Title: Drinking Alone

Title: Drinking Alone

Author: OXBastetXO

Rating: PG-13

Archive: Please ask first

Status: complete

Category: Episode Tag

Summary: Jack O'Neill and Daniel Jackson attempt to deal with the aftermath of Hathor.

Spoilers: Hathor

Sequel/Season: First Season

Authors Note: I don't own Stargate or MGM, Top Secret Productions, Gekko, or Scifi or anything else. I'm just borrowing them, though I may keep Daniel and others a bit longer. ;-)

This fic originally was published in The Briefing Room in 2000. I lost my computer copy of it and had to retype the whole thing. headdesk

Drinking Alone

By

OXBastetXO

Jack O'Neill sighed and flopped back in to his couch. This was a day he just wanted to forget.

A Jaffa. She had made him a Jaffa. He was supposed to have one of those worms crawling around inside his guts right now. If Carter, Fraiser, and Teal'c hadn't…he didn't even want to go there.

He twisted the top off he beer in his hand and tossed it in the direction of the coffee table. He took a swig of the sour liquid and felt the warmth spread down to his stomach. He only had one plan for tonight and that was to get drunk.

Jack closed his eyes and let his head fall back to rest on the worn sofa. Suddenly, his doorbell let out a staccato ring. He groaned as it rang again. There was only one person who could beat that kind of rhythm out on his bell. He swore as he got to his feet. He did not want to deal with Daniel Jackson and his back of woes.

He caught himself. That wasn't fair. The kid wasn't one to complain, but sometimes he just needed someone to talk to. Jack sighed. Tonight he just wasn't in the listening mood.

The doorbell gave a couple more impatient rings and he climbed up the wto steps to the door. He opened it and found Daniel starting to head back down the walk.

"Hello," Jack said, leaning against the doorframe.

Daniel stopped and turned indecisively back towards him. "Hi." He stood in the middle of the sidewalk staring at him, making no move to come back toward the house.

Jack stared at him a little while longer. "This is awkward."

"Yeah," the archaeologist dropped his head, a blush creeping up his neck. "Look, never mind, this was a bad idea. I'll see you back at the base on Monday." He started off toward his jeep parked at the curb.

Warning bells started going off in Jack's head. Something was up. Something…"Daniel."

The younger man stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

"You came all the way out here. Wanna come in?"

Okay, that was lame, but it worked as the archaeologist turned and started back to the house. He paused at the doorway and gave him a half-hearted smile.

Jack stepped back and let him into the house and pulled the door shut behind him.

"You got any glasses?" Daniel asked, heading for the den.

"In the kitchen," Jack answered.

The younger man made a detour into the kitchen and reappeared holding two glasses and a rather large impressive bottle of liqueur.

"What's the occasion?" Jack asked raising an eyebrow as he read the label. "Lagavulin single malt scotch 16 year. This is the good stuff."

Daniel took the bottle and poured a healthy two fingers into each glass and then added a bit more to his own. "You know, the usual. Saving the world. Escaping the evil clutches of the Goa'uld." He held up the glass to Jack. "Salud."

Jack mimicked his gesture. "Here's mud in your eye." He took a sip of the liqueur and felt the full-bodied flavor warm his throat all the way down to his stomach. His eyes watered as the strong liqueur burned the back of his throat. He looked over at Daniel and saw him almost choke as he downed the whole glass in one gulp.

"I don't think you're supposed—" he started but stopped as Daniel refilled his glass and downed another healthy slug of the scotch. Okay, something was definitely up. Daniel Jackson was not a drinker, heck two beers and he was three sheets to the wind.

"Want to talk about it?" Jack asked, taking a seat across from the couch.

"Nope," Daniel said, sinking into the couch. He poured himself a third glass but hesitated a moment before drinking it down. He took a deep breath and set the glass down. "I don't think you're supposed to drink it that way."

"Was going to mention that," Jack said.

The archaeologist swallowed several times before looking back up at him. "Are you okay? I mean, Sam and Doctor Fraiser told me what happened. Ha…She turned you into a Jaffa?"

Jack grimaced. "I'm fine."

Daniel looked away quickly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up." The two sat there in an uncomfortable silence for some time. Abruptly, Daniel got to his feet wobbling slightly before he caught his balance. "I shouldn't have come. I should go."

"You're not going anywhere," the older man said, taking his hand out of his pocket and dangling a pair of keys out in front of the weaving archaeologist.

Daniel blinked at him with watering eyes. "How did you?' he asked his hand going to his pocket.

"You dropped them in the foyer," he said then he pointed back to the couch. "Sit." He studied the man across from him a long time. "What's the matter, Daniel?"

Daniel reach out and poured himself another glass of scotch. "Nothing, apartment was just too quiet." He looked back up at Jack. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Danie. No X marks the spot. No worm swimming around in my guts. I'm fine. Hunky dory," he snapped. Grabbing the bottle he poured himself another two fingers and noted that the bottle was nearly half-empty.

They sat there in silence for quite a long time. Finally it got the better of him. "Daniel, what are you doing here?"

The younger man stared at the bottle setting on the coffee table for a while longer. "I didn't…you know for costing almost fifty bucks, this stuff tastes like gasoline." He ran a shaking hand through his lanky hair. "I am so going to regret this in the morning." He regarded his glass for a moment. "Have you ever wondered why people drink in the first place? It tastes terrible and poisons the body."

"Haven't really thought about it," Jack answered.

A small smile played at the corner of his lips. "Sha're wouldn't let me touch any of Skaara's moonshine after he brought me home staggering drunk one night. I had only had a couple drinks but you." He shot Jack a knowing smile, but then the small faltered. He swallowed the contents of his glass and got unsteadily to his feet. "Can I use your phone?"

"Knock yourself out," Jack said waving his hand in the direction of the kitchen. Daniel weaved his way up the stairs, nearly tripping on the top step and falling on his face. He worked his way into the kitchen and after a few minutes, reappeared.

He stood at the top of the landing and looked down at Jack. "Where did I leave my coat?"

The older man smiled. "You didn't have one."

"Oh," Daniel said, slowly. "Then it would be at home."

"Yup."

"Why were you looking for you coat?" Jack asked.

"Because the cab will be here in about five minutes."

"What cab?"

"The one I called."

"Why did you call a cab?"

"Because I'm drunk," Daniel said with a self-satisfied smile.

Jack sighed and rubbed his face. "Daniel, you can stay here. You don't need a cab."

The archaeologist shook his head. "No, you wanted to be alone and I'm interrupting and I'm totally drunk and I shouldn't drive and you're mostly drunk and you shouldn't drive and I'm getting confused." He sunk down to sit on the steps.

Jack laughed.

The sound of a horn honking came from outside. Daniel looked up and frowned. "What's that?"

Jack pulled himself to his feet. "Your cab."

"Oh," the archaeologist said, struggling to stand. He looked intently at Jack. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Good," Daniel said nodding. "That's why I came over. Wanted to make sure. That and," he dropped his voice conspiratorially. "I don't like to drink by myself."

Jack helped him out to the waiting cab. He paid the cabbie and watched as they drove off. Forget three sheets to the wind, Jackson was in low orbit. He headed back into the house. He thought about it a moment and then picked up his phone. It picked up on the second ring.

"Carter."

"Sorry to bother you so late, Captain."

"Sire, no bother. What's up?"

He smiled. "I was wondering if you could drop over and check on Daniel. He just left here in a cab. He's tanked to the gills and neither one of us was in a fit stated to get him home."

"Sure," she said slowly. "Did...did you two talk?"

He frowned. "Not really. Why Captain?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Captain."

He heard her take a deep breath before continuing. "he seemed pretty upset earlier this afternoon. After he talked with Doctor Fraiser."

"He kept wanting to make sure I was okay."

"It wasn't that, sir."

Than it hit him. "Most of that would be mine." Aw crap. That didn't mean.

"Carter, check on him for me if you would."

"Yes, sir. I'm on my way over there now."

"Thanks."

"No problem, sir."

Aw crap, Daniel.

He picked up the bottle of scotch. "I didn't like to drink by myself."

Daniel would talk about it when he was ready. Jack slipped the bottle into his liqueur cabinet and shut the door. He'd be ready.

fin