Daniel Jackson paced the small waiting room slowly, silently counting each step. If he sat down, he knew he would fall asleep, and if he stood still, he'd probably fall over, so he continued to pace. Besides, he told himself, it was good practice for him to count in Greek. That always made him concentrate just a little bit harder.
"Daniel, why are you still here?"
The exasperated question made him turn around so fast he nearly lost his balance. "Doctor Frasier! How is she? Can I see her?"
The petite doctor firmly closed the door to the room behind her. "She's going to be fine, and she's resting," she said, emphasizing the latter. "But you --"
"Can I see her? Just for a minute?"
The chief resident physician at SGC ran a practiced eye over the young archaeologist and had to force herself to hold her tongue. Ever since he'd regained consciousness after being flung out of the stargate in the mishap that had sent Colonel O'Neill and Samantha Carter to Antarctica, he had been like the Energizer Bunny -- on speed. If he'd done more than snatch an hour or two of sleep each day his two team members had been missing, she didn't know about it. And here he was now at the base hospital in Antarctica, unshaven, red-eyed from lack of sleep, swaying on his feet from exhaustion, hopped up from all the caffeine in his system, and he *still* wouldn't stop.
But Frasier knew when she was beat. "Does it mean you'll finally go get some sleep?" she asked wearily. "The base *has* set aside rooms for SGC personnel for that very purpose, you realize."
"Sure," he promised immediately, then qualified in a mumble, "Well, after I check on Jack again."
"Daniel --"
"Oh come on, Doctor Frasier, you *know* she wants to know what happened. I know Sam. She won't rest until she knows what happened and how we got them back."
Frasier sighed to herself. Jackson sounded like a twelve-year-old when he wheedled like that; and right now he looked like a very tired twelve-year-old who was out on his feet but refused to go to bed. But it was the fact that Sam had been pestering her with questions she couldn't answer and asking if she could see Daniel that finally swayed her. Maybe this way *both* of them would give up and get some rest. "Five minutes," she said sternly. "And that's your limit, mister. I'll be back then and if you're still in there --"
Jackson broke into a huge grin. "That's all I'll need," he said happily, and without another word neatly sidestepped the doctor and opened the door to Sam's room.
It was dim inside, and warm. Very warm. Samantha was covered up snugly and her eyes were closed. For a moment Daniel felt a twinge of guilt; maybe she *was* asleep. "Sam?" he whispered tentatively.
Her eyes opened immediately. "Daniel?"
With a relieved smile, Daniel pulled a chair over by her bed and dropped into it. "How are you feeling?"
Even though her face was drawn and pale, she produced a cheeky grin. "Warm."
He laughed softly.
"Janet said the Colonel's going to make it."
"He's going to be fine, Sam." He had made sure of that before leaving O'Neill's bedside. "You kept him alive."
"He kept himself alive," Sam said dryly. "He's pretty stubborn."
Jackson feigned surprise. "Ya think?"
Carter laughed too, then grew sober. She was tired and drowsy, but her eyes brightened with curiosity. "So, another Stargate on earth. How'd you figure that out, Daniel?"
Taking a breath, Jackson filled her in briefly on what they had done and how he'd finally come to the conclusion of a second Stargate on their planet.
When he was finished, Sam nodded, and pulled a hand out from under the covers to take one of his. "You saved our lives, Daniel," she said softly. "I'm just glad we've got you on *our* side."
He looked at their joined hands, a slight frown drawing his brows together. "I almost cut it too close, Sam," he said quietly. "I should have thought of it sooner. All those days wasted before I *realized*... Another hour, they said, and --" He voice cracked. "If I had only --"
"Daniel, enough." A squeeze of his hand punctuated Carter's sharp tone. His eyes snapped up to meet hers, and she squeezed his hand again, gently this time. "You saved our lives," she repeated, emphasizing each word. "We're alive because of you. Thank you."
Daniel felt his cheeks warming and dropped his gaze again, rubbing his thumb over Sam's hand. "You're welcome," he mumbled. Then he glanced at the door, remembering his time limit. "And now I've got to get out of here before the good doctor comes back and throws me out on my ear." Standing, he leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Welcome back, Sam."
"Good to be back," she murmured drowsily, her eyes sliding shut. She blinked them open long enough to order, "Daniel, get some rest. You look awful." Then her eyes once again closed. Jackson watched her for a moment until he was sure she was asleep, then carefully replaced her hand under the covers and left the room.
As Janet Frasier entered the infirmary the next morning, she stopped dead at the sight that greeted her. Daniel Jackson was slumped in a chair pulled over by Colonel O'Neill's bed, his head resting on his chest as he snored softly.
"Don't wake him," a gravely voice ordered. "He looks like this is the first sleep he's had in a week."
Frasier walked over to O'Neill, automatically checking the readings on the equipment that surrounded him. "That wouldn't be far wrong," she murmured, making some notations on the colonel's chart. Then in a grim voice she said, "I threw him out of this infirmary last night."
O'Neill grinned slightly. A memory flashed through his mind of something a little guy with funny hair once told him: The very young do not always do as they are told. "Boomerang Jackson. Daniel never was very good at following orders, Doc."
"No kidding."
But when she took a step toward the sleeping archaeologist, Jack said, "Janet, please. Everyone else's been real good about letting him sleep." His mouth twitched. "All we had to do was tell 'em it was 'doctor's orders'."
Frasier rolled her eyes. "This is an infirmary, Jack. It's not even *my* infirmary --"
"At least he's sleeping," Jack said pointedly.
Frasier looked like she'd love to say something about that, but realized she didn't have an argument. Giving the slumbering man a look that promised retribution the next time he was unlucky enough to enter *her* infirmary on a stretcher (which, knowing Jackson, unfortunately wouldn't be that far into the future), she turned to O'Neill.
"What about you, Colonel? How are you feeling?"
O'Neill met her gaze, his voice quiet, "Alive. No complaints, Doc."
"Your vitals are good," she said approvingly, studying her chart. "How's the pain?"
"Manageable," was the terse answer.
"I can --"
"I'm fine. Been sleeping most of the time I've been here. I'd like to stay awake for a change."
"Fair enough. You'll let me know --"
"I'll let you know."
Frasier closed her chart. "Sam's up and around."
Jack grinned smugly. "I know." When the doctor raised an inquiring eyebrow, he explained, "She was in. So was Teal'c. And General Hammond."
Frasier blinked. "And he slept through all that?" she asked, indicating Jackson.
O'Neill's humor faded. "Yeah," he said flatly.
"He never gave up, you know," she said, a smile softening her features as she recalled the last few days and Jackson's ceaseless efforts to find his friends. "He never stopped trying."
"Not even when they called off the search."
Janet looked at him sharply, "Who told you --"
"No one had to. SOP, Doc. I knew it was only a matter of time. General Hammond couldn't keep sending units out searching the whole galaxy for two lost soldiers."
"Daniel didn't accept that," she quietly.
"Yeah." Jack turned his head and studied the sleeping man. Even in sleep, fine lines of tension had gathered around his eyes, and the bruise surrounding the cut on his forehead stood out in sharp relief against his pale features. He'd been restless for the last hour, muttering in his sleep. Jack couldn't make much sense of it, but it sounded like 'missing something.' "That's what Teal'c said." Then he shifted his head to look at Janet, who was gazing at Jackson thoughtfully. "He's not hurting anything by being here, Janet."
"He needs to get some *proper* rest," Frasier countered, albeit half-heartedly.
"You throw him out, he's just gonna come right back," O'Neill pointed out. "At least here we can keep an eye on him." He nodded toward the bed next to his. "You got any plans for that?"
The doctor's eyebrows raised slightly. "No immediate plans, no." Then she sighed. "All right. You want me to do the honors?"
O'Neill grinned. "Better let me. Sam told me how you've been giving the poor guy a hard time."
"Giving *him* a hard time?" For an instant indignation flared in Frasier's eyes, then she simply shook her head ruefully as she looked at the tired face of the sleeping civilian. "No, it's more like he's been giving *himself* a hard time. All right, Colonel, I'll let the duty nurses know Doctor Jackson is simply catching up on some sleep and not to bother with the usual temperature and blood pressure drill," she said dryly.
"I'm sure Daniel will appreciate that," Jack replied in an equally dry voice.
After Frasier left the room, he turned his head and said in a louder voice, "Daniel. *Daniel*."
Jackson started so badly he nearly fell off the chair. He blinked owlishly, obviously trying to focus; Sam had removed his glasses when she was in earlier and laid them on Jack's bedside table for safekeeping. Jack could tell the instant the archaeologist realized where he was: his face lit up in a blazing smile of pure relief. "Jack! You're awake."
"Been awake." He gave the rumpled figure a critical look. "Which is more than I can say for you, Danny."
Jackson rubbed his forehead absently, then winced as his hand came in contact with the cut. "Ow. I'm sorry, I must have dozed off for a minute."
"More like a few hours," O'Neill corrected. "Frasier's about ready to have you admitted with a case of terminal disobedience of orders."
The younger man slid an uneasy look at the door. "Was Doctor Frasier here?"
"Mm hm."
A look of intense concentration flickered briefly over Daniel's face. "I think I talked to her last night..."
"She recalled a conversation," Jack said dryly. "Something about 'not wanting to see your face in here for at least 24 hours.'"
Jackson seemed to consider that for a moment, then waved it aside as unimportant, focusing his attention back on O'Neill. "She said you're going to be fine, Jack," he said earnestly, unaware that the injured man had received that news long ago. "You're going to be okay."
O'Neill felt an affectionate smile grow on his face as he looked at the haggard, intense face at his bedside. He had experienced far too many bedside vigils himself, most of them in a similar infirmary waiting for Jackson to regain consciousness after some injury suffered off-world. He didn't imagine Daniel was finding the experience any more pleasant than he did. "Yeah, I know," he said, reaching out to give the arm resting on his bed a pat. "Takes more than a side trip to Antarctica to get rid of me." A tremor suddenly raced through Jackson's body, and Jack quickly looked at his face, seeing the younger man's eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Hey," he said softly, "it's okay. It's over."
Daniel gave a choked laugh. "I think I'm supposed to be telling you that."
"Yeah, well, sometimes it goes both ways," Jack said amiably, absently rubbing the other man's arm. He knew some of Daniel's reaction came from a combination of fatigue and delayed reaction, and gave him a few moments to regain his equilibrium. "Talked to Teal'c and General Hammond."
Jackson looked confused. "You did?"
"While you were snoozing."
"Oh." The archaeologist shifted in his seat, digesting that.
"They tell me Sam and I are alive thanks to you." When Jackson dropped his gaze, O'Neill tapped his arm to get his attention. "Hammond said you wouldn't give up."
That brought Jackson's head up. "I couldn't," he said simply, his blue eyes over-wide with exhaustion.
"No, you could have," Jack corrected him evenly. "You *didn't*." He paused and added softly, "Thanks, Danny." O'Neill could only watch with amused exasperation as Jackson dropped his head once again, his pale features slowly coloring. O'Neill wasn't a man who spent much time thinking about anyone else's self-image, but more than once he had wondered about Daniel's.
The young archaeologist was supremely confident in his abilities in his chosen fields, having no qualms about voicing his opinions and theories, no matter how outrageous they may seem to others. He had proven that when he had set himself up to be laughed out of academia for his theories regarding the dating of the pyramids. The fact he had been right must have been some satisfaction for him; unfortunately, as the Stargate project was classified, there was no way for Daniel to receive any official acknowledgement for his achievements. The academic and professional peers who ridiculed the hypotheses of this brilliant, independent-thinking maverick still believed him to be a fool and a failure. Jackson never spoke of it, but Jack often wondered if that bothered him.
What was more of a concern to O'Neill was how Daniel regarded himself as a member of SG-1. Jackson was the lone civilian in a unit of combat-trained soldiers. He knew Daniel had initially felt a little out of place, and perhaps a little resentful about the orders and restrictions he was forced to work under. And O'Neill would be the first to admit he hadn't exactly been overjoyed to have his recon missions expanded to include the type of research Jackson excelled at. But he liked to think they had both moved past that. Daniel had become *somewhat* better about following orders, and Jack's grumbling about 'taking pictures of rocks' had become something of a standing, good-natured joke between them.
But he knew Daniel worried about being the 'weak link' on the team, someone the others had to always watch out for in case of trouble. O'Neill had given him some basic self-defense instruction and had personally qualified him for use of a sidearm (he didn't even want to *think* about the arguments that had preceded that), but the fact was Jackson would never reach the proficiency level of any soldier going through the 'gate, and the other members of SG-1 realized that and made the appropriate allowances. Despite that, Daniel was an important and integral part of SG-1 and the Stargate program. In fact, if not for Jackson it was doubtful there would *be* a Stargate program.
When everyone had given up on O'Neill and Carter, it was Daniel Jackson who refused to admit defeat, and this wasn't the first time this stubborn and gifted man had come through for his team mates. It suddenly occurred to Jack in looking at his exhausted, half-asleep friend that he should be told how vital he was to the team. It wasn't something Jack made a habit of, but if he couldn't do it for Daniel, who could he do it for?
"Hey." A gentle tap on Jackson's arm brought his head up.
"Hmm?" He was blinking so hard Jack suspected he must have dozed off for a minute.
He waited until he was sure he had Jackson's complete attention, then said, "We're damn lucky to have you here, Daniel. I don't think I've ever told you that, and maybe I should have. You're a very important part of this project and SG-1, and we're all proud to have you on the team."
Surprise flashed across the younger man's face and Jack was glad to see something like gratification light his bloodshot eyes. "Really? Well, thanks, Jack. Um..."
The poor guy looked positively pole-axed, and O'Neill felt his lips twitch. "I don't believe it," he murmured. "Daniel Jackson at a loss for words. Where's a camcorder when you need one?"
A rueful grin creased Jackson's face. "Well, you have to admit, that was a little unexpected," he said dryly. "I mean..." He hesitated, his grin fading. "I know you didn't want me on the team --"
"When did I ever say I didn't want you on the team?" O'Neill asked sternly.
"Well, not in so many words --"
"Not in any words, Daniel." The two stared at one another for a few moments, then O'Neill qualified, "Okay, so maybe I wasn't exactly thrilled to find out we were going to be spending half our time taking pictures of old rocks --"
"Ah ha!" The younger man wagged his finger playfully.
"But that didn't have anything to do with you," Jack finished, his tone serious now. "You're an essential member of the team, Daniel. I know I haven't always been real supportive about this 'meaning of life' stuff, but what you do is as important as anything we do on these missions. And sometimes it's the *most* important thing."
Some of the weariness fell away from Jackson's face, making him look even younger, and right now, very unguarded. "Thanks, Jack," he said softly, and stammering slightly, as he usually did when he was nervous or nonplussed. "That means a lot, coming from you."
The stress of the last few days, combined with his total exhaustion, was taking its toll on Jackson, and O'Neill realized the younger man's emotions were both very raw and very near the surface right now. To save them both from possible embarrassment, he reached up and playfully tousled the already disheveled hair. "Just don't let it go to your head," he said with a straight face.
Jackson blinked in surprise, then produced a wry smile. "Right."
O'Neill suddenly realized he was tired, very tired, and his leg gave a warning twinge. Daniel must have seen it in his face, because he stood quickly. "What's wrong? I'll call Dr. Fraiser--"
"No, you're not calling Fraiser," he said irritably. "I'm just tired and I'm gonna get some shut-eye."
Slowly, the archaeologist sat back down. "Okay, I'll be right --"
"In the next bed," Jack said firmly. "And that's an order."
Daniel looked apprehensive. "Oh, I don't think I should --"
"Frasier promised not to stick you with any needles while you were catching up on your sleep."
"And you *believed* her?" Daniel muttered under his breath.
"That's an *order*, Jackson," O'Neill repeated, finding it very hard to direct a glare with his eyelids drooping.
The scholar appeared to give that order due consideration for all of about two seconds. "Okay," he agreed, and immediately turned and stumbled over to the other bed. Without further ado, he flopped face-first onto the bed, gave one huge sigh, then immediately fell asleep.
Jack watched this with dropped jaw, then shook his head and closed his eyes. Issuing his own sigh, he slipped easily into an untroubled sleep, the picture of Daniel Jackson obeying an order instantly and without argument bringing a smile to his lips. He'd better cherish that memory, was his last conscious thought, because he'd probably never see it again.
© June 6,1999 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa’uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory 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.