Jack O’Neill sighed, feeling at peace for the first time in a very long time. It took a lot nowadays to do that, but being far above the earth in Lear E-210 tended to do the trick.

He gave another deep sigh, feeling the sun on his face as he slowly bought the plane to cruising altitude and leveled it out.

Oh yeah this was the life.

Not a Jaffa or a Gou’ald to be seen, or even worse, a certain Senator.

After a while he casually nudged the Lear into a slow bank, staring out at blue sky and fluffy white clouds. The sight always managed to give him a sense of real belonging, making him relax in a way he hadn’t done in ages.

" This is beautiful," came the hushed voice of Daniel Jackson, securely strapped in to the seat next to him. " Truly absolutely wonderful."

Jack smiled at his friend. "Truly absolutely wonderful? You know, for a linguist, you don’t know enough superlatives." He looked back at the brilliant blue of the sky and grinned, a grin so happy and infectious that Daniel couldn’t help but grin along with him.

" So give me some more Oh Great Master."

" Try magnificent, breathtaking, absolutely luurvvely, Danny boy." He reached over and clapped the younger man on the shoulder. " Up here I have a sense of cosmic freedom. Up here, I can almost do whatever I want. Up here what that Oma Desai woman thing said almost makes sense." He gave Daniel a sparkling glance. " Kinda."

Daniel gave him a disbelieving heavy-lidded glare for a fraction of a second before his attention was once more drawn out of the window. " Is that the curvature of the earth?" he asked.

Jack stared to where his finger indicated, seeing the darker blue of the sky meet the blue and white of the earth in an amazing arch, and nodded.

" You know, we have seen this before, from Thor’s ship," he said.

Daniel was already shaking his head in denial even as the last words left Jack’s mouth.

" Oh no Jack. No we haven’t, not like this."

Daniel stared at his friend, noticing for the first time just how relaxed Jack looked. He was leaning back with his long hands lightly caressing the controls, a half smile on his face. The worry lines of last couple of months were completely erased from his face, leaving his dark eyes clear and tranquil.

Jack nodded his head, conceding the point. " You’re right Daniel. In the Asgard ship we were insulated from the earth, in fact, we were flying too far above it for mother earth to have any impact on us. This is different. It’s just you and me and a sea of different shades of blue." His eyes were serious as he gazed over the controls. " It brings home precisely what we are fighting for, doesn’t it?"

" It does. It also brings home just how fragile the earth is." Daniel said.

Jack nodded slowly in agreement. " Oh yes Danny. This planet is…special." He reached forwards and lightly touched the glass in front of him, uncaring of the cold. " This is our planet. This is home."

Daniel couldn’t help but to agree.

He sat silently for a while, allowing his soul to unfurl, in fact, he was sure they both did.

They had been shot at, stabbed and generally abused over the past few months, something that was beginning to weigh heavily on them, so when the opportunity came up for them to escape they did so, and to hell with General Hammond and the SGC.

Jack laughed, making Daniel realize that he had voiced his thoughts aloud.

" Danny boy," he said gently, his eyes twinkling. " It may be hard to realize, but I’m still actually at work." He shook his head at Daniel’s confused expression. " In order for me to retain my qualifications as a pilot in the USAF, I have to spend a certain amount of hours in flight." He gave a grand gesture at the magnificent vista in front of them. " This my dear space monkey, I am doing, right here and now. I’m happily spiraling upwards in ever increasing circles above Peterson Air Force Base, no doubt irritating them no end, and will do until they decide that they have had enough and call us down."

Daniel gave him a mock grimace. " And there I thought we were playing hooky."

Jack gave a bark of laughter. " I learnt at a very early age never to play hooky with the Air Force. They tend to send out armed MP’s to retrieve you." He gave Daniel a sideways look.

" That can be most embarrassing, believe me."

" I bet," Daniel grunted, fascinated with the distant patchwork of farmland far, far below their plane. " And you used to jump out of these as well?"

Jack gave him a grin. " I’ll try not to do so today, my willing pupil, although believe me, it’s fun."

Daniel stared at him in mock alarm. " Please stay. This is the one time in which I really appreciate your company."

Jack slowly turned them again, chasing the sun. " Well, if you insist, although you should know the basics of flight by now." He raised an eyebrow, " Or have you forgotten everything I’ve taught you?"

Daniel shook his head. " No, not at all. The problem is trying to sort everything out." He gave his friend a glare. " It may be easy for you, having been taught years ago, but to give me a crash course in the morning and then expect me to know what is going on by lunch time isn’t really fair."

Jack gave him an evil look. " My granddaddy O’Neill had a saying for situations like this - Turnabout is fair play. I distinctly remember a lesson on the living habits and customs of early Inca’s you gave to me more or less this time last month."

Daniel gave Jack a hurt look. " You were looking bored, and besides, the nurses had begged me to distract you."

Jack snorted derisively. " Checkers is a distraction. Hell, even chess is a distraction. A two-hour lecture on Inca sun gods or whatever with unpronounceable thirteen syllable names or longer is not my idea of a distraction."

He gestured towards the distant horizon. " In case you hadn’t noticed, which I doubt, this is my idea of distraction, or of having fun, and if you would just admit it, it’s your idea of fun as well."

Daniel stayed stubbornly silent, but his sparkling eyes gave him away.

" So, now what sahib?" he said after a while.

" Now?" He gave Daniel an innocent look that immediately made the linguist grip his seat tightly. " Well, now I think I’ll have one Danny, shaken, not stirred."

With that, Jack whooped and took the Lear into a perfect Immelman roll.

Daniel’s reaction was all that he hoped for. " Jack, are you mad?" he howled, trying hard to hold onto his lunch. He stared wide-eyed at his grinning friend as the man bought the plane to level flight again. " Are you trying to get us killed?" he asked again in a whisper. " ‘Cos if you are, just shove me out the nearest airlock and be done with it, okay?"

Jack gave him an innocent stare. " Mad? Moi?" He held his one hand over his heart, contriving to look hurt. " I’ll have you know I was doing acrobatics a week into flight training."

" Really?" Daniel asked dryly. " And how did your instructors react?"

" Kinda like you did," Jack said sheepishly. " They told me off and almost drummed me out of the program." He sighed, abruptly serious. " I was a wild child, full of it and a chip on my shoulder the size of a log. It took the patience of one man to make me realize I wasn’t alone in the world. After he broke through to me I returned his patience in graduating top of my class."

Daniel was silent, realizing that Jack O’Neill was offering up another jealously guarded piece of his past, a rare thing indeed.

" So who was he?" he asked after a while.

" Captain Temple." Jack’s eyes were distant as he sent the plane on yet another spiral.

" I thought he was ancient, even though looking back he must have been all of thirty five or so. He had been through ‘Nam, which automatically qualified him as a genuine hero in my eyes. I was a young arrogant bastard, even if I say so myself, but he got through to me. Somehow."

He sighed, lost in memories. " He’s probably dead now, but will always be the man who got me my wings."

Daniel looked at O’Neill with raised eyebrows. " What wings? You never wear them."

Jack gave the linguist a slow look, " I did before the first Abydos mission, remember?" His smile was wistful. " The only reason why I don’t wear my wings is the fact that I really don’t have space on my uniform. Besides," he said thoughtfully, " It always feels weird being known as an aviator in a base over twenty floors below ground." He shrugged innocently. " I know Carter feels the same way."

Daniel stared at him. " Bullshit. You’re vain."

" I am not." Jack gave him a hard stare. " Those tiny silver wings also hooked up on everything."

Daniel had him, and knew it. " That’s crap. You’re just too vain to wear them."

Jack turned to Daniel, deftly clicking a switch on in the instrument panel situated between them.

" Daniel," he said patiently. " It’s best not to argue with the driver, especially when he’s the only thing standing between you and certain death."

Daniel gave him a grin. " Ah come on. These airplanes almost fly themselves nowadays, especially one as luxurious as this."

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, just in case Jack had forgotten about the deep pile carpet and leather seats behind them.

" No they don’t Daniel," Jack said seriously. " Despite what everybody thinks nowadays, we’re not just bus drivers." He pointed to the glowing green light. " Sure, the autopilot can do everything a pilot does, up to a point. Luckily, a pilot is still needed, if nothing else just to anticipate the unexpected."

" So you get bored up here?" Daniel said impishly.

Jack nodded. " In this bus with all its doohickeys? Hell yeah. Give me a F-16 any day. Now that’s flying."

Jack smiled as Daniel nodded and unclipped his seat harness. " We have orange juice in that small bar back there. Do you want some?"

" Ah…What?"

Daniel stared at the unattended instrument panel with wide eyes for a moment as Jack wandered off, before common sense told him that Jack wasn’t heavily into mutual suicide.

" Uh, sure," he stuttered, aware that O’Neill was laughing quietly behind him. He gathered up the last of his shredded dignity. " Just don’t be long or I’ll snap off this inviting green switch."

Jack’s voice came from deep inside a walnut cupboard. " You do that Daniel and you’ll have a race on your hands between me trying to get to the controls before the ground gets us both. Since we’d be in a steep dive at the time, I’d probably make it, but only just, so don’t try. Okay?"

Daniel’s meek okay and Jack’s triumphant ahah came at the same time.

" Freshly squeezed California orange juice. We now know where this airplane came from."

Daniel tore his eyes away from the ghostly moving controls and craned his neck. " Yum, sweet I hope?"

To his disgust Jack took a long swig straight from the bottle. " Yep." He lifted his eyebrow at Daniel. " Want some?"

Gritting his teeth Daniel took the proffered bottle. " No glasses?" he asked.

Jack sighed, rummaging in yet another walnut cupboard. " Nary a one, but hey, we’ve had worse. Remember

DY6 7whatever?"

" DY6 782," Daniel said, the memory of it still making him feel sick. "You’re right. After drinking that whatever that was, I shouldn’t be so fussy."

" Too true," Jack said in a fair Australian accent, flopping back into his chair and reaching for his safety harness.

Then gave a terrible cry as he turned a luminous white.

…

Daniel watched frozen in horror as the man he called his best friend writhed in agony, caught in the bright light of what had to be an Asguard transporter beam. The fact that they had decided at that precise moment to take Jack was bad enough, but what was even more frightening was the fact that the beam didn’t seem to be working. For long moments Jack stiffened into immobility, his teeth bared in agony, then the beam seemed to disintegrate with a tearing sound, throwing Jack violently forwards to crash against the flight instrument panel.

For a moment, Daniel was frozen, petrified, fully expecting the plane to immediately go into a steep dive. Thankfully, nothing happened.

" Jack?"

Daniel prodded his shoulder, the only part of Jack he could reach. " You okay?"

There was no answer.

Daniel’s heart started to plummet towards his boots. " Jack?"

Jack was half lying half sitting amid a sea of cracked glass, his body looking crumpled and lifeless. Hands shaking, eyes glued to the green light on the autopilot, Daniel unsnapped his own harness and reached across to his friend, fingers feeling his neck for a pulse. Thankfully, there was one, albeit rather rapid.

Gritting his teeth Daniel carefully pulled Jack away from the controls, strapping him securely into his seat. Once that was done, Daniel sat back and regarded Jack closely.

The minute he saw Jack’s face Daniel knew he was in serious trouble.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Major Samantha Carter was a third of a way through a bowl of raspberry chocolate ripple ice cream when her cell phone began to ring shrilly.

Pushing her short blonde hair away from her forehead she grimaced. Whoever it was better have a damn good reason. The weather was warm, the birds were chirping and this was her first day off in…months. Muttering under her breath she pulled out the offending item.

" Daniel, this better be good."

" Ohhh, it’s good alright," his tinny voice responded. " Try this for size. Here I am. Flying high above Colorado Springs with Jack unconscious in the pilot seat next to me."

His voice deepened. " And he doesn’t look too good."

" What?" Sam stood, all thoughts of ice cream forgotten.

" Daniel, what happened?"

His laugh was hollow, or perhaps it was the phone itself, trying to find the next terrestrial transmitter.

" Remember your promotion to Major? How our…friends took Jack? Well, they tried again. Only this time it wasn’t successful.

" How is…" He beat her question.

" I can’t tell you how he is apart from telling you he’s non-responsive and has blood coming out of both ears."

The pilot in her woke up. " And you?"

He misunderstood. " Oh, I’m fine. They didn’t want me."

She tried again. " And Jack had the autopilot on?"

He laughed hollowly again. " I wouldn’t be talking to you if he hadn’t. But then I still have the problem of how to get down."

Dropping everything, Sam ran for her car. " Daniel, listen to me," she said, starting the engine. " I want you to set the radio to 141.5 mhz and call a mayday. That’s the Peterson Air Force base emergency frequency. It’s monitored round the clock. Tell whoever answers that Colonel O’Neill has had a, a …stroke and you require assistance. Tell them I am on my way. What I don’t want you to do is use your cell phone again. I’m actually surprised that its signal hasn’t knocked out the autopilot. Luckily for you it hasn’t, but let’s not take chances, okay?"

She heard Daniel gulp audibly then disconnect.

For Sam, the reality of the situation was slowly beginning to sink in, along with irrational anger. How could the Asgard be so stupid? Didn’t they even look to see where O’Neill was? Hell no. They tried to latch onto him whilst he was in a moving object traveling fucking fast, and of course it hadn’t worked. All it had done was seriously hurt Jack. Gritting her teeth, she rammed into first gear and took off in a squeal of tires.

Daniel was no less furious than Carter, although mixed with a fair dollop of terror; all he really felt was queasy.

Carefully avoiding his precious glowing green light, he clicked the radio onto 141.5 and prepared to ruin someone else’s day.

" Mayday Mayday. This is…uh…" He hadn’t a clue. " Mayday…I need help here." He clicked the mike off and listened hard.

An authorative male voice boomed back immediately. " This is an emergency frequency maintained by the US Air Force. Please state the nature of your distress."

Good, he was getting somewhere.

" This is Dr Daniel Jackson, up here with Colonel Jack O’Neill. He’s had what seems to be a stroke. He is unconscious and in serious need of medical assistance. Can you help?"

For a moment the voice was silent then, " Assume a bearing of 130 and await instructions."

Okay, time to give the person the bad news. " Whoever you are, I’d love to comply, but I don’t know how to fly this thing." This time the silence was so profound he felt like grinning. Daniel could almost imagine the frantic activity going on in, he assumed, the control tower. Eventually a new voice came on air, a warm southern voice, full of reassurances.

"My name is Carl. What’s yours?"

Daniel gave a deep sigh, releasing some tension. Okay, so someone was listening. " My name’s Daniel. I have been in contact with my colleague, Major Carter at Cheyenne Mountain via my cell phone. She’s a pilot and Colonel O’Neill’s 2IC. She’s on her way to you now, probably with a Doctor Fraiser in tow."

Carl sounded as calm as an ice cube. " Roger that. Don’t use your cell again, ya’hear me boy? Tell me Daniel; have you any flight experience at all? Gliders, micro lights, anything?"

Daniel shook his head. " Believe me Carl, I wish. All I can say is that Colonel O’Neill gave me a few instructions on what the instruments did. I know what the artificial horizon is and I know we have plenty of fuel. Apart from that I haven’t a clue."

Daniel amazed himself in how calm he sounded. In reality he felt like screaming. Blindly he reached for Jacks neck again wanting to feel for the comforting beat of his heart, wanting to know that he wasn’t all alone.

" Roger that," Carl repeated after a moments silence. " Keep the autopilot engaged and stand by."

Like he had any choice. Jack was beginning to take deep breaths, like he was in a deep sleep, making Daniel feel sick with worry. What in the hell had the Asgard done to him? Turned him into a vegetable? Daniel hoped with all his heart and soul that that wasn’t the case. He was pretty sure that Jack would rate being unable to move or speak to be one of his worse nightmares.

Daniel gingerly reached across and pinched the lobe of Jack’s ear, hoping for some response, any response.

There was nothing.

Suddenly the radio burst to life, the welcome voice making him start badly.

" Daniel, this is Sam. Do you read me?"

Being careful not to even brush the autopilot with his sleeve Daniel retrieved the mike from its clip.

" Sam, thank God." He felt like crying, such was his relief on hearing her. " Please get me down." He knew he was whining, but was beyond caring.

Her voice sounded tight. " Daniel, relax. As long as the autopilot light is on you’re okay. Take a deep breath and talk to Janet, okay?"

Daniel nodded, and then realized what he had done. " Okay Sam," he said softly. " Sorry for being a baby."

" I scarcely think you’re a baby," answered the distinctive tones of Dr Janet Fraiser, another southerner. " Being up there with the Colonel unconscious is the stuff of nightmares, I’m sure." Janet hesitated as someone spoke in the background, then said, " Carl says that you’re going to have company real soon, so just hang in there, okay?"

This time Daniel was more on the ball. " Ah roger that, Doc," he replied, smiling in relief as two jetfighters attached themselves, one to each wing. " Tell Carl the company is appreciated."

Her honeyed voice replied instantly. " He says a pleasure. Now, what can you tell me about Colonel O’Neill." Her voice changed. " Take it slowly, and above all, carefully."

Warning received, Daniel did as asked, aware that non-secure ears were listening in.

" Colonel O’Neill had just fetched some orange juice from the cupboard behind us. He had sat in his seat when he just convulsed, like he was in agony." He deepened his voice, trying to tell Janet what had happened without using words. " In fact, he was in agony. He stiffened for a while, like he had no choice, then slumped forwards, hard, into the instrument panel."

Janet spoke slowly. " How is he now?"

Daniel had been dreading this. " Janet, he’s totally unconcious, with blood coming out of both ears."

She was silent for a while, digesting this. " Anything else we should be aware of?" She said at last, making him aware that she wasn’t alone. Her silences were because she was consulting with someone.

" Janet, he has a cut above his right eye and is cold to the touch. He is also taking deep breaths and sweating slightly. I think it’s due to shock."

The delay was less now. " Daniel, listen carefully. We want you to move him away from the instrument panel. Sam tells me that your airplane has four passenger seats. What I want you to do is pull him away and strap him securely into one of those seats, okay?"

No. That was definitely not okay. Jack was his lifeline, his rock. He still had a chance as long as Jack was in the pilot’s seat next to him. There was nothing to say he wouldn’t wake up and land the plane, was there? He decided to ask.

" What if he wakes up? He won’t be any use sat in a seat behind me."

Janet’s voice was flat. " Daniel, listen to me. Colonel O’Neill has suffered some kind of seizure. You are just gonna have to face facts here. The Colonel won’t wake up any time soon, and even if he does, he won’t be the person you knew beforehand. Not at first, at any rate. He is liable to be panicked, and struggle. If he does that," she emphasized this, " if he does that, and is still strapped into the pilots seat, he’s liable to crash the plane. That none of us want. So listen carefully. Move him, and do it now."

Daniel nodded, dropping the microphone without a word. Janet was right, as always, even if he didn’t like what she had said. He stood up, freezing in terror as the airplane made a small adjustment.

An unfamiliar voice immediately cut through on the radio. " Echo one to Daniel. I’m off your…left wing. Don’t worry about the airplane moving slightly, that’s just the autopilot making adjustments to compensate for you moving about. It’s quite normal, I promise."

Daniel raised a hand, signifying that he understood, and slowly made his way over to Jack.

Up close his friend looked even worse than he had told Janet. His skin was beginning to take on an unhealthy sheen, and his breath was beginning to sound labored. Gritting his teeth, Daniel unbuckled O’Neill and carefully pulled him from his seat, dragging the unresponsive man to the nearest chair, where he securely strapped Jack in.

Daniel then took Jack’s seat. If they were expecting him to land this thing, then he was damn well going to sit where the pilot sat.

Panting hard, he clicked on the radio. " Daniel to ground. Mission accomplished. Colonel O’Neill is firmly strapped into a leather chair behind me. Now what?"

" I want you to descend to 1000 feet," Sam said.

Daniel froze in wild panic, aware that Sam was still speaking but not able to take it in. She wanted him to do what? After a while, the red haze lifted and he tuned back in to what she was saying.

" Daniel? Come on Daniel." Her voice took on a pleading tone. " Come on Daniel. What’s the worst that can happen?"

He angrily clicked on the mike. " The autopilot could switch off and we could die."

She gave a long-suffering sigh. " No it won’t. And even if it did, all you would have to do is click it back on." The pleading tone was back. " Come on Daniel, stay with me."

He reluctantly clicked the mike on. " What do you want me to do?"

The relief in her voice was tangible. " Attaboy." He heard a rustling of paper. " Now Daniel, listen carefully. You will see a large round knob situated somewhere above the green autopilot switch. If you look closely, you will see that it is labeled ‘heading’. Think of it as you would do a clock. What I want you to do is turn it five minutes to the left."

" And then what? Daniel asked.

" And then nothing for a while. All you will have done is put the plane on a slightly new heading, spiraling away from Colorado Springs." Her voice took on a commanding tone, insisting on instant obeyance.

" Do it now Daniel."

Wiping the sweat out of his eyes, Daniel found the knob and carefully complied, stiffening in alarm as the airplane suddenly dipped one wing. Frantically he turned to the window, but thankfully his escorts were gone.

" Good Daniel," the unknown pilot of echo one said. " Don’t worry about echo one and two, we’ll stay out of your hair, okay?"

Daniel nodded, then grimaced. He clicked the mike on. " Thanks echo one."

He took a deep breath, holding for a moment before exhaling, trying to imagine all the tension leaving his body.

He failed miserably.

" Now what Sam?"

" Now we get you organized to land," She replied. " I’ve just been on the phone to the makers of Lear, asking what their autopilot is capable of. Their news is very reassuring. They insist that when the Lear reaches 300 feet above the ground, the ground proximity radar will force the autopilot to land the plane. All you have to do is line up with the correct runway."

Daniel snorted." Easy."

" Don’t kid yourself. " If you put any pressure on the yoke, the steering wheel, the autopilot will kick out. You have to take things slow and steady."

Daniel groaned, feeling light-headed. " Wonderful."

Sam’s voice was full of sarcasm. " I just knew you would see it that way." She rustled some more papers. " Now, I want you to look closely at the autopilot. Tell me what you see."

Sweating slightly, Daniel peered down at the glowing green light, showing a greater appreciation for the wheel doing its ghostly movements in front of him.

" Um, Sam, there are two thumb knobs here. One is marked ‘altitude’ and the other ‘heading’."

She gave an audible sigh of relief. " I’m glad about that Daniel. I was slightly worried that the features on this new Lear may differ from what I remember. Luckily they don’t."

" Luckily for me, you mean?" Daniel asked nastily, the accumulated stress making him edgy.

" And for Colonel O’Neill," she said calmly, deflating him somewhat.

" Now, I want you to click the heading knob back five minutes until it is where it was originally."

Daniel did as she asked, scarcely noticing as the opposite wing dipped.

" Okay Sam, it’s done."

" Now for the hard part. I want you to clock the altimeter knob until it reads 1000 feet." Her voice continued before he could say anything. " Daniel, I want you to trust me on this one. Colorado is a very mountainous state, and at 1000 feet it will seem as if you aren’t that far from the ground. That is a lie. Don’t trust your eyes, trust the instruments. If I’ve steered you wrong the ground proximity radar will wail. This won’t happen, not unless we want it to. Okay?"

It wouldn’t be the first time that he put his life in her hands.

" Okay."

Gritting his teeth his fingers carefully sought out the correct control, carefully clicking the knob as Sam had instructed. When he was finished he lifted the mike to his lips.

" Okay Sam, the autopilot is set on 1000 feet. Now what?"

Her voice sounded pleased. " Now nothing Daniel. You may not notice it, but the Lear is slowly sinking. Look at the altimeter on the panel in front of you."

Daniel’s eyes widened when he saw the numbers slowly clicking down.

" Holy Hannah."

" That’s my expression," Sam said dryly. " Nevertheless, today you can borrow it. After the plane levels out at 1000 feet I will hand you back to Carl who will give you some course adjustments to feed into the autopilot."

Daniel sat frozen, watching mesmerized as the altimeter slowly spooled down. He knew that he should be panicked, maybe hyperventilating, but what had started with a spell of light-headedness had somehow turned him numb. It didn’t matter that the brown and green earth seemed to be rushing up to crush the plane, or was it the other way around?

He felt…tharn

" Tharn," he whispered quietly to himself.

Tharn. That moment of frozen immobility best demonstrated by rabbits on busy highways just before the truck hits them.

Nothing mattered anymore. Absolutely nothing mattered.

Then the plane leveled off, once more giving him a view of the brilliant blue sky, lifting his spirits and bringing him back to life.

" How’s Colonel O’Neill doing?" Dr Fraiser asked.

Shit. Jack. He had been so worried at what might happen to himself that he had completely forgotten about the condition Jack was in. He looked around guiltily; sighing with relief as he saw his friend take in another ragged breath.

" He’s still hanging in there, Janet," he said softly.

" It won’t be long now," she said equally as softly, as if speaking in a loud voice might wake up her latest patient. Daniel fervently wished she could.

If he thought there was a slightest chance of that happening, he would be screaming at the top of his lungs and doing hand stands to boot.

" Turn to heading 120," Carl’s voice boomed, making him jump. Quickly Daniel leaned forwards and did as ordered.

" 120…aye." He said in his best mariners voice.

Carl didn’t catch the navy dig.

" Now Daniel, I want you to stay on this heading until I tell you otherwise." His tone took on a note of seriousness Daniel hadn’t heard before. " When I do, I want you to click the autopilot down to 300 feet. Don’t do a thing right now," he cautioned. " Only when I tell you. When I yell out NOW, I want you to immediately turn the flight level indicator, that’s the left hand knob, to 300 feet. Don’t talk to me, just do it when I yell. You got that boy?"

" Yes sir," Daniel said shakily.

" Repeat my instructions back to me boy," Carl instructed.

" When you yell ‘now’ I immediately turn the flight level indicator to 300 feet."

Carl sounded pleased. " Good Daniel. Quick, on which side is the knob?"

Daniel grimaced. " On the left, bwana."

Carl’s voice was deadly serious. " Don’t joke with me Daniel. You have only one shot at this. The minute you hit 300 feet the plane will be committed to a landing procedure, whether you are on a runway or not. Remember this boy, and remember this well. You screw up and there will be no second chances. In fact, boy, you screw this up and I’ll spit on your grave, that’s a true Louisiana promise."

Daniel couldn’t help smiling. " And if I land this thing in one piece, I’ll owe you something alcoholic and very expensive."

Carl came back immediately. " Then you better land intact, you hear?"

This time the silence was more comforting. He had gotten over his fear, or maybe beyond it, allowing to notice the small things that had been missing for some time, like the muted roar of the engines, and the brilliant sunshine. He also noticed the sticky patch that the spilt orange juice had made on the carpet and hoped fervently that that would be the only damage they would have to account for.

Carl’s southern twang interrupted his thoughts. " Five minutes Daniel."

" Roger."

Daniel turned slightly, wanting to make certain that Jack was still securely strapped into his seat, and hadn’t somehow woken and managed to undo the fastenings. As expected, there was no change, apart from the fact that Jack was slumped forwards, his chin on his chest. His position looked uncomfortable, making Daniel wish that he could go to him and settle him back, but of course, that was impossible.

" On my mark Daniel," Carl said. " Remember, set the altimeter to 300 feet when I say the word ‘mark.’"

Daniel nodded, this time uncaring that he was nodding to no one.

" Five, four, three, two, one…MARK!"

Daniel swiftly did as ordered, sitting back expectantly and waiting for…nothing. He was still cruising through the air like before. He was in the act of reaching for the mike when Carl spoke again.

" Hang in there, boy." No sooner had Daniel heard Carl’s words then the whole world seemingly went to hell in a hand basket.

A strident siren began to wail, accompanied with an electronic voice saying " PULL UP."

The effect was quite disconcerting to say the least, making every hair on Daniel’s head stand up, making him wonder if more than one doomed pilot had heard what he was now hearing in the moments just before they died.

" Whoop, Whoop…PULL UP."

Daniel sat frozen in place, wanting to do something, but knowing to do nothing, for what seemed like eons, and then the sound abruptly ceased.

Something new was happening. The comforting roar became muted and the nose dropped.

" Dear God," he whispered, tears in his eyes.

The Lear was landing.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

" And that was that."

Jack O’Neill looked up sleepily at his best friend and frowned.

" So you landed okay?"

" More or less."

Jack stared at Daniel silently for a moment, wanting more information. When it was obvious that just wasn’t going to happen, his eyes found Carter.

" So tell me Major, what was it? More, or less?"

Her smile was a comforting ray of sunshine in the gloomy infirmary. " Well, I would consider it more than less. Daniel somehow managed to tear the undercarriage off…"

To Jack’s delight, Teal’c immediately sprung to Daniel’s defense.

" That is not entirely true Major Carter. Daniel Jackson merely tore off the nose wheel, a somewhat fortuitous event considering that the airplane had not been instructed to brake, and would have continued for quite some distance had this not happened."

" Not that we doctors cared a whit about the condition of the plane," Fraiser said, marking down something mysterious on his clipboard. "All Dr Gray and I were worried about was getting to you and ascertaining your condition."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Dr Gray?"

" The C.M.O. of Peterson air force base.

Jack lay back with a sigh. " I should have guessed," he said wryly.

Fraiser gave him a glare. "Don’t knock him, Colonel. He just happens to be the brother of a really good neurosurgeon based at Cedars Sinai who thankfully hopped on the next transport to Colorado."

Jack stared at Fraiser in askance. " You’re kidding, right?"

She shook her head, smiling. " Nope. Do you know how much fun we had keeping you out of her clutches?"

Now Jack was lost. " Explain," he demanded, making it as close to an order as he dared.

" Dad was here," Carter said softly, smiling up at Fraiser, then transferring her smile to him.

" Collected from God knows where and bought to earth post haste by an extremely concerned supreme commander of the Asgard fleet."

Jack O’Neill stared at his team silently for a moment before finally venturing a comment.

" Really?"

" Really." Teal’c stated, his face grave. " I have seen the Asgard on quite a few occasions, and rarely have I seen one so upset. Selmac had a hard time keeping Thor back from your prone form. The Asgard seemed to be taking your injuries very personally."

Daniel was nodding emphatically. " He was. And when Selmac said that he had done all that he could for you, I swear Thor was going to explode."

Jack stared up at Fraiser cautiously. " And just what did he do?" he asked.

Her smile was reassuring. " Well, he corrected the aneurysm and…" Her voice trailed off at his ferocious frown.

" In English, Doc," he commanded.

Janet Fraiser sighed silently and fetched a chair. It was going to be a long night.

" Well, when Daniel finally managed to land the airplane Dr Gray and I were out of the control booth like a shot, heading for Peterson’s infirmary. We both knew from Daniel’s description that you had suffered some sort of brain hemorrhage, although quite what the bleeding from the ears entailed was anybody’s guess. We were both racing to the infirmary for two entirely different reasons, Dr Gray to secure a critical patient and maybe prep him for surgery, I to get said patient the hell away from Peterson and back to the SGC as quickly as possible."

"Thanks to a complete squadron of fully armed marines, I won."

Jack gave a soundless whistle. " General Hammond doesn’t mess around, does he?"

Fraiser gave a wry smile. "That’s for sure. Vincent Gray may speak to me one day. Probably in the year 2010."

" Ouch."

She looked up sharply. " Was that an expression Colonel, or is your head hurting you?"

He was silent for a moment before deciding that the truth was the better option.

" A little. It feels like there’s a migraine coming on."

Fraiser immediately stood, her face concerned. " You were pretty far gone Colonel. Selmac did what he could, but you suffered a very severe head injury. Selmac warned us that there might be residual effects, like headaches and such like for a while. He has to give himself and especially you at least a week to recover before trying again.

Jack watched through slitted eyes as she walked across to a white cupboard and removed a clear vial of something. For one nanosecond he thought about refusing whatever she was sucking into that large syringe before common sense won out.

He really was finding it difficult to see now, something that wasn’t lost on his perceptive team.

" We’ll come back in a while sir," Carter said, her hand warm on his arm. " You just concentrate on getting better."

He would have nodded, but a delicious fuzzyness made him sleep instead.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Daniel had his head buried deep into an awkward file the next time Jack awoke, his mouth moving slightly as he pronounced what had to be unpronounceable words to the common man.

He decided to test his theory.

" Does it say Geezercoathanger anywhere in there?"

Daniel’s eyes were bright over the top of the file.

" You know it’s not. This is ancient Celtic myths, not Inca."

" Okay, sorry," Jack said, wondering if his friend was serious and deciding that he might me.

It really depended on the pronunciation after all.

" So, how are you feeling today?"

Jack thought about it for a moment. " Better, thank you." He pinned his younger friend with his intense gaze. " And you?"

To Jack’s relief, Daniel didn’t try to pretend that he didn’t know what he was talking about.

" I’m okay."

Jack raised an eyebrow. " Really? If I had been forced to land a plane with a dying friend next to me who just happens to be the pilot I would have been a gibbering idiot by now."

Daniel smiled. " Bullshit."

" No bull."

Daniel took on a serious air. " Jack, at the time it was rough, but I had help. A lot of help from some really fantastic people, starting with Sam and ending with a really friendly voice belonging to someone called Carl who just happens to hail from," his voice took on a pseudo southern accent that made Janet Fraiser wince, " Louisiana, boy."

To his dismay, Jack wasn’t reacting as he should. Instead of laughing, he was staring at Daniel strangely.

" Jack?"

Jack appeared not to have heard, prompting Janet to leave her office and hurry towards him.

They needn’t have worried, Jack was just thinking. Slower than he usually did, but then again he was pumped full of drugs.

" This Carl, did he have a surname?"

Daniel shook his head, looking relieved for some reason. " He never gave one, no."

Jack rolled his head back on his pillow. " But he ended each sentence with the word ‘boy’?"

Daniel nodded, looking confused. " More or less."

Jack was silent again, this time a more comfortable silence. " I wonder," he said at last. " It would be one hell of a coincidence, but stranger things have happened in this universe…"

Daniel had had enough. " What would be one hell of a coincidence?" He burst out.

Jack’s eyes cleared. " Remember me telling you about my first teacher, Captain Temple?"

Daniel nodded. " The one that knocked you into shape when you were young?"

" That’s the one. Well, he just happened to be a Louisianan called Carl, and ended almost every sentence he uttered with the word ‘ Boy.’ If he hadn’t been as black as the ace of spades, he would have been in severe trouble."

Daniel sat upright. " Geez, and you think that my Carl might just be your Carl?"

Jack’s expression was unreadable. " Maybe." He sat upright. " There’s only one way to find out."

Smiling at his young friend, Jack carefully rolled off the bed, and hit the floor with a crash.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

" Wherever Selmac is in the universe, he needs to be told that his healing device doesn’t work," Jack said a while later to Janet Fraiser, staring down the bed at his motionless toes. " Maybe he can still return it under guarantee."

" You know that that’s not the case, Colonel," Fraiser said with a scowl. " Why, when you were bought in here, we thought that you were too far gone to do anything with at all. He proved us wrong, lucky for you. So, your legs don’t quite work the way you want them to? Compared to what you were like, you should be grateful."

" You aren’t the one lying here, feeling like a cripple," Jack said petulantly. " I am a man of action, not a vegetable."

Dr Fraiser put down a chart with a bang, the light of battle in her eyes.

" You wanna see vegetables?" Go to Baptist Memorial one sunny afternoon. Compared to them, you have it lucky. Here you have friends to care for you and someone who can heal you. They don’t have that luxury."

He instantly looked contrite, his face blanching. " Oh no," he said softly. " I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I know how lucky I am. It’s just…" he swallowed, looking ready to collapse. "It’s just…hard to do nothing."

"Then do something Colonel," she said softly, fluffing up his pillows. " That’s Memorial’s motto as well. Idle hands make idle minds."

"Like what?" he asked sleepily. " From what I can see, I am stuck in here for the next week until Selmac returns."

" No you’re not," she said quietly, dimming the lights. " Go and track down that Louisiana lecturer you were talking about."

His eyes flashed in the dim infirmary. " In a wheelchair?" he asked incredulously.

"Why not?" she asked softly. " People do it the world over. I don’t think it requires a 4-wheel drivers license."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Colonel O’Neill was literally lying in wait for her the next morning.

" Good morning Colonel," she said breezily. " Did you sleep well?"

" No," he said grumpily. " You try turning over during the night without moving your legs."

Janet hung up her coat in her office and returned to him. " You have had both legs broken before," she reminded him gently.

He nodded impatiently. " Sure, and I could still use my hips to shift my position slightly. This time I can’t even do that." He looked distraught for a moment before hiding the emotion from her.

" Selmac will be back in a week," she said softly. " Less now."

" We hope," he said despondently.

She stared at him closely, noticing the pale face and hollows under his eyes, marks that could be attributed to something as simple as lack of sleep, or something more.

" Do you want to see Dr MacKenzie?" she asked gently.

For a moment, he hesitated, surprising her, before resolutely shaking his head.

" No." he said softly. " Although you can book him for this time next week if Selmac can’t…"

She took his waving hand, holding it for a moment before releasing it. " He’ll be here, Colonel."

When he smiled weakly, she took a step back, putting her doctor’s mask on.

" Now, about that trip to Peterson, do you still want to go today?"

That surprised him, she could tell. " Can I really do that?" he asked.

" Sure," she said, " unless you wish to stay in the infirmary for the next week."

" Hell no," he said, struggling to get up, and grimacing when he couldn’t. " This going to be so much fun," he said dryly, making her smile.

" Just remember to be on your best behavior, and if you should happen to bump into Dr Gray whilst your there, extend my apologies."

He grimaced. " Believe me Doctor, I don’t intend on getting within a mile of their medical facilities." He sighed at her mock frown. " Okay, okay. If he happens to cross my path, which I doubt…"

"And remember, you are still a patient, so no racing in the wheelchair."

Jack smiled, the feeling of near freedom from Cheyenne Mountain cheering him immensely. "Yes momma."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Peterson Air Force base was situated to the right of Colorado Springs, a place of serious looking buildings divided by long runways. To Daniel the place looked forbidding, and was always surprised that they would let him in so readily. During his first year of working for the SGC, when he had grimly held onto his long haired academic look, the guards had always looked at him suspiciously for a moment before almost reluctantly relinquishing his ID back into his care and sullenly waving him through.

Now, three years later, he had a new haircut and a new Air Force ID card, and people treated him completely differently.

Jack O’Neill nodded at the gate guard’s semi-salute for two civilian-attired officers and smiled at his companion.

" You also have a sense of lethal casualness that only a combat trained soldier gets. The gate guards pick up on that," he said calmly, grinning when Daniel had to correct the car sharply.

" Do you mind Jack? I hate it when you go all psychic on me," he moaned, making the older man laugh.

" But you’re so easy to read, Danny boy," he said, directing Daniel into the nearest invalid parking space.

" We may as well use it," he said darkly, his smile disappearing.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Protocol demanded that they visit the base’s commanding officer first before going anywhere else, which suited Jack O’Neill perfectly. He had a lot of respect for Peterson’s crusty C.O., a feeling he knew was reciprocated.

" Up to the fourth floor and turn right," he ordered Daniel.

" Your wish is my every command, Oh great Bwana," the sarcastic voice said from somewhere behind him, making a passing lieutenant look at them, startled.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Daniel couldn’t remember Brigadier General Robert Masterson being in the crush of people that had surrounded the Lear when it had eventually stopped, although Sam had said that he had been, and was consequently quite pleasantly surprised at the tall man that greeted them at his office door. He was a blonde man with traces of silver in his hair. This was set atop a craggy face that had seen a lot of weather, and brilliant green eyes that seemed almost hypnotic in their intensity.

He also seemed to know Jack O’Neill quite well.

" Jack? How in the hell are you?" he asked.

" I’ve seem better days, Bob, believe me" Jack said ruefully. He pointed a thumb back at Daniel. "Meet my minder, and pilot in a pinch, Dr Daniel Jackson."

General Masterson shook Jack and Daniel’s hands, before turning his attention back to the wheelchair man.

" Jack. Geez man, this is rough." He pushed a chair at Daniel before lowering himself into another chair on the visitor’s side of his desk, reducing the height difference somewhat.

" Compared to the alternative, this isn’t bad," Jack said wryly.

Masterson was fast. " You’re right," he said with a grin. " For a while there I thought Dr Jackson was going to put a deep hole in runway 22."

" So did Dr Jackson," Daniel said ruefully, making both men smile.

" So how long are you gonna be in that contraption?" Masterson asked, gesturing to the wheelchair.

Jack grimaced unhappily. " Not long Bob, believe me. As soon as I can, I’m gonna be walking, and right after that, I’m gonna teach Daniel how to fly properly."

" Oh crap," Daniel said softly. " I’m in trouble now."

Masterson gave him wide smile. " Count on it, son. We’ll get your wings for you, that’s a guarantee, even if I have to put every airplane at Peterson at your disposal."

" Hey, I don’t want to fly a F whatever," Daniel said, alarmed, making both men laugh.

"There’s basically only one license for all types of aircraft Daniel," Jack said seriously. "The only difference is the level of skill needed."

General Masterson nodded soberly. " Jack’s right, Dr Jackson. You have a head start over many people, because you were forced to fly a Lear E-210, one of the most advanced airplanes ever made." He brightened. " And you landed it successfully, which we really appreciate, believe me."

" My pleasure," Daniel said dryly. " Although I did manage to snap the nose wheel off, remember?"

Masterson shook his head. " That wasn’t your fault, Dr Jackson. That happened when the Lear crossed from the runway to the taxiway. The unevenness between tarmac and grass did that." He paused thoughtfully. " As it was, had you kept on going, you were liable to have hit a Jetranger."

" Gee, and I missed all this," Jack said sarcastically.

" You were there Jack," Daniel said evilly. " You just had your eyes shut."

" So now what?" General Masterson said rising to his feet.

" Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to thank all the people involved in the drama," Jack said. "Including this mysterious Carl that Daniel spoke to."

" Carl Temple?" Masterson mused. " Gee, I’m gonna have to see if he’s still on base." He smiled and reached for the phone.

" Major Temple retired last year. It was just a co-incidence that we had him on base that day." He shrugged. " Retired or no, he’s still the best voice we have for red situations."

" Red situations?" Daniel asked Jack sotto voice, as the General spoke to somebody at the other end of the line.

" Where blood may be spilled," Jack answered, his eyes bright. " It also looks like Carl may be…"

" Okay," Masterson drawled," interrupting them. " Major Temple will be waiting for you at the base of the control tower."

" Thanks Bob," Jack said sincerely. " I really appreciate this."

" My pleasure," Masterson said, leading them to the door, opening it wide for Jack’s chair. "And when you’re walking, bring in Jackson here for his first lesson."

" Count on it," Jack said, grinning as Daniel groaned from somewhere behind him.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Daniel was silent as he navigated his way through the maze of offices that made up the administration side of Peterson AFB, Jack content to allow him his silence. Finally, when they were free of the building and heading for the parking lot, Daniel spoke what was on his mind.

" Bob? The last time I checked, Brigadier General’s get called sir."

" Usually, yes," Jack said calmly. "But General Masterson and I go back a long way."

Daniel snorted derisively. " So do you and General Hammond, and I never hear you casually calling him George."

" He’s a Major General, Daniel. I can’t call a Major General by his first name." Jack stopped abruptly, suddenly aware where the clever linguist was steering the conversation, but it was already too late.

" Oh, so you can’t call a Major General by his first name, yet you can do so with a Brigadier General, without him so much as raising an eyebrow?" Daniel asked softly. " And you one rank below him, a lowly Colonel?" He paused for emphasis. "Or are you?"

" I wear eagles, Daniel," Jack said, desperately marshalling his thoughts.

Daniel merely grunted suspiciously.

" And a General can’t lead a combat unit," Jack said slowly, giving Daniel a crumb.

" I’d love to see to whom your salary check is made out to," Daniel said eventually.

" To Jack O’Neill," Jack said impatiently. " Now, can we drop this line of questioning?"

" Yes General, sir," Daniel said sweetly, and loaded him into the car.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The man waiting at the base of the control tower was not at all what Daniel had imagined. The voice had boomed, the Louisiana accent strong, and consequently Daniel had envisioned a larger than life black man, rather like Teal’c without the tattoo.

What he got in reality was a stooped sixty year old, with crinkly gray hair and an air of weary resignation about him. He rose to his feet when the car stopped, throwing his cigarette into the gutter. " You Dr Jackson?" he asked, his eyes sharp, making a complete lie of his body posture.

" I am," Daniel said calmly, helping Jack into his chair. " And this is the man you saved, Colonel Jack O’Neill."

" Sir," Temple said courteously. He turned back to Daniel. " You owe me a…" Suddenly his eyes widened and he took a step back, as if he’d been hit.

" O’Neill?"

Jack merely nodded, an enigmatic smile on his face.

" I used to have a pupil called O’Neill," Temple said, slowly sinking back on to the step where he had been sitting when they had arrived. " A tall Irishman, with light brown hair. He came from a Minnesota originally, but was bought up in a bad part of Chicago, and it showed." He shook his head violently, as if denying what his eyes were seeing.

" I spent weeks beating the crap out of him, and even more weeks teaching the bastard how to speak English, and not that early seventies gangster rap."

" And when you succeeded, you taught him how to fly," Jack said slowly.

Daniel was as quiet as a mouse, not wanting to disturb what were obviously precious memories.

" Darn right I did, boy," Temple said, " although it wasn’t easy. He was an arrogant bastard, bar none. Cocksure of himself, so much so I figured it would get him killed. It almost did, a couple of times."

" Then you threatened to kick him out," Jack said, a small smile on his face. " Shape up or ship out, you said."

Temple shook his head, his eyes misty. " I don’t remember that. All I remember is the change in attitude. It was as if for the first time ever in his sorry life, he finally tore down the curtain and saw what his future could be, if he wanted it."

" He did," Jack said softly. " And he got it."

Temple was shaking his head sorrowfully. " No he didn’t. He died in the Middle East. Iraq, Iran, or some place like that, a long time ago."

" He almost did," Jack said sorrowfully. " He was missing, believed dead for months. But he didn’t die." He stopped, making Temple look at him. " I didn’t die, although for the longest time I thought that I had."

Major Carl Temple just blinked at him, speechless.

" That cocksure hotdog pilot ceased to exist in those four months, creating the man you now see before you. The pilot who would have died if you hadn’t used the same technique you used on me all those years ago and used them again to help Daniel.

" Lieutenant O’Neill?" Carl asked, reaching forwards with one trembling hand. " That you?"

" Colonel O’Neill now," Jack said with a smile, taking the proffered hand.

" Well ahhhll be hornswoggled," Temple suddenly yelled, leaping to his feet with a huge grin on his face. "Of all the damn fool things that life throws at ya, what can beat that?"

" Only a ten year old bottle of Glenfiddich, Jack said with a smile at Daniel, "and if we are drunk and disorderly by the end of it, I’m sure we can find a nice airman to come and fetch us."

* EINDE

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