By: DC Black (wolfquill@yahoo.com)
Date: 3/31/01
Category: Missing Scene, Divide and Conquer, angst
Season: Season 4 (up to and including Divide and Conquer) and all previous seasons
Rating: PG
Content Warning: Nothing except spoilers. Big spoilers.
Summary: We never saw Jack and Daniel say good-bye.
Spoilers: Major, major spoilers for Divide and Conquer, Forever in a Day, Small Victories, Need and Shades of Grey; semi major spoiler for Crystal Skull; medium spoilers for The Fifth Race, Fire and Water; minor spoiler: Stargate (the movie).
Author's Note: Many, many, many, many thanks to Shiloh for tapes, beta reads and moral support!

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. In fact, I'm grateful for everyone involved in creating something this wonderful and complex that it makes me want to explore it further. Thank you all.

A Good Day
By D.C. Black

"I'll do it"

Jack O'Neill said the words softly, not believing he'd actually said them, not sure he had said them loud enough for anyone to hear, until Daniel said, just as quietly,

"What?"

Jack glanced up, finding every eye in the holding cell on him, not a soul moving, as if they were all suspended, waiting on his confirmation. He avoided looking back at them all while he tried to think of a good spin to put on his new decision, something that would wipe the look of disapproval from Janet's face and the rejection of the whole idea from Daniel's.

"Hey." O'Neill forced a shade of his natural glibness into his tone, but he didn't have the energy to sell it. His feeble attempt at a smile failed altogether. "I've done the drugged-out-strapped-to-a-bed thing ..." He let the words trail off into a shrug. Eyebrows only; his shoulders were too heavy to move.

Daniel especially wasn't buying. "And what if what happened to Lieutenant Astor happens to you?"

The question fell loud into the silent room, an open-ended challenge, the professor asking a student if he'd thoroughly considered his conclusions. Jack had. He'd thought of nothing else since Daniel had come into this cell earlier that day and given him his options. He'd questioned Daniel, allowed brief discussions to rise in a ragged stream of non-sequiturs and inconsequentials that kept Daniel off balance and at arm's length, and himself from raging against the frigging unfairness of it all. Even when he'd asked outright, Daniel had carefully refused to give him an opinion of what he should do, but Jack could tell, just by the subtle changes in the tone of his voice, that Daniel favored going to sleep and waiting for more data. Jack had thought that through on his own, considered what months, or even years in a coma would do to his body, let alone his mind. He'd waste away, lose his strength, his reflexes, his health. Maybe his sanity. Definitely the life he had now, this minute. And would that really be better than dying now, for a cause?

He shrugged again, another lift of his brows. He glanced up to meet Daniel's level gaze, but folded under it and looked away again. All the possible answers he could give raced through his mind, but only one of them really counted.

"Maybe it'll help Carter."

O'Neill made a few more attempts before he finally could look Daniel in the eye without wavering. He even managed a weak, but honest, smile as he added, "Her brain's worth more than mine."

This time Daniel was the one to look away, hiding a sudden surge of grief. So did Teal'c. And Janet. Even the Tok'ra Anise - or was it Freya at that point? - dropped her gaze. Jack had wanted the lame joke to make this easier, but all he had managed to do was make it painfully real, even to himself.

After a while, Janet moved, calling her techs to leave the room, to go attend to Carter instead. In the time it took them to collect their gear, Daniel sat staring at the floor, his jaw working, his thumb and forefinger in constant, unconscious motion. His eyes darted furiously, unfocused, as he tried, one more time, to think of that other option Jack had asked for. Teal'c stared, too, at the far wall, and O'Neill stared at them. Daniel looked weird in the suit and tie he had donned for the official reception where the President would meet the chief Tok'ra. Jack had gotten far too used to him in olive drab. Teal'c looked like a glowering bronze statue. Nothing new there.

A touch on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. Janet stood beside him. He turned to face her, the motion slow and stiff, as if rigor mortis was already claiming his muscles.

"You don't have much time to change your mind," Janet said, "but call me if you do."

Jack covered her hand with his own and found a ghost of a smile. "I will. But I won't."

The doctor nodded, taking back her hand and stuffing it into the pocket of her always-crisp, white lab coat. Her misgivings were obvious in the taut set of her lips. He wasn't surprised that she glared at Anise - Freya - whatever - on her way out, a threat that convinced ... Freya, probably, to follow her without another word. The Tok'ra scientist didn't really need to say anything. He knew where she would be, preparing for him in her borrowed lab, and the guards would make sure he got there in time.

Left alone with the remains of his team, O'Neill looked around the room that would have been his living mausoleum, taking in the familiar concrete walls and sparse, metal furnishings. There was nothing there for him now, not even a distraction to put off the inevitable another few minutes. Finally, he slapped his thigh. The half-hearted gesture barely made a sound against the heavy cotton of his fatigues, but it was warning enough for his companions.

"That's it then," Jack said as he stood, surprised that both his voice and his legs were steady, despite being weak from abject terror. He had never been this afraid, not going into battle, not facing Iraqis, or aliens or death itself. Hell, he rarely had time to be afraid, much less think, and when he did, the outcome was always pretty cut and dried: success or failure, live or die... Not this limbo of not knowing, not even a best guess to work from. It was his worst nightmare and his nerves crawled with it. He suddenly felt a great attachment to the idea of going to sleep and not waking up.

But there was Carter to consider, and the war against the Goa'uld, and the information he could provide against their newest, most insidious weapon yet, the zat...something.

Daniel stood, too, opened his mouth and closed it again, as if he couldn't decide what exactly he wanted to say, now in their last moments. A dozen expressions seized his face in rapid succession, until all that was left was loss. "Jack -"

"Daniel, don't." Jack interrupted him immediately. He knew he couldn't go through with it if the man said one mushy, heart-felt word.

Daniel seemed to realize it, too. He drew a deep breath and glanced over his shoulder, down the corridor lined with guards, in the general direction of Carter's holding cell. He pointed in the same direction as an after thought, as if he would follow his finger out, if only he could move. "I'll, um, go arrange for you to see Sam."

"No!"

Panic at the unexpected suggestion made Jack snap the refusal, too fast and too sharp. The very idea jolted him from his lethargy, adrenaline demanding that he flee as far away from Carter as he could get. He needed a word from Daniel, but all he would have to do is lay eyes on Carter and he'd change his mind and beg for Janet's drugs.

Daniel's eyebrows rose and knit a confused bunch of lines between them. Even Teal'c raised an eyebrow, though his expression remained stoic, warrior-like, inscrutable.

"No?" Daniel dropped his hand, just as shocked by the reply. He sounded as if he hadn't heard right and would be mightily annoyed if he had.

Jack knew that tone. Next he would be demanding some explanation. Grimacing, O'Neill jammed his hands in his pockets and swung his shoulders, trying to think of one. Nothing came to him. "No," he said again, then abruptly became irritated that Daniel didn't get it. How could he say good-bye? How could he walk away from those blue eyes and that blonde hair and incredible, incredible mind? How could he see her now, knowing he was facing a fate worse than death, and not take her into his arms and thank her for every time she had saved the planet, every time she had saved Daniel and Teal'c and other worlds, and Jack himself? And if he did, how could he ever let her go, to sit in that damn Tok'ra device and let that snake Anise mess around in his mind, scooping out the Goa'uld implant and leaving him... He did not want to think about what that would leave him. If he lived. And frankly, he was rooting for a clean death and dissection over brain damage. "No!"

"Jack!" The sharp word carried all Daniel's frustration and confusion and outright anger, an entire argument in a single syllable.

"Daniel," Jack responded automatically, swaying back to face him, chin up, refusing to rise to the bait. The familiar, lazy response just irritated the archeologist. Daniel shook his head in disbelief, tiny movements that never let his accusing gaze lose its lock on Jack's.

"This is Sam we're talking about. She has a right to know."

"Then you tell her."

"She should hear it from you."

Jack was not, repeat not, going to see Carter. And Daniel had no right to argue with him. Not now, for God's sake. Jack let the truth slip, throwing it like a knife, just to shut him up. "Hear what from me, Daniel? Good-bye?"

Daniel flinched, just the slightest narrowing of his eyes that let Jack know the assault had hit home. But Daniel wasn't one to heed a warning and back off. The man had no sense of self-preservation. The attack just set his anger deeper, and Jack felt his own rising to meet it. "She should know there's hope before Janet puts her under."

It was Jack's turn to be incredulous. "Hope? Reality check! I'm going under a damn Goa'uld mind shredder -"

"Tok'ra," Daniel corrected, and Jack barely kept himself from punching the man.

"Goa'uld, Daniel!" he yelled. "Let's call a snake a snake, here! It's Goa'uld, and it's experimental, and it's gonna leave me just about as much 'me' left as a bowl of fruit loops! That's if I live. So you tell me, how do I talk to Carter and tell her that with a smile on my face? 'Buck up, Major. This is all for you'?"

Daniel's jaw clenched as he looked away, taking another direct hit. His arms folded tightly across his chest as if putting pressure on the wound. Suddenly, Jack's own anger was gone, drowned in a surge of regret and fear. This was it, the end of the line for him, and he didn't want to spend his last minutes with Daniel fighting.

"I'm sorry," he said, at the exact moment Daniel said the same thing. They looked up simultaneously, their eyes locking again, and in unison they moved, stepping into each others' arms.

They stood leaning on each other, holding each other up for an eternity and not nearly long enough. The silent gesture had to be an allegory or metaphor or something for their entire relationship, always there to support each other and never having the words to say why. Jack tried to remember the last time he'd hugged his friend - my God, who'd've ever believed that a few years ago? - Was it after the sarcophagus incident? Daniel's hair had been longer then, a soft mat against his neck, his body quaking with wet sobs from the guilt and the need. O'Neill had been there himself not that long before, after his own weapon had killed his son and the pain could only be deadened by a handful of pills and the promise of that same gun. Daniel had saved him then, without even knowing him, by translating the Stargate instructions that led to his recall to active duty. So Jack had understood why Daniel had lashed out at him and Jack had stuck by him through the long weeks, just as Daniel had, without fanfare, glued himself to Jack while the Ancients' knowledge had eroded his brain and burned out his body. Jack could think of a hundred times they had been there for each other, a dozen times when the pain of losing each other was real and agonizing. He could still feel the impact in his bones when he'd smashed the car window with his hockey stick, the rage, the confusion, falling like the shards of glass, leaving only the vast desire to give up and retire again so he wouldn't have to lose one more person from his life. He'd thought Daniel had died, burned to ash on some barren alien world, and he'd been shocked at how deeply the loss had cut.

Would Daniel feel that way tomorrow? Or would he prefer this to Jack telling him they had no friendship at all, like he'd had to do to smoke out Maybourne and Makepeace's black ops? Or to having to give the order to torpedo the replicator-infested Russian sub, knowing he was killing his friends? Jack had been furious in those last seconds, furious that Daniel had waited too long and giddy with gratitude when the deck of Thor's starship had appeared under him, that Daniel had waited just long enough. That was Daniel, always thinking, looking for the out no one else had thought of, never giving up until he was convinced there was no other choice. The fact that Daniel hadn't tried to talk him out of letting Anise take a backhoe to his brain settled on Jack like a shroud. If Daniel couldn't see a way out, and Carter couldn't, then there wasn't one, and Jack was making the right decision. Whatever the outcome, whatever they learned, he knew Daniel would never stop thinking and analyzing and badgering the whole of the SGC and the Tok'ra resistance until they had found a way to save Sam.

And that was the bottom line between them. They had nothing in common, they would never really understand each other, and arguing would always be easier for them than talking from the heart... but they trusted each other, counted on each other, helped each other when no one else could. And Jack needed his help this one last time.

"Tell her," he whispered against Daniel's ear. His voice shook and he felt the threat of tears, thinking about Sam in a chemical coma without hope, and his own inability to face her when she, too, would need him. "Please."

He felt the catch in Daniel's breath against his chest, the shift of his chin against the back of his shoulder. Jack could imagine the expression on his face, eyes closed, mouth pulling into a small, tight line as he struggled to hold onto his control, to bring it forward and use it like a shield. Jack had seen that expression on his friend's face far too often in the last few months, after Sha're had died, after Nick had abandoned him yet again, and a thousand other, smaller times. All that pain and passion and raw, roiling emotion... restrained and focused to fuel the weapon that was Daniel Jackson. Jack smiled despite himself. The Goa'uld didn't stand a chance.

Daniel hesitated only that heart-beat, before Jack felt him nod and begin to step back, the moment gone. Fear raised its ugly claws and tore at O'Neill's gut. The warmth and strength of Daniel's embrace was gone and a brittle cold wrapped him in its place. Only the spot where Daniel's hand lingered against his arm was real and kept him from puking on the floor. Jack couldn't look at him, knowing the fear, the tears, were too close to the surface for his friend to miss. But Daniel insisted, ducking his head to catch Jack's gaze and lift it to his own. Yep. There it was. That determined, contained look Daniel had perfected over his years with the SGC. The look of a good soldier, a survivor. God, the man was tough.

"I'll see you after the reception," Daniel said.

One way or the other. Jack bit back the crack, grateful once again to his friend, for the momentary flash of a confident smile, for the utter normalcy of his tone. No good-byes here. Daniel wasn't giving up until he had to.

"Right," Jack agreed belatedly, putting on a matching confidence drawn from Daniel's. Every cell in his body began to shiver under the facade, as he waved toward the door. "Go."

Daniel looked at him, twitched once as if he'd tried to leave but couldn't. Then a nod, and he was gone.

As if by magic, Teal'c appeared at Jack's shoulder, massive and solid, radiating strength.

"Take care of him," Jack said without thinking, his gaze still on the spot where Daniel had stood. He felt more than saw the Jaffa nod, once, deeply, accepting the charge. Realizing what he had done, Jack tore himself out of the moment with a physical shudder. That kind of command wasn't fair to either man. "Teal'c... forget I said that," he said with a sigh, scrubbing his hand across his face. For the first time, Jack realized the guards were all far down the hall. Teal'c's doing, no doubt, to give them their privacy. "What I really need you to do, is make sure my head stays in one piece if this doesn't work."

Teal'c touched the zat gun holstered against his thigh. "It will be as you say."

O'Neill winced at the remembered pain of a zat hit. Still, there were worse ways to die. Like alone, and slowly. Teal'c would make it fast, and he hadn't been alone in a long time. He wouldn't be alone even sitting in that damn Tok'ra torture chair. Daniel and Teal'c and even Carter would see him through this to the end, whatever that end turned out to be, good, bad or worse.

Jack smiled, breathing in the contentment of that thought. He always had his team to rely on, and that made any day a good day, even this one.

The fear began eroding the feeling immediately, but he ignored it and stepped forward.

"Let's get this over with."