“You might as well get it off your chest.” 

“What?” Daniel looks up, startled, from his book; Jack is watching him, not the hockey game on the TV, and Daniel wonders how long that’s been the case. 

“You haven’t turned a page in about 15 minutes,” Jack mutes the sound of the game before turning to face him. “And you’ve been wound up since we left the base. So, spill. What’s eating you?”

He moves slowly to place a bookmark into his text and then puts the book itself onto the table, buying himself time. “It was a long day,” he hedges. 

Jack doesn’t have to say “bullshit”, his raised eyebrow and unimpressed look does it for him. 

“Fine. Sam mentioned this morning that the Prometheus is basically ready to go.” He glances up, and Jack is blank-faced. “Sam said you’d told her no,” Daniel says carefully (Sam had said Jack’s exact words were ‘over my dead body’, which didn’t bode well for Daniel’s chances either, but he had to try), “but maybe Teal’c, or…I could…”

“Didn’t we already have this conversation?” Jack stands up from the couch pretty abruptly, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“I know why you didn’t want me to go to Atlantis through the Gate. But this is different. It’s not reliant on hoping there’s a power source to power the Gate - the Prometheus should be perfectly safe.”

“Should be,” Jack points out. “Not a guarantee.” 

“Jack…” he tries really hard not to let a hint of a whine into his voice, but guesses it doesn’t work, based on the way Jack subtly stiffens. 

“The answer’s no, Daniel.” 

The thing is, Jack looks genuinely regretful, but not like he intends to budge. “It was worth a try,” Daniel sighs, and leans back into the couch. “Sam thought maybe you’d let one of us go.”

“Nothing’s changed, Daniel,” his partner says firmly. “Earth can’t risk you, and I won’t either.”

That should have been that, and Daniel had given up for the night, but he finds he sleeps poorly, thinking of nothing else. Because it’s not the same, not really. He’d understood why Jack was so reluctant to chance him - or Sam, for that matter! - when they were sending the Atlantis expedition team off to an uncertain fate, with a return dependent on the theory that there might be ZPMs in the new galaxy. When they hadn’t returned, or even made contact, Jack’s overprotectiveness had seemed even more reasonable. But now? The Prometheus is a ship, outfitted with Asgard technology, ready to go there and back. No more dangerous than anything else they do! 

He manages to keep himself contained all through a sleepy morning routine as he and Jack move around each other in easy, if silent, orbit, and then they take their own cars to base so that’s self-control he doesn’t have to wrangle. They make it onto base, even through changing side-by-side in the locker room. He practices and discards about a million different ways to ask and ideas to change Jack’s mind. But when they end up in the elevator together, he finds himself physically wrapping his arms around his body to hold in the protestations and just before the elevator reaches level 27, he breaks, and can’t help but plead his case. 

“Jack, I’d like you to reconsider letting me go on the rescue mission.”

The General doesn’t even spare him a glance. 

“No.”

“Come on, Jack!” he pleads, his frustration spilling over into a frustrated crackle in his voice.

“Still no, Daniel.” The doors slide open and Jack starts to walk away.

“But, it doesn't have to be on a permanent basis!”

“I didn't let you go in the first place,” Jack says. “What makes you think I'm gonna change my mind?”

“Because…” Daniel trails off as his partner turns to look at him, incredulous, because he doesn’t have any reasons he hasn’t already floated and Jack has rebuffed. He doesn’t think Jack’s reasons are necessarily good reasons, not after his sleepless night, but he doesn’t have any new reasons. Jack is starting to look as frustrated as Daniel feels. 

“Can you try to do better than that?” Jack demands, but whatever else he was going to say is interrupted by Walter handing him a clipboard with something to sign. Daniel looks up towards the ceiling, hoping to be struck with inspiration. Walter, smart man, doesn’t stick around.

“Because they're going to need somebody who can translate Ancient,” he comes up with, planting his hands on his hips and trying to sound matter-of-fact and not desperate. “I'm the most qualified person left on the planet for the mission.” He nobly refrains from saying ‘because you sent the rest to Atlantis instead of me’, because reminding Jack that this is a rescue mission doesn’t seem like it’s going to help, exactly. 

Jack seems to read the subtext anyway, because he doesn’t seem amused when he responds, “Which is exactly why you're gonna stay right here,” pointing at the floor beneath his feet before striding away. 

Daniel takes his last resort, yelling, “Because I'll quit!”

“Why don't you just hold your breath?” Jack says sarcastically, “You haven't done that in a while.” They’re on the edge of something dangerous - Daniel can feel it, feel himself walking the line of saying something he really, really shouldn’t, and wondering if perhaps he should walk away before he either does something he regrets or he pushes Jack too far, when they turn the corner into Jack’s office. Both of them freeze in the doorway, because there’s someone seated in the chair already - and nobody on base would be that brazen. It takes them both a second to realize it’s Hammond as the chair spins around.

“General!” Jack exclaims, pleased, and Daniel can’t help but uncharitably wonder if Jack is really so pleased to see their former commander or if he’s just thrilled for this excuse to end their argument. 

“Jack. I let myself in. Hope you don't mind.”

“Absolutely not. Welcome.”

“Thank you.”

“Miss the chair?”

“Actually I do,” Hammond says.

“Want it back?” Jack says hopefully, and Daniel is reminded that Jack doesn’t love his new position. Not that he’s not great at it, but he’s had a hard time stepping back from SG-1 and being in the field with the team.

“As a matter of fact, I do. My new one just isn't the same.”

“That's not exactly what I meant…” Jack says forlornly, but since they all know that, they let it go, Hammond turning to Daniel instead. 

“Doctor Jackson. Nice to see you again.”

“Likewise; we miss you around here, sir.” Daniel can feel Jack’s eyes on the side of his head, flicks a glance over at his partner, decides that barb was maybe a bit too pointed, and quickly adds, “So, to what do we owe this pleasure?”

“I came to ask if you'd be interested in joining the mission to Atlantis.”

There is a pregnant pause, and then they say simultaneously, “You did?” Jack’s tone is incredulous, Daniel knows his is a little flat, but inside his heart jumps.

Hammond turns his gaze to Jack. “He's the most qualified person on this planet, and the mission commander needs someone who can translate Ancient.”

It sounds so eerily like Daniel’s own arguments, Daniel wonders for a minute if the General had been listening to them bicker in the hallway. He can’t help his response of, “Really?”, in a tone he knows Jack won’t exactly appreciate.

“With all due respect sir,” Jack argues, “I think you should tell the mission commander that I need Daniel right here.”

“You just did.” Hammond says, but Daniel feels like there’s something else in his tone and he waits, holding his breath.

“I did. I did?” Jack blinks, and then, “You, sir?” 

“Yes. Request denied. Doctor Jackson, you're with me.” Hammond stands up, the suddenness leaving both of them reeling. Daniel is not sure what to do with having gotten his wish granted - he had been so sure that Jack would never go for it, no matter how much he begged, that it feels a bit like he’s in free-fall. “I'll have the chair shipped to Washington. You can requisition a new one.”

“I'll do that, sir.” Jack, Daniel can tell, is nonplussed by the quickness the General has dismissed his request. Hammond rarely overrules Jack, perhaps most especially when it comes to his team, and never without a long and drawn out discussion.

“We leave tomorrow,” Hammond says to Daniel, and then finally to Jack as he leaves, “Oh, and I'll be taking Walter, too.”

Daniel clears his throat, Jack’s gaze heavy on the side of his head. He takes advantage of Jack’s shock to flee, but only makes it a few feet up the hallway before Jack’s head appears and he calls out, “Daniel, get back here.” His tone doesn’t invite any other response but obedience.

Reluctantly, he turns and walks back, slipping past Jack in the doorway and unsurprised when the other man shuts the door behind him, blocking out the rest of the base. He goes and sits on the edge of the desk and watches Jack pace for a minute, still processing, before he turns and gives Daniel a long, hard look. 

“Did you go around me to Hammond?” Jack asks, his voice quiet in a way that makes Daniel’s stomach drop even though he knows he didn’t do anything wrong. Daniel has to take a deep breath.

“No, Jack, I didn’t.” He holds his partner’s gaze. “I wouldn’t have done that. And even if I wanted to, when would I have had time? We just talked about it last night.”

“Alright.” Jack drags his hands over his face and takes a deep breath, “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just…”

“Yeah. Me too,” Daniel agrees, “I didn’t think I was going, no matter what I said to you, much less leaving tomorrow.”

Jack comes over now, standing directly in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re going to do everything by the book. Everything you’re told. Nothing off-book, no heroics.”

“I’m going as an archaeologist,” Daniel protests, “to translate Ancient.” When Jack’s expression doesn’t soften, he relents himself. “Yeah, I will. I promise. I’ll come home to you, Jack.” He brushes a hand over Jack’s hip and smiles gently. 

“You better,” his general says bluntly.

It would be nice if someday, the universe cooperated when he made promises like that. He glances one more time at the woman, Vala, through the monitor displaying the brig camera as he straps on her Kull-super-soldier-suit. He’s pretty sure Jack would not think his current plan fit into the description of good behavior on this expedition - especially not the longer one Jack’d outlined while they were lying in bed the night before he left - but Daniel doesn’t see any other way out. He can’t fly the ship the way it is, he’s going to have to meet with Vala’s contacts and hope to talk his way out of this. 

He hesitates over the helmet, and with a grimace, leaves it behind. In his opinion, the slim chance of someone shooting directly at his head isn’t worth the claustrophobic feeling and…the lack of peripheral vision… anyway, who’s going to know? He’s by himself. If he dies, nobody will know anything, and if he lives, he just will keep that bit to himself. ‘I wore the armor’ is a complete sentence, he doesn’t need to say ‘I wore the armor, well, except the helmet’. 

With a last look around the bridge, he turns to go see what is outside. 

He promised he was coming home, after all. The details of how he does that might just need to be a little vague. 

The fact that the Prometheus is too damaged to go on to Atlantis without going back to Earth for repairs casts a somewhat bitter pall over the success of returning it to Hammond. Not to mention the woman - Vala - getting away with the Al'kesh. But the rest of the crew doesn't feel the same distress Daniel does - they will all simply return to the ship when it departs again, after all. Daniel's not so sure he will - General Hammond had been fairly willing to go right over Jack's head once, but the two men have a deep mutual respect and there's no guarantee it will happen again, or that by then there won't be a legitimate reason for Daniel to be needed to stay on Earth.

The object of his musing walks up beside him, looking out of the same small viewport at the blur of black space and pinpoints of light racing by. Hammond lets the silence linger for a long minute before turning to look at Daniel. 

"I know you're disappointed, son," he says eventually. "I'll admit I am too, though I'm sure it's not the same. We'll get you to Atlantis eventually."

Daniel flicks a glance over. "Not being able to reach the expedition is more of a problem than my academic curiosity," he demurs. 

"It's a priority," Hammond agrees, "but we equipped them as well as we possibly could. You and I both know that whether they can call home or not aside, the chances this ship would have turned the tide of a true disaster for the Atlantis expedition is slim. Either they are fine, and they'll be fine when we get to them, or they're beyond the help force in numbers can offer. Perhaps, though, not the type of help your expertise can offer."

He resists the urge to hunch over a little bit - it's the truth, but one he hasn't been acknowledging. Certainly a part of why Jack wasn't keen on letting him go - his partner didn't want him to face the aftermath if they were to arrive at a graveyard. 

"You did well, getting the Prometheus back into our hands," Hammond added, "though I think we should discuss how it is your choices landed you alone on the ship, with the rest of us aboard the Al'kesh."

There is just enough censure there that Daniel knows it won't be the last conversation they ever have about it, but George isn't the one he's worried about; with Hammond, it'll be no worse than a stern discussion of adapting tactics to different groups and situations and remembering that not every situation is a situation he has to solve on his own. On the other hand... "Sir, I'd appreciate it if when you talk to Jack about it, you emphasize the first part and not so much the second."

The glint in Hammond's eye as pats Daniel's shoulder is just a little too knowing for comfort. "I won't tell him anything but the facts, son."

Since the rescue mission was under Homeworld's, and thus Hammond's, command, Daniel doesn't have to debrief about it with Jack. He debriefs with George's team in Washington, and then catches a flight across the country home to Colorado Springs. Thankfully, Jack comes to get him from Peterson, because he'd declined Hammond's invite to stay the night, eager to get back, but by the time they roll onto the tarmac late that night, he's exhausted. He falls asleep in the truck, and doesn't remember much about being shivvied to bed when they get home. 

When he wakes, it's to sun shining warm across his face. He rolls over, blinking sleep away. Jack's dressed, but in sweats, lounging up against the head of the bed and reading some mystery novel. He's even got his glasses on, perched oddly low on his nose, which makes Daniel smile, reaching across and brushing his hand across Jack's hip. 

"G'morning." Jack lowers his book, peering over at Daniel, and when it becomes clear he's all the way awake he reaches over and puts it on the nightstand. Daniel resists the urge to yawn. "What time is't?"

"Almost noon," Daniel levers himself mostly upright, and Jack helpfully hands him a cup of coffee that's just this side of warm, and thus still drinkable. "You needed the sleep," he says before Daniel can get out whatever objection he was forming, and Daniel doesn't argue against that 'cause, well, it was true. Jack reaches out, and ghosts his hand across Daniel's skin, which is mottled with bruises from his encounters with Vala that have darkened nastily. "You gonna explain these?"

"Um," Stalling, he finishes most of the coffee before he lowers his mug into his lap and sighs. "There was this woman, and she tried to steal the Prometheus. And I maybe need to brush up on my hand-to-hand skills?"

"Where were all the marines?" Jack takes the mug, moving it back to the nightstand.

Trust Jack to get right to the heart of things. "Ah...she - Vala - she had a Kull suit, and she shipped them all off to her Al'kesh. I was...I was theonlyoneleftontheship."

Silence, as his partner digests this, his eyes steady on Daniel's. "On accident?" he asks at last.

Daniel wants to look away, but he feels trapped. He also wants to answer, 'of course, on accident', but he couldn't tell Jack that any more than he could have told Hammond that. It hadn't been his intent to end up the only friendly aboard the Prometheus, but he hadn't gone out of his way to stay back and be a team player either, not in the way either of his commanders would have directed him to, had they had the chance to do so.

No answer is both an answer and the wrong answer. Daniel should have seen it coming, but he still yelps a little in surprise when Jack clamps a hand around his arm and yanks him forward over his lap, even as his other arm comes around to make sure he doesn't land too hard on his bruised ribs. "Jack," he whines just a little, even though they're both acutely aware that he hasn't even bothered to struggle. 

"This is going to be a more productive conversation," his general rests his hand on his butt, which is still covered by his underwear but since that's the only thing he has on, it's not feeling like a lot of protection. "And it'll save us time, I think. So. Accident, or not?"

"Not exactly," Daniel grinds out, and somehow despite guessing it's coming still finds himself crying out with the first of two hard swats that Jack delivers to the top of his butt, though he chokes down any sound on the second. Jack waits a moment, and when Daniel doesn't offer anything else he lifts his hand. The threat is clear enough, driving words from the scientist; "It wasn't exactly on purpose, either! I just..." he huffs, which earns him another (albeit slightly lighter) swat. "I didn't have my team, so I kind of went off and did my own thing to solve the problem, instead of letting the security teams handle it, or working with them."

Daniel buries his head in the comforter as Jack hooks his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and drags them down to his thighs, then lands a full circuit of stinging swats across the now-bare skin. "So we've got being reckless with your safety, which you weren't going to do. Anything else we need to talk about?"

He stifles the urge to say any number of things that would just make this worse into the blankets before he turns his head with a sigh. "We only picked up Vala because I insisted on checking out the distress call in the first place."

Jack raises his hand again, but to Daniel's surprise, he only lands it twice, once on each side. Not that it doesn't sting - it does! - but it leaves him squirming around, trying to see his partner's face. Jack just tugs him close to his body, wrapping his hand around Daniel's far hip and using the leverage of his arm over his back to keep him in place. "His soft spot for you notwithstanding, Hammond doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do," Jack firmly denies him claiming that bit of guilt. 

"I didn't wear the helmet," his traitorous tongue spits out before he can stop himself, even as he groans and goes limp over Jack's lap. He's going to regret it here in a few seconds, yeah, but there's no point in trying to hide it, he'd tell Jack eventually, and always knew he would. 

"I'm going to need some context for that, Daniel," Jack prompts him after a moment, with a swat to his thigh that makes him kick and whine and is followed by a matching assault on the other thigh when he takes too long to gather his thoughts.

"I put on the Kull armor to meet Vala's contacts. She'd locked me out of the nav, and I didn't know where the Al'kesh was or where she'd taken us...she was locked up and I was on my own. So I put on the armor, to go outside the ship, but I didn't wear the stupid helmet, because it was uncomfortable and..." he trails off, aware of Jack taking a very deep breath and tightening his hold. 

"Well, let's see if I can make this 'uncomfortable' enough that next time, you make different decisions," his partner says flatly, and that's all the warning Daniel gets before Jack lights into him in earnest.  He's landing spanks hard and fast, with no predictable pattern, which is the hardest type of spanking for Daniel to fight his reaction. Before he can even catch his breath to plead for clemency or try to talk himself out of it, Jack's already lit what feels like a five-alarm fire on his backside and he's helplessly writhing against his partner's grasp, kicking his legs against the bed in a way he will almost certainly be mortified by if he thinks about it later. 

He doesn't even have the breath to beg when Jack pauses what feels like an eternity later; it's taking all of his concentration to swallow down the gasping start of tears. Jack lays his hot hand on Daniel's burning rear. He doesn't press down. but even the light touch makes Daniel squirm, trying to relieve the pressure. "What are you going to do next time?" Jack asks.

"W-wa-ait," Daniel manages to gasp out, voice tremulous. "Work w-with t'w-whole t-te-am."

"I swear to god Daniel, if you can't learn how to trust your team, I will figure out how to keep you grounded from off-world missions, even if you hate me for it," Jack doesn't land any smacks to accompany those tired words, but he doesn't have to - the weariness and lingering fear in his voice is enough to send Daniel over the edge into remorseful tears. "What else are you going to do?"

Daniel can't think. "I don't...I c-can't..." he hiccups the last, miserable, and Jack takes pity on him, though how much pity it is when his words are accompanied by a pointed smack every second word or so, Daniel isn't sure. 

"The helmet," he reminds him. "That was just plain reckless, Daniel. You're not going to take foolish risks with your safety, especially on-purpose, calculated ones." He spanks with every one of the last four words, hard as he ever does, right where Daniel will feel it any time he tries to sit down for the foreseeable future. 

"I won't!" Daniel cries, limp over Jack's lap except for the occasional kick when a particularly mean swat hits its target.

"I should make you go get the hairbrush," Jack says, ignoring his increased sobbing and desperate shake of his head. "Given how many times we've talked about the putting yourself in danger thing." Daniel shivers and lets the tears flow, reaching back around, desperate for...something. Hoping Jack will take his free hand and pin it to his back, at least give him that to hold on to if he's not finished. The moment stretches, tense, Jack's silence over Daniel's quiet crying, and is broken in the end when Jack signs and takes the hand Daniel's reaching back, rubbing it firmly but gently in his. "But you've had enough. You're not going to do it again. You're alright Danny, ok, come on up here." 

As easily as had pulled Daniel over his lap in the first place, he manhandles him upright, settling him on his lap on the side of his hip so he can wrap his arms around him, enveloping him in the scent and feel of Jack. "You're alright Spacemonkey, you made it home safe, let it all go."

And so he does. His tears taper off and he lets the calm settle over him in a way he hasn't felt since they first heard the distress call from the Al'kesh. Jack's fingers are rythmic in his hair, a deep comforting scratch against his scalp. They've lived to love another day, and he has everything he needs right here.