Deal by Random

Deal

By: Random

CATEGORY: Angst, Drama, Friendship, Humor

WARNINGS: Language

AUTHOR’S NOTES: No spoilers, but set after Holiday, and picks up again in early S10.

AUTHOR’S WEBSITE:

http://www.alldanielfic.com/viewuser.php?uid=110

It didn't hit him until it was too late to get out of it. Of course. So Daniel stood there, a white paper bag with a dozen empanadillas in his hand. He'd bought them from the Puerto Rican deli that had opened down on Academy, hadn't a clue what to bring to this kind of function. So he'd opted for something that would at least be interesting. Now he realized he'd chosen something that didn't fit what seemed an all-American picnic. He didn't seem to fit, either.

He let the noise wash over him anyway; kids yelling, people laughing, lots and lots of talking. The sharp odor of lighter fluid and flame had started to tease the air. He took in the colors, too; balloons for some reason, a red and white checkered table cloth, and paper in different colors spread over rough wooden tables. Streamers of some kind dangled from a few of the lower tree limb, marking off territory. Everyone from the SCG--well, everyone off-duty--was here.

They had a corner of Acacia Park downtown, lots of grass--even if it was dry and browning--and trees, some already bare of leaves. Crisp with a bite of winter promised, the chill kept the rest of the park empty except for a few dedicated joggers and someone walking a dog. For anyone used to the inside of the mountain, flat land and a sky half-filled with clouds was more than a change of scenery.

Odd to see these people outside of gray walls and a military base. Well, Sam maybe not. And Jack. But the context which included them and an open sky should be a different world. And Teal'c wasn't here to make the balance right.

Teal'c had taken the downtime--a week off for them, thanks to Ma'chello--as a reason to visit his family. This was all about family, too, and he hadn't been prepared for that.

Oh, damn.

It more than threw him to see these people out of uniform. To see them within their normal lives--something he knew nothing about. The divisions sharpened even as he tried to ignore them.

They weren't just military now, as if that wasn't barrier enough. Now they were family groups. They were people with the immutable sheltering ties of blood. Hammond sat on a bench beside a table with what Daniel assumed were his children and grandchildren. The body language of closeness--casual touches given and received without thought or notice--spoke eloquently of intimate bonds. Nearby, Janet and Cassie had a basket open on a table where Sam sat with Jacob.

And how weird to have him here.

But the Tok'ra had been interested in information about Ma'chello. And why wouldn't Jacob be here, even if that meant Selmac, too.

Everyone else seemed a blur of bundled coats and faces he couldn't place because, without uniforms, he wasn't sure he knew them. It was just enough wrongness to unsettle, left him feeling too much the transplant from another world. He didn't even have Teal'c here to share that sense of being an outsider.

Three kids ran past with ragged laughter and he lifted the empanadillas aside, watched the children pelt over to a playground, coats flapping.

God, if he'd known he could have invented a reason to stay away. A crowd of strangers, he could dive into that without hesitation. But this...he'd never known how to cope with this. Now he was stuck with meat pastries and he'd have to stay at least an hour before he could get himself out again.

Where was a really good alien invasion when you needed it? Or someone else to walk around in his skin?

He'd been cheated then, too, still resented that he'd spent most of that experience unconscious, only remembered the infirmary and that odd glimpse of himself from Jack's eyes and Jack's body. And it was just too unfair that he hadn't gotten Jack's swagger, his ease of belonging, along with everything else. Which meant this wasn't just a physical reaction--it was him.

So he was going to have to fake this.

Pulling in a breath, he put his head down. He headed for Sam and Janet. He got bright greetings from everyone, a shy hug from Cassie before another kid ran up and grabbed her to run off and do something. He offered a smile and couldn't remember the last time Janet had looked so relaxed. Did he know this woman in jeans and a plaid flannel shirt and a laugh? Sam was bundled up and deep in a discussion with her dad, and he wondered what Selmac thought of this. Putting the bag on the table, Daniel stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets.

Another knot tightened in his stomach, just above the first one, and he wished he'd thought through the implications of Jack's words. Or had caught some kind of warning hidden in them so he could have braced himself. But he could only recall Jack saying something about morale and picnic and Saturday. He'd come, thinking a small group, a few friends, and now he was hip-deep in culture shock.

He couldn't even make this over into anthropological observation. It was that alien to him, but it shouldn't be. And his failure to do something simple like understand his place in this kept digging under his skin. So he stood there and wondered--what now?

Oh, hell.

Sam had dug out one of the empanadillas, was both eating it and tearing it apart and still talking to her dad, her voice low, so work had slipped in even though it shouldn't. Janet had gone over to talk with the general, was bending down to be eye-to-eye with one of the younger girls. She seemed fluent in that language, and that amazed him--what a remarkable gift. The gift of kindness and caring and easy connections. He glanced around, tried to recognize someone else--anyone--and wondered where Jack was.

Damnit, if Jack didn't show after telling him he had to come he was going to get the base laundry to put extra starch in all Jack's BDUs. Particularly the underwear. And wouldn't it be just like Jack to throw him into this while he skipped out?

Well, no, that wasn't like Jack, but maybe he could use Jack as his excuse.

Could he claim he needed to go get Jack? But they'd expect him to come back then, and sit down and eat.

Oh, please, no.

He glanced around again, throat tight with words stuck under a confusion of emotions so old he was tired of carrying them. But he didn't exactly know how to put them down, either, and this was no place to leave them anyway, or even bare them for a glimpse. This was supposed to be about people getting together and having fun. No way was he going to make it a full hour. Not with this sensation of disassociation lodged behind his ribs. It left him short of breath, as if he'd been running. Or wanted to run. And that was stupid.

Of course he knew these people. He'd worked with most of them for almost two years. He had a place here. He should just grab a drink, start circulating. Make small talk.

Only they'd want to talk about their kids and they'd introduce their wives, and his thoughts would drift to Sha're. As always. And he'd start wondering about her son. And some of them might ask. Oh, god, this was such a mistake. He could speak about myths, lecture about civilizations, discuss scientific theories. But this was supposed to be about families. So he'd either end with too much sympathy for the truth, or conversations would drift into strained silence. That's how these things went.

He'd learned that years ago. It had gotten better on Abydos, when he'd actually been on the inside and part of things and had his family beside him and no explanations needed. But, since then, it had gotten far, far worse. And he needed a distraction before he hyperventilated, so he pulled out a hand and waved it somewhere.

"Uh, just going for a walk."

He flashed a smile at Sam as she glanced up. For a moment, her eyebrows pulled tight, but then Cassie ran up to her, demanded attention. And Daniel slipped away while he could.

Damn and damn, he had forgotten the utter misery of this.

It wasn't that he wasn't social. He was. He liked company. It was just...this kind of thing brought up every bad memory and heightened his awareness of all that was lacking within him and his life.

He'd lost his family, and what was that line from Oscar Wilde--something about losing one was misfortune, but both looked like carelessness? The reference was to losing parents, but he'd managed to lose them--and his wife. What would you call the loss of two families? Criminal negligence?

Damnation--not good to let his thoughts go wandering. But that's what happened when he looked at happy couples and happy children. They'd become sharp reminders of his mistakes. Of what had slipped from his grasp; what he might never have. Better to keep all of that locked up under the mountain. Why had he let Jack talk him into this?

He found a tree, far enough for some quiet but close enough to keep him at the edge of things. It was the only place he'd ever found comfort at something like this; a place where he could be apart without others noticing he wasn't a part of anything. He let the bark of the tree scrape his back through his coat and pulled his hand from his jacket pocket to glance at his watch. Another forty-five minutes--okay, half an hour. He could make that. Maybe.

But, with Janet here, he couldn't even pull the excuse of not feeling well. Even though it was the complete truth.

“God, I hate these things. Want a beer?"

Glancing over, he saw Jack had arrived, had found him. Jack had a knit cap on his head, and in black leather and dark jeans he looked dressed for a covert mission, not a social event. Staring at the dark brown bottle offered, Daniel knew that if he took it, he'd have to stay long enough to drink it. But he could always just toss it, too.

He took the bottle, shivered at the touch of cold glass on his skin. "Shouldn't we drink something warming?"

Jack shrugged, put his back against the tree. "Reminds you you're alive. God, I hate these things."

"You said that. Is that why I'm here--company for your misery?"

Jack glanced over, his expression neutral, but eyes warm and bright. "Or miserable company. Teal'c wasn't an option since he's...." He waved a hand, left the rest of the words for 'off world' hanging. "You need to get out more anyway."

Lifting his bottle, Daniel drank. "I think Ma'chello got out enough for me."

"Got the credit card bill, hun?" Daniel glanced over to him and Jack shrugged. "It's how we found him. What'd he set you back?"

"Lunch--for everyone in a coffee shop. I guess I should be glad it wasn't O'Malley's and a full night's bar tab."

Jack nodded. "You better make a note of the place anyway. You ever go back, they're gonna have expectations."

"Oh, I'm making notes of lots of places to stay away from."

Slanting a stare at him, Jack drank his beer, then waved the bottle at the tables and the people and the streamers. "It's a reminder--what we're fighting for."

"I know what I'm fighting for and it's nothing here and nothing I need reminders about." The words came out as bitter as the beer, and Daniel knew that he really, really should not have come. He should also chuck the beer. Bad enough to have his inadequacies and losses cutting him apart; unforgivable when he turned that onto others.

Vanity, all is vanity.

Yes, the vanity of self-awareness. A life unexamined might not be worth living, but a life dissected tended to be a bloody mess.

"Sorry. It's--" He waved his beer at the families. He knew he'd do better to shut off his brain, just throw himself into this. And he might have had a chance for that if he'd come prepared. But he hadn't. Now he was wishing he'd thought longer about the chance to swap his life with someone else.

Jack gave up another indifferent shrug. "I know. Makes you want to set off the world's biggest stink bomb. Right in the middle. Right there." He gestured with his beer to a spot, then smiled. "Y'know, bet Carter could build one stinkin' stink bomb. Big honkin', rotten egg sulfur can't wash it out one."

Frowning, Daniel wondered how likely it was that Jack might carry out that idea. "You're not going to ask her?" he said, and he wasn't sure if it was a question or a plea for Jack to be at least somewhat reasonable and not even ask her.

Then he caught Jack's slanted glance at him; Jack looking for a reaction. Jack mouthing off and pushing buttons. And he had to own it'd worked--a reluctant amusement stirred.

He also had to admit he could also see the childish appeal in the idea. The urge to smack someone so they'd know just how bad it felt was pretty much a primitive universal. And it only got worse the worse you were hurting.

With a smile like he knew this, Jack tipped back his beer, then slumped deeper against the tree. "Misery doesn't just love company, it likes to send out invitations. The only consolation is that Smith over there's into his second six pack and his wife has that turn to her mouth that means when they get home he's going to hear about it. And those five rugrats roughhousing on the monkey bars, you just know that's gotta end in tears. Once Hammond leaves, we'll get a fist fight from at least two of the Marines--something started on base that's been brewing that they'll decide to settle now the uniforms are off. Ah, yes--family life, the good ol' American way."

Daniel snorted a choked laugh. He glanced down at his beer, left it dangling from his fingers. "Nice try, Jack."

"Yeah, I though it had a certain general se qua."

"I'd rather be back on Abydos. Although, come to think about it, the parties usually ended up there with at least one fight and someone's wife screaming."

"All that sun and rot-gut? Not surprising. But this...this is called making the best of it."

"Best? No, I don't think I'd call it that. Enduring. Making do."

"Do? You want do, I think I heard Carter say something about tag football later, which'll end up full body tackle. You'll get done alright."

"Ah, something else for me to look forward to."

"Not your best sport?" Jack asked, angling over another glance. Turning, Daniel dropped his chin, stared at the man over the tops of his glasses--not even Jack could be that dense. Jack just drank his beer, then asked, "Do you have a best sport?"

"Chess."

"Not running from Jaffa?"

"That's a profession."

"Right, yeah. How could I forget. Want another beer?"

Daniel held out the one he hadn't drunk. "You can have mine."

"And get your cooties? As Cassie would say, that's a big eeeewwweeee."

"Thanks for the expanded vocabulary. Why aren't you off playing with the rest of the kids, anyway?"

"They wouldn't let me. I cheat. God, I hate these things. Sara used to drag me to them, now Hammond does. I don't know if that's moving up or lateral."

"At least you're consistent. I actually don't mind these things if I have sufficient warning." He shot Jack a hard look to pound in that point.

Jack gave him back wide-eyes and palms spread open and still managed to hang onto his beer while he did it. "What? You'd do homework in advance? You prep like this is a mission?"

Fixing his stare on the ground, Daniel did not look up--but he could feel the heat on the back of his neck. And no--he did not treat it like a mission. More like an ordeal. Something to be gotten through because it was expected. There was a reason he'd been drawn to the study of cultures, and a lot of it had to do with the fact that the entire idea of social interaction baffled him. Also, if you had the excuse of a paper to write, you had a good reason to stay on the outside where you belonged.

Glancing up at the sky, Jack hunched a shoulder. "Whose idea was a picnic in October?"

Daniel offered a shrug, watched the crowd without seeing anyone. He was working hard at getting to that place where he could be here without really being anywhere. So far, the knots that had moved into his spine were telling him he'd failed.

Irritated by Jack's insistence on hanging around, he said, "You're the one who mentioned it to me. And you must be used to these things. Don't you have cousins, even distant family?"

"Not that I ever want to see. Don't you?"

"I suppose there are Jacksons I'm related to--"

"As in--the Five?"

Daniel stared at him, suspected a pop cultural reference, but he wasn't finding the connection and he didn't want to dig for it, so he just went on. "But I don't happen to know any of them. Single child of a single child tends to create not so much a family tree as a narrow lineage."

"Family trunk? Next time, come up with a better excuse for both of us to bail then." Jack pushed off the tree, slapped Daniel's shoulder. "We'd better go play bachelor uncles before Hammond decides we've gone AWOL."

Frowning hard, Daniel stayed where he was. "But I'm--"

"I know, Daniel. We all do. But the role for us today is the unattached guys. We flirt with the wives, taste everyone's food, bum another beer, make goo-goo at a couple of babies--then, duty done, we can clear out, find a pair of steaks in a nice warm room with real chairs."

Tipping his head, Daniel considered. It almost sounded good, except for everything before the leaving part. He glanced back to the families, and wanted to either turn and start walking, or just stay here and sulk. And wasn't that pitiful. Next time he'd dose himself to the gills on allergy meds.

"Isn't there a system lord to face down somewhere?" he asked.

"Next time--find one. Or something really important that we just have to go see. I'll pull ruin duty over this any day."

Grabbing his arm, Jack started pulling, then pushing. Daniel hung back, wanted to say something about how this was ruin duty, but he also knew a lost cause when it grabbed him. When Jack moved from verbal to hands-on, you could only deal with it by escalation, and he wasn't up to that today. However, he had to put up token resistance or Jack might expect him to cave on a regular basis.

"Why is it my job to come up with the excuses?"

"Because you're the smart one. That's the deal."

"Deal?"

"Yeah--now drink your beer and let's get this thing done."

"You swear I come up with a reason next time, you'll make it stick?"

Stopping, Jack turned and face him. "Always, Daniel." He held out his right hand and Daniel glanced down at it, hesitated only an instant before taking Jack's grip.

"Deal, then."

Jack got hold of him again, pushed him through the gauntlet of happy people. Somehow they managed it--he copied Jack's moves, couldn't manage Jack's easy smiles, but it put his focus more on putting others at their ease, instead of thinking about how Sha're would have loved this.

An hour later, Jack started poking at him, and he invented an elderly neighbor who expected help moving a piano, and Jack offered his help, and they both got the hell out of there. Then Jack dragged him to someplace warm where they could both stop having their ruined lives thrown into stark contrast.

* * * *

SEVEN YEARS LATER

God, he'd forgotten how bad these things were. He'd had too many years away from this, too much time protected by excuses and Jack's buffering. That had dimmed his memories--so had ascension. And he'd thought he could do this if he braced himself. He'd thought he ought to be able to be an adult and handle this like one, but it seemed that he'd lost that knack along with so much else.

He'd also been ordered by Landry, nagged by Mitchell, blackmailed by Sam, and Teal'c had just said, "Did I not leave Dakara to be by your side when you lay unconscious and held back from your journey to Atlantis?"

What was he going to say to that--Sorry, you'll have to make do with the others, I'm bailing?

So here he was in a room full of Mitchell's family.

God, he'd never seen so many people who all talked at the same time. Loud, chipper people. You didn't have to guess at the deep connection because the shared past and genes hit you with wide grins and noise and arguments that seemed to have been picked up from the last time they'd been together.

Hell had to be a lot like this, Daniel decided.

What was he doing here?

He didn't know how to deal with this. With families. He'd never known. They had a rhythm to them he'd never mastered, which left him tense and off-balance, every defense mechanism tripped. But Mitchell had somehow convinced Landry this would be good for team bonding.

Daniel had started to think that might work--they might all want to kill Mitchell for dragging them into this.

Sam had been taken to the kitchen by most of the other female Mitchells, a hostage to some outdated convention about women's work. She'd sent a wide-eyed glance over her shoulder, a plea for someone to save her, but Daniel didn't know how, and Mitchell was already deep into conversations with his relatives, and he'd taken Teal'c with him. Vala had been recruited along with Sam, and the separation of women and men reminded Daniel sharply of Abydos.

The ache rose with knee-jerk reaction, dulled by the years but no less deep. Because he'd added all of Abydos--the entire world--to his losses. And he dreaded the first question that came up about his family--Oh, yes, they're all dead or higher beings these days.

Wincing, he wondered why Mitchell wanted him here, or let him get anywhere near these nice, normal people.

Glancing around, Daniel edged closer to the door. So far, he'd had a can of something--it might be beer--pushed in his hand and his shoulders thumped hard enough to make him stagger. The floor almost vibrated now from the noise level, and Daniel didn't have to work to blend into chintz curtains and lemon-waxed furniture. He knew he'd become wallpaper, but what he wanted was to be gone.

For years, Jack had kept him out of these things. Daniel had invented the excuses, Jack had made them stick--that had been the deal. The rest of it--aliens, strangers, hell, the military or the NID even--were all non-issues because so long as he had the structure of polite customs or bitter enmity to work within, Daniel was fine. This fell between the cracks of those categories.

And it was a shock to find he hadn't outgrown this set of insecurities; he'd just covered them up with sarcasm and distance.

In this wooden-slatted farm house, there wasn't enough of either of those. But at least he had his team with him--or some of them. Well, actually, what he seemed to have was Vala, who'd ducked out of the kitchen with a plate of something she'd abandoned as she wound her way through the press of bodies to his side.

She glanced at him, then tucked her hands into the back pockets of tight jeans. "I had no idea. Are all families like this on--well, around here?"

Daniel winced. "That's a frightening thought." He glanced at Vala, then asked, "Do you have any family?"

She lifted a shoulder. "They're either dead or I wish they were. You?"

"About the same."

"About?"

"They're either dead or I don't know if they are. And why the hell am I telling you this?" He glanced down at her.

She gave a shrug, indifferent to his irritation, which was one of the few things he liked about her. She could hold her own, which made her someone you didn't have to be careful around. "What--you're going to tell them?"

He glanced around again. The noise had gone up, so had the heat, and the walls seemed to be closing in. His palm was wet and not from the condensation of the can in his hand. And the question came out because he had to get out of here.

"Want to go for a walk?"

"Oh, please."

She sounded about as desperate as he felt, so he put down his can of whatever on a side table--they all had a scrap of lace on them and too many photographs--then he looked up and said, his voice pitched low, "We're just going for a walk."

No one glanced at them as he got the door open. With Vala whispering that maybe they should try going through the window instead, he pushed her outside, and followed her into raw cold.

The air hit like a slap and he pulled in a deep breath and stalled on the wooden porch with no idea where to go now. But Vala linked her arm with his, tugged as she started walking.

"Come on--we passed some sort of establishment." He glanced at her and she looked up, eyebrows raised. "You didn't notice?"

"You did?"

"Daniel, didn't anyone ever teach you the basics? How can you have an escape plan if you don't have someplace lined up for the escape?"

"We're not--" he broke off the denial, but didn't want to admit the truth. It sounded too cowardly. So he stuck to his excuse. "We're going for a walk."

"Fine. Call it whatever you want."

She started the rambling questions, but since she didn't stop at any point between, he didn't see any need to answer. She had questions about the local flora and fauna, about the weather, and most of it came out as vague complaints. It wasn't as dry or as warm as other--well, other places she'd been. She worked hard to avoid saying she was from another world, but he thought that fact stood up and pretty much screamed when they both stepped inside that establishment she had seen.

Ben's. Not Ben's Bar, or even Ben's Hangout, just Ben's, as if the one word said everything. It was darker on the inside than on the outside, lit in neon signs from beer companies, and half-a-dozen men glanced at them before turning away as if they didn't rate notice. Plaid and baggy jeans and faded t-shirts with logos seemed to be the fashion statement here, and while no one was smoking the place smelled of fifty years of tobacco anyway.

Vala pulled in a deep breath, let out a smile. "Wonderful isn't it? A place where you can be anything."

Frowning, he glanced at her. Was that why this was easier? No expectations? No need to pretend anything? Or was it really that sense of fitting in with a bunch of other misfits who didn't know how to make a home?

Before he could figure it out, Vala dragged him to the bar. He ordered two beers before she could ask for anything. She shrugged, settled with her back to the bar and her elbows perched on the edge as her stare traveled the room. He could see the calculations going in her eyes, and his worry caught up with what she wasn't saying when he saw a man staring back and he caught Vala winking at the guy.

Putting down cash for the beers, he noticed the dart board, put down more money and got six darts slapped onto the bar. That got Vala's attention and she picked up the darts, poked a plastic tip against one finger.

"Not much of a weapon."

"It's a game. Come on."

He took the beers, figured that would be enough to make her follow; she did, with the darts in one hand. He started to explain the game, but before he got further than aim and throw, she turned, hit six bulls eyes. After staring at the board, he turned, stared at her.

"What?" Picking up the beer, she drank the foam, then grinned. "There's got to be some compensation for having been a host. Do we bet on this game?"

With an inward sigh, he gave up, hoped the beer might put her aim off. It didn't. She wiped the board with him four times, then got distracted by the jukebox.

Six beers later--four for her, two for him--he'd gone through his cash. He'd lost it to Vala or had spent it on whatever it was they had on tap. She had learned the bartender wasn't Ben, but was putting himself through college. She'd also won arm-wrestling matches with three of the guys at the bar, dragged two of the other guys into dancing with her, and managed to talk the taciturn guy in the corner into feeding a steady stream of quarters into the jukebox to keep the music going. Country western twang with the occasional ancient seventies hard rock kept the bar noisy.

After the last song, Daniel glanced at his watch--guilt had slowly been eating into him. So he let Vala finish her beer, then said their goodbyes and dragged her with him.

"You can't be serious. We're not--"

"We're supposed to be there for dinner."

"They won't even miss us. Not in that crowd."

"We promised Mitchell," he said, starting back for the farm house.

"I didn't." Vala dragged her arm out of his reach, but did a skip to match her stride to his. "Besides, isn't there a Prior we ought to be fighting instead? Or some emergency?"

Mouth twitching, he glanced at her. "Or a treasure to find?"

"Don't you just wish!" She pulled a face, then admitted, "I do."

They walked on in relative silence, Vala scuffing the soles of her boots on the pavement of the narrow road, both of them ignored by the few cars that sped past.

At the edge of the drive that led to the farm house, daylight was fading. Light spilled from the windows like melting butter. Noise spilled as well--loud voices, the sounds of people who knew each other too well. Daniel wondered how Teal'c was handling it, but Teal'c had a hundred years on them all of dealing. And he liked being at the center of things. And Sam--well, Sam could handle anything.

He glanced at Vala, caught the shadows in her eyes, the uncertainty of someone who'd known too many times of not being welcomed. And he thought of how she'd managed to make that bar her own in five seconds.

"I'll make you a deal--you find something, I'll sell it next time."

"Really? So all I have to do is make--I mean find some ancient tablet, and you'll--"

"Find a good reason we need to be someplace else."

Tilting her head, she glanced at him. "If you're so brilliant, why do I have to come up with anything in the first place?"

"Because you're good at it." He wanted to leave it there, but honesty wouldn't let him, so he added, "And I've done my time."

She nodded, gave back an absent hum, stared at the farm house with more dread than she'd shown facing her own execution. Then she tilted her head, pulled the cash she'd won from him from her hip pocket.

"You know, I still could buy us a couple more beers."

He glanced at the house, knew his duty lay inside. He should be adult about this. He should be the good team member. It was just a room of strangers, and so what if they all had close ties. That didn't mean anything. Then he glanced down at Vala and back over his shoulder to a darkening road.

"I supposed I could come up with something about needing to hear local folklore."

Tucking her arm back in with his, she turned them around. "Daniel, you've got the best excuse in the world. Me! I mean, you can't let the alien go wandering off on her own, now can you? You told Landry you wouldn't."

"No, I suppose not."

"So, with me wandering, you have to wander off after, and I kind of like not-Ben. Did you know he's majoring in psychology?"

She stared into her rhetorical questions again as they started back to Ben's, the closeness of family fading behind them, the ease of people who had no ties ahead of them. He let her words wash over him, wondered if he ought to offer an opinion, but she didn't seem to want even that from him.

The comfort in that had him smiling.

At some point, the others would come hunting for them. He'd make excuses, get back a few jabs, and Sam would probably let him have it for not taking her with him, and Teal'c would keep Mitchell from getting too much on his case.

He glanced down at Vala, felt the old longing stir for the team he'd once had. He still missed Jack. But, then, he still missed Sha're, and Skaara, and Abydos. He still missed the connections he'd almost managed as well as those he'd never learned to make.

But, somewhere in the broken pieces, he'd found a new pattern. He didn't understand the ties of blood, but he knew the bonds of shared experience. Which meant an evening in a bar with Vala working her charms was something he could deal with.

If they were lucky, maybe they'd even find a couple of steaks. And some real chairs to sit on.

**The End **

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