Author's Note: Finally! I know it's been forever since I updated this, but I just wasn't feeling inspired and everything I tried was offbeat from what I'd written in previous chapters. I think I've finally got it. Thanks to everyone who is sticking with me, and if you really want more, reviews will certainly give me the incentive.

-Bixata

Jack was whistling. His lips had healed relatively quickly and he had discovered that whistling was a lot easier on his throat than humming. Why he felt the compulsion to produce any kind of musical sounds, as horrid as they might be, was completely beyond his comprehension but it sure beat having to listen to the nothingness of a vacant isolation room.

Daniel had done a lot more damage to himself than either of them had suspected when he'd had his breakdown over what had happened to Sha're. Janet had rushed in and immediately began fussing over both men, ordering Jack back to his own bed even as she assessed the damage to Daniel's body. As Jack had been too focused on his own misery to understand what Dr. Fraiser was saying he had been surprised to find that he was completely alone when he finally regained control of his senses.

So he was whistling, something bright and cheery, to keep the pain away, to keep his mind occupied from the fear of losing Daniel.

That wasn't entirely true. It wasn't just the fear of losing his friend, it was the fear of not having his friend there to help him through this. He needed to hear Daniel's breathing to remember that he was alive, and have Daniel talk about annoying things he knew Jack would never care about just so Jack could have a reason to gripe at him, which would conveniently distract his mind from the pain.

The tune changed, taking on an edge of desperation, until he suddenly stopped. He was on the verge of panic, and Colonel Jack O'Neill did not panic. Ever.

It was too quiet. He couldn't see, and he couldn't hear. He couldn't touch. Taste and smell seemed to be hotwired to the memory of burning flesh. Maybe, if he could just find the end of that bandage on his left arm, and if he yanked it hard enough, someone would come and take him to Daniel and he wouldn't be alone in the dark anymore. Daniel needed him.

Finally, as he was mentally talking himself out of self-mutilation because of the psychological treatment he would have to undergo and that was so not something he wanted, he heard the door open. "Daniel?" he asked, hoping either to hear Daniel's reassuring voice or one of the nurses telling him what was going on.

It felt like an eternity before he got an answer. "It is I, O'Neill."

"T. Buddy." He didn't like the feeling of the hard 'c' sound in the back of his throat, but Teal'c didn't seem to be offended by the impromptu nickname. "How's Daniel?"

"Dr. Fraiser says he will be fine though he delayed his recovery by removing the bandages. He did not seem overly upset by this pronouncement."

"Are they going to bring him back here?"

"Within the hour."

He felt an unreasonable sense of peace come over him at that news. He felt bad for not feeling bad that Daniel would be suffering longer. "The General back yet?" he asked to divert attention away from his gladness that Daniel would be back.

"He is not. He will be returning to the base tomorrow morning."

"Oh. I lost track of time."

"Is there anything you require, O'Neill?"

"You know how to whistle, T?"

"I do not."

"Daniel will teach you. You just put your lips together and…blow."

God, he loved the Classics.

-----

Jacob watched his daughter carefully after the ceremony. This should have been one of the proudest moments of her life, and instead she looked weighed down by guilt and remorse. She looked downright miserable when she was given Colonel O'Neill's medal after she received her own. Not many other people had noticed but he knew his daughter too well.

He couldn't tell her about the strings he had pulled to get her into NASA. If he told her now there was a chance she would jump at the chance in order to escape the consequences of what had happened at her current posting, and that would only hurt her in the long run. You can't go running from your mistakes, eventually they will catch up with you. On the other hand, she might just jump down his throat at his meddling tendencies. He only wanted the best for her, and sometimes she interpreted that as him trying to control her life and career. Which, admittedly, was sometimes true.

He didn't have long left. The cancer was leaving him weaker each day, reminding him of his own mortality. He wanted the reassurance that his family would be taken care of when he was gone, not that they had ever really needed him when he was alive. Mark still refused his calls and he was too tired to pick at the old wounds. Mark had a good life and he had a family of his own.

But Sam didn't have anyone, not that he knew of anyway. When George had called to tell him about this awards ceremony he had mentioned that Sam was very close to her teammates, that they were almost like a family. The accident must have torn that apart, just like the car accident that had taken her mother away had torn their family apart.

Should he pile the news about his cancer on top of everything else?

He didn't know what to do, and he hated that. He took a deep breath and approached his only daughter. "Hey, Sam."

"Dad."

"We need to talk. Do you have a minute?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"It's personal, Sam. Please. I need to know you're okay."

"I'll be fine. I can take of myself."

"That's what I'm afraid of. You don't have to go through this alone. George said your team was like a family, I'm sure they understand."

"What do you know about it? Have you spoken to Mark recently? Maybe, sometime in the past, oh I don't know, ten years?"

Okay, now he was beginning to lose his temper. "Colonel O'Neill is your CO. Maybe you've forgotten how things work in the Air Force, Sam, but in my experience, when the commanding officer takes full responsibility, he means it. You're not only hurting yourself with this blame and self-pity thing you've got going, you're hurting your team as well. Have you talked to them? Have they blamed you for anything? Are you helping them through their recovery, or did you abandon them to deal with their fractured team alone? I know what it's like Sam. When your mother died…I handled that badly. I couldn't do anything right, and I'm sorry I couldn't forgive myself enough to keep our family together. You're better than me, Sam. Don't let this ruin you."

He couldn't tell if she was hurt by his words or comforted by them. She wouldn't cry, he knew she would play it tough until she was alone, and maybe even then. He may have made things worse, given her something else to feel guilty about, but that's what father's were for, wasn't it? And for something else.

"I love you, Sam. I just want you to be happy."

TBC