oOo Chapter 21: EPILOGUE

Dr Standish scooped the pile out of her mailbox, feeling a solid object sliding between the paper. She hugged it all against herself so nothing would fall as she made her way to her desk. Leaning over, she dropped it carefully into her in-box.

She lifted the top layer of paper to expose a round, green object.

She smiled as she lifted the jar of salsa. The green kind. A token of friendship from Jack.

oOo

Dr Fraiser unlocked her office and stopped suddenly.

Someone had been here.

And someone was sitting in her chair.

She smiled as she picked up the bear. He held her "Pooh's Grand Adventure' cd in his arms, explaining who had been here. And, in all probability, the source of the early morning heart-monitor malfunction.

oOo

Daniel fingered the small object, feeling it warm under his fingers, still hardly believing his eyes.

A replica of his medallion, found under his coffee cup when he picked it up that morning.

It was the dull silver of pewter instead of shiny gold. And it had a line all round the edge where the sides of the mold had been joined. He knew Jack would tell him later that he could have it sanded smooth and painted or plated with gold. But he wouldn't do it. It would never be the original.

It was better.

The original had represented a lot to him: his home on Abydos. Sha're. Kasouf. Skaara. Adventure. Incredible discoveries. Vindication, though they didn't know it yet, among his archaeological peers. He used to look at it when he was feeling low, to help him remember, to give him strength.

By the time he had packed it up to send to its new owner he couldn't stand to look at it. It made him think of his own pettiness in refusing to sell an object to save his best friend. And how that must have made Jack feel, especially while he was struggling by himself with the budget. Another little betrayal to add to all the others.

And despite it all, Jack had given him this gift. All his good memories of the original back, plus the reminder of their friendship. Did it matter if both were a little rough around the edges?

This was definitely better.

oOo

Hammond waved Teal'c into his office to join the crowd. They had all come straight to him, each triumphantly brandishing their newly-discovered memento as proof that the Colonel was alive and mentally well. Each demanding that he call off the troops searching for Jack and set the record straight on the man's status.

All they needed now was the Colonel himself.

The man who inspired enough loyalty for a half a dozen people to brazenly confront their base commander on his behalf.

The man who was still missing. Was he just being modest, as the people in his office insisted in their zeal to believe he was well? Or were these mementos his way of saying goodbye?

oOo

"My records show that Colonel O'Neill signed in at 04:48 on Tuesday and did not sign out until 18:10 on Friday." Hammond didn't mention that the Colonel had somehow signed in two more times since Tuesday morning without ever signing out till Friday. He'd discuss that little issue privately with O'Neill. He would not tolerate a secret exit from his base other than the one he periodically allowed while testing the cadets. But Simmons didn't need to know there had ever been one.

"General, please," Simmons scoffed. "This whole thing has O'Neill's signature all over it."

"First, you say the man is incompetent, now you say he carried out covert operations without even leaving this base? You can't have it both ways, Colonel. If you put it in writing that your accusation of incompetence was false, then I will investigate this new accusation of impropriety." Hammond waited for his answer.

As expected, Simmons flatly refused to put anything in writing. The official record would show that Major James Michaels had had a change of heart and confessed kidnapping, assault, and attempted murder to the public authorities. That he had done so while waiting to be handed over on lesser charges to the relatively benign custody of his own chain of command was in no way related to any actions on the part of one Colonel Jack O'Neill.

Hammond personally was certain that there was a connection, but did that matter if justice was served? He was still not clear on exactly how Jack had figured out that Michaels was behind it all, let alone how he had gotten to the man while he was in police custody. The Colonel had not been surprised to hear the news, but all he would admit was that the very attempts to drive him crazy had triggered the realization of who had started it all. As for his whereabouts during the time he was off-base, Jack said only that he had checked that Charlie and Michael made it to day-care safely. His way of telling Hammond that the children used against him were unharmed. He knew better than to compromise himself by saying anything more.

Michaels had confessed shortly before O'Neill had checked back in Friday. And that was before Hammond had had a chance to share his information with O'Neill.

The man admitted to kidnapping an Air Force officer with the intent to torture him to death. He threw himself on the mercy of the court with a plea of no contest. James Michaels professed remorse, saying that even if he blamed O'Neill for the death of his brother Colonel John Michaels on a mission gone bad years ago in Germany, he had no personal right to exact retribution.

There would be no public mention of attempting to extract information from his victim or of selling the man to what he believed to be a foreign power. However, the Federal government reserved the right to prosecute him on those crimes if and when he was freed by the civil authorities.

Not perfect. But Colonel O'Neill said it would do.

The Colonel had been in a very forgiving mood since his final return to the base. More upbeat than the General had seen him in a long time.

Not perfect. But it would do.

oOo

"Come."

Dr McKenzie entered, and shut the door behind him.

"What's up, Doc?" Jack had waited a long time to get to use that one.

Now that he was here, McKenzie didn't quite know what to say. He couldn't get over what he had seen in that video. Sure, they had discussed that sort of thing in school. Showed pictures of the aftermath, even. Clinically discussed the likely emotions and best approaches for treatment. Studied session reports from victims. But to see it happening... He shuddered.

Jack watched the man standing in front of him. McKenzie stared silently back, then shivered as if he felt a cold draft. "You ok?"

The doctor nodded. Sat down in a chair. Still didn't say anything. What do you say to a man like this? 'I had no idea'?

"Do you want me to call Dr Fraiser for you?" Jack asked. The shrink was creeping him out. Sitting there staring at him.

"No. I just... I guess I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Jack sat back. Here was his chance. One free opportunity to let the Doc have it. To rip holes in the man's ego the size of the ones in his own soul. He was gonna enjoy this!

He took a deep, anticipatory breath. And stopped. The man before him was wretched. Not the puffed up, self important bozo he was used to seeing.

So what? After what he'd just been through, he deserved a chance to vent. He started again.

And stopped.

Considered.

"You were defending your teammate. I respect that."

McKenzie's jaw dropped.

"You went about it all wrong." McKenzie stiffened, ready to get chewed out. "But the intent was right." Jack waited for a response.

"How can you say that?" McKenzie looked stunned.

"It's my job as a leader to do what's best for the people under my command. And that includes you. I will caution you, however." Jack paused, watching McKenzie, knowing the man was wondering if he was about to be threatened. "If a situation like this ever comes up again, get some help working it out. A lot of good officers went through a lot of unnecessary stress over this."

McKenzie paused, chewing his lip. What could he say? "Thankyou." He rose and left, humbled. Colonel O'Neill was the better man.

Jack watched him leave then sat back, content. That had been more satisfying than blasting him would have been. Sure, ripping into him would have felt good for the moment. But McKenzie would have listened to him rant, then forgotten it, considering himself absolved. Instead, Jack had made the man think about what he had done, and about how he should try to change in the future. That was the kind of thing that would sting McKenzie more than nasty words.

That, and besting him at his own holier-than-thou game. Nothing would get to the dear doctor more than someone else being the bigger man.

Know your enemy.

oOo

Kresge trudged over to the maintenance closet. Even his old job in the mailroom had been better than mopping floors. He opened the door and bent to retrieve his bucket, only then noticing that the mop was missing. He looked again. Definitely not there.

Crap. He'd get way behind looking for it. If he asked anyone about it, or tried to borrow another, all he'd get would be wisecracks about 'assuming' that it would be in the closet.

He slammed the door shut. One stupid mistake, assuming that Colonel O'Neill would get a copy of the quarterly budget as usual, and he was screwed for the rest of his term of duty.

He wondered if the missing mop was Dr Jackson's addition to his misery.

First, the General had reassigned him from mail to maintenance, after grilling him about any other mishandled mail. He'd felt lucky to escape the base commander without jail time.

Then Major Carter had reamed him thoroughly. He was sure she was behind all the disgusting spills he'd been sent to clean up, too. The big alien, Teal'c, had also made his displeasure clear, verbally as well as by 'asking' his assistance with a self-defense demonstration in the gym. He had even gone to Kresge's new commanding officer to suggest that Kresge needed thorough and detailed supervision as he could not be trusted with the simplest tasks.

He sighed and went off in search of a mop. He rounded the corner and saw his replacement delivering the mail to the SF office and sighed again. Four hundred and twenty seven days left in this term of duty. And counting.

oOo

"I'll drive," Jack offered. He'd finally made peace, or at least accomplished a mutual non-aggression pact with the little car. He'd never admit it to anyone else, but he was becoming fond of it. There was a lot of power packed into that little body, and it was more agile than his truck.

"Did you get a new car?" Daniel asked.

"Not yet." He led them toward the small almond vehicle.

Carter could swear she saw the little sports car cringe as the four of them approached it. "I'll ride shotgun!"

Daniel closed his eyes in resignation. At this moment, there was nothing he would refuse his friend, not even this. Even if four people their size would probably fit more comfortably on Sam's motorcycle. He opened the door and climbed in back. Wasn't as bad as he had feared. If he sat sideways, with his legs behind the opposite seat, it was comfortable enough.

Until Teal'c climbed back there with him.

Carter stood back and watched the show, returning her seat to its upright position when the writhing in back seemed to settle. She slid into her seat, grimacing until she found a comfortable position for her sore leg. Jack climbed in next to her, his knees ridiculously high up in the small area.

"Teal'c, your hand's on my --" Daniel objected.

"Be still."

"What are you -- hey!"

"Danny darling!"

Jack and Carter exchanged a stunned look, their eyes sliding slowly toward the back of the car, half afraid of what they might see back there. It was hard to turn far enough to see much.

"Uh, something you two want to tell us about?" Jack asked tentatively.

"He is what Major Carter has called a 'knockout.' I believe there is an Earth custom that dictates that since I have uncovered him his is mine to possess."

Heck with the leg! Carter twisted around, kneeling on her seat with her good leg, the injured one semi-straight behind her. Jack wished he could do the same, but he was pinned behind the steering wheel.

"Awwww!"

Jack stared in disbelief as his second's face softened with that annoying just-seen-a-baby look. What the hell were they doing back there? Carter reached out one hand, and it came back holding a small stuffed bird. She held it up for his inspection. "Danny Darling, the Scarlet Starling," she read from its tag. "It's a beanie-baby knock-OFF, Teal'c. Where'd you find it?"

"It was wedged beneath --"

"Just drive, Jack!" Daniel snapped.

Jack caught Teal'c's eye in the rearview mirror and the big man's lip twitched. Those slips of the tongue were no accidents; he was developing a sly sense of humor.

Jack smirked appreciatively. "It's 'Finders Keepers,' Teal'c. So I guess Danny is all yours!"

"Jaaack!"

They emerged from the restaurant, replete with the meal, and relaxed. Daniel froze, then yelled 'Race you for the front seat!' and took off running for the car.

Teal'c chased him, but was unable to make up for the other man's headstart in the length of the parking lot. He inclined his head. "You are victorious." He climbed into the back seat, sitting diagonally as Daniel had initially. Carter started to climb in, careful of her injured leg. Teal'c reached out with strong arms and assisted her in, settling her legs across his lap and supporting her shoulders with one arm. He smiled smugly at Daniel as he snuggled there with Carter practically sitting on his lap.

Jack, too, grinned. Teal'c was certainly making the most of this car.

He slid in behind the wheel, his knee automatically avoiding the keys, and put it into gear. The little car was sluggish under the weight of four large adults and he was reminded of how small it seemed in comparison to his usual truck. No matter, he wasn't as strong as he usually was either. But he would be. So much had been resolved in the past few days. Michaels was neutralized. The dream didn't plague him anymore. The misunderstandings and miscommunications with his team, the medical staff, and even Hammond had been clarified.

He sighed contentedly; he felt like he was finally on the road to recovery now.