Title: Recovery Operation

Category: Missing Scene

Description: The team's recovery from the gliders near the end of Serpent's Lair.

Rating: PG-nothing you wouldn't find on the air

Spoilers: Serpent's Lair and Within the Serpent's Grasp first and foremost. Also for The Movie, Children Of The Gods, Brief Candle, Thor's Hammer, Singularity, Solitudes.

Disclaimer: None of them are mine. SG1, their friends and enemies, and all recognizable paraphernalia belong to MGM, Stargate Prod., Gekko, et al. The space shuttle belongs to the United States government. And the words belong to Webster. No money made, no infringement intended.

******************************************

The space shuttle Endeavor was just about the most welcome thing Jack had seen in a very long time. Its bay doors hung open to space, the arm extended like it was reaching out to him alone. He understood why humans had called ships 'she' for centuries. She was beautiful.

"Can we talk to them?" He poked Bra'tac on the shoulder, nodding to the shuttle even though the warrior couldn't see the gesture.

"One moment, human." Human. I wish he'd stop doing that. "I must reset to accommodate your primitive communications methods." The Jaffa master was fiddling with things Jack couldn't see from his vantage point.

Suddenly, the glider's cockpit filled with static and a harsh, tinny voice. "....please identify yourselves...repeat, this is the United States Space Shuttle Endeavor. We come in peace. Plea....."

"'We come in peace?' Great--Flash Gordon's on the job." Jack interrupted the speaker, "Man, are you guys a sight for sore eyes!"

Dead silence, the speaker clearly caught flatfooted. Jack smiled, imagining the confusion no doubt running through the shuttle crew and spilling down to ground control. Finally, the speaker asked in a more uncertain voice, "Who are you?"

"Colonel Jack O'Neill, US Air Force. SGC, under General George Hammond. Who are you?" he finished cheekily.

Another long silence. No doubt a fast and furious shuttle-to-ground conversation. He'd have loved to be able to see the looks on their faces right about then.

Jack could almost see the jumping of communications connections across the globe above them as Space Command must've been trying to find out who they were and just what the heck they were doing floating idly around the earth in death gliders. Finally, a calm and collected military tone came back at him. "Colonel O'Neill, we're, um, verifying some things."

"Yeah, I'll bet."

The speaker ignored his comment. "In the meantime, what is your condition?"

Okay, right to business. This was why he liked the military. "Sliced, diced, and fried."

He counted to three. That was about as long as it would take Carter to chime in.

"Sir, if I may?" Even after all this, after a year, she still offered that deference. Good training. She understood she didn't always need to wait for a response, but she continued to make the effort. "We took heavy debris damage. We've got no engine power or navigational control and life support is pretty much down to the air in the cockpits. Orbit's going to start deteriorating quickly."

They were told to hold tight.

"What, like we've got a choice?"

The shuttle commander chose to ignore his snide remark again.

Finally, after a long wait, the voice crackled back to life. And the confusion had apparently gotten worse, if the voice was any indication. "Okay, sir. It, um, looks like you've got the highest of clearances. We've got Presidential orders to get you all back to terra firma in one piece, including those...craft...you've got. This may take a bit. We don't exactly do this everyday."

To say the least.

"We're going to maneuver over closer to your position. Then, we'll use the arm and the MMU's to effect retrieval. We're still working on that plan. In the meantime, just sit tight while we get some direction on this and make our way over there."

"Sit tight," he repeated. "My reputation for patience must precede me."

That earned a chuckle out of Carter as they settled in to wait for Command to decide how to get two UFO's from point A to point B.

**********************************************

"Storm."

Carter's impossibly far-away voice drew his attention back up to the Earth, rolling quietly above them. Sure enough, there was a swirl of clouds churning over the Atlantic Ocean. A tropical storm, according to the news reports. Eddie, Elmo, Elvira, Enid--some stupid name the science geeks had tagged it with days ago. It looked like cotton candy from up here. A big swirl of white, flossy puff. Almost serene, lazy, as it sat over the ocean. A far cry from the pounding of hail smacking into your face as it whipped around defying gravity. A far cry from the snap and crackle of telephone poles and trees being uprooted and tossed around like dandelion puffs. A damn far cry from the deep howl of a hurricane banging on the door, desperate to get into whatever tiny shelter you've managed to find and carry you off.

Everything seemed to look different up here. Like he was caught in some weird time warp. Alternating fast and slow. The Earth was rotating so quickly, they kept passing into night, the world going dark. And yet, at the same time, it seemed so quiet and still that it was like time had stopped. The shuttle sat in the same place it had been, keeping pace with them, bay doors open but too far away to do anything but tease him. And beyond them both, stars that didn't look any closer than on a crisp Colorado night from his roof.

"Daniel would've liked this. He would've had something profound to say about humanity or something." Carter sounded a million miles away.

Jack looked over at her. It was spooky when he was on the same wavelength as her. "Yes, he would." Daniel wasn't the first man he'd lost on a mission. And he probably wouldn't be the last. But this wasn't one of his men. This was Daniel.

And it wasn't even the first time he'd lost this particular man on a mission. This was, what? Number three?

"Guess third time wasn't the charm."

The first time had made Jack angry. He'd barely known the man, sure as hell didn't consider him a friend. But Daniel was on his team, one of his responsibilities whether he wanted it or not. And one of the things Jack O'Neill hated most was to lose one of his campers.

The second time had made Jack sad. Okay, sad wasn't the right word. Angry, sure. Guilty, yes. Frustrated. Confused. All at once, no idea what to do with any of them. That had been the hard one. The one loss that had gotten through Jack's defenses in a way that no other had before or since Charlie.

Charlie.

Hell, Jack, we are NOT bringing him into this.

Problem is, he's already part of this, isn't he? He was there in that hallway, slipping away with your friend, wasn't he? Like he's always there, isn't he?

Like Daniel will probably always be, right there with all the other friends he'd lost along the way. It was getting to be an awfully crowded group.

He ran a hand across his face to banish the memories. "Dammit."

"Sir?"

"This is what I get for likin' the guy."

A long pause from Carter. Damn, he'd made her uncomfortable. He hadn't meant to, but he'd left her speechless. An awkward silence ensued. The kind of awkwardness he thought they'd long since left behind in a shared sleeping bag somewhere near the South Pole. When she finally spoke, it was almost inaudible. "Doesn't seem right, now that we're not gonna die. It was, I don't know...easier...before. Now, it just doesn't seem fair."

Jack looked at her through the vacuum of space and two cockpit windows. She was still looking up at the Earth, contemplating...what? What was going on inside that overactive mind of hers?

"No, it doesn't. But it's what Daniel would've wanted. You know that." It came off as a bit of an order. Jack knew he retreated into that military tone when things got too damn close. Too often, it was either that or lose it completely, and he'd already gone that route. Almost gone that route once for Daniel.

Never again.

Never.

"Yes, sir."

"I will honor your friend, human. It is a great thing for a warrior to give his life to defend his home. A great thing, indeed."

"He wasn't a warrior, Bra'tac." He'd just about forgotten there were any others in here.

"DanielJackson was whatever he needed to be, O'Neill. And he was always our friend. I, too, will honor him for as long as I live." Teal'c, at least, he could deal with. The Jaffa had learned this a long time ago, the hard way. The way Jack O'Neill had learned it.

"So will I."

He looked out at Carter again. He could see her watching the earth intently. This was the tough one. He wasn't quite sure what it was that she'd need. They'd danced this dance before. That time, he'd felt it out each step along the way, running the gamut from being the rock she could count on to someone she could cling to. Finally, faced with a horrified and nearly-hysterical Captain Carter, instinct had taken over and he'd held her the way he should have held Sara more often after...well, after 'it'. Unfortunately, that wasn't exactly an option here and now. And, truth be told, he didn't think it was what she needed right at this moment anyway. He'd been getting a bead on the good Captain in the course of a year, and he was beginning to understand her. Nope, not the moment at all. He'd have to trust his instincts again if he was going to figure out what it was he was supposed to do.

For right now, she was too quiet. He couldn't figure anything out if he had nothing to work with. He'd need to do a little recon. "Carter, you okay?"

"I just miss him already." He heard the faintest of snuffles. Captain Samantha Carter, USAF, Ph.D. wasn't going to break down in public. Maybe later, alone, but not here and now, not in front of the whole of the US Space Program. Jack was guiltily grateful. He knew that soon--too soon--there would be questions, things they would need to discuss. Things he would need to do and give. But he wasn't ready to do it yet. He hadn't found the words to help her through this--he didn't even know how to help himself through this yet.

"I know, Sam. So do I."

He found himself drawn to the spinning Earth again, looking for the answers. At the very least, looking for reassurance of what had been gained in all this. Silence reigned, marred only by the background chatter of the shuttle crew as they faced the simple challenge of bringing in two pieces of free-floating alien technology and four people. The three remaining members of SG1 faced a much bigger challenge--to find meaning in their loss.

"But we'll be okay. Not now, but later. Trust me."

"I do, Colonel."

*********************************************

Endeavor had maneuvered its way over as close to the two gliders as was manageable, just under 300 feet away. Only a hairsbreadth by cosmic standards. It had taken hours, multiple OMS burns, and a lot of direction. Now would come the fun part. Retrieval. Jack had no idea how they planned to do it. He wasn't sure if they’d even figured it out yet. He looked out at the orbiter and realized his depth perception up here was blown all to hell--at the same time that it looked impossibly far away, it also looked like they could walk from wing-to-wing. He shook his head, but the illusion continued. How the hell do you guys do this?

Three astronauts emerged from the cabin into the stripped-down cargo bay. They looked like play toys as they bounced and glided across the stark white interior. He remembered playing underwater with his friends as a kid and looking a lot like these three wending their way through space.

"Colonel O'Neill?"

"Yeah?"

"We're going to use the MMU's to come over there and capture your craft. We'll bring them over by hand to the manipulator arm and secure you to the shuttle. Once we have a successful capture, we can maneuver the crafts one at a time into the bay with you inside."

"Inside? That does not make me feel warm and fuzzy."

There was the unmistakable sound of a commander taking a deep breath. Jack recognized it easily. He'd been in that position enough times in his life. "No, me either. But it's the only way. Unless, of course, you've got spacesuits in that thing."

Jack shrugged. "How they hell should I know what--"

"We do, indeed, have such devices."

The shuttle Commander considered this. Jack could feel the other weighing his responsibilities. And they weighed a lot. He had become personally accountable for this whole thing right up to the President himself. "I think, Colonel," he decided finally, "that I'd feel safer having your people out of those when we wiggle them into the bay. It's not like we've had any practice doing this."

"Okay, sure." An internal sigh of relief. "Tell us what you need us to do."

As he listened to the other colonel outline the tricky job ahead, it became clear that--first things first--the mood needed a little lightening. It was thick and dark in the gliders now, both literally and figuratively. And it was about to get worse as they prepared for an imminent tip-toe through the unforgiving vacuum of space. Maybe something to cut the ice. "You know, if we're going to be working together here, we should at least be on first name basis, dont'cha think? It's Jack. This is Bra'tac here and Sam and Teal'c next door."

"I'm Tom. Coming over to you are Sandi, Mathew, and Daryl. And Mary's working the arm control."

There followed a round of greetings and salutations. Better. "Gang's all here, then. Let's do it."

The three astronauts maneuvered towards Jack's dead glider first, their bulky MMU's against the black background reminding him of a science fiction movie. Only this wasn't a movie. This was real.

"Sweet."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Nothing."

Bra'tac was searching for something under his seat. Jack couldn't see it until finally he came up with a flimsy suit of some kind. It was thin and of the grey material that the Jaffa wore. Bra'tac threw it back at his companion. "Put this on, human."

Jack fingered the maliable suit. "This thing? This is like wearin' boxers outside on Christmas Day. How 'bout a real spacesuit?" He tossed it back.

The suit was thrown back into his face immediately. "Put. It. On." Bra'tac's tone brooked no argument. "Human."

"Oh-kay." So Jack peeled off the outer layer of his fatigues and ungracefully manhandled the suit on in the tiny space allowed by the glider. Bra'tac was already ahead of him. Jack could see Carter and Teal'c negotiating similar outfits. "No peeking, Carter."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir." A slight smirk in her voice.

*************************************************

Oddly enough, Jack had found himself only half-interested by the actual rescue operations. He'd've figured that he'd be captivated by this sort of thing, but it turns out it was long and dull to watch. Perhaps he'd be more excited if he weren't still worried about the survival of his people. That sort of thing always put a damper on his enthusiasm for any project. Not to mention being a teammate short on the return trip.

Not that the shuttle commander hadn't tried to keep them all engaged in the process. He'd cheerfully and politely kept up a running commentary every step of the way for the edification of his unplanned guests, explaining the Manned Maneuvering Units, the Remote Manipulator Arm, the pre-breathing period, the Orbital Maneuvering System, etcetera, etcetera. Jack didn't have the heart to tell him that Carter had cut her teeth on space lingo, he himself couldn't care less about the techno-stuff, and Teal'c and Bra'tac had been in space since before John Glenn ever set foot on a launch pad. The other commander sounded a bit nervous, and talking seemed to make him feel better. None of his crew had questioned it, so Jack let the man talk.

Like he'd often let Daniel talk.

In actuality, it cut the silence, keeping SG1 diverted from things better left alone for now.

In the meantime, he watched the astronauts dance around the job of grabbing and controlling the glider for a good long while, looking for all the world like they were stalling. Okay, it was a distinct possibility they were. Death gliders weren't exactly covered by training manuals. Still, he wished they'd hurry the hell up. His posterior had been numb for hours, and he wasn't able to figure out any more ways to stretch his legs in the confined space of the cockpit. He'd apparently found himself trapped in the coach section of Airline Hell.

And he had to pee. It wasn't something he'd mentioned to anyone else, yet; but soon to be a rather pressing problem, pardon the pun. And he was relatively certain it was not a problem he wanted to address in zero-gravity.

Finally, they had apparently come up with a plan and, orchestrated by the shuttle commander and Carter's back-seat driving, all three managed to grab hold of the glider with some level of synchronicity. Accompanied, of course, by a rather disquieting jerk as they brought the craft to a halt relative to their own orbits around the planet.

Then, the trip. No power, no engines, no fancy toys. Three sets of hands and a very big, very empty vacuum. Now, this was a new one--his life literally in the hands of three of the Air Force's finest and physics he didn't understand, being coasted toward Endeavor at an almost leisurely pace. It was a disturbing sensation--even stranger than hurling himself through space in a flimsy wormhole--to feel like he was hauling through space on nothing more than willpower. And definitely not an experience he was looking to ever repeat.

Which meant that by the time they had been secured to the shuttle's RMA, he had had enough of this 'being at the mercy of others' stuff. Jack O'Neill did not just hang around and wait for someone else to clean up the mess. It grated on him. Idly, he was aware that it was probably the aftermath of the adrenaline rush he'd been on since they'd snuck their way out of the base...how long ago now? had it been only hours? It didn't matter anyway, like it doesn't really matter what made the dam break when you're being hit by the floodwaters.

"Okay, I've had it with this thing. We're coming out. Ready or not." He was exiting this silent would-be coffin, the last reminder of the mission that had gone drastically wrong and drastically right. And he was doing it NOW.

The shuttle commander made noises to the contrary, but Jack wasn't listening.

"Okay, sir. Hold on." A female astronaut floated outside the cockpit window, her voice echoing through the Goa'uld communication thing he was wearing. "We've got a tether to the shuttle that we'll harness you into for safety, then you can hand-over-hand down the arm to the bay."

Now that he had something to do, he relaxed. "What about the others?"

"We'll have to get you two down and then bring the craft into the cargo bay before we can grab the other one and bring them in. We've only got the one hand." A self-deprecating shrug through her bulky suit in slow motion.

"Well, now. Sandi. It is Sandi, right? I'd offer to give you a hand, but somehow I don't think it'd really help."

"No, sir," she chuckled, "I don't suppose it would."

This was where the strange spacesuit came into play. He'd been ignoring his qualms about it, but he really didn't trust the damn thing to keep him from suffering a rather nasty death by suffocation.

"Hold on, human. It will get very windy..." He reached for some sort of control.

"WAIT!" Jack panicked. "What about helmets?"

"They will be automatically activated upon decompression."

"Bra'tac...!"

An explosion rocked the glider. Jack thought the craft had finally had it. He automatically reached to cover his face, but found he couldn't. There was, instead, a solid shield in front of it. He slowly felt around it. Sure enough, somewhere between the seconds of explosion and reaction, a helmet had appeared around his head. He looked at the back of Bra'tac's head. From the back, it appeared like the helmets the Jaffa wore that could extend and retract into the uniform. Only a hell of a lot faster.

"Whoa."

Bra'tac laughed.

The things he finds amusing...

The clear cover of the cockpit had catapaulted away and was fast disappearing into space. Instead, Jack could see the startled astronauts and an equally startled Carter across space. Teal'c just looked on with a bemused expression at Jack's panic.

Well, we see where he learned his sense of humour.

"Everyone alright?" He got general assent. The panicky sounds from the shuttle speaker died down with it. Beyond those, he could hear Carter going on about the workings of the suits they had donned. About missing cooling units and materials and pressurization capabilities and seals and such. He didn't follow her excitement, but at least no one had exploded (or was it imploded?) yet, sending little splatterings of SG1-shaped flotsam and jetsam to join the cloud of Goa'uld-shaped flotsam and jetsam already out there. The suits protecting them didn't seem quite as flimsy, maybe a bit more solid against his body, but they hadn't even inflated. That must be part of what Carter was chattering excitedly about.

"Okay, sir." The astronaut nearest him recovered from her amazement at the strange suits and got back to business at hand. "I've got a harness ready for you once you've released from the craft. The most important thing to remember is not to overcompensate. Small, smooth movements. There's nothing to slow you down, so don't go fast. Understand?"

"Perfectly." Jack popped out of the straps keeping him in the seat. He bobbed slightly in weightlessness above the seat, pushing himself lightly away. It was almost fun, like that one split second held in midair above a trampoline. He allowed himself the briefest of indulgences before the astronaut grabbed his arm and fastened a harness around his middle. She secured him to the lifeline that snaked out from somewhere in the whiteness of the bay--a line held eerily still by the distinct lack of forces pressing on it. Frankly, just that lack of normal movement gave Jack the creeps.

"Okay, sir. Don't be afraid to take your time. Make sure you have solid holds as you go. And keep it nice, even movements. Slow and steady."

"Don't worry, I follow directions excellently."

Hey, was that a snicker he heard from somewhere? He turned to look at Carter, but she was resolutely watching the rescue operation.

He grabbed the comforting solidity of the arm and began hand-walking down the 50-foot length. What had seemed like an arm-length away now seemed to take forever. He was underwater, every move taking more effort, more thought and concentration.

"Sir?"

"What?!"

"Um, you're down, sir."

Jack looked about himself to find that he was, in fact, in the bay. "How the hell did I get here?"

"Tell me about it, sir." Another slight laugh. "The hatch is directly to your right, sir."

"Think I'll wait for the rest." He watched Bra'tac deftly glide right in beside him, completely nonplussed by the trip. "How old are you again?"

Bra'tac laughed and slapped Jack on the shoulder.

*******************************************************

The job of actually bringing in the glider was actually slightly more interesting than any of the earlier stuff. Jack had waited, tucked close in to the corner of the bay, watching the arm and cables jimmy the machine into the tight space. He was doing his best to stay out of the way, not wanting to ruffle more feathers. He'd announced upon arrival that he would wait for the rest to be brought down. That had resulted in some rather interesting arguments from the shuttle commander and his people, not to mention Space Command. But Jack had held firm. He'd finally employed That Tone--the one he'd learned in the military and perfected being a father. The one that left no more room for discussion. He was pretty good at it when he wanted to be. Not, of course, that it worked well with his current associates.

Okay, with Carter, it usually worked. Teal'c--most of the time. Daniel, well, hardly ever. But at least Jack had gained lots of practice in the meantime.

He finally felt the slight tug on the safety line as his team was connected. The second glider had been attached to the now-free arm and was doing its impression of a bug on a pinboard. The two occupants were currently maneuvering extremely carefully down the arm, travelling at a snail's pace. He watched them mirroring his movements from his recent trip, traveling in the same way they traveled so often--single-file, Sam in the middle, Teal'c bringing up the rear. Like we're taking a walk through the woods on P3-whatever the hell.

Except someone was missing from the the line.

Damn. Here we go again. He looked past the team, then. Needed something else to look at. Space. Well, there had to be something diverting to think about out there.

He could see the remaining glider behind them. Holes torn through the wings, gouge marks from hurling debris. Angry slashes marred the underside where the vehicle had taken the brunt of Apophis' fiery downfall. Burns and sparks continued to light up the black background.

And beyond them, empty space. Jack's attention was pulled inexorably to that sight. The captivating emptiness of space, dangerous and intoxicating at the same time. Pinpricks of light coming from thousands of suns beyond their reach. Wonder how many of those worlds we've been on? He rarely stopped to consider the amazing things they did on a weekly basis, but at this moment, it left him speechless.

Come to think of it, he'd been doing 'speechless' a lot lately.

Above him, the Earth, spinning in the perfect serenity of complete obliviousness. The only testament to the day's pivotal events would be a pretty light show left by falling debris burning in the atmosphere. Billions of people would go on about their ordinary lives today. Get up, go to work, run to the bank, drop the kids off at soccer practice, mow the lawn. None of them ever knowing how close they came to total annihilation or, maybe even worse, slavery. It angered and comforted Jack simultaneously--that complete ignorance of what had almost happened here. Of the 'could've beens.' Of what almost was and what almost wasn't. Of what Daniel had seen already.

Daniel.

He had saved his team. And, in turn, saved the whole damn planet. And he'd never know that.

He'd never know alot of things. Perhaps alot of things that should've been said.

Damn. Here we are again.

Jack firmly reined in that line of thought. Cannot do this yet. CanNOT do this here. Not the time or the place, Jack. Let's just get everyone home first. Then, we'll do this.

He stuffed his grief and loss deep inside as he had before and concentrated on the task at hand. It was old habit by now, one that got more familiar for all the wrong reasons.

But Carter had noticed his pause, from her position now less than fifteen feet away. "Sir? You okay?"

"What? Yeah." It wasn't even a good lie. He could tell she wasn't buying it by that damn earnest look on her face, watching him with an understanding born of over a year working together.

Something hovered between the two in that brief moment--the sum total of a hard year. It stared back at him in Carter's eyes, and in his reflection in her faceplate. Pain and loss and gains and joy and growth and expansion and secrets and things revealed and friends and family and enemies and strain and release and pressure and anger and sadness and hope and discouragement and fear and worry and love and acceptance.

Dark and light places they'd all traveled, inside and out. Together. Just like they'd do this. They all needed to deal with this together, and soon. But it couldn't be yet. The job was not done yet. They weren't safe yet, weren't home yet.

Something else, then. Something easily dealt with. A distraction. Jack could do distractions.

"You finally made it, Captain."

"Made what, sir?" The moment broken, she resumed pulling herself along the arm, following his unspoken lead.

"Made it out here. Space. You're finally really here."

She stopped then and looked about her. Up at the Earth. Out at the infinity beyond, lit only by the faraway suns. At the space shuttle, its whiteness stark and pristine. Down at her feet and the vast emptiness under them. Then, back at her CO, smiling at him--a smile that reminded him of the young captain he'd met last year, chomping at the bit to get out there and see wonders of the universe. "Yes, sir. I guess I did."

"Cool."

"Cool, sir." And she laughed.

Jack still had kids to take care of, after all.

**************************************

They were helped by the astronauts into an airlock and left to wait the standard time for acclimatization. Outside, they could see and feel the efforts to get the second glider into the bay. Astronauts positioned and repositioned and measured and juggled. Carter paid attention for a while. Eventually, even she turned away. They sat around, not speaking, just being there. Getting used to the idea that they just might make it out of here alive after all.

Finally, they were cleared to come inside the shuttle cabin and peeled, relieved, out of their suits. The shuttle's commander produced several NASA jumpsuits for them in exchange. "Colonel Tom Hartman," he introduced himself.

Jack shook the proffered hand. "Colonel Jack O'Neill. So, you guys just in the neighborhood?"

"Not at all, sir. We launched under emergency top-secret conditions under the highest orders." Hartman shrugged. "Don't suppose you can explain any of this, huh?"

"'Fraid not." He threw his arm across the other Colonel's shoulders. "But it's the best story you'll never hear."

The commander rolled his eyes. A tinny voice over the speaker demanded his attention about the gliders and he bobbed over to the radio, leaving Jack to fend for himself with the borrowed jumpsuit.

By the time he was done, Bra'tac and Teal'c were examining the small cabin with great interest. Unfortunately, he had the distinct impression that it was the sort of interest one has when visiting the local museum.

And Carter was still struggling with her jumpsuit. Upside down. Well, strictly-speaking, she was at about 75 degrees from what he considered upright. She had one leg in and one trapped half-in-half-out of the jumpsuit. The problem was that she had no hands with which to hold herself steady. When she let go, before long, the rotating walls had bumped her again and she was forced to start over. He watched her struggle for several minutes, shamelessly amused at the ungainly sight from the usually unflappable Captain. Eventually, though, entertainment value lost out to team loyalty when she hit her head. "Here, Carter, lemme help. You're gonna kill yourself, and then where would we be?" He grabbed her by the shoulders, righted her, and held her still while she finished. "Jeez, Carter, Jackson's starting to rub off on you..."

Both stopped short. Carter looked stricken. He probably did too

He wished he could pull the words back in from where they floated coldly between them.. He hadn't meant to say that--it had just happened. His brain hadn't adjusted to the difference yet--it didn't feel real, that Daniel was...well, gone. It just felt like he had wandered off doing some weird Daniel-type things.

Yeah, Jack. Like saving your butts.

"Sir? You okay?" Carter had a hand on his arm.

"You already used that line." A tight smile. "Yeah, I'm fine, Captain." And a retreat into military titles. Old habits again.

"Sir, I haven't asked...." She looked tentative, hesitant. It wasn't something she seemed to feel around him much any more. The hand was still on his arm. It had gripped ever-so-slightly tighter.

Jack knew exactly what she meant. He could see Teal'c just behind her, eavesdropping. He considered them for a moment. His team. He'd referred to them as family on one or two occasions. It was a true enough statement. What they'd been through had made them family, close in a way no one had anticipated or could match.

Especially in the last few hours.

And here they were again. Back to that place Jack had been avoiding since they'd hauled ass from the Goa'uld ship. Things all unresolved still. Well, this time there was no avoiding finishing it.

He lowered his voice, lending their little corner of the shuttle an air of intimacy. Considered how to begin, to give his remaining team some little bit of what they needed. Answers only he could give. "It was his choice."

Well. Hardly an eloquent start.

Carter's eyes filled up. "How bad was it?"

"Very bad." He scrubbed one hand wearily across his face. Found himself right back there in that corridor. "He couldn't keep up. He wanted us to finish without him. I tried to...um...well, you know. But he wouldn't let me."

You're not doing this very well, Jack. Dammit, they're not gonna even know what the hell you're talking about!

"That's Daniel."

Or maybe they did understand.

"He said it didn't matter 'cause we'd all be dead soon anyway. Said he'd watch our backsides."

Carter was silently crying now, almost unawares, a few tracks running down her face. Jack was mildly surprised--he'd figured she'd hang in there until she was alone. She didn't cry often. In fact, he'd only seen it twice. He thought that maybe it was time for a little tactile support from her CO, but before he'd even completed the thought, Teal'c reached out a hand to her back, offering silent support without reservation. It was amazing what that man could convey in such simple means.

No one said anything. Words would have intruded.

He waited them out. As much as they wanted to know, it was still hard for them. And he'd even left out the most painful parts. The stink of burned flesh filling the air. Daniel's face contorted by pain. The desperate intensity giving his voice a crack Jack had never heard before.

How there had been no adequate words at that moment.

Sometimes...the worst times...there just aren't words to explain anything. A lesson learned the night he'd held his son's lifeless body in the corner of the ER for hours, willing the earth to just swallow him whole then and there. Reinforced by the night he came home from Abydos brimming with new determination to get his life back, only to discover his house empty and Sara's key on the table. Finalized by watching Daniel as his friend was forced to understand that the woman he loved had become nothing more than an empty husk.

Now, a new one to add to the list. He still didn't have the words for any of them. Nothing he could ever say would come close.

"That was the second hardest thing I've ever had to do." Barely above a whisper, he didn't even realize he'd said it out loud until Teal'c reacted to it.

"The second, O'Neill?"

"Right behind not killin' myself after Charlie."

Just how are they supposed to respond to that, Jack? He chided himself. This was going to go very bad very quickly if he stayed any longer. He turned away, moving forward and away from his friends. He'd given all he could right now. He wasn't up for more. He knew it wasn't enough--after all this, he should be capable of being more for them--but he knew he wasn't.

"Sir?" Carter's soft voice behind him.

He turned around. No one had moved.

"Thank you." Her voice almost matched his whispered confession. She wasn't crying any more. Sniffling, tired, but collected. Teal'c, hovering slightly behind her--her thoughts reflected in his eyes. "We know," she said simply. "And so did he."

Well, imagine that--it seemed Carter knew how to use That Tone, too.

And deep down, Jack knew she was right. His friend--their friend--had known, not because it was ever said, but because it just was.

Right from that first day, baking in the Abydos heat, facing Ra, a staff weapon in Daniel's hand and determination in his eyes. They'd made eye contact at that pivotal moment, and it all just came right through. Everything was communicated perfectly. Crystal clear. And not a word ever said.

Over and over again this last year it had happened. That first night back on earth, the two of them in Jack's living room, sharing a pain mirrored by the other's, in the comfort of silence. Daniel staying with him on Argos after the others left, although he'd never asked. Then making the ultimate unspoken stand for friendship on Cimmeria, destroying the Hammer. Again, down in the sublevel of a military facility, the three of them sharing a tacit refusal to leave Carter and Cassie to die alone. In an impromptu meeting only hours ago as Daniel had pinned Jack with his eyes, convinced he would do what needed to be done to prevent exactly what Kinsey had scoffed at.

Finally, a single hand on the side of Daniel's face as he lay in that corridor, begging to be left behind.

He didn't even know what it was exactly. He couldn't have defined it if he'd tried. But when it came down to it--when words failed--it was always still there. It just was. Maybe it wasn't very articulate, but it summed it up rather nicely as far as Jack O'Neill was concerned.

"Yes, ma'am," he finished finally, understanding what Carter was trying to get him to see.

With this team, maybe it wasn't always a lot, but it was always enough.

That's just how it works with family.

**************************************************

~~finis~~