The drive from the mountain had never seemed so long.   A miserable morning, interminable afternoon, and the knowledge of the cold emptiness waiting suffused his mind more darkly than the threatening thunderheads dimmed the late sun’s light.

The truck’s tires thumped heavily over the curb into the driveway.   He sat for a moment, listening vaguely to the rumble of the big engine, staring at the closed garage door.   No reason to rush.

He had a sudden urge to run and open that garage door… assure himself that Daniel’s car was safely stowed within.

Damn, this one had been bad.   They’d been arguing about it for two days.   As usual, it had started with some basic disagreements about the imperatives and outcomes of their latest mission.   And as usual, they’d been unable to really find a comfortable compromise between their very different perspectives.

But in the past, they’d always been able to leave those confrontations behind, segregate their working imperatives from their increasingly entwined private lives.   This time, the heated discussions had escalated to sharp, progressively more personal sniping, shouting and, ultimately, cold silence between them.   They’d both said some pretty unforgivable things.

And now Daniel was gone for a week in Egypt.   Still angry.  

Their last exchange before Daniel left the SGC to return to the house and collect his bags had been no less vicious for being carried on in hissed whispers.

Jack leaned forward, bracing his forehead against the steering wheel.   He’d have given a lot for just a few moments with Daniel.   Just long enough to make it up—make sure Daniel didn’t spend a week planning how to separate his life from Jack’s.

Didn’t matter who’d started it; didn’t matter whose fault anything was.  

He just wanted those few moments.   He wouldn’t even be able to telephone for the next several days; that could very well be long enough for everything to crumble.

Wearily, he straightened up and silenced the engine.   The evening stretched ahead of him in endless grayness.   He couldn’t even muster the desire to watch the game he knew was on that night.

The front door opened into quiet stillness.   No lights, no smell of brewing coffee, no sound of pages turning or keys tapping.   Just sad silence.

Jack locked the door behind him and moved listlessly into the kitchen, pulling a beer out of the refrigerator.

As he drifted toward the living room, his attention was caught by something on the dining room table.

Brows arching, he stepped slowly up to the table.   Sitting in front of Jack’s usual chair was a portable CD player.   Atop the player was a single folded piece of paper.

He pulled his chair out and gently lowered himself, staring at the offering.   There could be no doubt of the source.   So… good news or bad?

Drawing a deep breath, he reached for the paper.   He unfolded it and smoothed it carefully out on the tabletop.   Daniel’s neat, distinctive script covered the surface.  

Jack.

I love you.   I’m sorry.

We’ve been together for years.   But we’ve only been “together” for such a short time.

Sometimes I forget how hard we’ve had to work at being friends.   I guess I just figured that this would be one more step, another facet in our lives.   And in a way it has been.   But we’ve gotten complacent.   We’ve forgotten all the difficulties we had to overcome just to become best friends.   And that we need to work much harder to keep this new complication from tearing all our previous accomplishments into a million scraps.

I needed to remind myself about some important things.   Needed to think about and reacquaint myself with the Daniel Jackson I’d been before my life encountered yours.   I hardly recognized him.   Yes, much is the same… I’m still stubborn, still opinionated, still passionate about many of the same things.

But so much has changed.   In so many ways, I’m a different man now.   And that’s your doing.  

I needed to remind myself about what you’ve meant in my life.   Because you stand beside me, I’ve learned to hold my head up.   I’ve learned that I have value as a person, not just as an information source.   I’ve learned that I’m allowed to defend myself, and that I’m actually capable of doing it.

Mostly, I’ve learned that I’m someone who deserves to be loved.   Someone who is loved, even when I’m being a stubborn, passionate, opinionated ass.  

I wish I didn’t have to leave.   I need to tell you all of this in person.   With lots of physical demonstration.   In the meantime, please listen to Track 7.   This song has meant ‘Jack’ to me ever since I first heard it.

Wait for me.

I love you.   I’m sorry.

Danny

Jack stared at the message for a long minute, reading it through three times.   Then he reached out and selected the seventh track and sat back to listen.

Oh, God.   His eyes stung, his throat tightened with emotion.   By the time the track was finished, his head was down on the table, buried in his crossed arms.   Blindly, he groped for the little machine, requesting a repeat of the song.

As the words sounded through the empty kitchen, he lifted his head, listening intently, love and happiness burning in his chest.

Jolting upright, he glanced around the room, then leapt to his feet and ran to the kitchen desk.

All my life I’ve held my head bent in shame,
But now I’ve found you, and with you I’ll remain…

He pulled out drawers, scrambling among the scraps, paperclips and jumbled, discarded pens.

At last!   He grabbed a few sheets of stationery and an envelope, a black pen, and a single sheet of bedraggled stamps.   Who knew how much postage it took to get a piece of paper to Egypt?

Hauling his treasures back to the table, he sat again beside the CD Player.   As the song reached its end, he punched the seventh track yet again, then pulled a blank page in front of him and began to write.

Daniel.

I love you.   I’m sorry…