Challenging the Mirror
by Jennamajig

SUMMARY: When Daniel injures his knee, it opens a different can of worms.
SPOILERS: Set late season 5ish, but no true spoilers. Jack is still a colonel and Janet is still around.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It’s been a while. I think I’d almost forgotten that I once loved writing Stargate fic. This a plot bunny started a while back, now rescued and finished. And while I am not a doctor (the closest I come is working in a college biology department), I have heavily researched any and every thing mentioned in this story. Learned a whole lot doing it and have the links to prove it.

A huge special thanks to devra, for the alpha and the encouragement that helped this story find its voice and get my muse into gear. You’re awesome.

DISCLAIMER: The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.

"So what's the word?"

Jack O'Neill walked into the infirmary to see Daniel lying flat on one of the beds, knees slightly bent. Daniel's right pant leg was rolled up and Jack could see the swelling across the knee. Janet Fraiser stood to the side of the bed, making notes in a chart.

That morning, SG-1 had set off on a simple exploratory mission on an uninhabited planet filled with a little more then trees and hills. Enormous hills. And when Daniel had bent down to examine some rocks in the grass, he had lost his footing and tumbled down one of those said enormous hills. He had landed not so gracefully on his right knee, and even Jack heard the popping as his knee gave out. Supported by Teal'c and Jack, with Sam taking the lead, Daniel limped his way back to the Stargate. Which brought him back to his current situation.

"Not so good, Colonel, I'm afraid." Fraiser placed the chart on the edge of the bed. "An orthopedist would know better then I would, but I think Daniel has a torn anterior cruciate ligament."

Jack nodded. He'd been there, done that, bought the T-shirt and sported the scar. "So he needs surgery then?"

"_He_ is right here, Jack." Jack heard a sigh from the bed. "And you're supposed to be the one with knee problems, not me."

"My knee problems are no longer exclusive, Daniel. Just sharing the wealth." He walked up to the bed. "Besides those knees aren't as young as they used to be." He gave Daniel a playful shrug.

"Not funny, Jack." He raised his fingers to his temples. "So, what's this about surgery ...?"

"I'm not making a concrete diagnosis myself, Daniel. Dr. Marks is coming in this afternoon for a consult on Captain Reardon, so I want him to take a look at you as well. He'll probably want to do an MRI. We can go from there." A nurse appeared at her side holding an icepack. "In the meantime, we'll elevate your knee, ice it to bring down some of the swelling, and give you some Advil for the pain. Relax. After the tumble you took, you're lucky all you have to worry about is your knee. Julie will help you get settled."

"I have to stay here?" Daniel voice took on a pleading tone. Janet wasn't cracking.

"Until Dr. Marks gets a look, yes. Last thing I need is to let you loose on the base and have you injure yourself further. I'll check on you later." With that she turned to move on to her next patient.

Daniel laid his head back as Julie started to place a few pillows under his knee.

"I can do that." He heard and Julie's touch was replaced by a larger, by no less gentle hand. He opened his eyes to see Jack positioning an ice pack over his knee.

"Jack ... ?"

"Don't worry. I've been though this, Danny. I know what I'm doing." Jack finished and sat in the chair next to him. "It's not so bad. I had the same thing about 8 years ago. You know the little scar -"

"On your knee." A scar Daniel knew well. He and Jack had recently deepened their friendship, expanding it into a relationship that gave them plenty of opportunities to explore each other's bodies in great detail.

"Yep. And I'm still standing." Daniel looked down at his knee, taking in what Jack said. Still, he had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. It was the same feeling he had when he celebrated his 37th birthday last month and stared down at the cake covered with thirty-eight candles - one for good luck Jack had said. On a cake, thirty-eight candles looked like an army.

Jack's eyes turned serious. "Really, Daniel. No big deal. You haven't even talked to Marks yet. Could be nothing that a couple of weeks of crutches couldn't fix. But even so ...." <I'll be there to help to you out.> The words weren't spoken, but the sentiment was there as Jack reached out to touch Daniel's shoulder. Not much a touchy-feeling person himself, at first, Daniel had stiffened at Jack's touch. But now he welcomed it. Jack wasn't always great with words; he didn't need to be.

"Now I'm heading to the comissionary. Grab something to eat. Want anything?"

"Stop by my office on the way back and pick up the green folders on top of my desk. If I'm stuck here for a few hours I might as well get some work done." He watched Jack leave and stared back at his knee, silently cursing the planet of giant hills.

-----

"It's not the end of the world, Daniel. The MRI results aren't even in yet."

"It's still surgery, Jack." Daniel maneuvered a pair of crutches through the door, almost tripping over the threshold. Even though he'd been injured often enough to be used to crutches, he still wasn't. Jack steadied him and shut the door. Daniel made his way over to the couch before sitting down in a small heap and sighed.

"So if that's the case, it puts a bit of damper into your plans for the next couple of weeks. It's no big deal." He took the crutches from Daniel and leaned them against the arm of the couch before settling down next to him. "My knee felt like new after all was said and done."

"New, Jack?"

"Well, for a while anyway. You need it done, Daniel. If it's what Fraiser and Marks say it is, you've got an unstable knee and an increased risk of arthritis. It's surgery or no more Stargate."

"You see, I thought I brought Jack O'Neill home with me. You switch personalities with Janet on the way home?"

"Funny. I told you. Been there. Done that. Heard the lecture. Weighed the risks. I could probably recite the procedure step by step in my sleep I had it explained to me that much." He set his hand on Daniel's good knee. Daniel let out a breath and settled into the touch.

"It's just..." He trailed off. He was being silly, he knew. Thirty-seven wasn't old. He didn't feel old. His body just seemed to feel otherwise. Before the Stargate, his injury list was zero. Even field work in Egypt seemed risk-free. He wondered if he'd be feeling old if his life had gone differently. Of course, he'd probably have no career and if he was lucky maybe have a boring community college job where every day he'd stare into the faces of just christened twenty-somethings.

Thirty-seven seemed old no matter what. He had just never seen himself at that age. His parents hadn't made it to that age. He had no basis.

He had no reason to feel this way. It wasn't like it was his 40th birthday. He was too young to begin having a mid-life crisis.

Or was he?

"You're not old, Daniel." Daniel shook himself out of his thoughts to stare at Jack. The man seemed to read his mind and it never ceased to amaze him.

"I know," he responded, not really believing his words.

"Besides, if you're old, where does that leave me?" He paused. "And no, I don't want an answer to that question." Jack lifted himself off the couch, his own knees cracking. "Hear that, Danny? _You_ have nothing up on me." He pointed to Daniel's knee. "You need to elevate your knee. I think I forgot to refreeze the icepack after the last time we needed it, but I think we do have a bag of peas."

Daniel smiled back, his thoughts forgotten. "Peas?"

"They work," Jack insisted. "And what else are we going to do with them? Every time one of us is injured, which is usually you I'd like to point out, Carter brings them over to encourage us to eat something healthy. Of course, I think she just does it because she knows we both hate peas." He disappeared out of Daniel's sight into the kitchen

"I don't hate them."

Jack returned with the bag. "It's this or nothing."

Daniel reached out. "Well, when you put it that way, I do, however, have a strong dislike for them. Did you put the real icepack in the freezer?"

"Of course." Jack grabbed the remote and turned on the hockey game, settling down again next the archeologist.

"Hey! The Discovery channel has a special on. And I'm injured." Daniel gave a bit of mock pout. He didn't usually pull the injured card, but if it got Jack to change the channel, well, he knew when to pull out his deck.

"No way. I hurt my knee all the time. This doesn't count," he teased and continued to stare at the screen for a full minute before switching the channel.

Daniel smiled. Sometimes Jack was too easy.

--

Daniel shifted his weight off his knee as he listened to the orthopedic surgeon talk. He dreaded the word surgery and Jack seemed to be doing the talking, anyway. He was eerily an expert. Daniel was still feeling a bit odd about this whole role reversal thing. Of course it didn't make things any better when he'd discovered a lonely gray hair poking out of his brown head. Jack had gray hair. Jack looked good with gray hair. He couldn't see himself with gray hair. Funny, usually he never cared much for his appearance, but at the moment that gray hair been the bane of his existence. He had yanked at it as hard as he could, out to destroy any evidence and combed his short hair like there was no tomorrow.

"The MRI confirmed what I suspected. We're looking at a Grade III tear." The surgeon's voice brought Daniel back to the present. Jack nodded at the information.

"Grade III?" He questioned.

"That means a complete tear, Dr. Jackson. You need surgery. The sooner, the better."

Daniel could see the wheels turning in Jack's head as he processed the information. He, however, wasn't ready to digest it.

"There's no other option...?" He trailed off. He knew in his mind what the answer was, but he still had to ask.

Dr. Marks shook his head. "As I explained at the SGC, you lead a very active lifestyle. If you want to continue that lifestyle, especially in the field, surgery is the best and really only option."

The doctor reached across the desk and picked up a model. "It is done arthroscopically, except for when we harvest the graft tendon." Daniel was immediately confused. Every time he was injured he never had time to process what they were actually about to do. Even the appendix ordeal happened so fast that he was waking up from the anesthesia before he could process what had happened. Janet always explained, but the details never made much sense when one was dosed on morphine.

"Three to four inch cut in front of the knee, right?" Jack asked, gesturing to his own knee. Daniel suddenly felt very overwhelmed.

"That's right, Colonel." Marks paused and turned to the model. "We can't simple sew the injured ligament back to together. It's usually too badly damaged and would be very flimsy anyway. Instead, we remove the damaged ligament and replace it with a graft from the patellar tendon." He pointed to a structure below the kneecap.

Daniel suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He'd never been squeamish, so he wasn't sure what to blame the sudden feeling on.

"Um...can we skip to the recovery part?" He swallowed. "When can I go back to work?"

"It depends on the you, really," admitted the doctor. "The sooner you are up and moving after surgery, the better. A lot of patients lose the crutches in less than two weeks. You'll be in a knee brace for bit, though."

This didn't answer his question. "Bottom line?"

"Several weeks, maybe even months."

"Months?" That wasn't what he needed to hear. Unseen to the doctor, Jack placed a hand on Daniel's good knee.

"Months is the worst case scenario, right doc? I was up and around within eight weeks."

"Right, worst case scenario. I'm going to send you home with an informational video, some pamphlets, and pre-op instructions. I've got you on the schedule for two weeks from today."

"Two weeks?" Daniel's mouth was dry. "So soon?"

"Like I said, the sooner the better. The swelling should be down by then, and we'll elevate your range of motion before we proceed of course, but you're in good shape, so it shouldn't be a problem. I'll also like to get your blood drawn on the way out for pre-op testing. Since you're under forty, we can skip the chest x-ray and the EKG."

Daniel numbly nodded. Yep, under forty. Not old. See, not old. He looked up and noticed the doctor was still speaking. He wasn't listening. He watched Jack take the tape and information. He hobbled down the hall and had a nurse draw blood. He was still sitting on the exam table when Jack leaned down to look in his eyes.

"You okay, Daniel?"

"Yeah," he said, but his voice sounded unconvinced, even to his own ears.

"It's no big deal. Nothing to worry about. But," he added. "I'll be here, you know." He handed Daniel his crutches, which Daniel took and carefully got up.

"You don't have to," he started, but Jack held a hand up.

"I know." He voice was firm and Daniel knew there was no fighting him. Daniel was secretly relieved. Early mid-life crisis or not, he was petrified. Emergencies didn't give him time to think and ponder the fact that someone was cutting into his knee.

Jack led the way toward the car. He opened the passenger door for Daniel. "Besides," he said casually, "why would I pass up a chance to see you in a short backless hospital gown?"

Daniel groaned. Yes, thank god for Jack O'Neill.

--

That one gray hair was back. Mocking him, Daniel was sure. It stuck out like a sore thumb on the very top of his head, as if it was proud of making itself known to the rest of its brown brothers and sisters.

Daniel sighed. He thought he could get past this whole "feeling old" thing. Jack was older than he was and Daniel didn't see the man having a mid-life crisis. When gray hair hit Jack, the man took it in stride and blamed the premature gray solely on Daniel and his brushes with death. Jack insisted he wasn't old. And Daniel certainly didn't think he was.

Which of course, was the double standard, kettle-black thinking. Slightly skewed, of course, but if Daniel didn't feel Jack was old, why did he think he was? There were eight years between the two men. Jack had hit forty not long after they had first met. Of course, a dead child and suicidal thoughts kinda made the whole mid-life crisis thing take a back seat.

Thirty-seven. At the beginning of this whole Stargate thing, Daniel had been thirty-one and grower older was the furthest thing from his mind. He'd been naïve, long-haired, glasses in hand and bleary-eyed, and sneezing at every corner. Things had certainly changed since that day. Still had the glasses, and the sneezing from time to time. But everything else was different. Short hair. Lines from worrying, concentrating, late nights. Scars from what sometimes seemed like daily off world incidents gone bad. And now he was easily taken down by a simple off-world fall.

Suddenly the last six years made him feel very every single of his thirty-seven years. He wondered if Jack ever felt the same way.

A glance in the bathroom room mirror shook him out of his thoughts and reminded him he had a mission. It was the night before his knee surgery and he was damned if he was going to show up to the hospital tomorrow with a gray hair. He reached for the counter nearly sending himself into the sink as he tried to balance on the single crutch he used to limp into the bathroom in the first place. He managed to steady himself and grabbed for the tweezers he'd taken out of the drawer.

"You know for every one you pull, two more grow back in its place."

Daniel jumped. He wasn't expecting Jack to follow him.

"That's an old wives' tale," he insisted giving Jack a smile, tweezers still in hand. Jack came up behind him and reached across, grabbing Daniel's hand with his own.

"It's not really a big deal," he said softly. Daniel looked up in the mirror. Next to Jack's head, his gray strand seemed to disappear.

"I'm too young to get gray hairs," he responded.

"And I'm not?" Jack gestured to his head with his free hand. "All you, Daniel, you know? All you. Gray hair does not run in my family. The O'Neills are known for their lack of male baldness and brown hair. My father still has a head of brown hair."

"I hate to break it to you, Jack, but baldness comes from the maternal side."

"Well, my mother still has a head of brown hair, too." He twisted Daniel around. "Point is, Daniel, has my having gray hair, which again I will say is your fault and not at all a reflection of my age, ever bothered you?"

"No," Daniel admitted. Jack wore gray very well. Extremely well, in fact. It only helped enhance his appearance, making him somewhat of a "silver fox." Not that Daniel would ever say that out loud. Even though Jack was well aware of the fact that Daniel loved him and was attracted to him, he'd let those words get to his head. And would tease Daniel endlessly about it.

"So," Jack countered, "If me having a bit," Daniel grinned at the understatement, "of gray doesn't bother you, why do you think one little tiny gray hair is going to bother me? Or you, for that matter? Both of our jobs aren't exactly what I'd call a day at the beach. Besides," he let go of Daniel's hand, "we can match."

While Jack was trying to be helpful, Daniel knew that even though his growing age didn't matter to the colonel, it did matter to him. And though Jack's words were rational, he still couldn't push aside the feelings. They seemed a part of him.

"You're very well adjusted about this whole age thing," Daniel muttered, turning back to the mirror.

Jack took the tweezers from Daniel this time. "I think I have other things to deal with than my age. Besides, I've tried the whole retirement thing. According to normal military standards, I'm an old dog who should be moving on, spending my spare time in Minnesota with a fishing pole and living off military pension. But, no, the universe, has decided that I'm not going to. So while my knees disagree, try telling the universe about a mid-life crisis. Anyway," he added, "I hate those tiny little sport cars. I'd rather have an SUV."

Daniel shifted, grimacing when he banged his knee brace against the sink. Jack had a point. A good point. He was being silly. He took the tweezers from Jack and put them back in the drawer.

"Good. Did you pack a bag for tomorrow?"

"Yes, _Dad_."

Jack grinned. "Daniel, I may be older than you, but I am definitely not old enough to be your father." He leaned in and whispered seductively into Daniel's ear. "Definitely." With that he walked out the master bathroom.

Age or not, there was one thing Daniel knew they'd both never be too old for.

--

At six a.m. the next morning, Daniel was sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair in the admitting office of the military hospital. And he was fidgeting.

"Daniel, you know, filling out these forms isn't easy when you keep bumping my chair."

Next to him, Jack was filling out registration paperwork. Daniel had insisted he could do it, but when he gripped the pen in his hand, he realized he was so jittery that he'd be lucky if he could manage to sign his name to the bottom of them.

The age thing, mid-life crisis, whatever he wanted to call the feelings he was feeling strongly the night before, had been shoved to the corner of his mind to fester a bit. Now he'd moved on to a new focus. Surgery.

It was the doctor's office all over again. A few days ago, Jack suggested they watch the video Marks had sent him home with. Five minutes in and Daniel's anxiety level soared. He'd made up some lame excuse about his knee hurting, anything to get it turned off. While he was comfortable admitting the whole age-issue to a degree, he felt uncomfortable about his whole squeamishness about the surgery. To be honest, his early "mid-life" crisis helped keep his mind off the fact that he still had to have surgery.

He'd had surgery before. So what if he had no time to process it? He'd undergone more serious procedures then this one. Hospitals and he were old friends. Ever since he was eight and had been diagnosed with allergies, he had seen the inside of an emergency room more times then he could count. Why was this any different?

He bounced his good leg up and down.

"Daniel." Jack had stopped writing. He placed his hand on Daniel's knee, effectively stopping it from moving. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." He'd said those words so many times they were like second nature. He knew Jack would see through it. Hell the admitting clerk, who was twenty-feet away, could probably see through it.

"It's just knee surgery, Danny. It'll be fine. I've had it and I'm fine."

"Easy for you to say," Daniel muttered.

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but thankfully the admitting clerk called Daniel's name, affixed him with a hospital bracelet and hustled the pair off to the pre-op unit.

--

"For crying out loud, you've had surgery before, Daniel. What's wrong?"

Daniel was currently sitting on the edge of the gurney, outfitted in a too short hospital gown, trying to stop his hands from shaking.

"Nothing," he insisted, placing his hands flat to against the top of the gurney to hide his nerves.

"Danny?" Jack lifted Daniel's hand up and examined them. Daniel tried to calm himself.

"Okay, maybe a little nervous," he admitted.

"Ya think?" Two Jackisms in less than five minutes. The thought would normally made Daniel smile, but at the moment he concentrated on not throwing up.

"It's just knee surgery, I know," he told Jack and himself. Jack gave his hands a gentle squeeze.

"That's right. The same surgery I went through. You're ahead of the game, Daniel. I already know all the plays." He began rubbing circles on Daniel's palms with his thumbs. Daniel simply nodded, not trusting his voice.

"I know," he said softly.

"It will be okay," Jack insisted again. "Daniel?" Daniel simply looked up at him. The rubbing seemed to be helping, Daniel couldn't help but relax a bit at the touch. "You ever have surgery before we started working together? You know, tonsils, broken bones, anything?"

Daniel shook his head. "So you've never had any type of surgery that wasn't for an emergency?"

Daniel nodded again before muttering, "So much can go wrong. And I'm not as young as I-"

"You're plenty young, Daniel. Even Marks says there is no way you shouldn't bounce back from this. You and that genius brain of yours. Always over thinking when you don't need to. Shove over." Jack settled himself on the gurney next to Daniel, releasing his grasp of the man's hands. "Look, surgery isn't fun. Your knee will hate you for a while, especially the first couple of days. And the first time you get up, well, it'll suck. But it will all work out." Again the words <and I'll be here> hung in the air, but they didn't need to be said.

"Everyone decent?" The pair looked up and saw a petite redhead standing five feet away. She had an eerie resemblance to another red-haired Air Force physician. Jack scrambled off the gurney.

She smiled. "Don't worry. I'm not one to start rumors. I'm Dr. Doughty, your anesthesiologist." She turned to Daniel. "And since you're the one in the gown, you must be Dr. Jackson."

"Daniel," the archeologist automatically corrected.

"Well, Daniel, I'm going to go ahead, get your vitals, ask some standard questions, and get your IV set up. You're in luck. It's a slow morning around here. You don't always get all three of those services done by yours truly." She flashed him a grin, while she set her supplies down next to him. "We'll get your vitals and the needle stuff over with first." She was efficient and fast. Before Daniel even had a chance to see the needle and flinch, she had the IV up and running and was flipping through his chart. "I saved the painful part for last - paperwork." She smiled again. Daniel immediately felt a little bit more of his tension melt away. The woman had such a pleasant, easy-going attitude. And her resemblance to Janet wasn't hurting either. He briefly wondered if Janet had a cousin nearby.

"First up, eat or drink anything since midnight?"

"No."

"Good to hear. Since you're Dr. Marks' patient, did you take the meds he ordered pre-operatively for pain management?"

"Yes. Tylenol, Ibuprofen, and ... there's one more ..."

"Elavil," Jack supplied. "But he only took a Tylenol and an Ibuprofen this morning. Marks' recommendation."

Daniel was surprised Jack remembered the name. But maybe he shouldn't be. Jack probably knew the names of all his allergy meds as well, even though he pretended to decipher them through a pill shape and color method. The colonel - his colonel - was far from as stupid as he sometimes pretended he was.

"Great. Takes care of the next question and makes my job easier post-operatively speaking. I see you've had surgery before...which brings us to allergies."

"Umm..." Daniel wasn't sure where to start. Jack beat him to it and produced a list from his pocket.

"Saves time," he said. "I'm thinking about getting cards made." The doctor glanced at the list, noting a few things.

"That sums it up for now. I'm going to send Claire in - again you rate because she is the best nurse in this department - and she'll get you an allergy bracelet so I don't forget any of the tidbits you've just shared and shave your knee."

Daniel was surprised. "Shave my knee?"

"Can't get any hair in the wound. That would be messy. Don't worry it grows back. Just think of us gals. We have to do it all the time, with no help." She closed his chart. "I'll be back shortly with your pre-op meds."

"Meds?" The jittery feeling was coming back. Daniel unconsciously starting playing with his hands again.

She smiled. "I always give my patients a little pre-op Valium. It makes things easier for everyone. Surgery isn't exactly the kind of thing that tops your to-do list." A nurse entered, razor in hand. It seemed everyone was entering with sharp things. "Ah, Claire. Like I said, I'll be back."

Daniel watched her leave. "Think she's related to Janet?" he asked Jack.

Jack shook his head. "Nah. Too perky. Way too perky."

--

Though he didn't want to admit it, Daniel was relieved when Dr. Doughty returned, syringe in hand. He hoped that maybe the Valium would take the edge of the slight nerves he still couldn't chase down. Thirty minutes later, he was sprawled across the gurney, drowsy and finding it hard to remember the fact that he was nervous at all. Marks had been in to talk to him, but he had trouble following the conversation, and again, Jack was the one who asked all the questions. Speaking of the man, currently he was sitting in a chair next the gurney, the latest copy of Sport Illustrated that he'd conned Claire into retrieving for him in his hands.

<And Janet says I've got all the nurses wrapped around my finger> Daniel thought sleepily with a smile.

"What are you so happy about?" Jack commented, looking up from the article he'd been reading.

"Nothing," he mumbled. Funny, he hadn't intended to mumble. He noticed that the room was out of focus. "They took my glasses." Jack grinned.

"You're so wasted," he commented, shifting the magazine.

"So? Jealous?" The ceiling cracks suddenly appealed to him.

"Nah. Been there. It's your turn. Enjoy it while you can." Daniel sighed and closed his eyes. The next time he opened them, he realized he was moving.

"Jack?"

"Right here." Jack appeared at his side and Daniel stopped moving. "It's show time, Danny. I'll see you when you wake up."

Daniel noticed they'd stopped at a pair of double doors. He looked up at Jack and wished he could express something deeper. But it would only bring more trouble. Jack squeezed his shoulder and Daniel knew he was feeling the same thing. They didn't need the words or the actions. But sometimes it would be nice to have them.

Daniel turned his head and watched Jack as they wheeled him forward. Before he could contemplate the loss, they had him off the gurney and on the cold, hard, narrow OR table. He recognized Marks to his left snapping on gloves. Despite the Valium, he found his nerves creeping back up on him.

Show time. Surgery. The world blurred a bit around him and he knew it wasn't from the lack of glasses.

He heard a fast beeping and realized someone had hooked him up to heart monitor. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He closed his eyes. He felt something cold enter his hand and gradually the beeping slowed.

"That's it," he heard someone mutter and opened his eyes. Dr. Doughty's face was above him. She was wearing a surgical mask, but he could tell she was smiling by the crinkling by her eyes.

"Daniel, I gave you more Valium. It should help. It will probably make you pretty sleepy though. But since that's the direction you're heading in a minute, go ahead and drift off if you feel like it." He noticed she was sitting behind his head. He heard the slight squeak of wheels and saw her moving.

"Just getting few more things set," she promised, and Daniel thanked his lucky stars that she looked like Fraiser. It was strangely calming and next to Jack or Janet herself, it was the next best thing and he'd take it. He felt someone pull his arm away from him. He fixed his gaze toward Doughty.

Marks said something to him, and he thought he mumbled something back, but he couldn't be sure. The extra Valium was making everything fuzzy, which he supposed was good.

"Daniel?" Doughty's face appeared above his again. She held a mask slightly above his face. "Just breathe normally for me, okay? It's only oxygen," she promised. Before he could answer she had the mask positioned about an inch away from his nose and mouth. He figured there was no way out now. He concentrated on simply breathing.

"Good," he heard her praise and he felt another coldness enter his hand. Suddenly the world got even fuzzier than it already was. "Time to go to sleep, Daniel. Take some deep breaths," he heard before the mask was placed firmly down over his nose and mouth. A very strong, but not unpleasant small invaded his senses and it got very hard to keep his eyes open. He vaguely heard Doughty ask him to count backward from 50, but her voice sounded far away, as if they were trying to communicate through a tunnel.

He heard his voice try to comply, but he was already drifting off. Sleep was nice. It was where he could pretend he was somewhere else, not thirty-seven, and not nervous.

His first thought was of Jack.

--

Jack.

Oddly enough, or maybe not, it was the first thought that permeated Daniel's senses as he struggled to find the surface. The smell of antiseptic came next

Jack. Oh god, was he hurt? Were they both hurt? He didn't feel a hand or arm, or head next to him like he usually did whenever he woke up in the infirmary. Jack had to be hurt as well.

He shook his head and blinked his eyes.

Jack.

"Dr. Jackson?"

Jack. Where was Jack?

"Jack? Oh, is he the man you came with today? He's in the waiting room."

Waiting room? Fraiser won't and couldn't keep Jack away. The man was a stubborn ass, that did not take no for an answer. Daniel's eyes opened.

Everything was fuzzy, but the coloring was wrong. The ceiling was the wrong height. Not the infirmary.

"You're in recovery."

It all came crashing back. Planet with hills, busted knee, surgery at the military hospital, Jack... He suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

The voice - a nurse he supposed - sensed his problem and produced a basin, which after she got him up in lightning speed, held for him while he threw up. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Anesthesia never did seem to set well with him. Several types of it were on his allergy list. As he dry heaved again, he figured they could probably add one more.

When he was finally done, he raised his hand up and the nurse helped him get settled. He tried to blink the sleep out of his eyes, but it wasn't working and the world was still blurry. He needed his glasses. He felt someone move the blankets aside and something sharp was jabbed into his hip.

"Jack?" he mumbled again before falling asleep.

The next time he was truly aware, something was different. There was a familiar touch by his hand. "Jack?" he asked, before he even opened his eyes.

"Right here, Daniel."

Daniel vaguely opened his eyes to a slightly blurry version of Jack O'Neill. "Jack," he said again with content. He felt Jack squeeze his hand.

"Last time I checked, that was my name." Daniel blinked, trying to clear the remnants of the anesthesia from his brain. Everything was still slightly out of focus. His mouth was dry. He licked his lips.

"Glasses. Water." Wow, he managed two words now. His glasses were handed to him and after a moment or two he found the coordination to place them correctly over his eyes. Finally the world came into a clear sharpness. Jack stood next him looking a bit rumpled and poured Daniel a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table. Daniel wondered if he'd been pacing. Jack never did do waiting very well.

He pushed himself up and took the cup when Jack offered it to him. That's when he noticed his knee. The number of bandages and the size of the brace over them surprised him. Why hadn't he noticed it before? He also realized he wasn't really in pain. He sipped at the water, clearing his throat.

"Um...shouldn't that hurt?" He was a bit overwhelmed by it all.

"Marks gave you something in the OR to numb it. Says it helps the knee recover from the initial trauma, remember?"

Actually, he didn't, but figured it would be easier to pretend he did. Jack knew all the details, and that worked for him. He wasn't about to complain about the current lack of pain. He figured he had plenty of time for it to hurt. A lot.

"Carter called while you were sleeping. I gave her an update. She and Teal'c plan on stopping by later. Supposedly, she is promising gifts."

"I hope it's not peas."

Jack smiled. "You and me both. I still have two more bags in the freezer."

"I'm sure I'll find a use for them in the upcoming weeks."

Jack shook his head and pointed to Daniel's knee and then to a cooler next to the bed. "You get that special Cryo Cuff thingie, remember? Ice water constantly circulating through your knee and all that?"

Daniel groaned. He vaguely remembered Marks talking about the device and how it delivered controlled safe compression to minimize swelling and cold to help the pain. It was all part of the recovery stage. At least he had been able to stomach that part of the pamphlet.

"I told you it wouldn't be fun, Danny."

A nurse delivering lunch interrupted the pair. Daniel groaned again at the liquid offerings.

The nurse smiled. "I know, not very appetizing. But after surgery-"

Daniel raised a hand. "I know. But I can still hate Jello."

She laughed. "You sure can. But you according to your chart, you were pretty sick earlier, and we want to see if this stays down. And if it doesn't, it makes cleanup a little easier for both of us." Daniel swallowed self-consciously. He didn't really remember his earlier indiscretions. She pulled over the bedside table. "Don't worry, in addition to being a nurse I have four kids. Nothing fazes me. I'm Maggie, and I'll be one of the nurses handling your case while you're here." She set the tray down. "After lunch, Dr. Marks left instructions to have us set you up with a PCA - one of those pumps attached to your IV so you can control your own pain relief."

"But I'm not having any pain," Daniel insisted.

"Oh, but you will be," Jack piped in while he stared at Daniel's Jello.

The nurse nodded. "The anesthesia hasn't worn off completely. I'll get you set up so you won't be uncomfortable when it does."

"Um, Daniel has allergies-"

"You must be Colonel O'Neill. We have all Dr. Jackson's allergies on record." She grinned again. "Don't worry." She checked Daniel's current IV settings and then left.

"Mother hen."

"Someone has to look out for you, especially when trouble likes to follow you. A lot."

"You make me sound like I'm accident-prone."

"Well..."

"Jack!"

"Someone's feeling a little more awake." He cocked his head toward the Jello this time. "Feel like sharing?"

Daniel shoved the plate toward him, mildly disgusted as Jack ate it happily. "I will never understand....that."

"Jello is an American staple, Daniel."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Sure it is. That's why you always eat mine whenever I get it in the infirmary. Janet's caught on, you know. She stopped giving me Jello."

"I know. But fortunately, we're not on base, are we?" He pointed his head toward the broth. "Eat."

Daniel glanced at Jack once more, before reluctantly picking up the spoon.

--

Now it hurt.

Daniel felt old.

Again.

He sighed. What else was new? He stared at the pain control button he currently held in his hand. So it hurt. The pain was nothing compared to other things he'd experienced. And he knew the pain medication would just leave him groggy and dry mouthed. Not to mention, he tended to have very little appetite when he was on narcotics. Thankfully his liquid lunch hadn't made a reappearance, but he didn't think he'd make a good impression if he couldn't manage to eat dinner.

Then again, the discomfort was enough that he wouldn't be able to sleep, either.

Decision, decisions.

He'd still been sleepy enough from the anesthesia and feeling no pain, so he'd been able to convince Jack to head down to the cafeteria while he took a nap. But his knee had woken him up.

He closed his eyes. If he was in the infirmary, Janet or one of her nurses would have simply seen him contemplating, then pushed the button and berated him for not using the medication when that was what it was there for.

Oddly enough, he missed the infirmary. He closed his eyes, sighed, and leaned back again the pillow. He thought maybe he'd try and sleep again when a soft beep invaded his thoughts. He opened his eyes and found Jack standing next to his bed, the button in his hand. Almost immediately Daniel started to feel relief.

"It just makes me sleepy," he insisted weakly, feeling like he needed to defend himself. While Fraiser was usually the berating one, Jack could compete with her, especially when it came to Daniel taking his meds.

"The pain isn't any better. And trust me Daniel, you want to use this while you can, because when they get you up and out of bed in a bit, it's gonna hurt like hell and make your night miserable."

"Great." He paused for a second. "Get me up?" Daniel didn't even want to think about getting up.

"So you can get out of here. Or at least use the bathroom instead of..."

Jack had a good point. The bathroom would be a very good thing. And Daniel had to admit something; the fact that Jack had gone through the same procedure was helpful. Coincidently around the same age Daniel was currently, he suddenly realized, remembering a comment Jack made when he'd first been injured.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"How old were you when you had this surgery?"

Jack sat down in what Daniel had already mentally called "Jack's chair" despite the fact that he'd been here less than twelve hours. Jack thought for a minute. "I was thirty-six. Broke the preverbal straw on the camel's back during a routine training exercise of all things. Was extremely pissed at myself."

"For a training exercise? I tripped down a hill."

"I was there, remember?" He smiled. "You win. One thing I did get out of the whole experience though, besides pain and physical therapy, was I got to spend a lot of time with Charlie. Saw a lot of his Little League games that year." There was a wistful tone in his voice, but the smile remained. "Good memories." He looked at Daniel's knee. "Feeling better?"

"Yes," Daniel admitted and then yawned. "But sleepy again."

Jack shrugged. "Trade off."

A knock at the door drew both of their attentions. Sam Carter poked her head in.

"This a bad time?"

Daniel smiled, trying to fight another yawn. "Perfect timing. Don't mind me if I drift off." He lifted the arm with the IV. "Pain meds and all."

"That he didn't want," Jack commented as Sam walked in, followed by Teal'c. Teal'c presented Daniel with a rather large teddy bear clutching a balloon that read "Get Well Soon."

"The woman in the gift shop downstairs assured me this was the proper gift," he said and Daniel swore he saw a hint of a smile in his words.

"It does have blue eyes," Sam pointed out before handing Daniel a bag of chocolate walnut cookies.

"Cookies? No fair! I never get cookies!" Jack complained. "I get peas!"

Daniel smiled. "That's because I'm not grumpy when I'm injured, Jack."

"Grumpy?"

"And extremely hard to deal with."

"Daniel..."

"Jack..."

Sam and Teal'c visited for another twenty minutes before Fraiser joined them, and after scanning his chart and asking countless questions, presented Daniel with her own gift, more cookies that she and Cassie had made. Again Jack protested that Janet never brought him cookies. Twenty minutes after that Daniel started continually yawning and Jack escorted the three out. Daniel closed his eyes and started to drift off when he felt Jack's hand adjusting the blanket.

"Jack..." he muttered, not opening his eyes. "Go home."

He felt the bed dip as Jack sat on it, careful not to disturb his knee. "Trying to get rid of me, Dr. Jackson?" He could hear the grin in Jack's voice. There was silence for a moment.

"You just had surgery, Daniel. It helps to have someone around. I'll go home after they get you up."

"Promise?"

He felt Jack run his fingers through his hair. There was hesitation as his fingers grazed Daniel's forehead. Daniel was surprised when he felt Jack kiss the spot. He opened his eyes.

"Jack?"

"Shhh," Jack soothed. "No one's around. Go to sleep."

Daniel smiled and closed his eyes again, happy when Jack's weigh didn't shift. He fell asleep with Jack's hand still in his hair.

--

Getting out of bed sounded like a good idea. It really did.

But now that he was up, it felt like the worst idea he'd ever been presented with. Daniel had woken up to a dinner tray of solid food. After Jack ate more of his Jello, Marks had come in with Maggie and another woman Daniel soon learned was Carly, a physical therapist. He did his whole examination routine and made some notations on Daniel's chart and headed out, leaving Carly and Maggie behind. Carly then unhooked the Cryo Cuff and proclaimed that it was time for Daniel to get out of bed.

Which he did, with the nurse's and Jack's help. His right knee immediately buckled and protested and the whole action made him extremely dizzy. He was sure he would have fallen flat on his face if he weren't being completely supported.

"The pain and dizziness are to be expected," Carly explained. "You've been horizontal for most of the day and have some heavy medication in your body. The pain should become tolerable in a few moments."

Daniel simply nodded and took a few deep breaths, wishing he'd pushed the button on his PCA before getting up. After what felt like an eternity, the pain finally began to settle to a dull roar.

"Better?"

"A little. Let's just get this over with."

Carly smiled. "You're someone who gets straight to the point. We'll start slow. To the door and back. If the pain is too much, let one of us know immediately and stop." She handed off a pair of crutches to Maggie who took one and handed off the other to Jack so they could help Daniel get them both into position. Satisfied, she let go and gestured to Jack to do the same. Daniel faltered for a second without the support before gripping the crutches and steadying himself. Crutches and he were not best friends at all. He set one foot on the floor.

It hurt.

"It will get better," Jack promised, keeping close to Daniel on his right side. It did get better and Daniel made it to the door. He just had to make it back. Which he did, one slow step at a time.

"How the pain?" Carly asked.

"Not too bad. Hurts, but not as much as before."

"Good, good." Just as Daniel reached the bed and was about to sit down on it, something else made itself known.

"Um, before I sit, can we make a trip to the bathroom?"

Maggie looked at the therapist hesitantly. Carly just laughed. "That's when I know someone is starting to feel like themselves again. Sure. If you're not too tired to make it there and back."

"I'll help," Jack offered.

"Ready?" Jack was at his right side again and he noticed Maggie hadn't strayed to far from his left.

"My bladder certainly is."

"Well, you have to get there first." Together all three of them made it the small bathroom and after some begging and securing of the IV pump, Daniel got a moment of privacy. It was on the trip back that the tiredness began creeping back up on him. By the time he made back to the bed, Daniel was ready to call it a night. He was surprised his body was ready to shut down after a simple jaunt across the room. The mid-life crisis he temporarily checked at the OR door was far from gone, he realized. Insecurity wasn't a feeling that he got rid of easily.

Carly promised to be back in the morning with an array of PT exercises for Daniel to learn and Maggie got his IV settled again. She pushed the button again, and Daniel knew his current drowsiness was about to be magnified. Daniel looked at Jack and nodded towards the jacket that was slung across the back of his chair.

"I got up. I'm tired. You have to be, too. You said you'd go home after I got up."

Jack looked uncertain. "This isn't the infirmary, Jack. There's no Janet to con into letting you sleep in an uncomfortable chair. They'll kick you out and, as you have reminded me several times today, it was only knee surgery. Nothing life threatening." Of course this morning, Daniel hadn't been so sure of that, so he could see why Jack might be hesitant.

"You sure?" He made no move toward his jacket.

"Yes."

"Visiting hours are almost over as well," Maggie commented as she took Daniel's crutches and laid them against the wall. She smiled, reminded Daniel of the call button, and left the two alone. Jack picked up the jacket.

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, then. Get someone to call me if there's a problem, which there won't be, but-"

"I know." He settled against the pillows, the pain medication kicking in again. Jack turned to the door.

"Jack?" He turned.

"Thanks." He wanted to say more, add an "I love you" but knew he couldn't.

Jack understood. "No place I'd rather be, Danny. Now be a good boy and I'll pick you up in the morning."

"I'm always a good boy, Jack. I think you have confused the two of us."

"You're lucky I love you." Jack realized he'd said the words without thinking and Daniel panicked slightly. They were in a military hospital after all and Jack was a colonel. There were reasons they couldn't be as free as they hoped. But Jack smiled.

"Good night, Daniel," he said and hit the light switch on his way out, leaving Daniel with the moonlight.

"I love you, too," Daniel whispered to the empty doorway, before closing his eyes.

--

"Daniel?"

Daniel stared up at Jack's worried face. This morning was not going well.

First off, Daniel had been up half the night. Between the cramps in his knee and the constant emptying his bladder insisted on, he thought he was lucky if he slept two hours. By the time Jack arrived, he'd been picking at his breakfast try and already in the beginnings of a foul mood. Then, Marks had strolled in, and began what Daniel hoped would be his final examination before he left. When the doctor got the brace off, and looked satisfied, Daniel snuck his first peek on his knee.

He felt a little queasy when he saw all the swelling, bruising, and neat three-inch row of black stitches across his knee. And to top it off, he noticed a tube peeking out from under his skin emptying slightly red fluid in a small container. He preferred the sight of bandages.

"That looks good?" he had said, once again not sure why his stomach was protesting at the sight. He'd had worse. Seen worse in the field.

The doctor had laughed, told him it would probably look a bit worse before it started to look better, but that everything was normal. Then he said he was going to remove the drainage tube.

Which is how Daniel found himself flat on his back staring into the brown eyes of a concerned Jack O'Neill.

"What happened?" he mumbled.

"You passed out," Jack explained.

"I passed out?" He was surprised. He'd had Janet pull chest and other various tubes in the infirmary and had never _fainted_ because of it.

Jack nodded. "When the doctor pulled out that tube. How are you feeling?"

"That hurt."

Marks appeared in his line of vision and Daniel noticed the doctor was taking his blood pressure. "I'm sorry about that. Should have given you more of a warning. But injecting an anesthetic hurts just as much." He removed the cuff and Daniel noticed Maggie was back. She must be on shift again. "If you could redress that for me, I'd appreciate it. And keep him flat for a little while."

Flat? No way. He wanted to go home. "I'm fine," he insisted and started to sit himself up. Dizziness and two sets of hands helped settle him back on the mattress.

"Your BP is low, Dr. Jackson. I'd prefer if you'd just take it easy. I'm going to finish my morning rounds, let you rest up for a while and come back to finish your instructions. We can still have you out of here by noon, as promised." Daniel opened his mouth to protest, but a look from Jack changed his mind. The doctor smiled at Maggie and made his way out.

"I'm never getting out of here," Daniel protested.

--

An hour and a half later, Daniel's knee was redressed, back in the brace, and Marks had returned with what seemed like a mile long list of post-op instructions.

"...PT will come down to discuss exercises you'll need to at home. Incision needs to stay dry, so plastic wrap when you shower. You will probably want someone nearby just in you need help."

"Not a problem." Jack was making a list, which was good because Daniel was once again overwhelmed. Jack always handled the post-infirmary instructions, so this wasn't any different. Of course, the doctor had just suggested Daniel needed help in the shower, something Jack would _certainly_ be happy to comply with. Not that Daniel would be complaining about that suggestion, either.

"...brace off only when you shower. PT will set up a schedule and I'll see you next week. Any questions?"

Questions. Right. He racked his brain.

"Does he still need to use the crutches for the whole week? I mean I did after my surgery, but I had it done almost ten years ago."

Good question. Thank God for Jack. Of course, if it was up to Daniel the crutches would be burned the second they got home.

"Use them for the first couple of days, at least. You can play it by ear after that. Some surgeons don't even send their patients home with a brace, just the crutches, but I tend to believe the brace offers much more support, hence the need to wear it constantly. He'll probably find it easier to maneuver outside the house with the crutches during that first week, though, so I suggest doing so."

Jack nodded and appeared to mentally check off one item on his "Daniel post-op" list.

"Meds?"

"Tylenol and Ibuprofen. Same dosages as before. I'm also sending him home with a long acting narcotic called oxycodone but he should only take it if he needs it. Unfortunately, it can cause nausea, so I'm including a script for that just in case."

"Antibiotics?"

"No need. He's been on IV antibiotics for his entire stay and the wound looks good. If he develops a fever, experiences any unexpected pain, or the wound appears unusually red or irritated, give me a call and I can always prescribe something."

Daniel watched Jack and Marks like a spectator at a tennis match. Jack knew exactly what to ask and Daniel figured that most of the questions he knew the answers to. Even though he insisted Daniel was the winner of most frequent patient award, Jack certainly deserved runner-up. And again, although he acted like he didn't understand or remember technical details, Daniel knew it was the opposite. Jack had a very good memory and would probably do quite well in a medical class. Of course, he never let Jack know he knew that.

"...sign your discharge papers, Maggie will pull your IV and as soon as PT sees you, you are free to go."

Now that was the news he wanted to hear. He grinned.

Jack's couch never sounded so good.

--

Jack's couch had sounded good. Now that he was on it, he was uncomfortable. And couldn't find the remote.

After a slightly embarrassing situation where Daniel realized his knee was so stiff he couldn't even get into his boxers without help, they'd left the hospital easily enough, Daniel getting the mandatory wheelchair ride to Jack's car. Getting in the car with his incredibly bulky brace had been a bit of an adventure, but stretched across the backseat, he managed fine. He even struggled with his crutches and limped up the three stairs to Jack's front door.

Now settled, however, and without the aid of heavy narcotics, he had the opportunity to get well acquainted with his brace, which he was forced to be very best friends with for the next few weeks.

It was hot, heavy, itchy, and poked him. Like a cast, only more annoying because he knew that he could remove it if he just reached for the Velcro, but if he did, he'd be dealing with one pissed off Air Force Colonel.

He hated it, really.

And this was only after wearing it for a day.

Of course, the Cryo-cuff made things even more fun. It fit right over the bandages and needed to be snug enough so it didn't slip. The brace went over it, adding to the bulk that was his knee. The cooler that attached to the device had to be placed higher then his leg to allow the ice water to flow through the tubing. Every six hours he had to refill it with half ice and half water. And when the water got too warm from his body heat, he had to lower the cooler so the water would cycle down and get rechilled. Then it had to be mover higher again. For the first week, this had to be done constantly to keep the swelling down. The therapist told him he even had to sleep in it.

Ice cold water in the bedroom certainly sounded like it would put a damper to his evenings.

Right.

Of course, with the brace, the swelling, the pain and stiffness, Daniel supposed he already had enough to chill off the bedroom without the Cryo-cuff. The exercise routine the therapist had also set him up with loomed over the horizon as well.

He cursed the hills on PX234.

Of course coming home and dealing with the aftermath of his surgery had only served to further remind him that he wasn't as young as he used to be. At the hospital, when the physical therapist had made him run through the basic exercises, a couple he recognized and had done modifications of them after injuries at the SGC before, no problem. Now those simple exercises brought tears to his eyes. The therapist assured him that it was normal and that he actually already had more motion to his knee then a lot of ACL patients had after a week post-surgery, but that information sailed over his head. All he noticed was that lone gray hair that taunted him when he managed to hobble into the bathroom. That, and a near spill down the two steps to Jack's living room, left him feeling quite the opposite.

What was wrong with him? He thought Jack had helped. He thought he realized he was silly in his insecurities. So he was thirty-seven. What exactly was the problem?

What had he expected to achieve by his late 30s? A wife? Well, he had that, and lost it. But he'd found Jack, so he guessed he could still say he had love in his life at thirty-seven. Kids? With Sha're gone, that had faded away as well. And unless medicine made some incredible leap of faith and/or the Air Force welcomed homosexual relationships and homosexual adoption, kids were out. Which he could deal with. Part of him had thought about being a father - Sha're wanted children more than life itself and he would do anything to make her happy - but after all he'd been though, he realized he didn't know anything about being a father. He won't know where to start.

What else had he expected? A good career? He'd flushed that thought down the toilet that rainy day in LA, but the SGC had rescued it. Of course, sometimes it was frustrating to no be able to tell the world he was right, but it really didn't matter. In his eyes, he supposed he achieved a lot for a thirty-seven year old archeologist. And he still had plenty of years to go. Jack didn't let his knees or his gray hair, slow him down.

But still the feeling sat there. Sat there while he helped Nyan translate SG-11's latest findings and he watched the sparkle in the young man's eyes and remembered way back in the day, when he'd been as young and excited. Sat there while he watched Cassie talk about high school and attending college while all he could see was the frightened eleven-year-old. Sat there while he was introduced to the newest member of his staff, an up and coming twenty-three-year-old whose uncle was younger then Daniel.

Still, he supposed, all and all those things weren't enough to bother him. Not on a normal day. Didn't bother him when he turned thirty-six. He wasn't sure why thirty-seven was so different.

His parents hadn't made it to thirty-seven. His mother had been thirty-five and his father was thirty-six.

He outlived them both. And thirty-seven wasn't old.

For his parents, it was different. Thirty-seven was different.

It shouldn't be, really.

But it was.

--

Heaving panting echoed across the bedroom as Daniel laid his head back into the pillows exhausted. Next to him Jack hoisted himself on the mattress and immediately settled next to the archaeologist.

"Not so bad, right?"

"That hurt like hell, Jack."

"Pain before pleasure."

"Holding my knee in that position is not going to equal any kind of pleasure in the near future."

"The therapist said-"

"I know what the therapist said, Jack. But this is putting a serious damper on the way I used to view our bed, you know.

"We could change that."

"No way! I'm too tired and this brace-"

Daniel was cut off by Jack's tongue as it made its way down his throat. He sunk into the mattress and reciprocated the affection as Jack reached his hand down Daniel's stomach before pulling back the waistband of Daniel's extremely loose fitting sweatpants and slipping his fingers lower.

"Jack," Daniel mumbled as the kiss finally ended. He'd meant it when he said he was exhausted.

"Relax. I'm doing all the work here, in case you haven't noticed."

Oh, he noticed. He gasped at Jack's touch. Yep, he certainly noticed and it appeared one part of his body wasn't all that tired after all.

When Jack finally pulled away, Daniel was completely spent. But despite the fact that Jack had the most wonderful hands, touch, and body ever, his knee throbbed and cut into what he'd normally consider bliss. Jack's face was a few inches from Daniel's.

"Knee hurt?" he asked gently.

"Yes," Daniel admitted with a sigh. "Did you have to do all this, Jack?"

"Yes."

"Did it hurt?"

"Hell, yes."

"Good."

"Hey! This is the thanks I get for what I just did?"

"Knee still hurts, Jack."

A pause and Daniel turned, hissing a bit when said knee protested the slight movement.

--

"Knee still hurts, Jack."

Jack's expression immediately turned to concerned. Daniel didn't admit pain often, and when he did it meant the pain must be bad. His thoughts were confirmed when Daniel turned and hissed.

"Pain pill?" Jack had already gotten up before Daniel gave a nod. He returned with the pills and a glass of water. Daniel took the pills without a comment, another sign that he wasn't feeling up to par. After stripping Daniel down to his boxers, a task that any other time would have been rather enjoyable, reattaching the Cyro-cuff, and getting him settled under the blankets, Jack sat on the bed and flipped on the TV. The two of them sat in silence while Jack channel-surfed.

"Did I-"

"No. Exercises." Daniel's eyes were currently at half-mast. "Really. Like you said, you did all the work. My knee didn't leave the bed."

"Pain better?"

A yawn. "Feeling great. Just tired." Daniel snuggled toward Jack, an action he did every night. Jack often had to pry the man away from him if he ever had to get up to go to the bathroom. While the brace would make that nearly impossible tonight, Jack knew Daniel still wouldn't let go to whatever he managed to latch onto, so he stripped down to his boxers as well, mentally checked that he locked the front door, and settled in.

--

He woke up to retching.

Daniel sat hunched over the bed as best he could, Jack's pathetic attempt at a wastepaper basket in his hands. But as Jack got up to help, he noticed his partner hadn't completely missed the rug. Temporarily ignoring the mess, Jack concentrated on rubbing Daniel's back and helping the man sit completely up. After what seemed like an eternity, the retching ceased.

"Jack..." Daniel voice was weak and he leaned heavily against Jack. Jack reached around him to grab a box of tissues off the nightstand. He handed one to Daniel, who took it gratefully.

"You finished?"

"I think so. I'm sorry about the rug."

"Don't worry about that. You think you can get up without your crutches? I let them in the living room and I think you could use a little cleaning up." Daniel paused a second and nodded. He looked down again at the mess he made and flushed apologetically.

"Daniel, it's no big deal." Jack got up, unhooked the Cryo-cuff and helped Daniel to his feet. Slowly they made the start trek to the master bathroom, where Jack sat Daniel down on the toilet seat. He turned the facet on. Daniel looked down at his soiled shirt.

"Great. I'm a mess. Guess you can add one more drug to that list you have Jack."

"List? What list? I think I can write a novel by now." He handed Daniel a wet towel.

"Funny." Daniel sighed. "I feel like crap."

"Ya think? We should call Marks."

"At three in the morning? I don't think so, Jack. I can manage. I think I'm done."

"Long-lasting medication, Daniel, remember. You probably are _not_ done. Maybe I should call Fraiser."

"And wake her at three in morning? No way."

"What about the anti-nausea stuff Marks gave you? We can try that."

"They're suppositories, Jack! I can appreciate things up my ass, but those are not one of them."

"Then puke all over my rug. Decorate the hallway rug while you're at it."

"What happened to sympathy?"

Jack sighed. "I'm sympathetic, Daniel, really. Which is why I don't want to watch you puking your guts p all night. Because if you do that, you'll get dehydrated and I'll have to call Fraiser, who will made me haul your ass to the infirmary, where she will ream both of us. You for not trying the medication and me for not forcing you to take the medication. So I figure we can avoid all that." He fished through the medicine cabinet as he spoke and took out the bottle of suppositories. He extended them to Daniel. "Want help?"

"No, thank you. I will reiterate. You are allowed to stick things up my ass. These," he shook the bottle, "are not one of them. I'd be scarred for life."

"I think you'd get over it pretty quickly," he teased, but secretly Jack was grateful for the out. The act did put imprint a bad mental picture in his brain.

Ten minutes later, Daniel was settled back in bed, the rug was damp, but clean, and the issue was dropped. Despite the medication, however, the archaeologist had two more bouts of the nausea and by the time dawn broke, he was miserable and feeling pretty sorry for himself. Jack called the surgeon, who called in a new prescription to the local pharmacy and Jack left to pick it up, promising Starbucks if Daniel was good.

Daniel's stomach protested at the mention of coffee, which spoke volumes.

When Jack returned, with new pills in hand, Daniel choked them down with a coffee chaser and prayed all stayed put. His knee ached terribly. He hunkered down under the blankets again. Jack turned on the Discovery Channel and went to make lunch. Daniel's eyes turned to the screen, too uncomfortable to do much else.

When the program mentioned a display in the New York Museum of Art, he reached out to his knee and that insecure feeling returned to the pit of his stomach and he felt old.

--

Four days later, things were back to normal. Well, as normal as they could be. Jack was catching up on the dreaded paperwork he always hated doing which, of course, was always the reason he was behind. Daniel was perched on the couch, his leg propped up on a pillow on the coffee table, the ever-present cooler stacked next to it on a couple of very dusty encyclopedias. Daniel sneezed as a dust bunny came his way.

"Bless you," Jack said not lifting his eyes from his paperwork. Daniel noticed Jack was squinting as his shifted his gaze from the reports to his computer screen.

"I think you need glasses, Jack."

Jack looked offended at the comment. "No way."

"You're squinting."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Probably have a headache from glaring at the screen."

"If I have a headache, it's not from this paperwork, Daniel. It's from bored archaeologists who like to interject their opinion where it's not needed."

"I'm not bored."

"Oh, really?"

Daniel looked at the hockey game he resorted to watching. Even the Discovery Channel's offering wasn't any better. It was pretty sad.

"Okay, maybe I'm a little bored. But I still think you need glasses."

"Daniel..."

"Okay, okay, I'll back off. But I still think you really need reading glasses." Jack looked and sent him a glare. The rest of the afternoon passed slowly. Daniel almost burst with happiness when he heard the doorbell. He was even more excited when Sam entered the living room.

"Sam!" He greeted, a little too enthusiastically. Sam glanced at Jack.

"He's bored," Jack commented.

"Oh," she said, sitting down next to Daniel on the sofa. "I brought Teal'c as well. So you must be feeling better, then?"

"Yes. Where's Teal'c?"

"Parking the car. Someone's blocking your driveway, sir, so we had to circle to find a spot."

"Teal'c drove?"

"Someone is blocking my driveway?"

The two sentences overlapped each over and Jack and Daniel stopped to look at each over. Sam wasn't sure which one to answer first.

"What he said," they tried, but again failed. Jack simply walked towards the window.

"Great," he commented and walked outside, muttering something about his idiot of a neighbor.

"Teal'c drove?" Daniel repeated.

"Well, since he paid for the movie, I felt I owed him one."

"Paid for the...wait a second, are you saying Teal'c took you on a date?"

Sam immediately blushed. "Well..."

"Wow. I'm happy for you guys, Sam." Daniel grinned.

"Thanks. Anyway, that's part of the reason I stopped by. We were on our way to dinner and thought you and the colonel might want to get out. Kinda like a ..."

Daniel's grin got even wider. "Double date? Why Samantha Carter, how very eighth grade of you."

She playfully hit him. "You want steak or not?"

"What's this about steak?" Jack had returned and brought Teal'c with him.

"Your car is in the driveway, Samantha," Teal'c said. Sam blushed again at the use of her first name.

"Samantha?" Jack looked from Teal'c to his 2IC. Daniel just grinned.

"Sam wants to double date," he said, before Sam elbowed him in the ribs. "Hey, that hurt!"

Jack sighed. He'd really been out of the loop on this one. And while he was happy for the couple, hiding his and Daniel's relationship was already hard enough. Still, they would and could manage. "I'll admit I didn't see coming. This has to stay on the lowdown, Carter. I can't be having all my good people reassigned."

"Of course, sir."

"Indeed," was Teal'c' contribution.

Daniel had already detached himself from his cooler and was already reaching for his crutches. "Steak then?"

--

"Jack, what are you doing?" Jack was too busy lifting bandages. "Saaammm," he complained, dragging her name out like a five year old. "Jack is pulling a Janet on me."

They'd all had a pleasant evening. Even managed to have their first meal at O'Malley's since their previous ban had been lifted. The manager had breathed a sigh of relief as the four headed for the parking lot. Then Daniel had tripped and taken a spill on the pavement and landed directly on his injured knee. The initial pain had been fierce, but it quickly quieted into a dull throb that Daniel was sure Advil could cure. That didn't stop Jack from keeping Daniel still so he could check for bleeding.

"Jack..." he protested again, wondering when the man had picked up such a clinical eye. Probably from Fraiser herself and his numerous stays in her domain.

"Everything looks intact. What do you think Carter?"

Great, he was getting a second opinion. "No bleeding. The stitches are still there."

<And they are cold because they are being exposed to the cold Colorado air...> Daniel sighed with relief when Jack replaced the bandage and the brace and allowed him - ever so slowly - to get back up. Thankfully, since it was a weeknight, the parking lot wasn't very full. At least he hadn't fallen in the restaurant. That would have been twice as embarrassing. He leaned heavily on his crutches and Jack hovered as they made their way towards the car.

"I'm going to call Marks," Jack insisted as soon as he and Teal'c got him settled back on the couch in Jack's living room.

"It's after eight. On a weeknight. They'll have to page him, maybe even at home. I'm fine. I just need some Advil."

"I'll call Fraiser then."

"Jack."

"Janet won't mind, Daniel." Sam handed Daniel the Advil she retrieved from the bathroom.

"You are not helping my cause, Sam."

"Better safe than sorry."

Jack starred at Daniel one time and he sighed in resignation. "Call Janet. You'll never get Marks." Jack was already off looking for the phone. "She'll just tell you I'm fine!" Daniel called, but he knew Jack was probably already dialing. Worrywart.

Jack returned with Janet on the phone, nodding his head. He passed the phone to Daniel.

"Daniel, why didn't you call Dr. Marks?" were her first words to him.

"Because I'm fine. Took Advil. Planning on taking it easy."

"Like I told Colonel O'Neill, I'm not an orthopedist, Daniel. Just because I'm your primary physician doesn't mean I'd know the right diagnostic questions to ask over the phone to see if you've re-injured your knee. Chances are, it's fine, and while I never mind that you or the colonel calls me, you really should call Dr. Marks on the slim chance it's not."

"But-"

"Daniel. You know I'm right. Put the Colonel back on."

Daniel extended the phone back to Jack. "She wants to talk to you again." Jack took the phone, did some more nodding, and started searching for the card Dr. Marks sent them home with. He found it just as he hung up with Janet. He reached the answering service and sure enough, the doctor had to be paged.

Sam and Teal'c took that as their cue to leave. "Feel better, Daniel." She leaned down to give him a hug. "Call me if it turns out to be-"

"It won't," Daniel interrupted and the phone rang, which Jack immediately jumped upon.

Sam and Teal'c headed out the door as Jack handed Daniel the portable phone and told him it was Marks. Daniel immediately apologized to the man, who brushed it off and started asking questions. After a few minutes, Daniel passed the phone back to Jack, who was led step by step through a quick exam. The doctor concluded that all seemed well, and if there was unusual swelling or bruising by Daniel's next appointment in three days they could go from there. But as Daniel predicted, he didn't seem too concerned.

"Told you so," Daniel couldn't help saying when Jack returned with fresh ice for the cooler, which still sat on the encyclopedias on his coffee table.

"You can be a real smartass, you know that."

Daniel grinned in reply. "I learned from the best."

Jack settled down next to him, Cryo-cuff in hand. He started to undo Daniel's brace. "For that, we're watching hockey."

"But I watched hockey this afternoon!"

"You watched crappy hockey this afternoon. I'm talking real hockey."

"There's a difference?"

Jack lifted the last piece of Velcro in. "For that little comment, we are also watching the post-game." He grabbed the remote.

"Jack! That's not fair!"

--

Daniel's appointment went off without a hitch three days later. Even though Daniel still thought his knee looked awful, Marks was pleased and that was all that mattered, he supposed. Daniel was, however, disappointed when the doctor insisted he take another week off of work.

"But I have translations just piling up on my desk!" he complained. "I promise, all I'll do is just sit in my lab and work."

"You'd be surprised just how much 'work' that will be for your knee. You should just rest it, ice it, do the exercises and let it heal a bit more. Do you not have the sick time?"

"Oh, he'll have it," Jack promised and held his hand when Daniel protested. "I can bring your desk to you." He looked up at Marks to confirm it was okay.

Marks smiled. "That should be fine."

"Good because I think we'd have a revolt if it wasn't."

"No overdoing it, though."

"Not gonna be a problem," Jack promised but Daniel figured he could always weasel a few more hours in when Jack wasn't looking. The doctor concluded his exam and gave Daniel the okay to try without the crutches, but when he saw an unsteady Daniel in action on them, he was quick to remind the man to use them whenever he was in pain. Daniel was ecstatic when Marks told him he didn't need to sleep in the brace anymore.

"Thank God," he muttered.

"But keep wearing it during the day, no exceptions. We can re-evaluate when I see you next."

Oh well, Daniel figured he'd take whatever victory he could get. Next stop was physical therapy, which hurt and was only made worse by the overly perky blond therapist. If she said "okay" one more time, Daniel was sure Jack was going to slug her. He wanted to, and he considered himself a highly tolerant person.

"So we'll start you out with therapy three times a week, okay? Then we work down from there. So let's check your progress, okay?"

Daniel gave her a terse smile and tried to concentrate on the exercises, not the annoyingly cheerful tone of her voice and constant Barbie smile. When she asked him to stand against the wall and slide down until his knees were bent halfway and hold it till the count of ten he wasn't sure what was worse - the pain of his right thigh muscles as they screamed at him or the way the therapist ended each number as she counted on a nauseating upbeat note.

As Jack helped him to the car, he wondered how he would be able to do this three times a week.

"She was a bit...cheerful, wasn't she?" Jack commented as he pulled out the parking.

"Cheerful? She was a damn perky over energized Barbie doll."

Jack grinned. "Now, Daniel, she isn't that bad."

"I cannot continue to go back to that woman." His mood was quickly deteriorating as his knee began to throb. Daniel usually didn't take his pain meds until after dinner when he needed to sleep, but he was seriously considering making an exception.

"Someone's in a bad mood." Jack turned into the driveway and turned the engine off. He faced Daniel. "It only gets better from here, Daniel."

Daniel let out a heavy sigh. "So you keep saying. It's my knee, Jack. I shouldn't be thrown for such a loop here. I'm not sick, I fall down a little hill, yet now I had to have surgery, pain, physical therapy and get to spend the next week trying to complete long distance security clearance protected paperwork. And it's going to take more paperwork just to get clearance to get the actual paperwork I need to do _out_ of the SGC. It's just..."

"Frustrating?"

"Yeah. At least you had Little League games. I have the Discovery channel and dozens of sports networks broadcasting nothing but hockey."

"And me. I like to think I count for something, Danny."

"Of course you do, Jack. You count for a lot. I couldn't be more grateful for fact that you've put up with me for the last week. I'm just tired, I guess."

"Tired of what?"

"Of everything. It's only been a week and I'm already tired. I can sit for hours in front of a translation until it's done. You are constantly dragging me away from something or other off world. I like to think I have patience. And then...poof, it disappears."

"There's a difference between rocks-"

"Artifacts, Jack," he corrected.

"Okay, there's a difference between _artifacts_ and recovery from knee surgery."

Daniel sighed. "I know. I just feel so..."

"Old?"

Daniel slumped at the revelation. He should have realized Jack had noticed that he was still holding on to the silly notion.

"We've been through this - you're not old."

"I know, but..."

"You still feel like it?" Jack sighed himself. "That I can understand."

"How? You told me yourself you've gotten over this whole mid-life crisis thing, Jack. And yes, I realize I may be a few years early for it, but I can't shake this feeling."

"Yes, I'm over it. Doesn't mean I don't get reminders every day, though. Okay, the universe thinks I'm young, but the new twenty-two year old recruits tell me I'm old enough to be their father. Hell, I'm older then Paterson's father, in fact. He's only forty-two!"

"That's not too much younger than you, Jack."

"It's still younger, and that's the point. No matter how young you feel there's something out there to remind you exactly how old you are. And whether it's thirty-seven or forty-four-"

"Forty-five, Jack. You are forty-five."

"Not yet, Daniel. I'm not forty-five yet. But you are still missing my message here."

Daniel leaned back and let out another breath. "No, I understand. I'm thirty-seven. I'm not twenty-two, but I'm not old."

"You could say it like you mean it, you know."

"I don't know if I mean it." Daniel stared at his hands, suddenly finding his fingertips fascinating.

Jack caught his hand and turned Daniel's gaze up. "There's something else going on here, Danny."

"What makes you stay that?"

"Daniel."

Another sigh. "I don't know how to _be_ thirty-seven."

Jack was confused. "Well, it's not like that age has a manual or anything, but thirty-seven isn't a great pinnacle. You still have forty to take that prize."

"Thanks for the reminder." He paused. "It's ridiculous, really."

"What is?"

"I mean I'm fixating on something that shouldn't matter. I mean it's part of the past and shouldn't be bothering me."

"Daniel, you're losing me."

Another sigh. "My dad."

"What about him?"

"He was thirty-six."

"Thirty-six? What do you ... oh, when he died, you mean."

Daniel nodded. "When I was little, my parents seemed old, you know? Of course then, anyone over the age of twenty was ancient. When we celebrated my father's thirty-sixth birthday two days after arriving in New York, I was in awe of the cake. My mom had gotten those little wax cake candles - they weren't easily found in Egypt so I had never seen them before - and had placed thirty-seven candles on the cake. She told me you always put one for good luck."

Jack nodded. He did the same for Daniel. When Daniel had first glimpsed at that cake, Jack had thought he'd seen a tear or two. Now he was sure he did. And he knew why.

"Anyway, after they died, I thought for awhile that thirty-six must mean something. My parents had accomplished some great things, and I expected to do the same. And while, I think I did, thirty-seven hit and I don't know where to go from here." He blinked. "I out-lived my father, Jack. His whole life equaled thirty-six years and I'm here staring straight into thirty-seven feeling old because I'm not sure what else I'm supposed to do.

"Like I said, I don't know how to be thirty-seven. It's old for me. It's the end."

"Daniel..."

"I know, I'm overreacting. Like you've said thirty-seven is nothing to write home about." He started to unbuckle his seatbelt. Jack reached out a hand to stop him.

"It's not overreacting." Jack gripped Daniel's hand and this time didn't let go. "You've done a lot, Daniel. I think they'd be proud of you."

Daniel nodded. "Maybe. But my father is always going to be thirty-six." He pointed to his temple. "Frozen in my head. And I'm going to keep getting older. And the reminders don't make it any easier to deal with. It just feels..."

"Unnatural," Jack supplied. "The same way it feels anytime someone dies before their time." Daniel wondered if was thinking of Charlie, who would forever be eleven. Jack would get older, but his son was forever frozen in his Little League uniform.

"It's a pinnacle, then, Daniel. A pinnacle for you." Silence fell between them as the words sunk in.

"I guess it is, then."

Jack unbuckled his seatbelt. "You feel like buying a sport car?"

Daniel could help but grin. "I think I'll just settle for a new knee, thanks."

"Ah, the car I could do, the knee takes time. Why don't we go inside? I have an ice-cold bag of peas inside with your name on it."

Daniel laughed. "I think I'll take that car."

"Nope, missed your chance. But I can think I offer you a cooler full of ice and a Cryo-cuff instead."

"I'll take it." Jack got, walked around and opened Daniel's door, handed him his crutches and helped him into the house. He disappeared into the kitchen as Daniel got settled on the couch. He returned, deposited the ice into the cooler, and started to undo the Velcro on the brace.

"Jack?"

He didn't look up from what he was doing. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Jack just smiled.

--

After a week at Jack's, despite the constant flow of paperwork coming to him from the SGC, Daniel was monumentally excited when Marks' cleared him for desk duty. It was no Stargate, but he was grateful for the peace of his lab bench and the sight of his coffee maker. It was just like being on downtime, or at least he could convince himself of that.

He was over the hump he knew, and while a part of him wouldn't like getting older and would always be bothered by it, at least he could pinpoint the reason. He kept up with his physical therapy, tried not to be too disappointed when General Hammond found a temporary replacement for him on SG-1. Instead he was determined. Besides, no one from his staff could handle Jack's wrath and he was constantly rotating them for peace of mind and their sanity.

He tried not to get himself down when he had a slight setback after falling off his office chair when he stood on it trying to reach a set of texts. He took a deep breath as Janet berated him, then an even deeper breath when Marks told him he needed a week back on the couch, off the knee, to bring down the swelling. He smiled when this also earned him a slight break from perky Barbie. He frowned when, in the long run, it earned him two more weeks of dealing with perky Barbie. His recovery was getting a hell of a lot longer then Jack's eight-week hurdle. But he never did anything easily as Jack pointed out to him when he tended to get depressed. The nights Jack was off world didn't make things any better. But the lack of brace did. Small victories, he figured, and sprawled himself across the length of Jack's bed in his absence. He didn't bother going to his place. He basically kept it for appearance mostly. And storage.

Some days were good, other days his knee ached fiercely and reminded him of his age with every pulse.

He guessed thirty-seven wasn't easy. But it didn't mean he was done yet. It would get better.

"So what we celebrating?"

Fifteen weeks to the day of his surgery, Daniel handed Jack a glass of champagne when he came home from SGC after a rough training mission.

"The fact that I can do this." He touched his heel to his backside.

"Not that I don't think that's kinky, Daniel, but why does that warrant a bottle of champagne?"

"It means I've got full range of motion back." He grinned like a toddler. "Better than before, actually."

"Really?" Jack had put down the champagne.

"Yep. It's probably only a matter of weeks before I can be cleared for gate travel again."

"That's great." Jack took a step toward Daniel. "Still think thirty-seven is old then?"

"Nope. Neither is forty-five. Although..."

Jack now stood in the doorway to the kitchen, less then two feet away.

"I think I'll still hide the gray hair. After all, I don't want to invade your territory."

Jack grinned. "I'm open to sharing, you know."

"I'll bet."

Jack reached and grabbed the glass out of Daniel's hand and set it on the counter. He raised his eyebrows suggestively and left the kitchen.

No, thirty-seven wasn't old. It wasn't the end of anything.

He smiled and followed Jack out of the kitchen.

It was only the beginning.

The End

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