superman booth

Time in the Superman Booth

By Travelling One

Summary: If Daniel and Jack could change their pasts, would they? Only time can tell.

Email: travelling_one@yahoo.ca

Web:http://www.travellingone.com

Related Episodes: COTG; Stargate the Movie

Season: Any

Disclaimer: The theme and main characters have been borrowed from the Stargate SG-1 tv series, and are copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. This story has been written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended.

June/03

That couldn't be right.

It just wasn't possible.

As Daniel stared at the indisputable evidence on his computer screen, solid and clear in front of his eyes now that his research was nearly complete, there in black and white with a few images pulled up from his own photographic meanderings within this bizarre world of alienisms and wisdoms, he knew the only way to deny the evidence was to admit that his translations were completely wrong.

Which he knew they weren't, due neither to arrogance nor overconfidence but to the fact that they weren't so hard, really, once the main categories and correlations had been figured out. And while the challenge had continued sporadically throughout the previous three months, moments grasped between missions and deadlines and late-night coffee binges, there was no question that he had finally come up with the complete, entire decoding of this language. The translations he'd done so far had provided him with both fascinating insights and unexpected answers. The results were plain as the computer screen before him.

That had been an innocently strange-looking contraption, that cubicle brought back from P2K 101, it's inner workings a lot harder to interpret than its planet's near namesake in introductory physics, according to Sam. It almost looked like a telephone booth, and Jack's comment about removing Superman's home base had not gone unappreciated by SG1's archaeologist. Only, Superman had not come out, but Daniel had gone in…

_____ P2K 101 _____

….."We can't take any of this stuff back with us, Carter. It would take moving equipment and a hell of a lot of space in the gateroom."

"But sir, look at this room! If this was a meeting place, as Daniel suggested, then why is all this equipment in here?"

"Carter, they probably congregated here Saturday nights to watch the big game."

"Jack, I think this was the seat of the government. Besides the grandeur of this building, there seem to be all sorts of files on these…leaves," what else might you call a series of hundreds of thousands of tissue- paper-thin leaflets inscribed with continuous symbols? While the material looked delicate, it barely even folded when manipulated, bouncing back to retain its original shape.

"This cubicle appears to be hollow inside." Teal'c had wandered to the largest object, having by now completed his walk around its perimeter. "It is indeed meant to be entered."

"Confessional booth?"

Daniel raised his eyebrows. To relieve politicians of their sins? Right. Daniel peeked through the doorway - or non-existent fourth wall - and stepped inside.

The cubicle was barely larger than a phone booth, but the interior had two narrow walls of small, projecting controls and upraised symbols, while one wall was smooth, gray, and completely blank. The fourth, of course, was empty space. Daniel gazed around at the relief panels, aware of Sam looking over his shoulder and blocking the light from behind.

"Do you know what any of this is, Daniel?" she asked, nodding towards the symbols covering the mid portions of the surface areas.

"Other than a Braille telephone directory, I have no idea."

"Graffiti?" Jack quipped.

"Whose artists commanded a high price, no doubt," Daniel replied straight-faced, running his fingers gently along the raised writings. "Whatever it is, Jack… we can't just leave it here."

While Jack's near response was to reiterate the impracticability of lugging this thing home somehow, in the back of his mind that niggling impulse told him not to disagree. There was something about this that begged to be studied by the likes of Daniel Jackson, strangest archaeologist on Earth, and Samantha Carter, best astrophysicist in the entire galaxy. Hell, even the Asgard came calling for her services. "Okay, Daniel. I'll recommend a team come back for it. Any other toys you kids think we might need?"

There had been some other curious objects, so SG1 marked a few more items for pickup, with other rooms revealing bits of smaller equipment. Eventually it had all been claimed and retrieved, most of it now idly sitting in the lower storage rooms collecting cobwebs. The scientific teams had been forced to put the items on the back burner after weeks of futile investigation, while some of the smaller pieces had been delivered to Area 51.

Now, after three months of inconsistent but intense study and interpretive work and completion of about sixty percent of all the leaflets he had discovered, Daniel stared wide-eyed and gaping at his latest results.

_____

His fingers trembled nervously on the keyboard as he tried to bring his thoughts back from where they kept wandering. This was not logically possible; how could the planet have been ruled this way? It was inconceivable. SG1 knew it was negligent to change the past to alter the future, yet here was a society, a government, that had been doing exactly that. And they had done so successfully… although somewhere along the line had it perhaps backfired, leading them to a place SG1 had not been able to find? Where had these inhabitants gone? Had this machine led to their eventual downfall?

Daniel rolled his chair back and stood up, leaning his hands on his desk and staring again at the computer screen. The evidence was straightforward, undeniable, and unless this society was given to perpetrating massive hoaxes, SG1 had just unearthed the most potentially enlightening, destructive, hopeful, frightening bit of technological machinery that could fall into the hands of fallible humans. How could a government possibly have ruled their world using this contraption? It just wasn't feasible. It contradicted everything Earth knew about physics, everything Sam had cautioned them about altering the past, that whole Grandfather Paradox thing… but that was exactly what these people had been playing with, aiming for, and had mastered… changing the past, altering the future, not only once but as often as need be.

If that blank wall really was a screen, and these people really did view all possibilities before making decisions based on how the future would look, then this society had achieved not only an advanced state of technological development but also a moral one.

Daniel reread his notes for the tenth time. These leaders had witnessed the future effects of all decisions they would ever make, almost as though they were visiting an oracle. But what was even more overwhelming was that if in fact things did not seem to turn out well for their people… if, somewhere along the line something had gone wrong, they would view past decisions of their governmental representatives, of their rulers, decide what had to be adjusted, and go back in time to fix it. Suddenly, poof! Their lives would be different, better. And most of the populace would never even have known, going about their lives oblivious to or perhaps even unaffected by the adjustments in time access. Nothing in this world was set in stone, so to speak… or set in history.

Yet who was to say if a decision was a poor one? How far into the future did they need to go before trying to reassess or redo future history?

The answer to that was here somewhere. Everywhere, probably; Daniel could hardly wait to translate all those other leaves even though it would probably take him two more months.

But what was definitely clear so far was that every step of their way had been monitored, each major decision reviewed beforehand, and if found to lead to unacceptable consequences, their leaders would go back and redo some part of the plan, a word, an agreement, a treaty. Everything could be changed; nothing in their lives, in their history, was permanent. Nothing. It was a wonder how they'd managed to get on with their lives at all. But in all fairness, their society had been at peace for millennia, from what Daniel had already deciphered, and this machine had been in use for longer than all of Earth's recorded history.

What Earth could have done with equipment like that, Daniel thought. If one could only see beforehand what results political decisions would have; if one could look back after the fact and change the events leading up to plagues, manmade environmental disasters, wars… but who would be put in charge? Whose decisions would have counted? What if it had been Hitler in control of this thing, or…

How irresponsible it would have been for a single individual to create history. This culture had likely had a major delegation deciding what decisions to implement after having viewed the potential results. Or… perhaps they didn't, and that was what had destroyed them. If they had been destroyed. Maybe they had just decided to move on. That information would no doubt be somewhere amongst all these pages.

The politicians, or leaders, would definitely have to have been honourable men. They would have commanded great willpower in restraining themselves from using this technology for personal use or profit, employing it for only the benefit of all humankind on their planet. They had been dedicated servants of their land, qualified and selfless.

Daniel wondered if he could have been so trustworthy, in their shoes.

He sat down, rereading some of the information on his monitor and pressing 'print'. How this could possibly work he had no idea; other than performing the task itself, the inner workings of the device would have to be studied by Sam. Probably no harder to understand - nor easier - than Stargates and wormholes that could dematerialize a body and transport it thousands of light years in five seconds.

But the execution itself, the calibrations, were nearly as simple as dialling up a planet. A child could do it. Locate your own world in space using similar calculations as for gate addresses, let the machine find its moment in time - something to do with entering the present position of the homeworld's sun, the planet's magnetic field, and longitude and latitude of the exact location of the machine at present - calibrate the amount of leeway one needed to go to the past or future, then step right up and enjoy the show.

Daniel sat back and closed his eyes. What he would give to be able to change some of the events of his past. Not that he would, that Grandfather Paradox and all. Although… how presumptuous to suggest - to even consider - that history would change by anything he, Daniel Jackson, could do. How arrogant a thought. He could probably change any event in his life and affect nothing as a result. Nothing important, anyway.

So, given the opportunity… what would he consider?

Simple. He would save his parents.

Daniel stared at the open books on his desk. He could save his parents, with this one machine.

Of course, he couldn't. Wouldn't. Couldn't risk it.

But, he could view it… just watch, for a few minutes, what his life might have been. Watch, then cancel it all out. No harm done. A few moments of pure fantasy, like going to the theatre. An altered autobiography for the emotionally impaired.

And once rooted, Daniel could not push the thought from his mind. The temptation was too enticing. At his fingertips, the opportunity to witness a normal life for himself, for just a few minutes… the stuff of dreams, his dreams for the past quarter century.

The machine was down in storage, and he knew he would have no rest nor peace of mind until he had given it a try. Call it testing an artifact, scientific investigation. After all, that was his job, call it what you will.

As he hesitantly stood, wondering just what it was he was about to do, trying a potentially potent alien mechanism masquerading as a time repair machine, Daniel ripped off a piece of notepaper. Pausing for several moments, he hastily scribbled a message to anyone who might need to find this. "The booth from P2K 101 is a time machine of sorts. I'm downstairs testing it out." Just in case. In case… something went wrong. If he didn't come back in a few hours, someone would certainly come looking for him, likely a member of SG1, someone he could trust. If anything happened to him, poor Sam would have to figure it out. He folded the note and slid it inside his closed journal; he didn't want anyone to come looking without reason. Let him be gone for too long, however, and they'd search his office for clues. They'd find this if need be. They'd find him.

_____

The ride down in the elevator nearly altered his plans. Too much time to think; too much edginess and second-guessing. Years of caution and self-protection began putting up defenses against what should perhaps be left alone after all this time, all this personal healing having been over and done with, and more than once Daniel put his finger on the buttons to stop his downward direction.

But the buttons were never pushed, and Daniel found himself on the level of the storage room in question, found his legs taking him automatically forward. Not against his will, for his subconscious desire to know had taken over completely, and he was at the mercy of his own inner mind.

Sliding his access card through the slot and pushing open the door, Daniel stepped hesitantly into the dark room, flicking on the light switch. There were boxes, along with tagged items from 101, and there, shoved against one wall, was the Superman Booth, found to have been constructed of naquadah and various alloys. He sneezed once from the dust.

Hesitantly taking a few forward steps, Daniel peeked in through its single open side, took a deep breath, imperceptibly gave his head a shake, and stepped in.

In front of him was the solitary gray wall of the screen; beside him, two wall sets of controls. He knew what it was all for now; the images displayed on his monitor were etched onto his brain and he was confident that the printouts would prove unnecessary. He had already worked this all out in his office, detail by vivid detail.

He pressed the seven coordinates of Earth in relation to P2K 101: the galaxy, the solar system, the planet. With trembling fingers he input the information that would calibrate Earth's present time and desired distance into the past; automatically the access modulators would seek and calculate the date to the millionth of a second, or better.

Symbols flashed in too rapid succession across the gray wall for Daniel to grasp any of it, as his pounding heart threatened to overtake them at any moment. He was well aware that this could be the most foolish experiment he'd ever initiated.

But if this machine worked as he expected it to, if it played out a life of his choosing in interactive viewing, then no one would be affected by this but himself.

As long as the machine behaved as he hoped it would.

Now, as the symbols came to a halt and the screen faded back to gray, Daniel took a deep breath, attempted to relax and calm his heart and nerves, and waited.

Nothing happened.

Daniel stood staring, noticing his hands were trembling, realizing it might have been wise to have used the restroom before coming down here. Maybe this was such a bad idea.

But he couldn't stop now; he couldn't turn back. Anticipation and adrenaline were giant motivators; more determined than ever, he ran his fingers across the raised symbols, wondering where he'd gone wrong. He could tell with his eyes closed the glyphs that controlled the forward and backward momentum of time, those that speeded and slowed its progression. A piece of cake. Just, why wasn't it working?

A thought pierced his brain just as his eyes noted the small side panel that likely was for one's palm identification. Of course; how else would his own personal position in time and space be identifiable? As his fingers touched it seemingly of their own accord, a slight glow accompanying electrical pulses emanated from beneath, as Daniel wondered suddenly if this contraption was really just a viewing device, or did it actually transport the person into the intended time period? His notes had suggested that that would occur once changes to the past were verified and set, but he hadn't read that this would happen just for viewing purposes. Would a second person need to be present to press the controls and retrieve the individual from wherever he had been sent? Should Daniel have dragged Sam down here with him? His team never would have allowed him to do this, had they known.

But those thoughts came too late, and Daniel's fingers did what they had been trying to do in the first place. Suddenly the compartment blazed to life… and Daniel found himself in a museum. He knew the place was New York, well aware that the year was 1973, for he had input this data himself. It all seemed so familiar to him now; his involuntary visit here with the Gamekeeper had left a heavy weight on his shoulders. But that time, he hadn't been able to do anything but watch his parents be killed. This was … would be… different.

Daniel sucked in a breath. He couldn't really be here again, could he? This had to be more of that virtual reality stuff. He hadn't really wanted to be here.

With rising panic, his fingers stumbled around in the air before him, and he felt an invisible barrier between himself and those people raising that coverstone. Without thinking he lifted his left hand from the identification panel, and the room vanished. He was still in a control booth, once again in a musty half-lit storage room.

Closing his eyes he took a deep breath. God, that had been too real. This wasn't like the theatre he'd ben expecting, nor was it comparable to any TV screen he'd ever seen.

Daniel leaned his hands on the wall before him, his head drooping forward and his eyes still closed, as he once again gained control of his breaths and his heartbeat.

This was definitely a stupid, foolish idea, yet one that he had to carry through. This was his chance to know what his life would have been like with a family, a chance that would never fall in his lap again. He had to know.

This time, aware that he could stop the whole process just by removing his palm from the panel, Daniel again gently pressed his hand down flat, and once more the museum flashed into position around him. God… this must be like that "Back to the Future" ride he'd heard about at Disneyworld; "you would swear you were really there," he'd been told.

And as the coverstone balanced above his parents' heads, he gathered his wits and moved in determination to change this little bit of history.

So… how, exactly, did one affect this program?

Step in, said the instructions on the leaflets, and do what should have been done. Say what should have been said.

Daniel cleared his throat. "Claire… let's get out from underneath this thing," he tried to get his father to say. But nothing happened. The coverstone hovered.

"Get out of there mom, dad!" His shout was automatic, and the voice came out of the mouth of the eight-year-old boy standing by the sidelines watching. The boy was ignored, the coverstone fell, and the screams…

"Oh, god!" Daniel cried, and swiftly pulled his hand up as if stung. The room vanished, leaving nothing but a many-millennia machine surrounding him. Daniel realized his cheeks were wet, and brushed a hand across his face.

He had to get out of there. He had to sit down.

Rushing from the booth, Daniel caught sight of old cartons piled around the walls of the storage room. Sitting heavily on one, he held his head, leaning elbows on his knees.

Obviously he could only control the actions and words of himself in time. He had no control over his mother or father.

Minutes passed, as Daniel again gained control. This wasn't over. He was learning; he would not retreat to his office or his home without seeing this through, now that he knew what he was up against. This was an incredible device, when used properly.

Taking some slow breaths and sighing, he wiped his forehead free of sweat and his cheeks free of tears, then stood to once again enter the booth. On second thought, he dragged the heavy carton in as well; it was likely he would be needing to sit down sometime soon.

And the game began again.

But it was no game; this was Daniel's life, or it could have been, and he was determined to get to know it.

This time, however, he turned the clocks back to the wee hours of the morning of the accident. This time, he found himself - the child he had been - asleep in bed.

Daniel took a deep breath. This time, he had to make it work. "Mommy! Daddy!" he screamed, and the child Daniel sat up in bed as his parents dashed into the small room.

"Danny! What is it? What's wrong?" Daniel watched his mother sit down on the bed, holding young Daniel to her chest, and the pain that was his heart stabbed with its pulsating beats. Daniel knew again that his face was wet, but he was frozen and couldn't move.

"Honey, what's wrong?" she asked again as dad looked on.

Daniel realized he had to speak, had to do the talking for child Daniel. For the child himself would not know, would not be able to complete this "mission" on his own, for this hadn't actually happened. Daniel was still learning, experimenting with himself as the time played out in a magical booth over a quarter century later.

"I, um, I had a dream, mommy! I dreamt… I dreamt you and daddy got hurt under that coverstone you're putting up tomorrow. The chain broke and you both… you both died."

"Oh sweetie, that won't happen. It was only a bad dream."

Shit, no. Believe me, mom. Please, I have to make you believe me.

"Mommy, no! It was real!" the child was looking frantically from his mother to his father, actions being given life in Daniel's own thoughts and being realized in this place, this place back in virtual time…

"Danny! It isn't real," his father cut in. "You know that."

"Please, please, please daddy! Please, mommy. Please don't stand under that stone when they're lifting it! Please?" the wide begging eyes were filling with tears, mimicking Daniel's own.

"I don't know if we'll go under it Danny. Maybe just for a minute, okay? Just to make sure it's adjusted properly."

"Daddy! No!"

"Look, Daniel..."

"How does he know about the coverstone?" Claire looked imploringly at her husband, stopping him in mid sentence. "It's okay, sweetie. We'll stay clear of it while Jake's putting it in place if it'll make you feel better."

The tension in Daniel's body eased, and his face relaxed. "Yes," the little voice whispered.

"Okay then hon. Go back to sleep, okay?" Daniel nodded, and lay back on his pillow.

Daniel's right-handed fingers searched out the time-forward control. He knew them all with his eyes closed.

Only, keeping his eyes closed is what he should have done, for "fast forwarding" with himself in the center of the action was dizzying and nauseating, and Daniel felt his stomach jolt and his balance waver as he let go and sat rapidly on the box behind him, eyes closed and taking deep breaths. Only after his head had stopped spinning did he realize that the program was still advancing forward. Daniel leaped up, ignoring the multi-levelled images swirling in extreme motion around him, and stopped the progression of time.

Resetting the controls to the day of the museum accident, Daniel hesitated for a few seconds before pressing his palm down once more. He would find out, this time, if it were really possible to affect time and history. He would either watch his parents cheat death, or this would be his final try.

And there he was, watching the coverstone being attached to the hooks. As it was being lifted his father stepped forward, Claire putting a restraining hand on his arm, indicating silently the terrified look on their son's face.

"It's swinging, Jake!" Suddenly the coverstone crashed to the ground, it's reverberating thud causing Daniel to gasp.

Her expression stunned as she looked upon the shaking child who had uncannily saved their lives, Claire Jackson sat down flat on the floor. Looking over at her son, she silently held out her arms, and the child ran into the embrace, cradled in her lap oblivious to the human action beginning to again flow around them. Daniel watched, something inside finally finding peace.

Drinking in the scene for many minutes, knowing the comfort of mother and child as they grasped each other tightly, Daniel felt the hollowness dwelling inside him, the emptiness that had been his for over twenty-five years. For just a few more moments, his mother would love him. For a few moments more, he would be a normal boy.

Finally, Daniel stopped the imagery, and he was again in a cold, desolate storage room, aching in his heart and far too alone, silent tears making their way to his chin.

Impatiently wiping them away he forwarded the time period, took a deep breath, and began again.

This was a bedroom, and the child that he had been was lying on the bed in his pajamas, his mother leaning against the headboard with a book in her hand. She was reading as Daniel's eyes closed, the boy grown by a couple of years. The book was in Hebrew, and Daniel leaned contentedly against his mother's left arm.

As the ten-year-old fell asleep, Daniel watched as his mother kissed his forehead, laying the book on the nightstand. "Sleep well," she whispered. "We have a long day's journey tomorrow."

Daniel watched the boy sleep long after his mother had left the room.

This would have been his life.

_____

Scene after emotional scene had left Daniel with a feeling of imagined nostalgia, a deep painful aching for a past that had never been his. Yet the hollowness and longing had also imparted a sense of calmness, of satisfaction and acceptance. The love he had experienced during the past few hours had seemed real; this was the life he had always dreamt of, had always imagined, and for this afternoon at least, it had been his.

And Daniel knew that a single plunge of the "set and accept" lever would change history and make it real forever.

Forever.

He would have grown up with family, never alone, nor would he be alone ever again.

He could make this happen; could set that child's dream to become the reality. Would Daniel find himself as a distressed eight-year-old waking up from a nightmare, or would time continue from the present, with his parents still alive? Would it really be the big deal Sam had insinuated, if he changed this one major event in his own life? Would it really be so terrible, so selfish?

How presumptuous of him to think that changing his life in this way might ever have any impact on anything important in history. Nothing would have changed but his life for the better; his grandfather would not have had to feel guilty for rejecting him; his foster parents would have taken in some other young child instead. What would he be hurting if he were to make this life permanent? It might even end up changing things for the better.

Just one push of the accept lever…

Daniel sighed.

The temptation was there, but wisdom spoke against the deed. His future is what would change, that's what.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Maybe not enough to damage anything…

And Daniel set the speed for the date of his dismal lecture that sealed his fate with the Stargate program.

But he did not find himself onstage in front of a jeering audience; instead, he recognized the western desert of Egypt around him, his vantage point from shoulder-deep in an excavation pit, his father not more than four meters away. As Daniel looked around, he recognized his mother in the field, deep in discussion. So… he was working hand in hand with his parents, and Daniel smiled.

Would he never have been part of the Stargate program? Would there have been a Stargate program?

Of course; it had already been nearly in place, although things may have gone a little slower without him. Probably a good thing, at that.

But the next time span had Daniel puzzled. For… here he was now, at the SGC, his aging father at his side, shaking Catherine's hand. Barbara Shore was heading off down the hallway, but Dr. Gary Meyers was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm pleased you decided to join us, Doctor Jackson. Doctor Jacksons," she added, looking over at Daniel. "Tell me, Dr. Jackson, do you find yourself contradicting your father very often, with those wild theories of yours?"

Daniel blushed, focussing on the gray concrete floor of the corridor. "Sometimes."

"Not so often," the older man denied. "Daniel's theories are just ...a little more unorthodox than mine. He's young and enthusiastic," the elder archaeologist seemed to add apologetically, unaware that Catherine's main interest lay in the younger man's unorthodox ideas. No matter; the woman hoped that the two of them working together might turn out to be the best thing for the program, and just what the project may have needed all along. None of the other Egyptologists had as yet made enough progress to be useful.

"What I still don't understand, however, is why you wanted me… us … here."

"That will be clear in a few minutes, Dr. Jackson," Catherine answered. "Come with me." She led the way down the corridors that were all too familiar to Daniel by now, although his subdued counterpart from the past was frowning in subconscious disappointment. Whatever he had been expecting from this facility had not materialized. Not yet, anyway, Daniel thought. But just wait 'til you see that big round thing... which would be hidden under a coverstone at the moment.

Daniel barely noticed as the trio made their way into the gateroom or as Catherine explained what she required from the two archaeologists. No, his thoughts were on the realization that his father at least tolerated his beliefs; his family would not have scorned him.

And what of Nick? Did they believe in Nick too? Was the elder archaeologist locked up in a mental institution, or had his family saved him from that dishonour and humiliation? This "change" in Daniel's own historical familial past was looking better and better.

Daniel looked around the facility for familiar faces. Once again remembering that he could manipulate his own self in this virtual reality, he caused himself to pull Catherine aside. "Dr. Langford… I need to ask you something, but I don't want you to ask why I'm asking."

The woman looked at him with curiosity. "That sounds intriguing, Dr. Jackson."

"Please... call me Daniel." Daniel's smile was brief. "Is Maj... Captain Samantha Carter here?"

"Captain Carter? How do you know her?" Catherine queried.

"Dr. Langford…" Daniel threw her a shy glance. She wasn't supposed to ask.

Catherine smiled conspiratorially. "Daniel? Okay, so you're hoping to meet Samantha Carter." Her eyes twinkled as she noted the slight frustration in Daniel's eyes. "To answer your question, she has been involved with our project for a while now, but she works out of the Pentagon."

Of course. Sam would only have arrived here a year later when Jack's second team was formed. "What about Jack O'Neill?"

Catherine's features turned wary. "How do you know Colonel O'Neill?"

"Dr. Langford, please. Is he here? We… we met once."

"And why would you think he'd be here at Cheyenne Mountain?" her eyes narrowed. "Who have you been talking to, Daniel?"

Caught in his own game, Daniel realized he'd better be careful. Sighing, he didn't know how to continue. "So he's not here?"

Catherine studied the man whose journal articles had intrigued her and whose language skills awed her, much like his esteemed father, a well-respected archaeologist in his field whose latest theories had stirred some reactions as well. There were one or two other archaeologists saying the Sphinx was much older than first believed, perhaps not even having been created by the Egyptians at all, but the younger man standing here before her was the first to apply his theory to the pyramids. "He was here for only a few days. I don't know how well you knew him, Daniel. But I'll tell you that Colonel O'Neill committed suicide several months ago, just a few weeks after his son died."

Daniel inhaled sharply, and raised his palm from the panel.

For moments he just stood, gazing at a blank gray wall in an alien phone booth. Surely his presence, his words, could not have had such an effect on Jack as to keep the man alive?

Surely…

And Daniel's idyllic life was slapped back at him as a dream, only a dream. He could not reset his entire childhood existence; he had known that from the start. Any other hopes had been momentary selfishness, deluding his psyche into believing that things could be different. All just a dream in an emotional afternoon. The lump in his throat wouldn't swallow down.

Yet still, Daniel could not bring himself to move, could not leave this machine that held his happiness in its hands… or rather, in its alien mechanisms.

Could he not save his parents and Jack as well? All he had to do was join the SGC in time for that first mission to Abydos… right?

Nervously fumbling with the controls, Daniel set the time to rewind to the very date that Catherine had contacted him in this reality, the day that had changed his life forever… once again.

And for the second time, Daniel discovered himself on the dig in Egypt.

He focussed on his counterpart, and had him announce to his father, "I have to make an important call, dad. I'll be back later." And Daniel went to find a driver to take him to the nearest town.

_____

"Dr. Langford? This is Dr. Jackson. I'm an Egyptologist…"

"Oh yes, Dr, Jackson. I'm familiar with your work."

Well, that was probably his father, but that was okay too…

"Uh, Dr, Langford, I'd like to meet with you to discuss some things…"

"Why would you want to meet with me, Dr. Jackson?"

Come on, Catherine… this is where you're supposed to want to meet with me… maybe his theories hadn't been made public yet? How far back in time would he have to go, to change things the way he needed them? Forget the Grandfather effect, this one was clearly Dominoes.

"Um… I heard you might need some translation work done." Couldn't mention the Stargate; he wasn't supposed to know of that yet. And that's not what they were calling it either; what was it... the 'Door to Heaven'?

"I see. I might get back to you in a few days, Dr. Jackson. I'm on my way to meet with another Egyptologist - you might know him - Dr. Steven Rayner? about an extremely important matter."

Daniel froze. Steven would have been asked by Catherine to decipher the Stargate glyphs? But he hadn't believed in aliens… which was irrelevant, for had Steven interpreted the symbols, he would have been a believer soon enough. Catherine had seemingly searched around, and had found Steven to be the best there was… in North America at the time, beginning work on his soon-to-be best-selling book.

Daniel progressed the time to the moment he had found both himself and his father at the SGC. Again, the two were preparing to be debriefed by Catherine. Nothing had changed in that respect. So, that meant Steven had not been able to decipher the glyphs, yet he must have been at the SGC for a while otherwise Catherine would have called upon the Jacksons sooner. Either way, Jack was dead.

Daniel stopped the program. He'd seen enough.

Resting on the box in the little compartment, Daniel realized how stiff he had become, how his neck was aching and that persistent headache was making its way towards his eyebrows. He'd been in here over four hours.

So.

Without changing one thing after another after another after another, Daniel realized too much time had already passed for him to correct his childhood miseries. The leaders of P2K 101 must have been highly organized, devoting their lives to keeping control of their history day by day. Maybe those in charge had died, and no one had been trained to carry on. Perhaps the younger generation had not wanted the responsibility.

Daniel was no longer aware of the time passing, nor of how long he continued to sit there, on an uncomfortable crate in a cramped cubicle. Too many thoughts pressed in on him, hopes and dreams and the knowledge that he should never have opened this Pandora's box of unfulfilled memories. Still, he knew that now he might be able to put his parents to rest, knowing the most probable outcomes of their having survived. A family for a friend; good thing he would never really have to make that choice.

And still Daniel could not bring himself to leave. There was one more thing he had to do, one more time period he had to revisit. For maybe, just maybe… maybe he could save his life with Sha're.

Once again Daniel stood, able to automatically configure the settings that would bring him to another planet, face to face with a life and a love that now seemed so distant in the past, a happiness nearly forgotten. Those dreams had been reality for the better part of a year, and for that he would be eternally grateful.

He nervously stepped into perfection on Abydos.

He had set the controls for several minutes before Jack's team arrived, hoping to spend time watching Sha're. Watching Sha're with himself, although he could neither touch nor hold her. And then, all too soon, Jack was there, ignoring him, and Ferretti was offering him tissues.

He'd nearly forgotten all that. In the hours and days that had followed, Jack's reaction towards him hadn't been important.

Daniel continued to watch, savouring the moments with new friends and old, and when the time came to retreat to the temple and show Jack and Sam the inscribed walls, this time he insisted that Sha're come along.

They spent what seemed like hours in the temple, he and Captain Dr. Carter batting around scientific theories, Jack and Sha're conversing about what had happened on Abydos that past year.

Finally, Daniel took a deep breath as the small group made their way back to the pyramid…

… and found Jaffa everywhere along the route, grabbing screaming women and children, and Sha're took off in a run.

"No!" Sha're cried, "Let her go!" as she made a dash to aid one of her clan caught in the grip of a strong Jaffa warrior.

"Sha're!" Daniel cried out, but he was too late to stop her before she, too, became a frantic captive of the silverheaded guards that had not found what they were looking for in the pyramid itself.

Daniel lifted his left hand, inhaling as though he'd been running. Swinging time backwards, he put them all back inside the temple, determined to wait this out. While it appalled him to realize that other Abydonians would be captured, the alternative was allowing Teal'c to abscond with Sha're, and that was just not acceptable.

And there they were, gazing at the ancient walls of a forbidden temple, Sha're just a little impatient to get back to the festivities.

"Daniel, we must return to the gathering. They are all waiting for us."

Yes, they are waiting, Sha're, but not our friends. Those await who will hurt you, take you away and you will never be you again.

"No, Sha're. We must stay here a while longer… I must, I need to show Dr. Carter more of this, um, writing."

"We can come back tomorrow, Daniel."

"No, Jack! We… we have more to do. Now." They had to stay. They had to wait for the Jaffa to leave.

And so he began his discourse on the past culture, the forbidden writings, the Goa'uld activity on Abydos, and he dragged it out, hoping that Sam would not get fed up with him right then and there.

Until their peacefulness was interrupted, and a troupe of Jaffa stood in the doorway.

Sam gasped as she was grabbed from behind. Daniel spun around to see Jack raise his weapon, and the staff blast that caught the colonel sucked Daniel's breath from his body. It happened so quickly his brain barely had time to register, but seeing Sha're in the forceful grip of another Jaffa caused Daniel to shout and lunge, and the blast threw his lifeless body hard against the wall.

Daniel could only watch helplessly from a wannabe Superman phone booth as Sam and Sha're were dragged away, the two lifeless men splattered across the floor.

And Daniel shut his eyes as the scene went gray, indicating the loss of life of the man pressing his palm onto the identification panel.

_____

Daniel remained for uncounted minutes trying to cope with a worse scenario than the one he'd been forced to live. Still standing with eyes shut in a mystery box deep in the heart of a guarded mountain, he couldn't admit that there was no better life for himself in any direction, in any historical time frame. Maybe his alternate self on some other dimension was living happily, but how would it have come about? What could he do to go to sleep knowing that somehow there had been a chance for him to be happy, to make a decision that would not have destroyed Sha're or his teammates?

All he could think of was to not unbury the Stargate on Abydos at all.

But how long could he force himself to do that? He knew he'd find the temple and the sets of symbols all over the walls; eventually his curiosity would have led him to experiment, no matter how long he stalled.

How long could he hold off?

Once again, Daniel convinced himself to reset the coordinates, this time to the day that he decided to begin unburying the Abydos gate. Something will go wrong, he told his other self. Something terrible will happen if you do this. He planted the dread in the mind of his counterpart that would keep the Goa'uld away from Sha're forever. And keep him off the Stargate program.

And he knew right away how wrong that decision would have been. He needed to be on the program; he knew that Earth in those alternate realities had been in trouble when he hadn't been there.

Still he kept his palm pressed on the naquadah rectangle, oblivious now to the vibrating luster of electrical current, forwarded the time, and sucked in his breath.

For beside him in his canvas home was a pregnant Sha're, and he was combing her hair.

Daniel watched the scene for many long moments, listening to the voice he'd been close to forgetting, speaking in her mother tongue. He listened to the laughter and recognized the loving look in his eyes. Playing in the back of his mind was the knowledge that he would have to check on Earth and see how it was faring, but he didn't know if that was possible with this Daniel still on Abydos. Reluctantly, he forwarded time once more.

There was a festival, and food and music were abundant. Daniel found himself in the middle of a group of young men and women whom he recognized as those he'd been teaching to read, and the sense of pleasure and joy filled the atmosphere. Listening to the discussions around him, Daniel realized this festival was a yearly event, marking the day of their freedom from Ra.

As that time frame's Daniel made his way to a constructed podium sheltered from the sun by a canvas awning, urged on by his many followers, a child of about four ran up and grabbed him around the knee. Daniel heard himself whisper a name, as he lifted the little girl and hugged her to him. Together, they stepped up to the platform and waited for the crowd's voices to settle.

The speech was lost on Daniel's ears; all he could hear was Tashon, the name of his daughter echoing from his lips.

He had a daughter.

Daniel removed his hand, the images disappearing. He had found his happiness; though he could never retain it, this was a memory he could sleep with tonight.

Whether the machine was addictive or the thought of happiness was, Daniel could not stop. He had to see more, had to hold onto what his life might have been. Sadistic, he realized, to be so eagerly watching a child who had never been born. And while that thought sobered him, he wanted only one more vision. One more, and then he would stop.

Forwarded in time now, his daughter had grown. She looked to be somewhere around eight or nine, and was the image of her mother. So beautiful, with the long flowing hair and the twinkle in her eye as she sat by her mother's side under a large open canopy, as Daniel taught her to read. He barely noticed the dozen or so other students, some children, some adults, for the mesmerizing wonder that was his family was incentive enough, and the knowledge that his life was perfect was intoxicating.

But the sunlight dimmed as suddenly as the speckle-faced lizards disappear into the sand, and all gazes turned upwards. From all around, shouts could be heard, panicked cries as the villagers realized that Daniel may not have saved them from Ra after all. For there in the sky above them was a huge ship, and it appeared to be landing on their pyramid.

"Oh God," Daniel whispered, not knowing whether it was his own voice or his Other's. He grabbed his daughter and told them all to run, to hide; told them not to come out until that ship had gone. His eyes searched around for Sha're, and found her running towards him, panic on her face. As she reached him, he could tell that her eyes begged for her to be wrong; pleaded for him to tell her that these were friends, but all he could say was, "Let's get to the temple!" He held Sha're and he held his daughter, and they ran.

Death gliders swarmed overhead, blasting the sand to bits.

Jaffa were everywhere, following some unknown ruler, some false god, and suddenly Daniel could sense their anger, their hatred at having been overthrown by mere peasants on a poor desert planet so many years earlier.

"Go!" he thrust Tashon into Sha're's arms, knowing the child was too big for her to carry but he had no other choice. He had to divert the approaching group long enough for his wife and daughter to make it to the temple.

"No, Daniel!" Sha're's eyes were full of fear, but there was no time to argue.

"Go!" he said again, forcefully but it was not an order. It was a plea, and as Daniel turned to face the oncoming enemy, Sha're put Tashon down, grabbed hold of the youngster's hand, and began to run.

They never made it.

The first staff blast caught him in the leg, and before the next one hit his back, Daniel saw the two flashes only moments before his wife and daughter were buried in the sand.

"NO!" Daniel heard a voice cry, and knew this time it was his own.

And then he shut down the machine.

_____

He could have been transported by rings in moments or he could have taken days to arrive, but when Daniel finally reached the solitude of his office he was uncertain as to how he'd gotten there. Nothing had registered on his way up and if he'd passed anyone along the route he couldn't remember.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"What?" Daniel looked up sharply at the unwelcome intrusion into his thoughts. Why was Jack sitting in his office? "Why?"

"You weren't signed out. I paged you twice."

Daniel stared blankly. "You did?"

"Daniel, I've been looking for you for three hours. And unless you took in an encyclopedia, no one's in the john for that long." Unless they'd been crying. Forget the encyclopedia and forget the unwanted jokes; Daniel's appearance did not go unnoticed by his superior.

As Jack gazed at Daniel's exhausted demeanor, the red watery eyes and weary posture, his attitude softened. "Sorry, Daniel. What's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Daniel, spill it." Jack settled back into the chair, legs outstretched and hands clasped behind his head. "I'm not leaving until you do." Uncomfortable as this is.

Daniel sighed and sat down at his desk. It took a few moments before he looked directly at his team leader, but it was obvious that Jack wasn't planning on moving. "I was in the Superman booth."

Jack was taken aback. That he had not been expecting. As his expression changed from surprise to annoyance to incomprehension, he retorted, "What the hell for?"

"It's a time machine."

"Well there's a highway you don't want to play on."

Daniel sighed loudly, "I spent the afternoon with my parents."

Oh crap and holy shit. Torn between yelling and sarcasm, Jack was at a loss for words. He was too aware that this was Daniel's core, his heart and soul and likely the most important thing in his friend's world.

When the interrogation didn't come, no chastisements or criticisms or scolding, Daniel spoke quietly. "We can't change things."

"I know that."

"I saw Sha're." I had a daughter. And I know how you felt when you lost your son.

"Crap, Daniel. How could you do this to yourself?" Not to mention how damn dangerous it was to be fooling around with alien equipment, alone at that.

"I had to see what my life would've been, Jack. I had to know." Daniel gazed into artificial memories. "I had to see what it would've been like to have a family."

"It's dangerous, Daniel."

"I know. We have to take it back." That wasn't what Jack meant, exactly, but Daniel was convinced they couldn't let that thing fall into the wrong hands. Or anyone's. "It tempted me, Jack." But he wouldn't tell his friend exactly what had caused him to abandon the temptation. "I almost wanted to leave things that way."

"You wouldn't have. You have too much integrity."

Daniel just shrugged. If Jack hadn't been a friend… who knows.

"Show me."

Daniel's head snapped up. "What?"

"I want to try it."

No, Jack. He knew what Jack would try to change; did Daniel have the right to stop him? How hypocritical that would be after he himself had spent an entire afternoon doing exactly the same.

"It hurts," he said softly.

"Understood going in." Jack's eyes never left Daniel's. He was determined; he needed to see his son grow up.

_____

As Daniel set the controls, he placed a hand on Jack's back. "You can't control anyone but yourself. You can't stop him from playing with the gun." Jack nodded slightly. "And keeping your palm on the panel here keeps the images playing; don't get overwhelmed and forget you've got control. Remember you're always in control, Jack. Everything looks pretty real." As Jack nodded once more, Daniel added, "I'll be here if you need help." If you forget to get yourself out. Then Daniel took a step backwards out of the small cubicle and sat down to wait on a carton across the room. We're both fools, he thought.

Then Jack was in his bedroom, gun in hand, placing it in a box which he made sure to lock, a place where curious young fingers could never reach. The key he taped to the top of a drawer, never to be seen if someone was actually searching. If he had to waste time getting it out should someone break and enter their home, he would just have to take that chance.

He raised his hand to stop the images, as Daniel had instructed, before advancing through time. His heart rate increased and his breathing slowed, as Jack watched himself play ball with his son… a son of thirteen years old. Grass stains on his knees, a shoelace untied... and that was a T-shirt Jack had never seen before. This was not just some fantasy conjured up by a willing and desperate imagination. It surrounded him; he could nearly reach out and touch the grass, himself, his son. Jack could not take his eyes off the scene, could not stop watching, could not retreat to a darkened storage room; he could not give up witnessing this cheated life.

The life of ballgames and birthdays, report cards and Christmases. Gifts and arguments and hugs and scolding and holidays by the lake, teaching Charlie to fish. He saw it all, and how much time was passing was irrelevant.

What would it hurt to keep things this way? Who would be affected by his son growing up healthy, happy, and full of life? Sara would still be with him; all would be for the better. There would be no more pain for any of them. Only good things could come of this… right?

So as Jack watched the scenes playing out in surround sound and surreal visual reality, he understood Daniel's temptation. He knew what it was like to want for a lifetime, then have everything placed in front of you on a platter. He knew what it would be like to say 'no, take that away'.

It hurt.

Did it have to be taken away at all?

Yes. Something was wrong; why didn't any of these scenarios seem to include his friends from the SGC?

He reversed time slightly, this had to be some point during the first year of his involvement with SG1.

But he wasn't there; he was in camouflage out in some nameless rainy field, guiding a troupe of young Air Force cadets.

After a moment's confused reflection, Jack realized that for some reason he would never have been, it seemed, a part of the Stargate program. He puzzled over these findings. What could have happened to cause this?

Okay… yes. He knew what it was.

He'd been depressed; the military had come calling hoping for a soldier, a leader, willing to undertake a suicide mission. They would not have come to him this time.

"Daniel, come here."

Daniel heard the voice, the request, from where he sat, and he moved to stand in the doorway, seeing Jack watching the screen before him. To experience the full virtual effects apparently one had to be standing inside.

Jack glanced over at his friend, now appearing to stand in the wet field with him. "Take me to the present," he requested softly, and Daniel complied.

Daniel set the controls, then stood only for a moment watching Jack, before giving his friend privacy.

But there was nothing there. The screen remained gray.

Did that mean he was dead?

Jack closed his eyes and regressed time, and then he rewound it some more.

This time, he found himself within Cheyenne Mountain, the activity around him chaotic. Orders were being barked out as sirens blared, red lights flashed and personnel were running in every direction. But he was on the upper levels, he realized; nowhere near the gateroom. "What's going on?" Jack had himself ask.

"They're starting to attack Colorado! ...The ships, Sir?…Isn't that why you're here, Colonel?" was the frenzied answer as the airman saluted and impatiently waited to be dismissed.

"We're being attacked?" Jack repeated dimly.

The airman frowned in surprise. "Sir? They started attacking the West Coast two days ago! Haven't you been… sorry, Sir." The colonel waved him off and the young man dashed away.

Jack rushed to the elevators, but couldn't get past the eleventh floor. "Where are they coming from?" He asked the first official-looking person he encountered.

"We have no idea who they are or where they're from. What did they call you in for, Colonel?"

"To figure out how to deal with this, I think," Jack ad-libbed. "Have you people been using the Stargate?"

"That contraption that archaeologist figured out a few years ago? We haven't used it since they went through to that place with the bomb... but how did you know about that, Colonel?"

Jack kept his reaction intact. "Where's Dr. Jackson now?"

"Dr. Jackson?"

"That archaeologist!"

The man frowned. "Colonel, that whole team never returned. What's this about? You think this is connected?"

Damn it.

Whoever had replaced him had set off the bomb before Daniel had had a chance to figure out the return coordinates. Or maybe Daniel had not convinced that CO to reverse his decision at all. Perhaps they'd never even had a chance to use those rings and get the bomb off the surface of the planet. The explosion would have reacted with the naquadah in the soil, triggering a massive chain reaction and destroying everything, including any spaceships parked on top of that pyramid.

But why weren't the Goa'uld coming through the gate?

"Where's the Stargate now?"

"In a block of concrete on level 28, Colonel. You can't go down; the room's sealed and airtight."

So Daniel was dead, there was no Teal'c here on Earth, and now the whole planet was under attack as it had been on that alternate universe Daniel had accidentally gated to. Ah… Daniel had never found it in this time zone. How the hell could Jack's not joining the Stargate program have had such an impact?

Okay, this was salvageable. Jack could demand to be put on the team that went through to Abydos.

"Daniel?" Jack stopped the momentum of passing time. And Daniel was there, one more time, at his side, and for a moment the world was right again. "Set this back to the day before you deciphered the Stargate glyphs."

Now Jack found himself in his home, facing his wife and son at the dinner table.

"I'm almost packed, dad," Charlie looked up at him with eager eyes, and Jack's intake of breath was heard in the storage room.

Daniel looked up from the words he'd been absent-mindedly contemplating on the crate in front of him, keep refrigerated, and wondered if his friend needed help. He'd give him another moment….

"Packed for what?" Jack asked.

Charlie's eyes were wide and hurt.

"Jack…" Sara's voice and eyes were questioning. "Daddy's teasing, honey. He's looking forward to New Mexico as much as you are."

New Mexico. Yes, Charlie had always wanted to see those caves at Carlsbad, ever since he'd been seven and had seen the 3D pictures in his Viewmaster. "Sara…?" Jack nodded towards the hallway, and they both got up to leave. Jack paused just outside the kitchen door. "Tomorrow?"

"Yes, Jack, tomorrow. What's with you, anyway?"

"I have to go to Cheyenne Mountain tomorrow."

"Jack… you promised Charlie. You said you wouldn't do this any more, let work get in the way. He's missed you."

So, he had just come back from ...somewhere. Apparently having a son hadn't changed him. But he had to go to the SGC, had to go to Abydos in two days. Had to stop a bomb from destroying Abydos and Daniel.

"Can we postpone it?"

"Until when? The day after tomorrow? Next year? Maybe until Charlie has children of his own?"

Not the day after tomorrow, he'd be on another world. Then another, and another, and he'd keep on disappointing his son and being unable to tell his wife where he was going or what he was doing… or why.

"Jack… I want you to think about what we talked about. Seriously, okay? Please retire, Jack. If not for us than for Charlie."

Retire. He couldn't do that. He had to be on the Stargate program. Had to be there with Daniel, and Carter, and Teal'c. He had to save the world… again and again. He couldn't let someone blow up Abydos… Skaara… Sha're… Daniel. Couldn't let Apophis blow up Earth sometime in the future.

But if this experience would have been true, if he had really saved Charlie's life, then Sara had eventually convinced him to retire, or he'd at least taken assignments closer to home. He'd already seen the ballgames and the bike rides and the holidays fishing at the lake.

Jack forwarded the time.

He was in New Mexico with his son and wife. Why hadn't he made himself go to Cheyenne Mountain?

Back up, rewind.

There.

"I'm sorry, Colonel. You're not right for this job. Colonel Matheson is not married, and we don't know what's out there."

Oh, but I do, General West. "I'm willing to take the chance, General. It's important to me to do this. I know what you're planning… and I'm fine with it."

West stared for a full minute before responding. "The team that goes through that gate, with Dr. Jackson's promise of getting them home, will be led by Colonel Matheson, Colonel O'Neill. Dismissed."

Jack froze, before remembering to lift his palm. He realized that all the men who had been allowed on that first mission, other than himself and there was a different reason for that, were either single or divorced… without close family members, without children… including Daniel. There was only one way for him to go to Abydos, and that was in a suicidal state of mind. But Charlie had to have died for that to happen.

Jack became aware of Daniel standing behind him in the open space of the missing wall, and he turned. With a shrug, Jack muttered, "We can't change anything."

"We have to return this," Daniel studied his friend's sorrow.

"We will."

"We can't tell them what it is."

"Hammond has to know or he won't send it back."

"He'll do the right thing." At least they had a commander they could trust.

"You know, I guess we were destined to work together." Jack eyed Daniel, squinting in thought. "You and me." Not such a bad deal.

"To save the world?" Daniel queried quietly. Or to keep each other company in foolish endeavors?

"Sure. Clark Kent and Jimmy Olsen."

"Which of us is Clark?"

"That would be me."

"I've got the glasses."

"I'm in the phone booth."

___

"There are no happy endings."

"Yes there are," Jack contradicted, as he sat on the edge of the desk studying Daniel. It had been a long hard day; longer for Daniel, of course, who'd had to wait so patiently for him in that cold room on a storage crate, but a stressful emotional time for the both of them. They had given up doubts long in the making, and it was not so easy to adjust to a truth one had always known in one's soul but denied in the heart.

"Okay, there are. Only, we're not in them."

Jack paused, tapping his fingers on his knee. He knew Daniel needed more than platitudes. "You're not alone in this world, Daniel. You have us. We may not be what you're looking for, but you are part of the SGC family. You're SG1's… um,... brother, I guess." Geez, think you could you be any more reassuring?

Daniel caught himself in a near-smile. "Brother. That sounds good."

"We could make it blood brothers. I have my pocketknife," Jack teased cheerily.

Daniel raised his eyebrows. "Uh, no, I don't think that'll be necessary, Jack."

"Whatever." Jack shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

Brothers. Any time, anywhere… anywhere in the world, having someone to rely on. It was a nice thought, even if Daniel didn't really believe it. Out of sight, out of mind; he'd had enough "friends" over the years to know. Friends never stayed brothers.

"So, when I'm seventy, you'll be there for me?" Daniel glanced up from the nearly illegible notes he'd been scribbling. "Of course, you'll be... what, eighty-three?"

"Ah, but look at it this way, Daniel. When I'm eighty-three, I'll have a youngster of seventy to take care of me." As Daniel chuckled, Jack continued. "Your wife and kids will love me."

Daniel blinked. "They'll have no choice." Wife and kids. Jack had just given him another gift, insinuating that really was a possibility. "So… what happens now, Jack? I mean, picture this, if you will. We're on some planet, you want to do things one way and I disagree; we have a big argument and don't want to talk to each other." Are we still brothers then, Jack?

"Easy. We wrestle."

"We wrestle?"

"It's what brothers do."

This time Daniel couldn't conceal the smile. "Ten-year-olds."

Jack grinned as he headed for the door. "You know, Daniel, we may disagree at times but never for a second do I ever stop respecting you or your opinions." Seeing Daniel open-mouthed and at a loss for words had nearly made that disclosure worthwhile. "It's late, Daniel. Want to grab a burger?"

"Yeah, in a bit."

"See you soon then. Meet me on eleven in an hour."

"See you then, Jack." Daniel watched Jack stroll idly towards the corridor, pausing to look both ways as if watching for oncoming cars or not really knowing where he was heading. He looked lost, almost.

"Wait… Jack?" Daniel called out.

The older man turned and poked his head back into the doorway. "Don't change your mind, Daniel. I'm hungry."

"No… well, yes, I changed my mind. Can I borrow your pocketknife?"

Jack frowned, narrowing his eyes. His knife? Daniel wasn't really intending to… ick, … then he'd have to. Hell. Blood brothers.

What the hell. It had been a rough afternoon, and the reassurance wasn't only for Daniel.

He handed over his pocketknife to Daniel's outstretched hand.

The younger man flinched as he pierced his thumb, a trickle of blood flowing downwards. Hesitantly, shyly, Daniel held out the knife for Jack. He knew the other man had been kidding, that he'd never really meant to do this. Would Jack humour him? Another moment of truth, but he had to know, just like everything else in this roller coaster day.

SG1 brothers. Jack hadn't been kidding about that, though, right? Daniel tried to keep his emotions concealed as he held the tiny knife out to the close friend that had almost sworn to become his family, and he waited.

Looking into Daniel's earnest eyes, Jack saw a raw soul trying too hard not to admit he needed this. Jack realized at the same time that he, too, needed a friend he could count on. And while this gesture would never change the fact that Daniel was always ready and willing to be there for him anyway, it was a symbolic representation they could both fall back on when times got rough and shaky. Jack knew he valued Daniel's friendship as much as Daniel did his. Their need for reassurance was mutual.

Daniel let out his breath quietly as Jack took the knife and pierced his own thumb, his expression remaining stoic. As he held up his tiny puncture, Daniel pressed his own onto Jack's. "Ten-year-olds," Daniel muttered. "I thought only kids did this sort of thing."

"Adults are only kids grown big," Jack retorted, keeping eye contact with his teammate and friend.

Daniel smiled. "See you soon, Jack."

Jack motioned with his left hand, a partial wave, a partial acknowledgement, before backing out the door.

Daniel sat back and stared at his thumb. Nothing would really change, of course… but it was nice knowing that someone at least cared enough to want him to think so. And actually, a blood sister might be nice, too. And a blood Jaffa might be really interesting. Not that any of that was necessary, though; they'd all shed blood and been there for each other when it most counted. And there was no machine in this world that was ever going to change what they'd already been through together, or the abundant amount of caring that was already firmly established between them. Regrets never paid; no one should redo the past nor should they want to. Daniel realized he'd moved on long ago as had Jack and the others; for now, all he could do was value the present and hope it lasted.

And the present was about to continue with a burger. No small compensation, considering he'd have it with everything. Including good company.

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