TITLE: Reconstructing Trust

AUTHOR: SGC Gategirl

STATUS: Completed January 3, 2005

RATING: PG-13

CATEGORY: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Action/Adventure, Jack whumping

SUMMARY: Friends are often the ones most taken for granted. For SG-1, an off-world mission helps to seal the breech before things get totally out of control. (Part of the 2004 Jackfic-a-thon)

SPOILERS: Season five. Takes place immediately following Menace and prior to Sentinal.

WARNINGS: The usual whumpage when I get going. And, well, Jack's mouth of course. Y'all know how he gets when Daniel doesn't listen.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I should have stuck with my first instincts and simply organized this little challenge instead of asking for a plot bunny. It's all your fault! (And you know who you are.) Seriously, much thanks go to the entire Jackfic-a-thon group for I would not have gotten the plot bunny if it were not for you. Thanks also to Hoo, my in-my-time-zone, YIM writing partner, who was very patient through my questions and paranoia. An abundance of thanks must go to Lynette for her truckloads of patience and her ever-willing red beta pen.

And even after all of this help, if there are any mistakes, trust me, they're mine.

ARCHIVE: Do not archive elsewhere without the author's express permission.

DISCLAIMER: The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Sci Fi and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-1, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles, and back story are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions, and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea, and the story itself are the sole property of the author.

XXX

Reconstructing Trust

By SGC Gategirl

"I trust you because I need you."

—Mason Cooley, City Aphorisms, Thirteenth Selection

"The major difference between a thing that might go wrong and a thing that cannot possibly go wrong is that when a thing that cannot possibly go wrong goes wrong it usually turns out to be impossible to get at or repair."

—Douglas Adams, Mostly Harmless

"The most fatal disease of friendship is gradual decay, or dislike hourly increased by causes too slender for complaint, and too numerous for removal."

—Samuel Johnson, The Idler, no. 23, Universal Chronicle

XXX

Nearly a week and a half later and the words still echoed in his mind.

'You stupid son of a bitch.'

It's not that they were shocking, or strange, or even undeserved. He'd been called worse things in his life.

It was more than that. Much more. But it had taken this long for him to realize it.

He'd been busy, he knew, not that it was much of an excuse, but it did serve its purpose. Over the course of the week, they'd been through the base several times, but to Colonel Jack O'Neill it still felt as if there were more of those bugs in the rafters. Every now and then he swore he could hear the click-clicking of their metallic feet along the concrete. That, and the absolute disdain dripping from Daniel's lips.

'You stupid son of a bitch.'

It was more than the words. It was as if their entire friendship was wrapped up in that one simple sentence.

When did he lose their trust, his trust? When did the decay of their friendship first begin? How could he have missed it?

But when he had stood over Daniel, his gun still warm in his hands, something was different, something had changed. He'd turned and walked away, leaving Daniel in a heap on the floor and had gone about his business as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Maybe because the extraordinary had become commonplace. Since when had he become so callous? Since when had Daniel become a stranger?

With everything they'd been through—the highs and lows of life and death—it all came down to moments—moments of time, instances of seconds. Would he have done anything differently given the chance?

Jack couldn't lie to himself, even sitting here on his back porch in the dark with a beer in his hand. He'd done that too many times during his life, especially with Sara. But now, when you got down to the facts, he knew for a certainty that things couldn't have happened differently.

If those Lego bugs had gotten out, even just one of them—

The possibility of what might have happened was something Jack did not want to think about, but the nightmares still surfaced, crawling over his body, up his legs, under his clothing, waking him up in a cold sweat every time he managed to catch a few hours of sleep.

Tilting the bottle to his lips, he took a mouthful. The beer was bitter, the liquid warm, but he swallowed it anyway.

He wasn't in the mood for it, but there was nothing else in the house. He'd spent the better part of the last week on base until he was absolutely certain that not one block of those little buggers remained. Unfortunately that meant whatever edible items had been in his fridge had quickly become science projects.

Sighing, Jack stretched out his arm, placing the empty bottle on the deck railing, the glass thumping quietly against the wood, the sound blending into the deepness of the night air.

Thinking back, Jack realized that it had been nearly a week and a half since he'd last seen Daniel, last looked him in the eye. He'd left him in the Gateroom, cradling his injured arm, anger filling his features, those venomous words hanging in the air between them.

'You stupid son of a bitch.'

It had been a week and a half since he'd talked to him.

He'd been busy, leading the sweep of the base, Teal'c and Carter helping him, each leading teams. He'd then had to fight to make sure that every last piece of those damn bugs was disintegrated instead of kept around for study. If the NID had gotten their way truckloads of replicator remnants would already be making the journey to Nellis and God only knows what might have happened then. Jack knew full well of their ability to keep highly classified material safe. So much for a high-security, secret facility. It was probably easier to walk into Nellis than the Colorado Springs Post Office.

And while all of this was going on, Daniel had been treated in the infirmary for his injury and sent home. Their paths never crossed, neither of them going out of their way to find the other.

Those words that had dropped from Daniel's mouth however, hadn't exactly made Jack want to go calling.

Once the yelling and screaming was over and the entire base wiped clean, he'd had dinner with Teal'c late one night, a quiet affair at a local pizzeria. They'd been wired, the two of them unable to sleep, craving a late-night binge and the flashing neon sign drew them in.

The smell of baking dough mixed with sauce and cheese instantly placed them in heaven, their stomachs rumbling ravenously, and they couldn't wait a moment longer. Settling down at a table in the corner, the smell and the lights washed away the memories of dark, dank places crawling with spiders and remnants of replicators.

The pizza wasn't particularly good.

The beer was warm.

But it didn't matter. It was perfect.

In the morning even Jack had to admit that after a full night's sleep and a breakfast of pancakes with a side of eggs and bacon, he felt almost human. But the familiar routine of work and meetings forced the next several days to blend, molding into an endless ream of paper and people, until pizza and companionship were a thing of the distant past.

And now sitting in the dark, the stars his only companion, Jack had finally found a moment to sit back and breathe. But what was he thinking about?

Daniel.

Those words, that tone, the whole incident with Reese—it just set his blood boiling. Trust, he knew, had to be earned, but hadn't he? All those years of sacrifice, all those years of hard work and sweat, fighting with every breath to make sure that the snakes were defeated. Every day he fought to keep the Earth free of the disease that was the Goa'uld.

After everything he'd done, why wasn't it enough?

Besides, it wasn't as if he could change who he was or what he did. This was a military installation not a walk in the goddamn park. Sometimes, though, it seemed like Daniel forgot that. Forgot that this was a highly classified government project, a project that very well could come around and bite them in the ass.

How many times had the enemy come close to winning?

And what was Daniel crying about this time? That he didn't have more time to talk to the robot. Well, her little toys were about ready to overrun the entire base and if it wasn't for his quick thinking they might not be here anymore, another planet wiped out by the replicators because he felt bad for a machine.

That self-absorbed, whining little—

Damn him.

XXX

Dusting off the top of the book, Daniel's nose twitched and his frown deepened as the cloud of dust hovered gracefully above the cover before dispersing into the room. Normally he wouldn't mind working in his lab, in fact with all of the fieldwork SG-1 was required to do as a front-line team, working in his lab had become a luxury not oft enjoyed. But the fact that he was still having problems using his left hand made his work a little more cumbersome than usual.

Every twinge of his wrist, however, only reminded him of the incident with Jack. What was it with his shoot-first-ask-questions-later attitude? Why did the military continue to support that kind of unnecessary behavior?

Dropping the book on the counter, he turned to the door, his body tensing as he hesitated. Honestly, he had to admit that he was bored, but everyone had been busy—even Sam and Teal'c. The replicators had certainly infested the base and it had taken nearly a week to make sure everything was clean. The teams had been through his office often enough that, at one point, he was convinced it had turned into Grand Central Station.

He could tell that it was Jack's order—the thoroughness, the single-mindedness that every corner had to be examined fifteen times. That military mindset of his wouldn't let anyone rest until every single block was accounted for.

If only Jack had let Daniel do his job—talking to Reese and allowing her to shut them down—they wouldn't have had to go through this whole circus affair. And they'd have a much better picture as to how Reese was created and how she made her toys.

But, of course, things hadn't gone that way.

He could still see Jack standing there, his face an unfeeling mask, the military man at the forefront. Even his words—from his insincere apology to the curt orders he issued as he left the Gateroom—just drove home the reality of the situation and the absolute absurdity of everything.

Sitting on the cold floor of the Gateroom everything was crystal clear. They could have learned so much from her.

Sometimes he wondered why he'd stayed around so long, why he'd insisted on it. He'd done what he set out to do at the beginning. He'd unlocked the secrets of the Stargate only to watch later on as his wife was killed before him.

Not exactly the best payment he could have imagined. He'd been through the Stargate hundreds of times, met hundreds of different races, fought the Goa'uld, and forged alliances that helped them survive.

And what thanks did he get? Did anyone trust him any more now than they had when he was a wet-behind-the-ears bookworm?

Hardly.

He'd changed over the years, gotten stronger, gotten harder. He knew that. The things he was doing were worlds beyond anything he could have ever dreamt of when he was a student. He was world-wise now. He knew the risks, but he also knew just how much they still had to learn.

Reese would have been a piece of the puzzle—an important piece—if only things had gone differently, if only Jack had put some faith in him and his abilities.

Violence, while an answer, was never the right answer. Knowledge was stronger than any weapon, but one that Daniel never had the opportunity to wield.

He had that feeling again, the same feeling he'd had when he stood on the sidewalk in the pouring rain, a paper airplane ticket in his hand, as Catherine's car pulled away from the curb. It was time for a change, a major one—and this time he wasn't afraid of what it might be. At this point in time, anything would be better than this.

But why was he hesitating, standing beside his lab table, his eyes fixed on the corridor outside?

If he were honest with himself he'd admit that he didn't want to run into Jack. He wasn't scared, he was tired. He just didn't want any more aggravation. His wrist was giving him enough as is.

The last thing he wanted to hear, however, was the announcement over the loudspeaker for SG-1 to report to the briefing room.

Expelling his breath, he rubbed the back of his neck trying to brace himself for the confrontation he was about to face.

Talk about timing. He grimaced as he put one foot in front of the other, his steps taking him closer to the one person he wouldn't mind avoiding for the rest of his life.

XXX

Major Samantha Carter glanced up from her microscope, glaring at the speaker above the door.

Why was it that every time she was in the middle of a research project and it was getting interesting she was called somewhere else? Was the universe just trying to pull one big prank on her?

Sighing, she savagely punched a combination of numbers on the speakerphone pad. "O'Shea."

"Gillian, it's Sam. I need your help in my lab. Do you have some time to spare?"

Carter swore she could hear the smile on the Sergeant's face. "I heard the announcement and I was just packing up a few things here. What are you working on?"

"General Hammond let me keep one of the replicator blocks for study. I just need you to put it into containment for me. I don't want to leave it lying around."

"Trust me, I understand. I think I can still hear the Colonel's yelling from the other day. I'm surprised you were able to keep one of them for study."

"Well, actually," Carter said as she felt her cheeks turn a little red, "the Colonel doesn't know about this one."

"Ah," O'Shea said, her tone full of comprehension. "And he's not going to know about it either. I'll be there in a minute."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

"Not a problem. You'd better go before you're late."

"I'm okay. It should take Daniel at least another ten minutes to get there. His coffee pot wasn't working last I checked and knowing him, he'd stop for coffee on the way."

Gillian's chuckle filled the room as they signed off. Carter slid to her feet, her hands straightening the papers on her desk as her eyes scanned its surface, making sure nothing was out of place.

Reaching for her pad and a pen, she gathered both in her arms before heading to the door. Footsteps in the hall signaled the Sergeant's arrival and ushered Carter out into the corridor in a hurry. "Thanks again," she said as O'Shea passed entering the lab Carter had recently vacated.

"I'm keeping track." O'Shea kidded. "And I'm going to ask for a payoff soon."

"Just tell me when," Carter called, already halfway down the hall.

Pausing to swipe her card in the reader next to the elevator, she only had to wait a few seconds for the car to arrive, taking her a few levels down to the briefing room.

She was surprised to find everyone except the Colonel in the room when she entered. Daniel was sitting in his usual place, his fingers tracing patterns on the briefing room table. Teal'c looked like he had come directly from the gym and Carter realized that the announcement must have interrupted one of his training classes. Teal'c had started a program for those interested in learning some of the Jaffa fighting techniques. Over the course of the past few years it had become more and more popular and he tried to keep the sessions as regular as possible while he was on base. This morning must have been a scheduled class.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she said to General Hammond as she dropped her pad and pen at her place at the briefing room table. "I was in the middle of some research—"

"Understood, Major. We're just waiting on the Colonel who should be here any minute now. He was signing in upstairs when I called the meeting," Hammond said, settling down at the head of the table, straightening several of the pages in the folder he'd carried into the room.

Carter nodded as she moved to the sideboard table to grab a mug of coffee. Daniel, she noted, was coffee-less. Catching his eye she gestured to the carafe in her hands. Shaking his head, she nodded and poured herself a cup, surprised he didn't want any.

A sudden shuffle of clothing was the only warning Carter had before O'Neill strode through the doorway, his long blue jean-clad legs taking him quickly to his seat. "Sorry, Sir," he said apologetically, gesturing to his attire.

"At ease, Colonel," Hammond said as everyone took their seats around the briefing room table. "I've called you all here this morning because we seem to have a problem at one of our scientific outposts."

"Problem, Sir?" O'Neill asked and Carter swore she could hear his back straightening.

Hammond nodded gravely. "It appears as if the scientists on P3S-295 have missed their scheduled check-in."

"That's happened before, General," O'Neill said, his fingers twirling the pen he'd snatched from Carter as soon as he slid into his seat. There went any thought about taking notes at this meeting.

"True," the General conceded, "but that was because of weather conditions and it was only once. They missed the last two check-ins, the second earlier this morning."

"Were we not able to make contact with them ourselves?" Teal'c asked, his baritone tones only adding to the seriousness of the General's announcement. Carter knew all of the scientists on P3S-295 personally. She'd picked several of them especially for this mission.

"We've tried twice but haven't gotten any response. The MALP appears to be operational and from the limited perspective we can get from its camera everything seems to be normal. There's no weather anomalies and no evidence of battle. In short, I'm worried that we may have overlooked something when we did our initial survey of the planet. In any case, I want you to check it out and see what happened to the scientists."

"When do you want us to leave?" O'Neill asked. Out of the corner of her eye Carter swore she saw something flicker across Daniel's face, but when she turned to look at him, it was gone. She raised her eyebrow in question, but he shook his head, waving off her question.

"Within the hour if possible. I've already alerted Supply and your gear should be in the locker room waiting for you," Hammond said, pushing himself away from the table.

Carter and O'Neill immediately clambered to their feet, Daniel and Teal'c not far behind.

"We'll be ready, Sir."

"Good. I know you'll find them. Dismissed."

Even before the General had crossed to his office, Daniel was already gone, a spinning chair the only evidence of his passing.

Carter raised an eyebrow at his behavior, managing to catch Teal'c's eye. O'Neill, on the other hand, just shook his head, a sigh escaping from his mouth before his face hardened, as if he was closing down, pulling down the shutters. "I guess we should get ourselves geared up. Come on, campers. We've got work to do."