Dear Daniel,
Five weeks. Well, almost five. It's been that long since I last wrote. I'm at home, resting. That sounds funny. I've had more than enough rest to last me for a while. It's nothing serious. It's only my leg all gimped up. Again. Doesn't seem that long ago when it was my knee. Now, my right thigh. Mid-thigh. Hurts like a dull ache. Sort of like missing you does. Except that won't heal. Jesus, when did I suddenly become this idiot who waxes poetic?
Of course, I blame it on you. And I blame it on the entire fucking universe who has a serious yen for messing with me. Watched a sci-fi show -- yeah, I know, but I'm bored and this show turned out to be decent, though I forgot the name. One of the lead characters wondered if the universe was done having its bit of fun with him; whether or not it was time to go pick on someone else. That's what I'm wondering. Isn't it time to go pick on someone else?
So, what happened? I found myself forced into one hell of a vacation, if you can call it a vacation. I'd no sooner finished the other when this crap happened. And did this crap have a name? Yep. Harry Maybourne.
Just after I'd started grilling my hotdogs, I went in to take a piss. When I came back out, one of the three dogs I had on the grill was gone. I turn around and there's Harry, sitting on the deck rail, eating the purloined dog and drinking one of my brews. The urge to smack the crap out of him loomed large. Along with it the more refined urge to shoot him. Though I say that all the time, mostly to scare him, I'd never do it. The weasel is worthy of sound thrashing though.
Harry said he wanted to turn himself in and receive a pardon in exchange for the location of some Ancients' weapons stockpile. Now, I ask you. Does this sound like bullshit already?
Yeah, did to me, too. But that didn't stop me from being a sucker. When the hell did that happen? Have I slowly been going soft in the head with age? I didn't think so but the crap that happened with Harry was sort of proof that I'd lost my mind. *Have* lost my mind.
What Harry did was trick me into taking him with me and my team to this Ancients' planet he'd heard about. Of course, he *had* to go because he had the only means of information on how to use this device to access the weapons cache. Some key or something. Like an idiot, I let my guard down. I *wanted* to trust him, believe him.
That right there should've been a clear-cut case for stupidity, if not downright mental incapacity. I ignored my intuition, my usual training and safeguards, and because of that, Carter ignored hers. We'd already been to a few Ancients' planets by that time and it didn't even occur to us that the planet's technology and archaeological evidence didn't point to the Ancients. (Yeah, I know. I used a dirt-n-rock phrase. Don't let it go to your head.)
Anyway, Harry took Carter's zat, shot her, then me, (Teal'c and Jonas were walking the perimeter), but my hit was indirect as I didn't get a full blast. Because of that, I was able to go after him when activated something that looked like either a forceshield or a portal. He jumped through, I jumped through, and we ended up in this grassy field filled with wildflowers. Alone. Just the two of us. Surrounded by calf-high grassland, trees, water, and nothing else. Well, almost nothing. I had my sidearm and P-90, along with my gear. Harry had his, though no weapon, not even the zat he knocked out Carter with. Guess the technology we travelled through had a built-in detector for snake tech.
Point is - we weren't in Kansas any more. Plus, I was still ticked off at myself for forgetting to tape the Simpsons and it's his fault.
As Toto and I tried to get our bearings, and I valiantly stomped on the urge to shoot the insufferable shit, Harry eventually told me that there were no weapons stockpiled any damn where. (well, duh) That the place we transported to was some sort of hidden utopia. He wanted to go there to retire; was too damned scared to live on Earth anymore. Said he was tired of running. You know, maybe he helped us out in the past, Daniel, but the little creep made that particular bed to lie in. I had no sympathy. And I was getting even more pissed as the minutes and hours clicked by.
Especially as there *was* no utopia. There was...a village. A hamlet. A place that looked like leftovers from Woodstock. And that's putting it mildly. There were lean-to's and roughly built out-buildings, all overgrown so who knows what they would've looked like when new. And there were skeletons. Whoever built the utopia had succumbed to something. I'll mention that later.
I went investigating the following morning, hiking at least five miles in every direction, looking for something to indicate a way back to the portal, but there was nothing. Apparently there was only a way in, not out. That evening, I told Harry that I could see why he'd wanna retire there. It was very beautiful. Had this one waterfall that was gorgeous. It emptied out into a lagoon that was isolated from the large lake that the 'village' skirted. At night, the lake was a mirror, reflecting the sunset. It was very pretty there. Serene. I couldn't help but wish you were there with me instead of Harry. Water was nice and cool, weather was warm. It'd've been perfect. We could've retired there, you and me. And that waterfall would've been a good warm day's shower. We could've shared a shower under it. Plenty of showers. Plenty of wide-open space to roll around. Get you dirty, smelling like sweet grass and damp earth. Get you to spread those thighs. To feel you buck up hard against me...
Goddamn it, Daniel. I miss you so badly.
============================
Dear Daniel,
I had to take a break.
Now, where was I? Oh yeah. Harry.
Harry wasn't too smart. For an 'experienced' field operative of the NID, he wasn't using his survival training. Although Harry made use of resources on Earth easily enough, he didn't have squat out here. Like a 7-11. He began drinking the lake without sterilizing it in his canteen first. I knew we'd have to risk eating the local plants and wildlife, hoping that they'd be good to our digestive tract, but Harry was just plain stupid. And started in with the doomsaying right from the beginning. Kept telling me that no one was going to find us because no one knew where the hidden utopian place was - that being the point.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. That man has spent entirely too much time with the cloak and dagger. All he is is pessimism and distrust. Though I wasn't exactly in the mood to change his mind on that score. He actually asked me if I was going to kill him. I couldn't believe he asked that, so to punish him for thinking that - and to make him suffer some more for lying to me - I told him I'd sleep on it.
We'd been on the planet, actually a moon, for one week and you know what happened in that time? I went insane. Seriously. Think I was kidding before? I wasn't. I went insane. All Harry would do was yack yack yack yack yack yack yack yack yack...shit. I knew he ran off at the mouth, but when he's scared, he's even worse. You can't shut him up for anything. Most of the time, it was easy enough for me to zone him out. In one ear, out the other, nod and grunt at appropriate intervals.
But one thing got me to listen. He mentioned you. Day 4, I think. Breakfast. Had scavenged up some root vegetables like potatoes and was frying them up. The former inhabitants had left behind plenty of food staples that they'd planted. Found them growing wild about the habitat.
Anyway, he asked me about you and I just stared at him. "Do you miss Doctor Jackson?" he asked me out of nowhere. "That's none of your business, Harry," was my immediate response. I always wondered if he'd ever suspected what was going on between us.
Harry's response was typical baiting, just to get me to let something slip. He'd remained quiet for a minute or two, then he'd said, "Understandable that you wouldn't want to talk about him, I guess. He was your best friend and you miss him." And he paused again for a much longer silence, during that time I was hoping that he'd let the subject drop. But, he didn't. He then added, "I'll assume you knew that he batted for the other team."
Bastard must've done his homework on you after he 'escaped' from prison custody. He'd've found out about Steven and the others. What it did tell me though was that he didn't *know* anything. He was guessing - and mostly just yanking my chain. At first. He then said, "But then something like that probably wouldn't escape your attention, would it, Jack?"
I asked him what he meant by that. He told me, "C'mon, Jack. I've read your file, too, and not just the mission documentation."
So I said, "There's nothing *in* my file, Harry. Stop fishing. There's nothing to catch."
"Nice metaphor, Jack."
"Yeah, I thought so."
The subject was abruptly dropped - mostly because I think he stewed on my answers for a while, and tried to think of a way to come at me from a different tack. What this confirmed was that he suspected. But how much, at that time, I didn't know. I let the subject drop as there was no way I was discussing you with him.
Later I went to the lake, made myself a fishing line and lure and set about trying to catch dinner. There *were* fish, Daniel. And they were nibbling. I was persistent, too. Sat there at the lakeside for two hours, listening to Harry go on and on about hearing noises, how he was up all night trying to find whoever it was that was skulking around. I tried to tell him there wasn't anything there but he wouldn't believe me. He then complained about eating this plant that tasted like arugula (which he hates apparently). I told him not to eat it then. Simple enough equation. So, what's he do? He says we gotta eat, pulls a ball from his fatigue pocket (don't go there) and tossed it into the lake in the vicinity of my line. He then pulled this remote detonator out of his field vest pocket. I didn't get the chance to ask him, "Where the fuck did you get that?" before he tripped the switch, the C4 ball blew up, and he then waded out into the water to pick up the dead fish.
That was just so wrong, Daniel.
If you're wondering where he got that stuff, it's easy. Little weasel took it out of my pack when I wasn't looking. Now, that wasn't the only weird thing, but if things had just stayed 'weird', everything would've been fine. But Harry started acting weirder than usual, and at dinner, I got seriously ticked off at him and his paranoia. He went on again about hearing things, and got pissed off at me because I wouldn't let him have my 9 mil "to protect himself" with. I then threatened him, told him that the only thing around there that he had to protect himself from was me. Oops. He took me seriously, it seems, and went off to sulk, staying away from me for a while.
Typical day, in other words - just add more paranoia.
Just before sunset, I decided to hide the ammo clips to the P-90. Just in case.
Over the next two weeks, Harry carved out his own little nook in the camp - which is what I'm gonna call it now because it was *not* a home - and I had my own. We talked every once in a while, but Harry gradually became more and more paranoid. And he wasn't the only one.
Over the next two weeks, aside from eating fish and tubers, there was this plant. It 'did' taste sort of like arugula, but I never minded that lettuce so I ate it. A little here, a little there. Didn't affect me as much as Harry because I wasn't eating it all the time. But Harry's erratic behavior already had me distracted, so even with my frayed nerves, any extra paranoia on my part would've gone unnoticed.
One morning I woke up at dawn to find my P-90 missing. I was so tired the night before that I'd just conked out. The P-90 was right next to me, but he'd taken it and I hadn't even woken up. Some Special Ops guy I am. Grabbing the 9 mil, I scoured the camp looking for Harry, but I couldn't find him. I went to where I'd stashed the ammo and found it gone. It meant he'd been spying on me more than I thought. Going back to camp, I looked at one of the 'picnic' tables and found that plant sitting in a bowl. It was then that I wondered if the plant weren't affecting him somehow.
Didn't make sense though, so I dismissed it and grabbed a handful of the plant. Now comes the stranger part. There was the set of wooden disks. They were attached through one looped hole and you could 'unfold' them like a hand of playing cards, but I took them apart to 'read' their pictures. Inside the disks were round sheaves of 'paper'. I sat down and studied them, the pictures - and ate the plant. To figure out the whole picture of what the picture sheaves told me, I smoked some wood and made myself some drawing charcoal. I went around and counted skeletons. And found one with leather armor. Probably some sort of Jaffa or Goa'uld.
When I got back to the table, it hit me that I was hearing the same things as Harry had been. The tiniest noises were loud and other noises were imaginary (though I didn't know that). I wondered how long I'd been hearing things, but I couldn't remember. I became even more paranoid because the plant that I'd been eating was then saturating my system. I scurried around the camp, expecting and waiting for an attack. Fed up, I went scouting, trying to find Harry, needing to talk, needing to take action to defend myself.
About half a mile a way, I found something. Two skeletons: a human and a snake looped around the spinal cord. A knife was buried in its throat.
I soon came to the conclusion that the picture disks and accompanying sheaves told a warning. Don't eat the plant. Its purpose was to destroy the mind. Apparently a Goa'uld (where there's trouble, there's always a Goa'uld) had found the utopia and brought a plant with him - since he couldn't bring a weapon - to poison the inhabitants. Why? There was no motive. But, after a moment of thought, I realized that snakes don't need a motive. If you're not groveling at their feet, you're dangerous and must be destroyed.
Anyway, I set out to warn Harry, to get him to stop eating the plant. But he was in full guerilla mode by then, having stolen all the ordnance from my pack: a few grenades and the rest of the C4. Stupid me. Harry had set a trip line and I didn't even see it coming. The grenade went off and I dove to the ground, a piece of shrapnel having sliced its way into my thigh.
Nice. It would've served me right if I'd been killed for my stupidity.
I then heard this grunting and squealing. A pig. Or more like, a wild boar. And sure enough, out of the brush comes this boar, running straight at me. So, I shot it. I then heard the pig squeal, then Harry yelled out in pain.
I got up when I was sure the pig was far enough away and made my way to Harry, who showed me the blood on his shirt. Fortunately, the bullet I'd fired only grazed him. He then pointed the P-90 at me and told me to get away. He thought I was trying to kill him, just as I'd been threatening to since we've known each other. Seems my sarcasm had finally bitten me on the ass.
He bitched that I shot him. I bitched for what he did to my leg. He said he meant it as a trap for the pig. "With a grenade?" I asked. Sort of an overkill, you know? He didn't answer and started moving away from me. I yelled after him, told him to stop eating that damned plant, that it was messing with his head, but he didn't listen. So, I said screw him and returned to camp, to the little niche I'd made, and set about pulling the piece of shrapnel from my leg. Fuck that hurt. And the damn thing turned out to be a four-inch long piece of wood, not metal. Didn't matter. It made enough damage as it was. Wrapped the wound up as well as I could. The bleeding stopped after a while but my leg wouldn't stop throbbing like a sonofabitch.
Somehow I'd fallen asleep and didn't know how long I was out as I'd never bothered to look at my watch. But when I woke up, the sun was still high. What woke me was the snap of dried grass. Harry, I figured. I made his position, or rather, where I figured he was. I tried to tell him again, and in more detail, what the hell was going on with the plant and that I wasn't trying to kill him. But, he wouldn't listen and I had to dodge P-90 bullets. I circled around him while he used the last of the two grenades he'd taken from my pack and when he advanced toward the place I *had* been at, I came up from behind a grass-covered mound (and god only knows what the hell was under all that grass) and aimed my 9 mil.
I told Harry to drop the gun. When he turned, I saw that he'd at least done some of his survival training. His face was camouflaged with mud. It was an odd job, though. He didn't put any around his eyes or mouth so he had these big *clean* spots. He needs refresher training on how to apply camouflage. He aimed the P-90 at me - sort of - and I warned him again. Drop the gun or I would shoot him. He aimed the P-90, so I shot him.
No, I didn't kill him. I aimed for his leg. I hit a *bad* spot though and the blood loss was enormous. Brought him next to the campfire I'd set up along the edge of the lake and knew I had to try and dig out the bullet and cauterize the wound in order to get him to stop bleeding. Harry, in his delusional state, kept trying to fight me, but from the pain I inflicted trying to get the bullet out, he passed out. He was out for about a day, and all the while, there I was, nursing him, hoping he wouldn't die.
When he woke up, he was joking. Looked at me and said, "Some retirement this turned out to be." I asked him how he was and he said his head was clearing up.
"Sorry, Jack," he then said. "I never should've dragged you into this."
So I said, in my usual manner, "Yes, Harry. You've been a very bad boy."
When he groaned, I told him not to die on me. He asked why, not seeing that it would make much difference. Just then one of those cargo ships flew over our position so I told him we were about to be rescued, that's why he couldn't die. It was then that he asked me to leave him there. He'd rather die than spend the rest of his life in prison. Well - duh. A lot of people would, me included. And that's the reason that I told him, sarcastically of course, that he'd suffered enough. Hell, I even got to shoot him. Told him that, too.
"Twice," he clarified. Except for that plant making him loopy (and me along with it), he has a pretty decent sense of humour. Still made me wanna smack him, hard, for the way his mind works, but I didn't. I felt sorry for him.
Okay, okay, I was beginning to actually like him, god help me. It occurred to me that he could have the Tok'ra drop him off somewhere. So, I told him that maybe the Tok'ra could find him a nice planet to live on.
He said, "Thanks, Jack."
"Sure, Harry," I told him.
He then asked how I was going to cover for him, and would the Tok'ra lie for me? I told him that the snakes would lie simply because the fuckers still feel incredibly guilty about that cowardly, backstabbing snake, Kanan. Guilt works for me and I'll continue to use that card until it wears out. I'll tell them that Harry died on the moon. From my gun. It'll work because he almost did. Besides, I'm a very good liar when I have to be, as you well know.
The moment between Harry and myself was good. Nice, even. But then Harry, being Harry, couldn't leave things be about you. I think I'll remember my two conversations with him about you for the rest of my life. Or his.
"About Daniel Jackson," he said.
"Harry, just leave it be."
"Oh, come on, Jack. You can be honest. It's not like I'm gonna go running to Hammond or the Pentagon and spill, is it?"
I didn't answer him.
"I'd been watching you, you know."
I knew. I'd had a lot of time to think about how Harry always knew where I was, when I was alone. "I know," I told him.
"You know now, or you knew then."
"You didn't do half bad, Harry. I only just recently figured it out."
"Oh. Gonna answer the question?"
"You didn't ask me a question, Harry."
"For fuck's sake, Jack. Were you and Doctor Jackson...you know?"
I gave him one of those stares that just hints - barely - at a smile. I wasn't about to say anything because I just knew that he'd tease me about it. Not like he couldn't already but I was not confirming squat. "I can't figure out why you'd be interested in knowing anything about my private life, Harry. As I said before, it's none of your business. And I don't mean that in an unkind way."
Harry was silent for a moment before he said, "Jack, before we never see each other again, there's something I need to tell you."
It was then that the Tok'ra showed up and we didn't get a chance to talk again - like that - until we were safely stowed on ship, and in the cargo hold. I was glad. The tone of his voice warned me that he was going to say something dreadfully important. Not sure I wanted to hear it. Actually, in hindsight, I *know* I didn't want to hear it.
So we're on route to the planet and he asked, "Are we alone?"
"Yeah, more or less. No doors but they're far enough away. Why?"
I knew, though. He was going to tell me that dreadfully important thing that I didn't want to hear. I had this sneaking suspicion that he wanted to tell me that he had this thing for you. Everyone fucking does, don't they? Seriously. They do. Now, from the point of view of a guy's ego, I'm glad. Makes me feel like I scored big. But on a more secure level, I hated that people had this thing about you. I may not have felt as strongly about it if we'd been *out*, or I may have felt worse. Either way, I did not want to hear that he had a thing for you.
"I need to tell you something."
"If it's about Daniel, Harry, I don't--"
"No, it's about me. And about my feelings."
"Again, if it's about Daniel--"
"You, Jack. It's you."
"What?" I asked. I was fucking stunned, as you can imagine.
Harry saw the I'm-not-thrilled look on my face and looked like he wanted to crawl under the floor and die. I know the feeling.
"I didn't realize it until after I'd heard that you had damned near gotten yourself killed by both Apophis and Replicators."
I kinda gawped at him. "You mean you were feeling that way about me when you helped me find Carter?" I had this sudden flashback of shoving him against that black van he had - pinning him *with my body* as I took his gun from his jacket. GOD. The thought that he probably got hard off that still makes my stomach queasy. He didn't answer my question, but the look in his eyes made the answer an obvious 'yes'. "Are you telling me that it wasn't out of the not-so-simple goodness of your heart that you decided to help me? That it's because you have this jones--"
"Don't say it like that!" he snapped.
"Well, how the hell should I say it?" I asked. Okay, I was upset and I shouldn't have been, but FUCK!
"I don't know," he said.
At this point, I was beyond uncomfortable. DUH. I tried to hide most of it, though. Maybe because I wasn't going to be seeing him much longer. "I have no idea what to say to that, Harry." Neither of us did, it seems because we didn't say anything for a few minutes.
"Did you love him?" he suddenly asked.
What the hell, I remember telling myself. I remember thinking that I wasn't gonna say shit, but when he asked that, it was like this need to tell *someone* that wasn't Carter or Teal'c. "Yes, Harry. I did. I still do."
"Good. Have you found anyone else yet?"
"Oh, for cryin' out loud, Maybourne!" I said. I did not want to hear that. It just sounded so...wrong...coming from him.
"I'm serious, Jack. I just don't think he'd want you to pine away for him, that's all. So...don't. Find someone, okay?"
"Harry, stop it."
"Tell me you will. I just wanna know that you're okay."
"Harry, it's been less than a year. I'm not gonna be finding anyone else."
"Then go out and have affairs. You'll need it."
"Yeah, thanks for the chit-chat, Harry. Next subject please."
"I won't leave it alone till you humour me."
"Fuckin' A, Harry. Fine. I'll go out and find someone. I'll be just fine." Apparently my sarcasm is a condition. Just keeps coming back no matter what.
"Jack, don't pull that on me. You may be better trained, but I can spot lies a mile off."
"Well, what'd you expect, Harry? I'm not ready. I don't know when I'll be ready. And I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you."
After a Tok'ra came over to tell us we were about to land, Harry whispered, "Just humour me, okay Jack?"
"Fine," I said, my voice calmer. "I promise to go out and find someone to have sex with. Good enough?"
"Not really, but it'll do, I suppose."
I could've smacked him one right then, injury or no injury. I started to get up and Harry grabbed my arm, surprising me with how weak he wasn't.
"If you expect me to kiss you, Harry, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you. I'd rather shoot you again."
"Thanks a lot, Jack."
"Harry--"
"I didn't want that anyway."
"Oh."
"Just give me your hand, okay?"
I did and he clasped it, thumb over thumb. "You take care of yourself, Jack."
"You, too, Harry."
I left him on the ship, assured he'd be taken care of, and after walking away from it, I felt a strange sense of loss that I refuse to dwell on, even now.
I'd gone no more than 500 yards before I was immediately besieged by Carter, Teal'c, and Jonas, thumping me on the back and trying to help me walk as if I hadn't been doing that already--by myself. Carter looked like shit. Well, actually, she always looks okay, as pretty women tend to do, but she had tired circles under her eyes and it was then that I realized that she'd probably pulled another sleepless deal like the time I was trapped on Edora.
"Carter, the minute we get home, it'll be your turn to go on leave," I told her. She tried to argue but it was of no use. She recognized the look on my face. No one messes with the look.
So, now, here I am, life's more or less normal and I'm waiting--again--to get back to work. Things will be just fine if only Carter would quit calling me. I had to resort to drastic measures. So I called up Siler. He wasn't doing anything so I asked him to go check up on her and get her distracted. That motorcycle probably needs fiddling with.
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Dear Daniel,
Been a few days. Leg's all healed.
From what I learned from Teal'c, Carter felt responsible for the entire episode. Said she was feeling guilty for letting Harry steal the zat. She's too hard on herself, and as a result, is too hard on others when she's under enormous stress. She doesn't carry it well when the stress concerns people that she cares about. T said she was a wee bit harsh with your former geeks, and when they couldn't find me and Harry, she was extremely upset. T also told me that she allowed herself to cry on his shoulder, but I believe he meant that literally. From the way he said it, I'm thinking he was there for her just as he was several months ago right after you...left.
I really have to hand it to her. She figured out how to find me. Everyone was stunned by how she did it. She thought like you. Non-linear. Outside of the box. While she's a very creative person, and does the outside-of-the-box thinking, she's still a scientist and therefore, has limits to that creative thinking. If you compare her to someone like McCrap, she's like you, but as a scientist, she sometimes lets that nerd thinking get in the way. You're like that, were like that, but you were never actually what I'd call a *scientist*. Probably explains why you were at odds with those people. All that off-the wall, irregular, and out-of-the-box-and-in-a-gaseous-state-thinking. At least your Nerd Department learned how to follow you or you'd never have learned to work together, right? Dr. Lee occasionally tells me how much he misses you. Misses hearing you walk into the anthropology lab and ask if anyone's uncovered anything new and exciting. He said that usually what you meant by that was "anything old and exciting and meant to bore Colonel O'Neill to tears". Jeez, Daniel. Didn't know I'd become that big a pain in the ass. :-)
Can't stop thinking -- okay, worrying -- about Harry. If he's very lucky, he won't have gotten himself killed already by the Tok'ra, not before they have a chance to drop kick his butt to the nearest inhabitable planet. Okay, I'm kidding. I am hoping that he stays out of trouble. That wherever he's gone, it's a nice place for him.
God, just had a thought. What if Harry became a Tok'ra? No, no, ain't gonna happen. He can't stand them any more than I can. But then, I always said I'd never get...blended. With Harry's penchant for getting himself, *and others*, into trouble, it could happen. God help them.