whole universe turned on the axis of Daniel Jackson.
Without a sound, Jack felt his mind grind to a halt. Everything he knew and believed about himself was now uncertain, because of the strength of his feelings for another man. He was suddenly, breathtakingly, devastatingly altered, so shaken up that he had to wonder who Jack O'Neill was. Daniel was his best friend, had been for years. Why all of a sudden did Jack feel as if everything in his life revolved around Daniel?
Jack started to tremble and he closed his eyes tightly, shutting the image of that face out of his mind. Memories surfaced, scorching him with the force of the emotions behind them…
Hugging Daniel in the gate room when Jack thought he’d been killed on Apophis’ ship. Holding Daniel in a storage room moments after he had threatened Jack with his own pistol, lost in a sarcophagus high. Needing so desperately to touch Daniel when he came to Jack’s house during that damned NID sting operation, and having to play the part so well Daniel had been convinced that Jack didn’t care about him.
That was what had started the rift between them, Jack knew now. Part of him had recognized what that subliminal need had been about and had started pushing Daniel away. Then Daniel had ascended; he was gone, and there hadn’t been a chance to make things right between them. Now that he was back, Jack had still been closed off, refusing to acknowledge what was so plainly happening in his soul.
Now, in the dark quiet of that infirmary ward, he realized that he loved Daniel beyond reason, beyond his ability to put into words or make sense of in his own mind.
For the first time, he admitted to himself that he was in love with Daniel Jackson.
“Jack?”
He couldn’t open his eyes, certain that if he did, he’d shatter into a billion pieces.
“Hey, are you okay?” asked Daniel quietly.
Jack realized he’d been making noises, little mewling whimpers that could not possibly come from Jack O’Neill without the world being stood on end. Which was exactly what had just happened inside him. Only nobody else knew. Nobody else could know… not even Daniel. Especially not Daniel.
He struggled to get control of his body and voice, aware of how wrecked it must sound. “Peachy, Daniel.” Opening his eyes, he hunted for the morphine plunger and gave himself a dose to try to cover his emotional upheaval. “Better now.”
“D’you want me to call the nurse?” The worry in Daniel’s voice was clear.
Jack risked a look through the rails. God, Daniel was so beautiful. Why hadn’t he seen it before? Why did it look like Daniel’s heart was in his eyes? A strong tremor ran down Jack's spine. Was it possible that Daniel felt the same way about Jack? Could it even be possible?
“Don’t be scared,” Jack murmured, putting a hand on the rails, as if reaching out to touch his friend. “I’m fine. Just…” He swallowed down his heart. “Just making some adjustments of my own. Everything’s gonna be okay. I promise.”
Uncertainty shone in those blue eyes for a moment, then acceptance when Jack continued to look at him steadily. Finally, relief settled in with trust, and Daniel closed his eyes again. In moments, he was asleep.
Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The morphine pulled at him, but his mind was going a million miles an hour.
What a cosmic joke this was, after an entire life lived looking at pretty women and lusting after them. Pushing fifty, and he’d found out that the only person who could truly rock his world was another man. Daniel had done that since day one, turned him upside down and shaken everything out of his soul. With one arch of those inquisitive eyebrows, the man had annoyed him quicker than anyone else on the planet, irritated him beyond the limits of sanity, and yet defended him staunchly at every turn and never given up on him. Daniel was fiercely devoted to his team, would die for them… had died for Jack on Abydos, taking a staff blast meant for him.
Jack knew that the two of them were about as opposite in nature as it was possible to get, yet beneath the surface they were defined by their passions, their loyalties, their friendship and their love of country and humanity. At their most basic, foundational level, they were cut from the same cloth.
Jack lay on the bed, chuckling to himself at the irony.
By God, he thought, we were made for each other.
But how the hell was he going to break the news to the man he now knew he loved?
~~**~~
**17 May**
Two Days Later
After Jack signed his discharge papers, he walked slowly out of the infirmary, his thoughts fixed firmly on the man in the bed down the hall.
During the last couple of days, Jack had thought about little else except how this newfound knowledge would affect who he was. He'd made a life-altering decision in the wake of that epiphany. Simply put, everything was different now. He was an honest man and couldn’t in good conscience continue to serve in the military he loved so much if he were going to pursue a relationship with another man. Jack had come to the only conclusion with which he felt comfortable -- retirement from active duty.
Daniel was straight. Jack was sure of that, but he was also sure that Daniel was an open-minded sort, and if anybody could take Jack’s news and find a way to be okay with it, it would be Daniel. It also was a distinct possibility that Daniel might be so uncomfortable with the announcement that he’d walk away from Jack and never look back, but Jack had to hold onto some hope that there was a possibility of acceptance, however remote.
Jack had decided he should at least try, which meant that his career was now over. He couldn't disregard the training of a lifetime and the vows he'd taken as an officer in the US Air Force. He had decided to put Daniel, and any possibility of a relationship with him, first and foremost in his life. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Jack had decided to do something just for himself, and God willing, for Daniel, too.
It took a while to make it down the corridor to the elevator, then all the way to Hammond’s office. Jack was stiff and sore, and the walk to see the general seemed twice as long as usual. Once he arrived, he didn't wait for permission to enter. He apologized as he came through the doorway and headed straight for the guest chair, one arm wrapped around himself. He sat down carefully, jaws clenched, posture stiffly upright as he waited for the pain to pass.
“How are you doing, colonel?” There was concern in every line in the older man’s face.
“Catching a breather,” Jack admitted. “Thinking about pain meds.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a prescription bottle, setting it onto the desk in front of him.
Hammond immediately went to the side table in the briefing room and poured a glass of water, bringing it back to him. The general sat down across from him. “Anything I can do for you, son? I assume you were coming to see me about something.”
“Yes, sir.” Jack popped one of the pills into his mouth and swallowed it down with a sip of water. “Hate these things,” he groused, slipping the medicine bottle back into his trouser pocket. "Would you mind closing the doors, sir? I would, but I don't think I can get up right now, and I'd like to have a confidential chat." Every little movement hurt him – standing up, sitting down, breathing, moving his right arm, turning his head. Hell, even thinking hurt, and that made him grumpy and irritable on top of everything else on his mind.
Hammond rose and closed both doors, then returned to his chair behind the desk, waiting for his visitor to continue.
“I've made a hard decision, sir. There's really no way to make it less of a shock, so I'm just gonna spit it out. I've thought about it a lot over the last few days in the infirmary, and I've decided to put in for retirement.”
Surprise was evident in Hammond’s expression. “Are you sure this is the time for you to be making that decision, colonel?” he inquired, narrowing his eyes. “You’ve been injured and need some time to recover. Doctor Fraiser has assured me that once you heal up properly, you should be functioning normally, ready to go back in the field.”
With a heavy sigh, Jack shook his head. “Not this time, sir. My knees’ve been begging me to retire for years. My back isn’t getting any better, and this last mission was yet another reminder that it’s time I stepped down from the field. I’m getting old, and it’s time to let somebody younger have my chair at the table.”
Hammond leaned back in his chair and fixed his assessing gaze on Jack’s face. “Are you sure, Jack? This isn’t too many close calls talking, is it? Maybe you just need an extended break from field duty.”
Jack knew the man wasn’t calling him a coward. SG-1 had proven its mettle for more than seven years, taking on some of the most difficult missions in the history of the Command. “I’m sure, sir. Time for me to be put out to pasture.”
“Then I’ll assign you to some other base duty—“
“No, sir.” Jack shook his head. “I’m done with the Air Force. I wish I could stay on and do something else here, but I can’t stay in the military. It’s…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I can’t. I’ve had an epiphany recently, and my sense of honor tells me it’s time to go. I need to get a life, and I'm hoping...”
Jack looked away and thought of Daniel in that bed upstairs. Daniel would need him, at least for a little while. His eyes found Hammond’s again. “It’s personal, sir. Maybe some day I can explain. Just please take my word for it for now. I can’t stay in the service. Wish there was something else I could do for you here, but I can't be military anymore.”
He hesitated again, lowering his eyes to the desktop for a moment, then lifting them boldly back to his CO's. He sat up straight, ignoring the lance of pain in his side, and announced, "You can't ask, and I can't tell you why."
Hammond sat silently, considering that unspoken confession. There seemed to be no surprise, no judgment, no trace of disgust. The general’s face was kind and warm. “All right. I think I understand. But what will you do?”
Shrugging, Jack looked down at his hands in his lap. “I don’t know. Haven’t got a clue. I'm set for money, so I don't have to work if I don't want to, but I don't know. I’m too young to just do nothing. I guess I’m not exactly thinking that far ahead yet.”
“Well, Jack, this is a bit of a surprise, but I'll admit I knew the day would come eventually when you'd approach me about bowing out. I've often thought of you and how I'd run things if you chose to leave. You have valuable experience that I depend on to run this place, so I'd like to make you an offer: you continue to work for Stargate Command, but as a civilian advisor. Strictly on the base, no going off world, unless special circumstances dictate the need for your expertise. It'll be a desk job, mostly, helping me with administrative tasks. Easy on the knees, no more Air Force regs to follow.”
Startled at the idea, Jack looked up into those earnest gray-blue eyes. “And do what?”
“This is a massive undertaking, Jack,” the general admitted, waving a hand to indicate the facility all around them. “I should be retiring myself, but I keep on because I know how important all this is. There’s far more in the way of administration than I can handle, and add the stress of losing good people… Sometimes it’s more than I can bear. A lot of what I do is administrative. Scheduling teams and briefings, sifting through mission reports, setting up budgets and confirming those, choosing new recruits and setting up training for them. Having help with that sort of thing could take quite a load off my shoulders.”
Jack grinned. “Aw, you just want to keep me around because you’d miss my jokes.”
Hammond deadpanned, “That’s probably the last thing I’d miss.” He couldn’t stifle the smile; it slipped out anyway. “You’re quite a character, Jack. Of course I’d miss you, but I was serious about that offer. There’s a great deal that a civilian assistant with your kind of experience could easily handle for me. I think you’d be good at it, if you could stand the boredom of not being where the action is all the time.”
Glancing down at his knees, Jack shook his head. “I can live without the action, sir.” He sat quietly and considered his options for a moment or two. As a civilian, it wouldn’t matter if he were in love with another man. A few of the civilian academics on the SGC staff were openly gay, but they were also among the best in the world at what they did. For this one program, the military had set aside its policy against homosexuality among its civilian staff because the need for what they could do was far greater than the fear of what they were. That gave Jack small comfort, but some was better than none. It was an option, anyway; one he didn't have as a soldier. And best of all, if Daniel took the news badly, having a job on the base might be a good way to still see him in passing.
“You’ll have my resignation on your desk as soon as I can manage to get it typed up. Might take a day or two. As to the offer, how soon can you get the job description ready? I’d like to get a good look at what’s on the table.”
Reaching into a file drawer in the desk, the general pulled out a folder and handed it over.
“You have a proposal already made up? That's a surprise.” Jack took the folder and flipped the cover open. There was no date on the cover sheet. “How long have you been sitting on this?”
“Since…” Hammond hesitated, meeting Jack’s eyes. “…Kelowna. I figured you’d retire immediately after that. You surprised me, son. But then, SG-1 has always been good at that. I should be used to it by now.”
“Thanks for being understanding about what I have to do now. I’ll have an answer for you as soon as I can.”
Jack tensed as he thought about getting up to leave, dreading the pain of having to move. He relaxed slowly back into his chair. “Would you mind if I just sat here for a while? I kinda… don’t think I can get up right now without embarrassing myself, and since I’m still a colonel for the next few days, I'd like to keep what dignity I have left and avoid trashing my rep as a hardass.”
Hammond smiled in sympathy. “Hurts like a bitch, huh? Should I send for a wheelchair?”
Jack frowned. “That’d probably be a good idea. I’m gonna be staying in my lockdown quarters for a few days, till I can manage a little better on my own.”
“I’ll drive you there myself,” George promised. He picked up the phone and ordered a wheelchair to be brought to his office.
When it was delivered, Hammond helped Jack into it. With a groan of relief, he settled down with the proposal folder in his lap. While the general pushed him along, Jack scanned the job requirements and responsibilities. Occasionally, he asked Hammond to clarify certain points, but Jack could see that he’d be a good fit for what his boss had in mind. All of it was work he’d done before, and there was enough variety to keep him from falling asleep at a desk every day.
Once in Jack’s private base quarters, Hammond helped him out of the chair and got him seated on the bed. The general stared at the thin, lumpy mattress with an expression of dismay. “Will you be all right here, Jack?”
Closing the folder, Jack laid it on the nightstand. “Yes, sir. I think I’m just gonna rest a while now.”
“I’m going to order one of the infirmary beds sent down here for you,” said Hammond warmly. “That standard issue mattress is barely adequate for a hale and hearty man. With your injury, it’s gonna to be just short of torture.”
“Not when you’re on happy pills,” Jack reminded him, closing his eyes wearily, “but a good bed would be nice. Thanks.”
Hammond nodded. He patted him on the shoulder. “Get some rest, son. And remember, we need you here. Military or not, you’ve got far too much valuable experience for us to allow to go to waste.”
Jack heard the door close and tried to relax, but the mattress just reminded him of the severity of his injury. He lay thinking about the new job proposition, trying not to get too excited about it, but it was a godsend and he knew it.
By the time the other bed arrived, and he’d moved over into it, Jack had made his decision. He would stay at SGC as a civilian advisor. He’d still have a career that mattered. He’d still be helping in the war against the Goa’uld. And if he played his cards right, he might even get to have Daniel.
That was worth everything he’d been through the last seven years, and then some. He was one lucky son of a gun, and knew it.
He closed his eyes on the drab little room with a smile on his face and a prayer of thanks in his heart.
~~**~~
**18 May**
The Next Morning
Handing the folder over to the general, Jack smiled. “My resignation’s on the top,” he said brightly. “And if the job offer’s still open, I’ll take it.”
“Great. When do you want to start?”
“Fraiser said I should be able to handle half days at a desk next week,” Jack reported, “but I’m gonna ask for an extended period between retirement and starting the new job. Daniel’s gonna have another operation on his knee in a few days, and he’ll need someone to look after him for at least a couple of weeks after he’s discharged. I think that should fall to me.”
Pride and understanding showed in Hammond’s eyes. “You’re a good man, colonel.”
“Thanks, sir, but remember, it’s just Jack now. I’m officially retired.”
George rose and shook his hand. “It’s been a pleasure serving with you, Colonel O’Neill. I look forward to working with Jack, starting in a few weeks.”
Jack sat down in the guest chair. “Thanks, sir. Um… I’m not sure how much help Daniel’s going to need during his recovery, so once I’ve got a handle on that, I’m planning on moving him to my house. After that second surgery, he’ll be hobbling around with a walker, needing lots of physical therapy, walking exercises and stuff. He’s gonna need me for a while, so if I’m here, and he calls—“
“We’ll manage.” George smiled. “You two take care of each other, Jack. We need you both back here as soon as you’re able.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jack rose slowly and made his way toward the door. He was walking better now, but he still had to be horizontal off and on during the day. He got his exercise going up to visit Daniel several times a day, stopping by the commissary for meals. He spent the rest of his time napping or resting in his lockdown quarters. Since he was still on oral pain meds, Doctor Fraiser still hadn’t cleared him to drive, but he didn’t want to go home yet anyway; not without Daniel.
Of all of them, Carter was getting around best, but still spent most of her days during the team's stand-down in her lab, fiddling with her never-ending supply of doohickeys. Jack visited his other teammates at least once a day, and sometimes he met Carter and Teal’c in the commissary for lunch.
That was less pleasant than their usual downtime because of the delicate nature of Teal’c’s injury.
It was all Jack could do to keep a straight face when he watched the big guy stand beside their table to eat. T refused to sit down because it still hurt so much, and his pride wouldn’t let him sit half on the chair and let his injured cheek hang free, nor would he cant his hip up on that side to get his weight off it. The difficulty he had while eating made him grumpy, and whenever he appeared in the chow line, the room would clear in minutes flat. The look of fierce displeasure on Teal’c’s face made all but his teammates run.
Jack and Carter, however, understood that it wasn’t pent-up Jaffa rage looking for an outlet, but wounded pride. They alone could bear witness to their brother’s embarrassment and understand it for what it was. And afterward, they would invariably go up to the next floor to visit Daniel before returning to their jobs, prescribed rest, or physical therapy.
The four of them discussed candidates for Daniel’s replacement on the team, but no one mentioned to Daniel that someone else would be chosen to command the unit, too. Jack had asked the others not to tell Daniel, because he wanted to break the news in private, in his own time.
On Jack’s recommendation, General Hammond had chosen Carter to take Jack’s place as CO, and Lieutenant Grogan – shortly to be promoted to Captain Grogan – would make up their fourth. The young man had come a long way in the last few years and more than proven himself fit to be on SG-1. Red-haired Doctor Cameron Balinsky would advance from SG-13 to the flagship team to take Daniel’s place in the field. As soon as Carter and Teal’c were fit for duty again, the newest incarnation of the flagship team would return to the field.
Jack knew Daniel would be happy that Carter had gotten her command, and since Daniel himself had hand-picked Doctor Balinsky, he wouldn’t worry about the others going on without him. All he’d have to adjust to was Jack not being on the team, but he’d deliver that news when he thought Daniel was ready to hear it. For now, being wounded gave Jack an excuse not to be in the field, and that was all Daniel needed to know.
Jack contented himself with visiting and making a general nuisance of himself in the infirmary, teasing the nurses and hovering over Daniel with his usual attempt at charm and wit, trying not to make him laugh and still keep him entertained during the day.
When the time came for Daniel’s knee replacement surgery, he, Carter and Teal’c all posted themselves in the surgical lounge at the Academy Hospital to await news. Hours later, Janet emerged with a big smile and a report that Daniel had come through just fine, and that his new knee should be healed enough within a few days for him to go home.
An enormous sense of relief swept through Jack. He thanked her and requested to see Daniel in recovery, and a moment later Janet left to make the arrangements. Eventually she returned and led him back into the ward where several beds were lined up, all filled with recent surgical patients, nurses standing over them to monitor their vitals and update their charts. Janet stayed for a moment more, advising Jack not to expect too much.
He just stood there for a moment, watching Daniel breathe, his head moving restlessly on the pillow.
Daniel’s eyes opened and rolled around, not really focusing on anything before closing again.
“Hey, Daniel,” said Jack, reaching through the rails to lay his hand on Daniel’s arm. “You awake?”
“Jack,” Daniel called automatically, though Jack could see that he wasn’t quite lucid just yet. “I’m tired. C’n I sleep over?” His voice was halting, his words slurred, but Jack understood.
“If we were at my house, you could,” he answered with a small smile, “but you’re in the hospital. You just had surgery, remember?”
“My knee?” Blue eyes opened and struggled to focus on Jack’s face. "All fixed now?"
He bent down low over the rails so Daniel could see him more clearly, since his glasses weren’t handy. “Yeah, so you gotta work on getting well, okay?”
“’Kay, Jack. Tired.”
Jack patted his arm again. “I know. But try to wake up, Daniel. That’ll help the nurse know you came out of surgery all right. C’mon. Talk to me.”
He continued to gently prod his friend until Daniel was fully conscious. The recovery room nurse finally sent Jack out into the waiting room. She returned a little while later to tell them Daniel’s room number, which he would occupy for the next few days until he was released.
The three old SG-1 veterans headed up there together, Carter and Teal’c both limping along, Jack keeping up with their slow pace as they hobbled down the corridors.
Daniel slipped in and out of wakefulness as the morphine did its job, not moving much. He squeezed Sam’s hand and gave Teal’c a weak smile, then apologized for dropping off to sleep during their visiting time. After a few minutes Jack pulled up a chair and carefully sat down in it, and everyone else left.
There was no way he was going to budge from that spot, and everyone knew it. He busied himself reading inane magazines someone had left behind, stared at Daniel’s TV with the sound turned off, gazed out the window, and finally dozed off in the chair.
Eventually Daniel awakened, and they talked for a little while. Daniel had his eyes closed a lot, but Jack was pleased that he seemed not to be in a lot of pain, and he was fully cognizant of where he was and what had happened to him.
When Daniel’s “dinner” arrived, Jack made Daniel laugh as he pretended interest in the Jell-O, chicken broth, saltines and weak tea. Jack made sure Daniel got it all down, listening to his complaints with good humor.
Finally, when visiting hours were over at 2000 hours, the nursing staff had to insist that Jack leave. He did so reluctantly, promising Daniel he’d be back first thing in the morning.
He took a taxi home, still not cleared to drive, and stepped into his house for the first time in over a week. He looked around the place with new eyes, taking in the steps he knew Daniel would have to mount every time he moved through the house. It would be hard, especially with crutches or a walker. A wheelchair would be impossible to use, except in the back part of the house that was all one level.
He decided to check with Sergeant Siler about building some temporary ramps to make it easier for Daniel to get around in the house. He made a call to the base, asking for Siler’s extension, and quickly left the man a message on his voice mail about the possible project.
Jack went around opening up windows and doors to let the place air out a little. It had that shut-up-for-too-long smell to it. Even though there was still a little chill in the air, Jack enjoyed letting in the freshness of the outdoors.
Soon enough he was in bed and sleeping, dreaming of bringing Daniel home.
~~**~~
**19 May**
Jack awakened long before the alarm and rose, shutting it off as he got up. Following his morning routine, he dressed and padded barefoot into the living room, his socks and running shoes in hand. He dropped them beside the sofa and went into the kitchen to start the coffee. Deciding on cereal for breakfast, he set the box of Cheerios on the counter beside a bowl and spoon, poured a bowl full of oatey goodness, milk, put on his footwear, and strolled out onto the deck for breakfast.
His gaze traveled out over his long-neglected backyard as he spooned in the first mouthful of breakfast and started to chew. All the years he’d lived in his little log house, he’d never done much with the landscaping. He had a few potted plants on the deck and some hard to kill evergreens in the front garden beds, but the rest of the property was just lawn, backed by a few trees. Some time back he’d planted some irises, primroses and tulips at the treeline way at the far end, just to give the place a little spring color, but he’d been hesitant to put too much effort into gardening, since he was gone so often and those plants pretty much took care of themselves.
A landscaping service watered and mowed when he was gone, sometimes for weeks on end, but Jack hadn’t wanted to delve into really doing anything with the place until he had the time. Now, it seemed, that day had come. It gave him a good feeling, a sense of purpose radiating warmth all through him.
Jack had learned a love of gardening from his Grandmother O’Neill, but had rarely indulged in it as an adult. He’d always been gone too long on missions all over the world – and lately on other worlds – but at last the time had come for him to return to his roots and dig in the earth. There was something satisfying about that idea, of the smell of fertile soil in his hands, of planting and watching the results grow, and of seeing the blooms unfurl in the sunlight.
Every spring he dreamed about it, planted what he could and hoped the new flowers would survive his intermittent presence. His knees and back couldn’t stand much in the way of gardening anyway, so it would have to be done a bit at a time, but he could do that now. A little every day, planting here, weeding there, trimming another day, fertilizing and mowing – the idea made his heart soar, taking him back to his childhood, on hands and knees with The Gran, learning the secrets of the earth and growing things from the O'Neill family matriarch.
Out of everyone in the family, only Jack had gotten that precious time with her, and when she had died, she had left him her most priceless treasure: a weathered old book that no one in the family had been allowed to touch but her.
She had called him her little “Jack-in-Green.” That was a Celtic earth spirit also called the Green Man, depicted as a face made entirely of leaves, always smiling, watching over gardens and homes and guarding them against evil. She never knew just how right she had been in giving him that nickname.
He smiled. Building a garden would be a good thing, but it would also take a lot of work, a fair amount of money, and tremendous planning to get it all right. He looked forward to getting started, and wandered slowly across the gently sloping back yard to the trees at the rear of his property.
A blue iris caught his eye, nodding in the breeze. He stopped a few feet from it and stared at it, thinking about all he knew about this particular plant, its lore and many uses, the origins of its various names, and its romantic history. He thought about his grandmother’s prized book, and the personalized inscription she had written inside it, a message just for her grandson, scrolled through his mind, slowly filling him with wonder as it had years before, when he’d first memorized it.
When you find the one flower that is like no other, let this be your gift to that blossom, so it may flourish in your garden, the centerpiece in the landscape of your soul.
As the romantic idea uncurled gently inside him, like a cat stretching in a sunbeam as it awakened from a long nap, he marveled at the way things had come full circle and brought him back to the quiet passion of his childhood. Jack had indeed found that one flower who was certainly like no other, and now, he decided, he would plant a garden in his honor, a living love letter to Daniel. Each flower would represent a special phrase, placed with care so that when one knew the meanings, the message could be translated and the lover’s heart laid bare. When Daniel understood, hopefully he would come to reside in the garden of Jack’s soul, as his grandmother had wished.
He could almost hear The Gran’s voice reciting the secret tale…
“Long ago, my Jack-in-Green, way back in the days of Queen Victoria, lovers would send flowers to each other – sometimes a showy rose, sometimes a simple weed. The flowers became secret messages, telling things the lovers dared not say in words. Even the placement of buds and blossoms in a slender vase was important. It was the most romantic language ever invented, because it was never spoken at all. It was something only lovers ever truly understood, a message straight from one heart to another, through the eyes instead of the ears.”
She had smiled at him then, and placed the book in his hands for the first time.
He remembered the thrill that had gone through him as the idea of an unspoken code had raced through his little boy’s mind. He’d never found it easy to talk about his feelings, and this code had promised a way to help him with that. He’d tried it a few times before, and had always been disappointed because no one had ever understood what he’d been trying to say.
Now it seemed the perfect means for sending his brilliant linguist friend a message that would get his mind going, exciting him with a tantalizing puzzle to solve.
Jack tipped back his head and laughed, spreading his arms to the early morning sun shining warm on his face, sloshing cereal and milk onto the deck. Maybe Daniel already knew about the Victorian code and would understand the message right away. Jack wouldn’t put it past him to know a tantalizing little tidbit like that, but if he didn’t…
Daniel was going to have a hell of a time figuring this out.
Jack just hoped that when he did, it would bring them closer together, rather than push them farther apart. If Daniel never got the message, then Jack would tuck the book back into its special place, along with his other most precious sentimental things, and let the idea go. It was just a romantic notion, after all, and nobody expected real romance from Jack O’Neill. No one ever had.
He hurried back inside the house and retrieved the little antique book he’d inherited from his beloved grandmother. The old battered suitcase in the guest room closet contained few but incredibly precious pieces of his heart: a pair of Charlie’s baby shoes, a photograph of the first girl he’d kissed, another of the first he’d ever loved and slept with, and a lock of Sara’s hair. There were other mementos from his early days in the military, like the dented belt buckle that had saved him from taking a bullet to the gut.
Near the bottom of the suitcase lay the little green leather bound book, and under that lay a small, nearly flat heart-shaped stone that had been his personal totem since boyhood, found in a riverbed and kept in secret places, something all his own. He picked it up and rubbed his thumb over the gritty surface, wondering if it might be time to give his stone heart away, too. He set it back down carefully, closed up the suitcase, put it away, and took the book into his den.
Taking a seat at his desk, notebook and pen in hand, the heirloom book opened in front of him, he spent many minutes beginning to decipher exactly what he wanted to say to Daniel.
That done, he went into the back yard and cut one of the tall irises, put it in a well-rinsed beer bottle full of water, and drove with it downtown to the florist’s shop he used whenever he needed to send flowers to anyone.
The woman who owned the shop was happy to listen as he patiently explained what he wanted. She seemed enchanted with his plan. Jack handed over the freshly cut iris along with the list for the first few deliveries. Then he swore her and her entire staff to secrecy, paying in cash on the spot.
The rest of the day he spent at the hospital by Daniel’s side, entertaining his friend and making sure he was comfortable, all the while brimming with excitement and hope for what was to come.
~~**~~
**20 May**
The Next Morning
Jack presented himself at the nurse’s station at the Academy Hospital to pick up his new roomie. After a lesson in how to fit Daniel's leg into the continuous passive movement machine, or CPM, the physical therapist watched Jack run through setting it up and taking it down.
The device was designed to constantly flex and extend the knee joint, to help prevent the formation of blood clots and keep the knee from fusing and becoming contracted in a fixed position. Daniel would have to be in the thing whenever he was reclining, and for a while he would need to return to the base twice a day for an hour of physical therapy. The SGC had provided two of the machines for Daniel's at-home recovery. They had already been set up in Jack's home, one on the den sofa, and one in the bedroom Daniel would occupy.
One of the big male nurses, a tall, sturdy redhead named Byron, helped Daniel into a wheelchair and loaded all of Daniel’s personal items onto a transport cart while Jack watched. After all the discharge papers had been signed and post-care instructions given, a transportation aide came to wheel Daniel down to the exit.
Jack pushed the cart while the aide drove the wheelchair, unable to help with more than that. It was a relief for Jack to see Daniel’s knee bent at a normal angle, but he could tell by the grimace on the younger man’s face that he was still in a great deal of pain.
“Jack, you don’t have to do this,” Daniel told him, glancing up at him solemnly as they rolled along the hospital corridor.
“That’s what friends do, Daniel,” Jack reminded him. “They take care of each other. You ready?”
“I guess. You really shouldn't, though,” he repeated. “I’d be fine at the base. You’re recuperating yourself. You should be taking it easy.”
“I know you, Daniel. If you’re at the base, you’ll be working,” Jack shot back pleasantly. He walked beside the wheelchair, letting the aide push Daniel toward his truck parked at the dismissal bay. “And you’re supposed to be resting. Janet said no work for a week.”
Daniel frowned. “I’m gonna go nuts with nothing to do.” He paused, casting a wary glance up at his friend. “Besides, we drive each other crazy when we’re both banged up and in close quarters.”
Jack’s enthusiasm flagged momentarily, but he made an effort to sound upbeat. “It’ll be different this time, I promise.”
“You don’t have to go to any trouble for me, Jack,” Daniel said solemnly. “You’ll hardly even know I’m there.” He sighed and looked down at his chest, his left arm suspended in a sling to keep it still, then patted his leg, now swathed from ankle to hip in bandages. “I must have been a cat in a former life.”
“Well, you haven’t made it through all nine of your lives yet, so let’s not push the envelope, shall we?” Jack opened the door and the aide lifted a walker off the equipment cart, setting it in front of Daniel. He used it to pull himself slowly to his feet, bearing his weight on his uninjured left leg.
He balanced briefly with the device, stepped up onto the running board with his good leg, and hoisted himself upward. The aide helped him get his bandaged leg into the truck amid much gasping and groaning that accompanied every movement.
Jack folded up the walker and waited while the aide put it into the truck’s back seat along with the other equipment, and shut Daniel’s door. As the aide turned to return the chair and cart into the hospital, Jack called out his thanks to the man, and with a final wave Jack walked around to the driver’s side and got in.
“We’re gonna have a good time together, Daniel,” Jack assured him with a smile. “Movies, pizza, the Discovery Channel… anything you want, while you’re home with me. I’ll be your personal slave for the next couple of weeks or so. However long it takes you to be on your own again.”
Daniel’s voice was very small and faint as they sat in the truck. “Really, Jack?”
Warmth filled Jack’s heart. The two men exchanged a long look, and then Jack reached out to pat Daniel’s shoulder. “Sure. Don’t worry, everything’s gonna be just fine.” He turned and started the ignition. Hands on the steering wheel, Jack gazed unseeingly out the windshield. “I really don’t mind,” he said, trying to put every scrap of sincerity he felt into his words. “For you, I’d do anything.” He looked back at Daniel, anxious to see that his friend was really okay with his plans for them.
“Thanks.” Daniel smiled at him, looking out from beneath his lashes, shy and embarrassed. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. I really mean that.”
Jack’s heart was doing somersaults in his chest, but he gave no outward sign how that look was affecting him. “Backatcha, Danny. Why you still like me after all the shit I’ve put you through, I’ll never know, but you do, and I’m grateful for that,” he said in a voice just above a whisper.
Daniel looked down into his lap, obviously deeply touched. He glanced over at Jack with a smile. “Seems to me I’ve given you some shit right back over the years. Let’s call us even, okay?”
Jack held his right hand out, and they shook on it. “Deal.”
With a smile, Jack put the truck in gear, and they headed for home. As they drove he let Daniel punch the buttons on the radio and listen to whatever he liked.
In a little less than an hour, with Daniel sleeping on the den sofa, the CPM machine whirring away softly under his leg, Jack took the opportunity to sit down at his desk. He rolled out a length of graph paper over a topographic survey of his lot, carefully tracing every line onto the faintly lined paper. He sketched in the existing trees and the footprint of the house from the builder’s site plan, then stared at it for a while, determining how deep the shade went in all areas, where there was full sun and what would have partial sun, partial shade and deep shade.
With his grandmother’s little guidebook beside him, he made a list of all the appropriate plants he would need for the garden, then hit the internet to research growing conditions and zone hardiness for each of them. He coded the list with symbols that only he could understand to keep prying eyes or accidental glances from revealing his plot, and put away the book. His garden project would take a lot of time, but he could work on it little by little, leaving his materials – all but that little book – out on his desk in plain sight.
Jack simply didn’t have the language skills needed to impress a man like Daniel, and he knew it. But what he lacked in linguistics he could make up for in cleverness. This was the most ingenious plan he’d ever come up with for any purpose, and he was sure Daniel would appreciate it for that, if nothing else.
His heart filled with love and hope, he glanced up at his roomie now and then to make sure he was resting comfortably.
~~**~~
After lunch and a long, slow trip down the hall for Daniel to use the bathroom, Jack was just getting his friend settled back on the couch when the doorbell rang.
“Don’t get up, Daniel,” said Jack lightly, teasing. “I’ll get it.”
He sauntered to the door and smiled at the delivery guy. “Oh. What’s this?” he asked innocently, taking charge of the tall vase and a small pot. He eased the pot into the crook of his left arm and took the vase in his left hand, then pulled a folded bill from his trouser pocket and handed it to the man with a wink and a smile. “Thanks,” he told him quietly, and returned to the den on happy feet.
“Who was it?” called Daniel from the sofa as Jack entered the room.
“Look! Somebody sent us flowers,” Jack told him. He set the items on the coffee table, then proceeded to inspect the little envelopes hanging on the ribbons of each container.
He frowned. “Okay, this one’s for you,” he told Daniel, and pushed the iris toward him. “And so’s this one. Huh. I didn’t get any.” He stood up, looking as nonplussed as he could manage, hands on hips. “I guess I’m not as popular as you are, Doctor Jackson.”
“Oh, that’s just great,” Daniel moaned, his lip curling in a sneer of distaste. “Call Janet and tell her I’ll need an allergy shot now in addition to all the other drugs she’s giving me.” He eyed the blooms unhappily. “The tall one’s an iris, but what’s the other thing? The pink one in the pot?”