EMAIL: eyore83@hotmail.com

CATEGORY: Angst/Adventure/Romance

RATING: PG13 (for mild swearing)

SUMMARY: SG-1 is mourning the death of Sam Carter and Jack O'Neill in particular is taking it extremely hard. But how did Sam die? Is she really dead? And if not, can SG-1 ever hope to save her?

DISCLAIMER: blah blah blah… no money… blah blah blah… don't sue!!

Daniel had a terrible feeling as soon as he walked into the smoke-filled bar. Looking around the establishment, he spied somewhat familiar faces. A lot of the nightly crowd seemed to be SGC personnel. Good, then he was in the right spot. There was a loud rowdy group of about 10 people to Daniel Jackson's right. They were in the middle of a drinking game. Daniel absentmindedly ran his hand through his hair and approached the first person he recognized, Captain Watson.

"Hey, have you seen Ja –Colonel O'Neill?" asked Daniel, tapping the Captain lightly on the shoulder.

"Yeah Daniel." He answered with a slight southern drawl, "I think I saw him sulking over there." Watson pointed towards the far corner of the bar. Daniel nodded his thanks and made his way towards the corner. Unable to stop himself, he coughed loudly from the second-hand smoke. Jack O'Neill didn't seem to notice his presence, eyes lost in the shot glass in front of him. He tipped it up, sending the burning alcohol down his throat. Daniel deliberately coughed again, earning a brief glance of indifference from his friend. Daniel pulled up a barstool and sat down next to the Colonel.

The Colonel was a sore sight. His eyes were glazed over with intoxication. His face was expressionless, other than a feeling of gloom that seemed to radiate from him. He looked as if he hadn't slept for days, which was always quite possible.

Daniel sighed, Why did Jack do this to himself?

"Jack? Are you drunk?" Daniel asked, realizing too late that it was a stupid question.

"I think that was the general intention." The Colonel's voice was thick was sarcasm. He signaled the waitress for another shot of whatever he was drinking. "Want anything?" muttered Jack.

Daniel sighed, "Whatever you're having." Jack's eyebrow shot up –a scary impression of Teal'c. But he didn't say anything.

They sat there for a few minutes, oblivious to the noise of the bar crowd.

"Wanna talk?" said Daniel.

"No. I don't want to remember…" Jack trailed off, seemingly lost in his thoughts, or maybe his glass.

"Jack, it wasn't your fault. There was no way you could've…"

"Damn it, Daniel! I'm sick of people telling me that it wasn't my fault!" He didn't want their pity, but it was there nonetheless.

"Do you think that you're the only one hurting?!" Daniel paused, making sure that Jack was looking at him, "You're digging yourself into a hole like this!" Jack shrugged, with an almost devil-may-care attitude plain on his features. His reaction only seemed to make Daniel more frustrated.

"Sam's dead, Jack. She's been dead for 2 months and God, I refuse to lose another of my best friends!" The young man's voice shook with emotion, "I've lost too many people in my life, Jack. So have you. Don't do something rash like…"

"Submit my resignation?" supplied Jack, "I did that this morning."

"Yesterday morning," corrected Daniel, sipping the hard liquor.

Jack seemed unfazed, "time sure flies when you don't know what you're doing."

Jack signaled the bartender of another drink, "I think it's time to quit, Danny-boy. It's time for me to retire to that cabin of mine."


"Do a bit of fishing…"


"Catch up on my reading…"

"Jack, that's a load of bullshit."

Daniel laughed bitterly at his friend's mildly shocked expression. One had to wonder what was stranger: his swearing or Jack's sudden silence. The old comrades sat quietly for a minute, lost in thoughts and alcohol.

"I miss her," spoke Daniel, out of the blue. There was no question as to who 'her' was. Jack nodded in half-hearted agreement.

'I might as well save the time and effort of a Spanish Inquisition,' decided Daniel.

"Can I change you mind about leaving the SGC?"

"Personally, I wouldn't bother trying," answered Jack.

"I think you're making a huge mistake."

"Good thing you don't get a vote then." For a man who'd had one too many, Jack O'Neill seemed surprisingly sober.

"I have permission from the General to grant you a leave of absence, Jack." Daniel paused, but the airforce officer didn't say anything. Daniel continued, "Take a few weeks off. Then decide if you can sit around fishing all day. Maybe go and visit Teal'c? He's going to be on Chu'lac for the next two weeks."

Jack O'Neill sighed. He hated when Daniel was right. Could he go into retirement knowing that the Goa'uld were still out there? Could he be content sitting on the sidelines for too long?

"I'm not promising anything," muttered Jack. Daniel allowed a small grin to grace his face. It was the first positive –well somewhat positive– reaction from Jack for weeks. Daniel glanced at his watch. 11:48 p.m. 'There is enough time then for a few more drinks.' It seemed like tonight they would both be taking a cab home.


Jack stumbled into the dark hallway of his home. He made sure to concentrate carefully on making it to his bedroom without falling ungracefully on the floor. The clock on his bedside table glowed the numbers 1:08. His head was already beginning to hurt. Jack took off his shoes and collapsed on top of his bed, his body sprawled out uncomfortably. The Colonel quickly fell into a deep sleep.


First Chapters done, yey!!! Please Please Review… I don't want to continue unless I think people are interested… -S