Disclaimer: I am a very honest person and as such must admit that I do not own Stargate SG-1 or any of its characters . . . also, sadly I will receive no monetary gain from this endeavor.

Author's Note: I'd like to give a big shout out to my wonderful unofficial Beta judybear236. You are awesome girl! Thank you so much :)

Warning! May contain episode plot spoilers for Season Three's Shades of Grey.

Time Frame: One week after Shades of Grey

Location: O'Neill's house

Genre: Mainly Friendship based Hurt/Comfort, but there is a sizable dose of humor at the end . . .

Colonel Jack O'Neill stared out across his back yard. The long shadows and dull, uninspiring sunset he found there, mirrored his mood almost perfectly. Had there been a few dark clouds in the sky or maybe a touch of thunder it would have been ideal.

As he stood there, considering the world's appropriately dismal appearance, the Colonel suddenly grew tense. Unless instinct deceived him, he was no longer alone. Granted, there was nothing overtly hostile about this new 'presence', but in truth it didn't matter. Feeling somewhat indifferent about life at the moment, O'Neill wouldn't have cared if his mysterious visitor had been armed with a staff weapon or even a P90. Come what may, he simply did not care. So digging both hands into his pockets and exhaling a heavy breath, the Colonel remained stubbornly in place.

A few seconds later, a kind, familiar voice broke the silence.

"Jack?"

O'Neill's eyes dropped and he murmured a soft reply. "Sir."

General Hammond smiled at the reluctant greeting and moved closer. "Son, we need to talk."

Jack's shoulders stiffened visibly at this suggestion. If there was one thing he did not want to do right now, it was talk. Scuffing one foot in a soft show of resistance, he turned to face his commander. "What about, Sir?"

"You - and your team."

Flinching at the very words, O'Neill lost himself in a visual examination of the ground. "My team . . ." he echoed.

"Yes, Jack."

A long moment of deliberation followed this answer, but at length the Colonel gestured to a nearby deck chair. "Wanna' sit?"

Hammond nodded at this respectful, if not enthusiastic, offer and walked forward.

"Want anything to drink, Sir?" Jack asked, hoping for a bit of distraction. "Water, tea, coffee, diet soda . . . beer?"

Assuming the previously proffered seat, the General only shook his head. "Sit down, son."

The simple suggestion 'sit down' seemed to cause O'Neill even more discomfort. He shifted uneasily, fingered an available chair, but did not take a seat. Under Hammond's persistent gaze, however, he at last complied.

With his audience thus settled the General began. "I've been watching you and the rest of SG-1 very carefully this week . . ."

"Intriguing are we, Sir?" Jack injected flippantly.

"In-cohesive is actually the word I would use. On the surface, you all look and sound like the team I know, but underneath there's a tension between you that I just can't explain."

"No disrespect intended, Sir, but isn't that a very shrink-esque sort of thing for you to say?"

Hammond almost chuckled. "Maybe, but there is something going on and I want to know what it is." When a steely look of silence came in answer to this request Hammond pressed a bit harder. "Son, I'm not going to stand by and watch while my best team - who also happen to be some of my best friends - get torn apart. Now, I know you're not one for talking Jack, but in order for me to help, you have to tell me what's wrong."

The hurt and anger O'Neill had been harboring throughout the past week suddenly flared against the General. With piercing eyes and a tone that bordered on being insubordinate, he snapped a reply. "Oh, I think we both know what's wrong, Sir."

Unmoved, Hammond allowed these biting words to hang in the air. At this point, he was just grateful to have received some kind of verbal reaction from his tight-lipped Colonel; and disrespect notwithstanding, he felt an enormous amount of compassion for the man before him. This being the case, he could hardly bring himself to issue a reprimand.

Stung by this show of patience, Jack diverted his focus. Rubbing a hand along the back of his neck, he ground out a deep sigh. With effort, he tried to form a less objectionable comeback. All that emerged, however, was a muttered string of rather unflattering comments about the Asgard and the Tollan.

"Colonel? Care to clarify that for me please?"

Looking up sharply, O'Neill gave the General a hard stare. "I should never have agreed to it, Sir. You knew as well as I did that my team was not involved in those thefts."

"It was the only way," Hammond consoled. "You know that."

"No, Sir – I don't know that! Not anymore." Rising to his feet in a rush of frustration, Jack began to pace. His once orderly thoughts turned into a blur and his emotions went into overdrive. All that he had been struggling to keep hidden, now came in a torrent to the surface. Unable to remain silent any longer, the Colonel abruptly retook his seat. "Sir, I systematically stabbed every member of my team in the back! I lied to them, gave 'em a swift kick in the pants and walked away without so much as 'nice to have known ya'. Do you have any idea what that was like? To see the hurt written all over their faces and know that I was the one who put it there! Sir, I pushed the people I care about the most completely out of my life and for what?"

"To preserve our world's relationship with its two greatest allies . . ." Hammond started, reaching a hand toward his second in command.

O'Neill stood, moving away from this offer of comfort, and crossed to the deck rail. Wrapping his fingers about the wooden balustrade, he gripped it with all of his might. "Yes, so you told me. Told my team that, too . . . but it didn't change anything."

"Jack, you were doing your job. Maybe in retrospect it doesn't seem fair, but believe me it was the only way." When the sound of O'Neill's open palm colliding with the wooden rail met this reassurance, Hammond frowned. "Son, your team understands . . ."

"Do they, Sir?" Jack challenged. "General, the four of us have faced some of the worst case scenarios on record and lived to tell the tale every time and do you know why? Because we know each other. No matter what the circumstances are, we instinctively know how the other will react - and we trust each other to make the right decisions. I violated that trust!"

"Colonel, I think you are underestimating your team. Even after you went off-world to 'retire' they resisted getting a new leader. I think deep down they were still holding out hope that you would return. Jack, they wanted you back."

O'Neill's head lowered at these words and he whispered a barely audible reply. "Sir, they don't want anything to do with me . . ."

"Did they tell you that?"

"No. Didn't have to."

"Jack talk to them . . ."

"General," O'Neill interrupted impatiently. "Daniel, Carter and Teal'c mean more to me than anything in this whole stinking universe and I treated them like dirt! Right now, I don't even want to be with me."

Unsure what to say, Hammond studied his Colonel in silence. Then, after a brief look in the direction of O'Neill's driveway, he smiled. Waiting a few moments, he set forth a new question. "Jack, why don't you just tell SG-1 . . . you're sorry."

"They wouldn't believe me," came the heartbroken reply. "And I can't think of one good reason why they should."

"You're wrong, Jack."

Whirling around at the unexpected voice, O'Neill came face to face with Daniel Jackson. Accompanying the archaeologist was also a certain blonde Major and one Jaffa.

"He's right, Sir," Carter murmured.

"Indeed."

"But why . . ." Jack stammered, afraid to believe his own ears.

"Ah, well, I don't know exactly," Daniel shrugged. "Call it instinct, habit, leap of faith . . . something to do."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow at the doctor's sarcasm and then offered his own explanation. "We know your true character O'Neill and you are a warrior of great honor. You did not wish to harm us - of this I am certain."

Jack's optics roved over the faces of his team. His jaw moved, attempting to form words, but nothing emerged. Air burned in his lungs causing breath to come in soft, labored heaves. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve them. Not after what he'd done . . . the pain he'd caused. How could they possibly -

"We want you back, Sir," Carter assured. "Please."

Again, O'Neill's mouth moved uncertainly, heat stinging the back of his eyes. Before him, Sam, Daniel and Teal'c blurred into indistinct blobs and he found himself nodding. Several seconds later he was still nodding, but had yet to speak.

"Well, are you just going to stand there?" Daniel chided, trying his best to sound annoyed. "It's team night - or had you forgotten?"

The Colonel paused, then shook his head. No, he hadn't forgotten.

"Due to your absence O'Neill, Major Carter, Daniel Jackson and myself took the liberty of making all the necessary preparations," Teal'c informed him. Bringing his hands out from behind his back the Jaffa then held up several bags. "As you can see, we have forgotten nothing."

"Almost nothing," Dr. Jackson amended with a guilty expression.

"Well technically we didn't forget it, Daniel," Sam corrected. "We did have one, Sir, it just, well, got dropped."

Thoroughly bewildered, Jack tilted his head as he waited for Carter to elaborate. As he watched, a sheepish smile crept onto her face.

"It was a cake, Sir."

"For me?" O'Neill asked wistfully.

"Indeed."

"And you dropped it?"

Daniel suddenly began fidgeting and nodded. "Yep."

"You dropped my cake?"

A mega-watt grin leapt onto Carter's face and she started to giggle. "Yes, Sir. He did."

"But do not fear," Teal'c intoned. "Our supply of blue jello remains undamaged."

"See, Jack we're not totally dessert-less."

The Colonel dropped his disappointed look and offered a small smile. "Yeah, there's that."

For a time, the four team members stood in silence. When the stillness was at last broken, it was Teal'c who took the initiative.

"O'Neill. I have observed an action among your people, used to demonstrate love and affection towards those from whom you have been absent. I believe now would be an appropriate time to take such an action." Setting aside the bags of supplies, the Jaffa crossed to O'Neill's side. Extending his arms, he then enveloped the other man in a hug.

Though somewhat surprised by the action, Jack did not hesitate to reciprocate. "Well, thanks, T."

Breaking away, Teal'c bowed. "You are welcome O'Neill."

Almost immediately, Sam moved forward. Offering a crisp salute, she waited for it to be returned before speaking. "It is an honor to serve with you, Sir."

Recognition flashed through Jack's eyes at the familiar phrase and he swallowed hard. "Back at cha' ma-am."

Carter's smile began to grow. "May I, Sir?"

Seeing her slightly open hands, O'Neill nodded his permission. Getting a hug from his favorite Major would be more than alright with him. As she moved into his arms, Jack sighed. Holding her close, he rocked back and forth gently. For having had such a rotten start, this evening was certainly showing signs of improvement.

Once this embrace had ended, it was Daniel's turn to claim the Colonel's attention. Almost instantly the eyes of the two men met. There was a brief hesitation, until finally the doctor found his voice.

"So, Jack."

"Daniel?"

"About the whole drawing straws thing . . . I, ah, just want you to know that . . . I was gonna' come anyway."

Jack's face softened at this admission and he quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Without waiting for an invitation or permission, O'Neill wrapped his arms around the archaeologist. Immediately the gesture was returned and with an intensity that told Jack everything he needed to know. Exhaling a breath he had unknowingly been holding, the Colonel gripped his friend just a bit tighter. "I am so sorry, Danny," he whispered.

"I know, Jack," Daniel murmured. "I know."

As the two men separated, O'Neill gave an exaggerated sniff and swiped at his eyes. "Well that's enough of that," he announced playfully. "I'm starved. General do you . . ."

"General Hammond has left O'Neill," Teal'c declared with certainty. "I believe he withdrew upon hearing the fate of the cake."

Laughter met this comment and Jack clapped a hand on the Jaffa's shoulder. "Well can you blame him? Come one let's hurry and get the rest of this stuff in the house before we lose it, too."

In accordance with the Colonel's orders, Teal'c and Daniel scurried to retrieve the bags of food. O'Neill and Carter hung back, allowing the eager duo plenty of room to work. Once the pair in question had vanished inside, Jack then turned to his second in command.

"Um, Carter, there's something else."

"Yes, Sir."

"About the whole retirement thing . . . I don't want to go to Edora."

"No?"

"No," Jack answered gently.

Sam's blue eyes locked onto those of her commanding officer. Her cheeks blushed slightly and she offered a tender smile. "I'm glad, Sir."

A crash coming from the kitchen, soon shattered this quiet moment.

"I didn't do it!" Daniel yelled from the depths of the house.

"Who is responsible is irrelevant Daniel Jackson. Either way, the blue jello has been lost."

Erupting in laughter at these disembodied voices, Jack and Carter hurried inside to join their teammates. For the first time in weeks, everything was just at it should be . . . this was going to be quite a night.

The End

Well there it is . . . Hope you enjoyed it! Please, please, please review! Reviews absolutely make my day :)