Archive of Our Own

P8X-465 was a planet that managed to not look like Colorado. It was dry without being a desert, and cool without being humid. Carter told him that Daniel told her that they were on a continent with an ocean nearby, with her drone scans confirming that this temporary camp laid out for the joint mission which laid in the shadow of the mountain range that intercepted the otherwise damp air that would have rolled over the camp and left it a rain-addled swamp.

Tents were helpfully pitched to help with the midday sun, so Jack felt comfortable enough to perch his sunglasses atop his baseball cap, letting his hands rest underneath his tac-vest as he strolled around. They were a little early for the other delegations, and Daniel was already getting to know the locals, flitting around and smoothing any feathers that might be ruffled with the appearance of Tau’ri and a Jaffa coming through the Stargate.

Carter was helpfully nearby, eyes glued to her doodads as she cataloged everything her finely-tuned equipment could pick up. Between both of the kids, and Teal’c quietly walking by his side, he felt relaxed enough to admire the scenery instead of picking out the movements of the locals. It was a minor camp—would almost be a vacation spot—but despite both Generals Hammond and Carter reassuring him that their intel was accurate, he preferred to have his team collect their own because they rarely ever, ever failed him.

So seeing Daniel speak his umpteenth gibberish of the galaxy, and Carter map every atom of their environment, and Teal’c quietly assess for any enemies he knew of, Jack felt like they could relatively safely take their shoulders down from their ears and attempt to relax, millions of light years from home.

About an hour and a half later, they broke for camp, filtering to their designated tent in a circuitous route. Daniel led the way, chatting up the ear of a local that was nodding enthusiastically as they were shown around the structure. They didn’t quite all get their own rooms, but Carter got her own ensconced between his room and Daniel and Teal’c’s room—all of them sorely aware of the near-miss from the one time they didn’t keep her with the rest of the team, and the main section of the pitched tent was luxurious enough to make up for the cramped sleeping quarters.

Once they were done complimenting their tent, the local left, pleased that the Tau’ri dignitaries were pleased—even if they did throw a wary look Teal’c’s way. The big guy, for all of his inherent posture, took the reputation graciously, merely bowing and adding his own remarks of farewell and well-wishing.

Jack circled the table in the center of the main room, looking inquisitively at its low stance. He gamely ignored Teal’c’s amused eyebrow tilt, taking in instead the colorful pillows arrayed around the table that gleamed with a delicate filigree even he could tell probably took a while to make.

“So,” He said cheerily, getting the attention of Carter and Daniel, “How long until the rest of the party gets here?”

“Well-” Daniel shared a glance with Carter, shrugging, “Dinner’s not done yet. Maybe another hour?”

He whistled, “Wow, we are early. Think we get an early-bird discount?”

Carter smiled, “Not likely, sir. I hear the camel takes a while to cook.”

“Oh, I bet,” He sighed, much to everyone’s amusement. The memories of his last camel was hard to erase, something he could tell all of them could relate to in some form or another, “Maybe we’ll get a good spot at the table.”

As if they weren’t guaranteed equal seating with the delegation of Jaffa and Tok’ra also being sent to this neutral planet to cavort with. Resisting the urge to sigh again, but this time at the thought of some old fogeys playing bocce with his patience, Jack reminded himself that they at least had a solid player on each team—Teal’c’s mentor Bra’tac, and Carter’s father, with Tok’ra Selmak along for the ride.

Hopefully that would quell some of the cross-cultural difficulties they would inevitably have to tango with, and not scare the locals into chasing them off in the meantime. That camel did take a day or so to cook, particularly if they stuffed it with the more interesting foods that made his stomach rumble.

“What shall we do while we wait?” Teal’c asked, a prepackaged prompt that would play well into whatever decision Jack would make.

“That depends,” He grinned, “Anyone wanna play cards?”

Daniel shrugged, already claiming a seat at the table, the others trailing him in silent agreement. “Sure, why not,” The kid said, slipping his hat off his head and getting comfortable, “What’re we playing?”

Teal’c was the first to make a suggestion, “Might we play bridge?”

Everyone nodded amiably, and in short order the cards were shuffled and dealt out, using a double deck and house rules they’d all agreed upon to make things suitably interesting. Jack peaceably sorted his hand, watching the others do the same and trying to count who got what.

He tried another tack, glad that Teal’c was his partner because that man was an ineffable nut to crack in terms of stare-downs. Daniel, at least, had learned the particular brand of polish military poker dictated, and had scrubbed most of his tells that came from muttering to himself. He cocked an amused brow with Carter at his pursed mouth, both of them knowing it would take an interesting round for the archaeologist to loosen up.

Given the scrutinizing look his Major was giving her own cards, and the particular brand of serenity that denoted smugness Teal’c himself sported, Jack reassessed his hand with a cautious note of optimism.

“Any bets on what paperwork’s waiting for us back home?” He asked the table, sorting his hand out, keeping it fresh by switching the suits around to make Teal’c squint at him. It meant that he had to remember his hearts were next to the clubs, rather than the spades, but it was completely worth it to throw off every member of the team, instead of just the kids with their pattern-matching wizardry, “Jack of spades.”

Daniel grumbled, waving his hand to the others that his hand already placed lower, “I have some analyses to get to one the language we found on PX6-526- I think it’s a dialect of Goa’uld, but I’d need to compare it to some of the readings from our database—and a couple of new team members to fill out SG-6 and SG-8 before their next missions.”

“Didn’t Hammond postpone those?” Jack arched a brow, “Eight at least has to complete their testing, and I know Janet’s been hunting for them for their physicals.”

He got a nod from Carter, “She’s been wanting to make sure they get their first-aid certs done, and figured they could get some practice done during the physical so she can assess what they need to work on,” The Major grimaced, “I think Teal’c’s supposed to be helping her with that, actually. And king of spades, sir.”

“Damn,” He grumbled, frowning at his hand. The spades were a little weak in his hand, but Teal’c was still maintaining his serene posture, so he contented himself with the row of clubs that could net both of them a tidy pile of tricks, “Teal’c, whaddya got?”

“An ace of spades,” And ah, that explained the look. Carter and Daniel sighed in unison, but the big guy tromped forward with impunity, “I bid three tricks. Doctor Fraiser has requested my services after this summit to assist her with escorting the members of SG-6 and SG-8 to the infirmary.”

The perfect deadpan that statement was delivered with scattered chuckles around them, because they remembered what happened to the last SG team that Teal’c was requested to escort—Janet Frasier certainly utilized all methods at her disposal to dispense medicine, and an imposing Teal’c treating the entire base like a bout of hide-and-seek had certainly increased the turn-out rates.

“So what are the bets on that?” Daniel asked, still grinning, “I’ve got two tricks.”

Jack himself held up three fingers, letting Carter make up her mental tallies as she said, “Siler’s got two days, Feretti’s got six hours, and General Hammond probably already knows.”

Leaning back on her cushion, Carter stared at her hand for a moment, her thinking face on as she tabulated the tricks—it was the precise reason that they had decided to mangle the traditional rules of bridge with their two, mixed decks and only counting from spades instead of clubs for tricks, but alongside the myriad of other rules that had been carefully negotiated over the years, Jack decided their version was much more entertaining.

Eventually, the Major grumbled, “One trick.”

They began the actual part of the game apace, and Jack settled down into the rhythm that was professional guessing with each round. He never knew if Teal’c counted cards like the rest of them, but if there was ever an argument for Goa’uld card games, a former First Prime wiping the floor with everyone nearly every game was a strong one.

Or maybe it’s just an old person thing, he mused, watching his partner lay down a perfectly-timed four of clubs that broke the suit and swept away the kids’ high cards, Gotta know when to give ‘em a kick in the pants.

After that, all hell broke loose, and it was difficult to keep his poker face with the scrutinizing “play ball” looks both Carter and Daniel had as they attempted to math their way through the game. It could work, he could easily admit, but between his string of mid-range cards in the low suits and Teal’c’s batting average in clubs, they nearly doubled the amount of tricks they auctioned for.

It was nearing the latter half of the afternoon when they finished, Carter begrudgingly telling them her mental tabulation that deferred the definite win in his and Teal’c’s favor.

“Good game, everyone,” He congratulated, gathering up the cards for sorting. Maybe go fish next round? Shrugging, he listened to the amiable grumbling from the kids, “Dinner done yet?”

Teal’c rose from the table, uncrossing his legs with an enviable grace as he strode toward the tent’s opening. Whatever the man was observing, there seemed to be enough to witness from the curtain-twitching that he called back to the rest of the team, “Approximately an hour and a half.”

Daniel cocked his ear, nodding after a beat. Whatever magic that regulated Teal’c’s super-accurate clock, it was apparently coordinated by Daniel, and Jack took that as good enough. He handed the other deck back to Carter, shuffling his own a couple of times to make sure the deck was sufficiently reset, and tucked it back into his vest pocket.

“Alright,” He announced, stretching, “I think this is an excellent time to take ten. Carter, you’re on point.”

“Yessir,” Carter confirmed, switching out her own deck of cards for a couple of Power Bars, handing one of them to a much-relieved Daniel.

As with all grand poo-bahs, the entrance of the Tok’ra and Jaffa delegations were decorated in much more pom and circumstance than the Tau’ri group. Jack sighed, squinting in the setting sunlight and wondering why the Goa’uld or Ancients or whomever kept placing these Gates in cardinal directions.

He did spot some friendly faces, and despite his reservations, he brightened up at the sight of General Carter and Bra’tac leading each successive group. Teal’c shifted beside him, and he was tempted to nudge him, knowing he and Carter wanted to go see their relatives despite the diplomatic elevation of this event.

The two men were the first to greet the Tau’ri, and he amiably shook hands with General Carter, “How was the trip?” He asked, appreciating that the general still had a firm grip despite the career switch to something comparatively peculiar, “We’re waiting on some stuffed camel.”

“Sounds delicious,” General Carter agreed, smiling, “Looking forward to getting acquainted with the seating here.”

“It will be a long meal, indeed,” Bra’tac agreed while he was chuckling with the general, “Hopefully it shall taste as good as the cushions are comfortable.”

Carter was groaning into her hands behind all of them, and Jack supposed that their chinwag would have to wait for a later time. Gesturing between her and her affable father, he said, “Major Carter, General Carter. I think our friends over with the Tok’ra delegation could use some catching up with the evening’s menu. We’ll meet you there?”

It worked a charm, his second-in-command brightening up as she strode over to her father and clasped him in a hug, “Yessir! We’ll meet you there.”

He traded a wink with General Carter, turning his attention to the incoming Jaffa as Teal’c and Daniel followed his lead. Bra’tac waved over whomever was presumably his own second, a thin, tall woman who looked a little younger than Bra’tac himself.

“As we are all familiar with the esteemed delegation from Earth,” Bra’tac announced with a sly grin, extending a hand toward the tall woman with white peppering her braided hair, the polished shell beads dotting the braids glittering in the sunlight, “I would like to introduce my ẖry-t, Yanoc.”

He extended a hand toward Yanoc, a cordial smile on his face as she expertly but bemusingly shook his hand—clearly, some time had been spent on instructing the Jaffa group on traditional Tau’ri greetings. Probably Daniel, by how enthusiastically he greeted her.

“Welcome to P8X-465. I’m Colonel Jack O’Neill,” He said, then pointed to Teal’c and Daniel in turn, “Big guy over here is Teal’c, I’m sure you already know him. This is Daniel, he knows a lot about everything between shiny rocks and complicated words.”

At Yanoc’s slightly awed look, he resisted the urge to shake his head, instead pointing to where Carter was chatting away with her father and some of the Tok’ra delegation, “Over there’s Major Samantha Carter. If you have a doohickey that needs building or breaking, she’s the expert.”

“It is- is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Yanoc replied, still looking a little star-struck despite how he and Teal’c were doing their best to look like they were approachable. He sighed internally, knowing they might have a fan following them around now, “Much has been told about SG-1.”

Bra’tac laughed, “And much has been told about us!” He clapped the apprentice on her back, gesturing with his staff to where the Carters and the Tok’ra were ambling their way, “Come, let us meet those who would be our allies.”

It was an optimistic approach, and certainly explained Teal’c’s verve since he had joined SG-1. Daniel was in danger of wandering off, so he nodded to Teal’c, “Why don’t you two go say hi, and I’ll go make nice with General Carter?”

Teal’c raised an eyebrow at him, which he interpreted as a sign of amusement that he was divvying up meeting more Tok’ra to the rest of the team, and proceeded to stroll away in a midpoint between Daniel’s curiosity and the majority of the Tok’ra. Between the two of them, he thought, they’d soften any blow about bad blood when it came to working with Tau’ri.

The Carters, meanwhile, seemed to catch the hint—or probably the Major being astute as ever—and were moseying his way. They were caught by Bra’tac, who sent his ẖry-t to the others, and Jack felt the powwow could properly start.

“The Tok’ra are wondering who’s in charge of the shindig on the Tau’ri side,” General Carter began a propos, “Selmak’s betting on Daniel leading the talks, but I’m not so sure military stuff is up his alley.”

They all sighed, knowing Daniel’s passion in archaeology and cultural studies was more oriented to the personable or abstract, rather than military politics. It gave them an invaluable perspective at SGC, but sometimes it didn’t provide the whole picture.

Carter frowned at her father, “Would having Daniel take point be disadvantageous this time?” She asked, analyzing the best path toward victory, even if Daniel was typically the expert in all matters Goa’uld. Her expression turned thoughtful, “What if I did? I mean, I have plenty of experience in high-level negotiation, and I had bonded with Jolinar.”

He saw the problem coming as soon as she said it, and was already shaking his head as Bra’tac was sighing the weary sigh of one who had already argued all the aspects of a problem. “It will make the Tau’ri look too biased to have you lead the negotiations, Major Carter,” Bra’tac said, “To have someone who shows allegiance to one party rather than both, even if only temporarily, will break the discussions before they can truly begin.”

The rest of the groups were catching up to them, a mingling that looked more cheerful than their current—albeit hopefully temporary—dilemma. He nodded toward Daniel and Teal’c, and they separated from the group as it was heading toward the guest tents to join him.

Teal’c nodded in greeting to General Carter and Bra’tac again, while Daniel sidled up near Carter. “What’s going on?” He asked, echoing Teal’c’s concerned downturn of lips, “Are we having trouble getting the talks started?”

“We’ve got some hiccups,” He said dryly, shrugging at the eyebrows ticked upward in his direction, “Daniel, do you have any ‘allegiances’ to the Tok’ra or Jaffa?”

The archaeologist mouthed the words, looking baffled at him, “Allegiances? Why? I thought we were supposed to be encouraging greater ties between all of us?”

At his sigh for the reasonable misinterpretation, Teal’c interrupted, “I believe Colonel O’Neill intends to ask if there will be any bias in our approach to the delegations of the Tok’ra and Jaffa.”

There was nodding all around, and Daniel looked thoughtful for a moment, staring at each of them as he thought his way through the same problem Carter wanted to solve, “I’m assuming Sam can’t?” He asked, accepting her shrug as indicative proof, “And Teal’c can’t, I’m guessing.”

“Indeed,” Teal’c replied, sounding unperturbed despite how much Jack felt rankled by the immediate, yet logical, discounting from the running. He had seen the way Teal’c patiently explained anything from Goa’uld terms to his opinion on the minutiae of Star Wars lore, to anything a random airman or scientist came up to him to ask.

Despite his own pre-rankled, silent begrudgment about it, Daniel took the development in stride, facing both Bra’tac and General Carter to finagle some more information, “What would an unbiased arbitrator look like? I’m assuming that we need to balance relations to both sides, but how would that look for both the Tok’ra and the Jaffa?”

Bra’tac pulled at his beard, the general mirroring his consternation as he probably held an internal monologue with Selmak.

“The Tau’ri are the only ones best situated to understand the travails for both Jaffa and Tok’ra,” Selmak announced, forcing him to tone down his instinctive hair-raising at the unexpected change of voice, “And SG-1 has participated in many battles alongside both of our brethren. It is a difficult decision, when every member of your team is well-suited for handling conflicts.”

Daniel nodded along to this, as if the compliment were ordinary and not a testament to how good they were at changing people’s minds. It made his heart flutter in pride, that his team was so good at what they did.

“However,” And here General Carter came back, looking chagrined, “It’s unusual for a summit to be mediated as a group decision, like the ones SG-1 is used to making, and as such paring down to a traditional single mediator with a team to handle the minutiae instead of drafting the compromise together will go over a lot smoother with both groups.”

And there was the catch. He grimaced, despite understanding where both of them were coming from—the big-wigs in D.C. also favored a similar approach, to cut down on the baying about special interests. It made Daniel barrel on, though, and he was content to let the man handle the negotiations at this stage; if they could wing it, Daniel could probably still take the job, and he could be home in time to catch the next episode of the Simpsons.

“Obviously we need enough similarities to each group in order to be effective mediators,” Daniel concluded, “Especially in order to bridge the gap between both groups. So, what do you have in common with each other?”

Oh, good play, he thought, watching with approval as both General Carter and Bra’tac looked surprised. He supposed neither of them thought about each other that way, and he immediately saw Daniel’s point—how could SG-1 help if they weren’t willing to reach a hand out to each other?

They certainly did so with Teal’c, though it had ultimately been Teal’c’s decision to accept their commonality to fight side-by-side as a snap decision. Not everyone is as decisive as Teal’c, though, he thought, wondering if for a brief moment he could convince Teal’c to represent the Jaffa.

It made his stomach turn with a sour note, though, and he dismissed the thought of Teal’c leaving the team. The man was a constant companion, and never stultifying, even if some of his phrases came across as perplexing—he chalked that up to cultural differences, though, in the same way Carter’s techno-babble or Daniel’s rambling often puzzled him.

He turned his attention back when Bra’tac began talking. “If it must only be one individual,” He said, and Jack abruptly remembered that the Jaffa already did have something in common with the Tok’ra—making decisions as a group. To have to pick between all the members of SG-1 must be a painstaking balance for all of them, and it made him feel a little tacitly guilty even if it did raise his spirits that they weren’t the only ones with ethical dilemmas, “Then they must have sufficient, and equal, participation in our cultures.”

The rest of SG-1 was already nodding along, so he considered that hurdle over. He rocked back on his feet, “And…?”

“And,” Bra’tac considered slowly, nodding to General Carter, “An equal relationship to both cultures. That would preempt a certain bias toward one group or another, and allow a single member of SG-1 to balance their own goals against the overall one for this summit.”

That sounded fair, and he nodded along to it, agreeing to those terms.

“So no Carter, and no Teal’c,” He summarized, “That leaves me and Daniel, then, as much as it pains me to admit that I’m in the running.”

It cracked a smile out of Teal’c, so he counted his joke as successfully landed, “What would disqualify either one of us?”

This was the part that would usually stump people, as most every culture he’d met off-world vied for Daniel’s involvement—the kid definitely threw his big brain into every effort, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep up with those sorts of expectations. Regardless, the other two men were looking thoughtfully at each other.

Grimacing a little at Daniel, General Carter looked to Bra’tac, “If we’re looking for disqualifications,” he said, “What about relationships? He’s friends with Sammy, and working together in SG-1, but he’s never hosted a Tok’ra symbiote before, and he’s also not her mentor, unlike Jack.”

“And Major Carter is also your daughter, as you host Selmak,” Bra’tac finished off the train of thought, nodding gravely, “Yes, that does complicate matters. However, he has no such relation to any Jaffa, nor has he carried a symbiote, as Colonel O’Neill has.”

The subject was, necessarily, bringing up unpleasant memories for both he and Daniel, though all of the team held varying degrees of distaste over the incident with Hathor—Teal’c was frowning most severely, and it seemed to indicate a nerve had been touched with Bra’tac. The man’s mentor nodded solemnly, conveying his apologies to Jack with a tilt of his head.

Apology accepted, but he wanted to see if there were happier points of negotiation, “What would qualify as a positive relationship to the Jaffa?” He asked, “Since that seems to be more relevant than the Tok’ra.”

“A meḥ ȧb menkh,” Bra’tac said decisively, “It would be the most legitimate form of relationship, and would satisfy the requirements that you participate in our culture, to approximately the same level as with the Tok’ra through Major Carter.”

Teal’c’s face hid a strange spasm, though he didn’t think anyone other than he and General Carter caught it, too immersed as the others were in dissecting that newest angle. The general had an eyebrow raised, with that faraway glaze to his eyes that guaranteed he was communing with Selmak at the moment—whatever this meḥ ȧb menkh was, it was something that went far back.

He vaguely wondered if it was some ancient custom or something, vaguely archaic in the sense that apprenticeships for trades were. Turning one ear toward the convoluted-sounding discussion Daniel was leading with Bra’tac in Goa’uld, only able to figure out every fifth word as they shifted between dialects, the rapid patter of the language indiscernible to his under-trained ears.

General Carter’s brows were knitting together as he eavesdropped on the conversation, and he supposed the man had an advantage with how Selmak was taking up residence in his head. The other Carter, too, seemed to be intently listening in, but her frown seemed to hold more confusion than any sense of understanding.

It almost made him wish he had a live-in translator, but Daniel was busy holding the discussion, and Teal’c seemed disinclined to repeat every word, carefully relaxed as he was holding himself. He settled for a gusty sigh, knowing it would be difficult to derail Daniel from a native speaker who was willing to explain things to him.

Blissfully, the nattering seemed to slow after a few minutes, Daniel’s affirmative tone becoming more interesting than attempting to figure out the words via the general’s facial expressions, and he briefly considered a thankful prayer that they wouldn’t be edging close to missing their celebratory dinner. It’d be a hell of thing to miss out on a meal that took an entire day to make, but it wasn’t the first happenstance they’d have to roll with.

He made an expectant face at the kid, anyway, and got rewarded with the seamless switching of tracks that Daniel was so known for. “So we can probably start with the basic interpretations,” Daniel said, nodding when Bra’tac nodded in agreement, “What would be the broadest sense of meḥ ȧb menkh?”

“Oh, well,” And that type of sigh never boded well for Jack, particularly when he knew the considering look on Bra’tac’s face meant he was going to have to deal with a lot of finely-pointed questions, “It is fairly typical for those who have bonded through perilous battle to accept the title of meḥ ȧb menkh.”

“Which means…?” He drawled out.

“That,” Daniel drawled, looking deep in thought, “One of us would need to have been significantly, emotionally impacted by participating in battle alongside a Jaffa. Usually this means some sort of life-or-death situation, but it could also be the rituals of battle, such as arming each other or tending to each other’s injuries.”

It didn’t sound particularly unusual to him, but then, Jack supposed, maybe keeping a spare kit of bandages or ammo for someone held a unique connotation in Jaffa culture. He gave Daniel a puzzled look, “Doesn’t sound really unusual to me,” He hedged, anticipating the sigh that the other man gave him at the disconnect in communication. Trying again, he asked, “We’re not really around a lot of Jaffa, and usually they’re trying to fight us instead of the other way around.”

Bra’tac looked particularly intrigued by the conversation, turning to the only Jaffa that spent a significant amount of time in Tau’ri company. “Teal’c,” He said, looking remarkably undeterred despite the severe look his apprentice was leveling at him, “With whom of these two warriors do you spend battle most with?”

The question seemed reasonably innocuous, and so Jack turned his attention to Teal’c, curious even as he tried to tabulate the sheer amount of hours Teal’c has spent doing missions with SG-1. It was difficult to parse whether he did, indeed, spend more time with either Daniel or himself, particularly in the beginning when nobody but SG-1—and the ever-unflappable Doctor Frasier, who never seemed to bat an eye at the “nonsense” she claimed they dragged back with them—placed any significant faith in the man.

Teal’c seemed to concur with that assessment, stating blandly, “I have been part of SG-1 since I had met them on Abydos, where we have only been separated on a mission, or when Daniel Jackson was assigned to assist another team. To compare the hours would be an immeasurable expense of our time.”

He stifled a laugh at the pithy rejoinder the sentiment was delivered in, something of which the chuckles from General Carter and Bra’tac seemed to concur with. Teal’c’s mentor shook his head amusedly, and Jack felt abruptly aware of the little window provided to them of Teal’c’s life before SG-1. It made him glad that he had such a stalwart mentor to support him when he was younger, and also a little off-footed that such disparate sections of Teal’c’s life were so blatantly compared here.

Not sure I’d be able to compete, he thought gruffly, and told himself it was over Daniel getting to lead the Tau’ri delegation.

And maybe the Jaffa were a little telepathic, because Bra’tac ticked an eyebrow in his direction before continuing on in his examination of Teal’c. “Indeed,” He said, sounding bemused, “Of immeasurabilities, then, which of these warriors have you justifiably been beside in battle?”

Daniel’s face was an interest juxtaposition of academic fascination and faint blushing, which didn’t really jive with the obtuse methodology of Bra’tac’s line of questioning—nor the flatly amused face on General Carter’s face. He pursed his lips, letting his eyes skitter over Major Carter—who looked like she had a third of an equation in her hands and couldn’t find the rest of it—to Teal’c, who had the most impossibly inscrutable expression he had seen on the man in a while. Almost like that mystery calzone the mess hall was trying out last month, he thought, and settled for blinking instead, I’m gonna have to ask for a translation after this rodeo.

“Of Daniel Jackson and Colonel O’Neill,” Teal’c replied after a beat, managing to work in the feeling of a deep and frustrated sigh without budging an inch on his measured tone, “I have necessarily spent more time beside Colonel O’Neill.”

He felt like there was more to that sentence than Teal’c was letting on, and packed that rabbit trail away for later. Despite how warranted and serious this exchange was to the success of their summit, it was beginning to feel very much like a kaffeeklatsch. Some things, it seemed, were universal, and he felt himself empathizing with the sigh Teal’c was studiously withholding.

Regardless, Teal’c’s answer was apparently getting them somewhere, for Bra’tac straightened, “And would you say, then, that you have shared many battles with Colonel O’Neill?”

He shucked a glance at Daniel, trying to key in a reason for what sounded awfully like legalese. The man, unfortunately, was also a linguist to the bone, and had the exact look on his face he had on P9X-785, where he had run out of paper and flatly memorized the rest of the text in the temple they had scouted out. Jack felt a little like grimacing, knowing Teal’c would be washing this conversation under the bridge, and his only other lifeline in the team to translate this from English to Goa’uld to Sensible English had effectively checked himself out into a notepad.

Teal’c’s face could grind stone with how implacable it was, “We have battled together side-by-side many times, yes.”

And whatever that seemed to mean to Bra’tac and General Carter, it seemed to hold a lot more nuance than in English, for even Daniel was squinting at Teal’c in the same way he did a particularly interesting wall painting.

It was too much prevarication for him, at any rate, so he interrupted, forgoing his own sigh of frustration, “Is this significant?”

Teal’c pursed his lips at him, “Indeed. To share in one’s travails is important in Jaffa culture, and battle is an aspect long-held in our tradition.”

It was Bra’tac’s turn to make a face and hide it, and Jack really just wanted to sigh at it all. Maybe if he were paying more attention to the lessons Daniel tried to instill in him, he’d understand the nuances of Goa’uld more—but frankly, he hadn’t really needed to learn more than “Jaffa, kree!,” the random “Sholva!” shouted at Teal’c that never failed to rankle his nerves at how long-suffering Teal’c seemed to be whenever he heard it, and the intergalactic standby of “Where’s the Chappa’ai?” in case he managed to be separated from the team. Gesturing managed to take care of the rest, and he didn’t intend to go through the Stargate without either Daniel or Teal’c to translate any time soon.

So, he raised his eyebrows at Bra’tac, “Will this suffice?”

The man frowned, though it came across more as thoughtful rather than disingenuous—he respected that attention to a leveled playing field, and smoothed his expression out as he anticipated a barrage of questions.

“We must first ascertain what, precisely, your relationship is to the Free Jaffa,” Bra’tac clarifed, “As sharing one’s battles does not necessarily imply a longevity of relationship.”

And, okay, he understood that, thinking back to Cromwell, long before SGC had even formed. As much as he reviled the implication that he might casually save his own skin instead of someone else’s, he understood where Bra’tac was coming from.

So, he nodded, “And how would I go about proving that longevity of relationship?”

This in itself seemed to prove some hurdle cleared, and he nearly wanted to frown at the pleasantly-surprised look the other man sported. Either their bar was low for the Jaffa, or Earth was off to an exceptionally bad start.

Bra’tac wanted to jump right into the interrogation, since he didn’t mince words with his first question, “Are you a mentor to any of the Free Jaffa?”

Hoo boy, what a loaded question. He took his cap off, running a hand through his hair before donning it again, “Mentor how? Like answering the occasional question, or more like hiring someone short term to teach them a trade?”

The man waved his hand in a way Jack took to mean either none of the above, or a little of both. Maybe it was something in the translation, because Daniel looked fit to interrupt with a lecture. “It could be interpreted as such, yes,” Bra’tac said, which confirmed nothing, but did beat Daniel to the punch, who looked a little put out about it, “It is a passing on of skills to another as completely as you know them or can teach them.”

He made a perplexed face, mind immediately drawn back to Teal’c. No, he’s not a mentor to Teal’c, though he thinks hard about that one. What is there for Teal’c to learn from him? Anything Teal’c doesn’t know is probably something he also doesn’t know, and if it weren’t for the chain of command and the fact that Teal’c is, objectively-speaking, an alien, the man would have slotted in neatly as his second-in-command instead of Carter—the sheer decades of experience would have trumped any candidate Jack could measure him against.

There was no other Jaffa he could think of that he’s had any significant interaction with, and he doubted the brief instances meeting Teal’c’s son, Rya’c, counted in any particular way. He shoved down the thought that those instances were so rare because Teal’c himself was unable to spend much time around his own child, because such bitter thoughts weren’t conducive to the conversation at hand.

“Nope, no,” He said instead, waiting out Bra’tac’s considering look as the man formulated his next question in the line.

He didn’t have to wait long, the next volley coming soon after the first, “Are you a parent to a Jaffa?”

“I’m reasonably certain I’m not,” He replied blandly, gesturing to Carter and Daniel, both blinking owlishly at him for the ostensible deviation to the conversation, “Two kids are quite enough work for me right now.”

He ignored their stuttering bashfulness, focusing on the way Bra’tac let the remark slide as he continued his impromptu interrogation.

“And a spouse?” Bra’tac asked, throwing the not-entirely unexpected question into the fray, “Have you wedded a Jaffa in a custom we recognize?”

“I haven’t been to Vegas, no,” He replied, dryly enough that Teal’c had to shake his head from beside him to counter-balance his frankly witty repartee, “And nobody’s been asking me for alimony money, either.”

That one hurt a little bit, but he adjusted to the edge on Bra’tac’s expression, shaking his head to make sure he was understood, “I’m not married, no.”

It was simpler to avoid the moral entanglement that was his ex-wife, but that was quite literally neither here nor there, and Bra’tac stared at him consideringly. He met it placidly, wondering idly what the next question would be.

“But you claim a relation to the Jaffa?” The man probed, leaning on his staff.

“Indeed,” He replied, twitching his lips as he felt the minute shift of Teal’c at his response.

Daniel and the Carters were watching the exchange like a tennis match, absorbed in what the verdict might be. He had to hand it to them, it must be an interesting debate from their points of view—he wasn’t keen on leading the talks, but if the rest of SG-1 was disqualified for one reason or another, then it was his duty to go to bat in their place.

Bra’tac hummed to himself, turning to Daniel and adding what sounded like some more questions, just in Goa’uld. They seemed to be confirmations of what he said, and he supposed getting them translated so everyone was on the same page would cut down on confusion later in the game, so he waited it out.

Teal’c seemed especially disconcerted, his attention laser-focused on the conversation. It was unusual, in that he nearly always had an ear to his surroundings, but Jack thought his presence seemed more oriented to the outcome of this line of questioning than whether the Tok’ra, Jaffa, or locals would interrupt them.

Daniel seemed to wind down on whatever thought process he was walking through with Bra’tac, for the old man turned his attention back to the rest of them.

“You claim kinship with the Jaffa,” Bra’tac stated, in a tone that sought confirmation rather than an answer.

He nodded, “I do, yes.”

An astute look was peered at him by the man, and he got the feeling there was more than one expression lurking about behind Bra’tac’s facade. The fairly ritualistic line of interrogation had been comforting in the sense that he could reasonably expect that these questions were well-intentioned, but now he had to trust that Teal’c’s high opinion of his own mentor would continue to hold water.

Teal’c’s opinion of others was usually trust-worthy enough, though, so he settled in for the final remarks to the verdict, wondering how he could angle to get Daniel considered anyway if he didn’t quite fit in.

He didn’t have to wait too long, no matter how intense Teal’c’s looming might be.

“But you are neither parent nor mentor nor spouse to any Jaffa,” Bra’tac crisply summed up, the seriousness of his gaze tempered by the unexpected, indulging smile. It made him wonder what the Jaffa had in store for him, and he resisted the urge to glance at Daniel for a run-down on the nuances he was missing.

Making a show of hemming and hawing, he eventually hums an elongated, “Nnnno?”

“Then you cannot sufficiently represent us.”

As much as it was sighed, Jack cringed anyway, despite knowing that he was more or less—tantamount, at least—friends. A couple seconds ticked by as he tried to find a couple of dots to connect, and then glanced at the rest of SG-1, squinting as the kids where trying to come up with a loophole as well. He flicked a glance at the only Jaffa on the team, an idea lighting up.

“Does Teal’c count?” He asked gamely, gesturing to the silent man beside him. Teal’c, for his part, merely raised a brow in Bra’tac’s direction.

This roused a contemplative silence, with General Carter looking on in curiosity. Yeah, I don’t think you know anything about them, Jack thought, but the idea got shot down even in his own head, I don’t know anything about them, either, but hell, at least I’ve made friends with one! That’s got to count for something, right?

Eventually, Bra’tac hummed. There was a quality to it that made Teal’c’s eyebrow change its slant, but the big guy seemed to relax his stance, so Jack took that as a good sign. “Yes,” Teal’c’s mentor said blithely, “I suppose Teal’c does count.”

Turning toward General Carter, the supposedly-retired ex-First Prime announced with an appropriately stuffy amount of formality, “There is sufficient evidence of relation between Colonel Jack O’Neill of the Tau’ri delegation and the Free Jaffa to adequately represent us in these negotiations.”

Going by General Carter’s solemn nod, this seemed a sufficient claim as an alternative to wet signing, and Jack supposed that there were, maybe, some benefits to all this verbal legalese. He nodded himself, hoping that by the time the news disseminated to the rest of the groups, the camel would be done.

They haven’t gotten to the difficult part yet of the negotiations, but Jack felt like he would need all the energy he could get over the next couple of weeks.

It was a long, weary, and convoluted discussion with General Hammond to update him on the duty roster for this mission, but the man took it in stride quicker than he expected.

“Fortunately,” General Hammond said, “Doctor Jackson and Major Carter are more urgently needed back here at SGC. There’s enough time for them to have dinner over there, as I hear it’s something spectacular, but I expect both of them back within the next six hours.”

“Sure thing, sir,” He replied, “I’m sure they’ll appreciate having to eat something other than the fine attentions of Chef, given that it’s Wednesday and all. Want them to take back some leftovers?”

Hammond chuckled, shaking his head, “We’ll be fine, but thank you. Enjoy the vacation, Colonel, Teal’c. I expect check-ins at least once a day.”

And darn, there went that last hope that he could shuffle this off to Daniel. He and Carter looked entirely too happy for the mandate, though, and he supposed it was a lucky strike for both of them—they got good food, and got to work on more interesting things instead of convincing a bunch of folk that they wanted the agreements they said they did. He did sigh this time, because he knew that this was going to be difficult, anyway, and getting used to them being part of a team when the powers that be behind funding the SGC were hinting that they would eventually drift to where they were needed more was a fundamentally self-defeating endeavor.

Besides—Teal’c was here, and would be staying despite the ribbing Bra’tac had given him between their initial greeting and everyone settling in to the schedule of events they had blocked off for the coming weeks. Or maybe in spite of, he thought, squinting at the helping of mystery vegetables on his plate and hoping those tuber-shaped things actually tasted like potatoes. The big guy was stubborn like that, and if this whole mehhab-wotsit thing that Bra’tac was talking about was so important to Jaffa culture, then it’s possible he’d stay for the summit just to make a point. It made him feel a little proud, to know that Jack—or at least SG-1—was worth standing up for like that to someone who was effectively a relative. Yeah. He’s a good friend like that.

Chatter around the bonfire waxed and waned—sometimes about the summit, sometimes with the locals about nothing in particular—and he saw Daniel charming the pants off of everyone. His gratitude at the kid smoothing the way quelled some of the flutter of anxiety at having to tango in some high level politics again out in the field, even if half the team would be across the galaxy in no time flat as soon as everyone called it a night.

He simmered in his procedural brooding, tracking the string of developments he could clock, pecking away at his dinner with the stack of flatbread he was sharing with the mingled company of Tok’ra and Jaffa aides. The small talk was, well, small, and he found himself wishing Teal’c were sitting next to him as a bastion of quiet, instead of a few seats down, where he was engaged in polite conversation that seemed to be going about as smoothly as his own solitude.

For their own parts, Bra’tac and General Carter seemed to be in a similar position, looking far more content to observe the camaraderie from an emotional distance rather than try to find a divot for their seating partners to participate in the buffet more fully. One train of thought eventually led on to another, and he was fully immersed in brooding in his thoughts, unable to notice one of the seats beside him being vacated as the aide retired for the night until Teal’c’s solid presence registered to him.

“Hey,” He said, absently wondering when he had finished sopping up the last of his meal.

“Colonel O’Neill,” Teal’c greeted him, in that solemn manner that always lowered Jack’s hackles, “You appear preoccupied.”

“Hmm,” And it was true, but damn if he could pin down the individual thoughts that were preoccupying him. With a sigh, he set down his plate on the blanket-clad table, “How was dinner?”

Teal’c raised an eyebrow, “Satisfying.”

Damn—he never could get anything past him, could he? Sighing, he leaned back a little, letting the stretch to his back wake him up enough to realize that the area dedicated to their meal had begun to empty, the decorative tapestries that had been erected more visible without the throngs of people obscuring the finer details. He squinted at the flecks of gold thread on one of the ones further away from him, the cooling fires that dotted the area making them flicker and glint.

“What do you think about tomorrow?” He asked, instead of attempting to untangle the snarl of his thoughts.

There was a contemplative silence, and he attuned himself to the nearly-absent whooshing of Teal’c’s breathing as the man thought, feeling the last of the tension unwind from his shoulders. Having to wait for an answer was relaxing; the amount of time between question and answer means that whatever thoughts Teal’c deemed sufficient to voice, it would be stable and reasoned from many angles. Much as he appreciated Carter’s straight-shooting and Daniel’s bafflingly-accurate blurting of opinion, there was a different quality to the provocatively-brief impressions that Teal’c imparted.

Such was what he was once again offered from Teal’c, who spoke with the same levelheaded approach as he came to his conclusion. “I believe that it will be a difficult, but ultimately honorable, ordeal,” He stated, gaze switching off from the middle distance to direct a warm look at him, “Peace is worth this cost. You will succeed in your endeavor, and help the Jaffa and Tok’ra find what they are looking for.”

He quirked his lips into a smile, “D’ya really think so?”

“Indeed,” Teal’c stated, serene, “I did.”

And if that wasn’t an award-winning vouching of support, he didn’t know what was. “Thanks,” He said, because what else could he say? “Think we’re good to head off?”

Surveying the scattered, mostly dispersed crowd, Teal’c nodded briefly. “Shall I inform Major Carter and Daniel Jackson?”

He stifled a yawn as they rose, waving a tired hand in the general direction of the kids to grab their attention, “Please. I’ll meet everyone back at our tent.”

Teal’c nodded once more, and they briefly parted ways, Jack letting the planet’s gibbous moon light his path.

Despite their late night, they all got an early start. Carter and Daniel had already left, rousing him and Teal’c just long enough to confirm their escorts to the ’gate, and the tent managed to feel a little less like an aching scrape of loneliness and more gratitude that he had two less people to spend his sleeping hours with an ear bent to their breathing. It made the remaining stretch of his somnolence more restful, and he had burrowed under the thick, woven blankets until one of their hosts had been sent to rouse them.

Breakfast was a more casual affair, the local equivalent to caffeine something more suited to a strong tea rather than the coffee he was used to, but he couldn’t even be put off by the unusual smell the milk put off as it was steeped in a rather large pot and ladled out to all the attendees. He wheedled Teal’c into clinking their mugs together, feeling like the approach of sleeping on the reassuring statements of last night had let them properly sink in, his mood rising even as the temperature did.

They all ended up congregating in a tent pitched specifically for the summit—large and spacious, it was almost airy with the discreet gaps left for what he assumed was ventilation. Someone had left a pitcher of that tea from breakfast, and he was willing to be some snacks would be hidden away for when the discussions became too laborious.

Despite his relative experience navigating the array of high-ranking individuals brokering everyone’s futures, the Tok’ra and the Jaffa, for all their stiffness, took a more casual approach to these things. There was no dedicated arrangement of who sat where, and with whom, but General Carter and Bra’tac ended up congregated at the same section of rug as he and Teal’c, their own seconds-in-command lingering around as a sort of tacit barrier.

It was… nice, if unclear, and he readied himself for a lot of days exactly like this. “Morning, everyone,” He greeted his fellow delegation heads, pasting on a smile that was definitely perked up by the kick their tea provided. Schmoozing he could do, especially when it was with familiar faces who would forgive the occasional slip-up in propriety as he was adjusting to the ropes, “Sleep well?”

“Absolutely,” General Carter groaned, “Even Selmak’s voicing his appreciation for it.”

“Mighty fine recommendation for the place,” He replied, cracking a grin. And it was true, there was a healthy look to the man’s face that underlined how stressful the man’s adjustment has been to the Tok’ra Council, “I’m thinking about requisitioning some of those blankets—you don’t see something that nice every planet.”

There was a chorus of agreeing noises around the group. Just like that, the seal was broken, and Jack felt all of them settle more comfortably on the cushions that were thoughtfully distributed.

“I believe,” Bra’tac commenced, “That our business must begin with what, precisely, our business is.”

He nodded, “Agreed. We have the whole hoopla of trade routes and brokering merchant agreements, now that the Goa’uld have been mostly, well, dethroned-” The phrasing inspired a gaggle of congratulatory grins, so he mentally patted himself on the back with that one, “-So we can’t really figure any of that out until we we know who has dibs on which systems.”

“An inspired decision,” Complimented Bra’tac, toasting the words, “And also reasonably difficult. I think completing this hurdle will make the rest of our summit a simple progress.”

“Well,” He replied, shrugging, “Never a better time to outline what those difficulties might be. What is it the both of you would need to resolve for us to move on to the next issue?”

And he might not have quite the knack for it, but he counted the thoughtful reflection on each of the men’s faces to be a victory. Bra’tac was right—figuring out who had staked which plots of the galactic landscape would be easier said than done. While Earth was, apparently, too nascent of a space-faring society to truly stake a claim on anything, they had settled comfortably into a string of conquests by proxy and had a reasonable amount of space that neither the underground Tok’ra nor the fragmented clans of the Jaffa would be quick to seize.

It did leave them with a significant swath that SG-1 had cut through with their allies, and knowing who was consolidating power where would definitely smooth out the reiteration and solidification of the routes this summit was hinged on. There were quite a few battles under the Tau’ri’s belt, but between the incoming Replicators and the fading expansion of the Goa’uld, it was better to parlay now than back-track over a petty argument later.

“The Free Jaffa, while having cast off the shackles of the Goa’uld, do not yet behave as such,” Bra’tac concluded, looking troubled, “It is difficult to assess where the Free Jaffa begin, and the Jaffa still serving under Goa’uld end.”

General Carter was nodding, a similarly concerned look on his face, “And the Tok’ra have no systems of their own, at least not publicly-claimed. It would be too much of a target, otherwise. It’s been difficult to get the supplies we need from one point to another, something that’s compounded by the recent instabilities of the Jaffa freedom movement.”

“So the point of contention is where the Goa’uld are,” He summarized, frowning, “And where they’re believed to be.”

Reasonably difficult, indeed. It wasn’t a problem he could shoot, either, as much progress as it had made all of them in that regard. Now was the phase for more lasting action—war would only get them so far, and this was the crux of their collective problems. “We need to figure out where the Goa’uld are not.”

Teal’c was already voicing his agreement, “Perhaps we would be better served by a map?”

“An excellent idea,” General Carter said, his aide already inputting a message to one of the other Tok’ra to relay the suggestion. Yanoc had slipped a small device to Bra'tac, presumably something already loaded with the information they needed, “All we need is a projector.”

It took some doing, but the Tok’ra managed to piece together some of their hand-held devices. While they didn’t seem to have re-write capabilities, the visual was helpful for all of them. “Does anyone have some paper and pencil?” He asked, frowning at the overlapping holograms. The data was conflicting, and he wasn’t keen on trying to sort through the foreign script without some point of reference on hand, “I wanna see if we can get this section by section.”

Neither the Jaffa nor the Tok’ra did, which was a shame, but the analogue to papyrus from their hosts was serviceable. He grumbled at the charcoal, but he realized his pens wouldn’t pan out too well in this situation. He sketched out some light lines, assembling a grid that would place things in measurable distances. “T,” He said, absently, “Help me out here. Where’s Earth?”

Teal’c cautiously handled the carefully-assembled multitude of devices, the others catching on and moving the miniature tower of cushions closer to Jack in a concerted effort that would have been more admirable if he wasn’t trying to zero the locations in. He waited until Teal’c had moved the map around, helpfully intuiting exactly what he was after and keeping the zoom to the same level that SGC had.

The others were looking on curiously, and they were starting to accumulate more on-lookers as he carefully replicated the 3D map to 2D. It wouldn’t accurately display the depth of each solar system, but he figured that could be added in a revision, shorthanding annotations for each of the constellations that he could see. General Carter helped make space on the nearby rugs for laying out the papers, Bra’tac scanning the map and murmuring different points to the general as a mix of aides and interested locals weighed each of the papers down.

It ate up a fair amount of time, but the work was quiet in the way that an organized stream of collaboration was. Teal’c was manning the holographic map, an uninterrupted rumble of relative directions that suited the set-up of his papers well, the stack steadily reducing in size.

The results, eventually, were productive, and Bra’tac had already caught on, procuring some inks to mark out the territories of each Free Jaffa group and those by the leftover Goa’uld. Someone was scanning it, assembling it outside of meatspace in a way that he hoped would convert well to SGC computers, or at least something Carter could reasonably reassemble with Daniel’s help. He thought briefly about having the data sent through the Stargate, but the next check-in wouldn’t be for a while yet, and he thinks there would probably a lot more news to send outside of some scribbles.

Hand cramping, he sat up, listening to the pops radiating along his back. “How’s that?” He asked, shaking his hands out. The tea he originally had seems to have been long-replaced with a fresh cup, Bra’tac handing it over while Teal’c directed the projector out of the way of the manual map laid out. He accepted it gratefully, letting it warm his hands up as he shuffled over to where everyone had worked together to assemble the pieces of paper. It looked more thorough than he had expected, but it had escaped his attention how his stack of paper had never truly emptied. “Phew. Good to see I haven’t lost my touch.”

“I knew you were a pilot, Jack,” General Carter said, making his way around the collection, “But this was really well-done. Have they really changed what they train pilots for that much in the Air Force?”

“Colonel O’Neill is an avid astronomer,” Teal’c replied, having snuck up on him, “His telescope is greatly admired by Major Carter for its ability to capture images.”

“It’s just a hobby, really,” He rebutted abashedly, taking a sip of tea instead of looking at the men amused by Teal’c’s blatant praise, “Not really a lot of time for it between work, anyway.”

“Then the fact that your skills have not deteriorated despite your set-backs is commendable,” Bra’tac countered, looking proud, “I have been able to denote where the Free Jaffa are, and our progress in freeing our brethren, to General Carter with an ease I would not have had otherwise in our holographic maps.”

“Oh,” Well, if was that helpful to them- “You’re welcome?”

“Thank you,” General Carter’s gratitude was sincere, accompanied by a brief dip of Bra’tac’s head.

Teal’c was already bussing him along to the fruits of his labor, “Let us see what has been accomplished.”

And, alright, it did look impressive—the graphing plane was mostly aligned, and the planets were recognizable compared to his memory of the glass whiteboard in the briefing room. “What do the colors mean?” He asked, pointing to the groupings of browns and reds with the occasional splash of green bisecting entire swathes of the map. Faintly, he could see some blue, thinned out and a backdrop to the charcoal pens he had been making use of, “Are these all of the areas already marked out?”

“Indeed,” Bra’tac said, pointing to the first grouping of colors that he had spotted, “These are the Free Jaffa. We have gained many systems from the Goa’uld, but the clans are divided, and insist on maintaining their own worlds separate from other Jaffa. It has been difficult to persuade them otherwise.”

He saw Teal’c frown, “Without unity, we will never truly defeat the Goa’uld.”

General Carter was nodding to the statement, gesturing over one of the delicately-traced lines of green closest to where Bra’tac was indicating, “We believe we can give them a cause for it, beyond the immediate threat that the Goa’uld present,” He said, “If we can get them to agree on mercantile routes, the Tok’ra can help supply them with goods to rebuild their cities and settle new planets, while giving us a position to move unhindered.”

“Is there a way for them to work the supply routes, too?” Jack thought it was a good plan, but there were some flaws already coming to mind, “How many Jaffa have been itching for a career change?”

They all peered at the map, looking at the paths carved through the Free Jaffa territories. It would take a little bit of doing, but he could see where the connections would net the Tok’ra easier passage through Goa’uld hot spots—all both sides needed was a little bit of convincing.

As always, Teal’c was the first to spot what he was thinking, “The Jaffa could be convinced into claiming their freedom through building their own apprenticeships,” He said, gesturing to where the Tok’ra lines circled around a major trading system that held dubious neutrality, “However, it will be difficult to convince them to work aboard the same ships as the Tok’ra, as they would appear to be a Goa’uld with different intentions.”

Some of the Tok’ra around them became offended, and Jack held up a hand, “Unfortunately, it’s true,” He said, “When every snakehead you see is out to kill you or convert you, seeing a Tok’ra that refuses to even reveal their plans is only going to fuel your suspicion.”

And there he was flatly speaking from experience, bitterness to the edge of his voice or not. He wasn’t eager to repeat an unsteady chain of command, nor allies that would abandon you despite promising otherwise. Begrudgingly, he could see where the Tok’ra were coming from, but hiding as a matter of survival was a one-dimensional way of looking at things—it would net you enemies, whether you wanted them or not.

He pointed to the map, “Does anyone have any objections to where the Tok’ra routes are laid out?”

Bra’tac’s ẖry-t piped up, “Yes,” She said, directing their attention to one of the tangles, “There are many clans here, and they hold valuable resources that they have been fighting to keep control of. To lay a route here would lay bare their vulnerabilities, and could easily decimate them.”

The sigh he made was echoed by General Carter, but luckily the other stayed quiet, since there really wasn’t a good argument to make against that. He recognized the area as one of the more impacted systems from the Goa’uld refusing to give up power, Teal’c’s commentary on the issue some months back providing illumination to the delicate regional politics.

“Would it be possible to institute a contract for apprenticeship?” Teal’c interjected, pointing to several places on the map. He followed the gestures, squinting until he recognized the battle plan that General Hammond had hashed out with Teal’c to keep in reserve. Interesting. Yeah, that could do it, “To honor a contract would be clear from both the Jaffa and the Tok’ra involved, and each clan could stipulate the goods they wish to prioritize in exchange for volunteers to work aboard Tok’ra ships.”

“And then there’s clearly-outlined consequences in case of a breach of trust on either side,” He said, nodding, “So it’s a lot easier to build up some credit.”

Teal’c inclined his head, “Indeed.”

A Jaffa interrupted from where they were lingering along the edges of the witnessing group, “How will we know the Tok’ra will honor such contracts? They hide in the shadows, unwilling to even unveil their faces.”

“I agree,” General Carter said, nipping the dissent in the bud before it could truly foment, “We would need someone willing to go first, to show that neither side means each other harm. I could think of a few of the younger Tok’ra, who had apprenticed from the Council themselves, but we would need someone going to bat for the Jaffa.”

Bra’tac shook his head, “The clans will never agree to nominate someone, in fear of favor being granted to someone other than them. We are not yet at the stage to accept such a treaty, even if it would be beneficial to us.”

“Well,” He said, surveying the various people around them, “What if someone were to hammer out the contract first, to make sure none of the Jaffa would be either disadvantaged or getting an undue advantage?”

The Jaffa around them looked a little skeptical, and yeah, he could kind of see their point—the Tok’ra, at least, were more or less homogeneous in society, but the Jaffa clans seemed to be more divided along the Goa’uld that had led them for so long. He turned to Teal’c, “What’s something all the Jaffa have in common with each other?”

Teal’c took the question with the weight in which it was delivered, staring off into the middle distance as he thought. He opened his mouth as if to voice a thought, but then closed it again, sighing, “Thus far, the Jaffa have had most in common their loyalty to serve their gods. It was the one thing every Jaffa could respect from their enemies, even if they had believed their gods were the more righteous ones.”

“But now the Goa’uld are falling out of power, so they don’t know what to relate to,” He guessed. Teal’c nodded, and he swore quietly, rubbing a hand over his chin, “What if- what if they had an appointed representative, that stood outside that mess but could vouch for their interests?”

It was a little bit pulled out of Daniel’s magic hat of tricks for negotiating, but the Hail Mary pass worked nine times out of ten, even if it did end up running SG-1 ragged sometimes. Bra’tac was looking thoughtful, leaning against his staff as he pondered the situation, “But,” The man said, “Who would we appoint? We would need someone who is not Jaffa, but is sufficiently Jaffa.”

At first, his mind pinged to Teal’c, but then away again—Teal’c was as Jaffa as Jaffa got, even if he was living on Earth at the moment. To insinuate that Teal’c would make a good representative would have been downright insulting, and that wasn’t something he wanted to do. Carter’s out, and Daniel’s out anyway, he frowned, Who else would fit?

“Whomever it would be,” General Carter intervened, “It would need to be along lines that all the Jaffa could agree on. Weren’t we discussing earlier meḥ ȧb menkh?”

There was a ripple of reaction from all the assembled Jaffa, and Bra’tac did sigh this time, “I believe,” He said, wearily, “That an interlude would be timely.”

The general bowed out graciously, agreeing by way of collecting all the lingering Tok’ra to take a walkabout outside the meeting tent. Teal’c sent him a look etched in concern, as passive as his face came across, choosing instead to make sure the map was undisturbed.

“Colonel O’Neill,” Bra’tac called out, “I could use some fresh air.”

And despite how off-footed he felt with the turn of the conversation, he knew a tacit signal when he heard it, picking up his loitering pace to meet the man at one of the tent’s exits.

“What can I do for you?” He asked, doubting in the same breath that there was something he could do.

Undeterred, Bra’tac found his way to one of the large stones dotting the encampment that functioned as a seat, settling down with a sigh, “Did you know,” He said, staring up at the stars sparkling in the sky, “That a briar patch is considered a test of creativity among many training warriors?”

Too jittery to sit down next to the man, he paced a little bit, absently wishing for a smoke, “Not around humans, no,” He admitted, “Though we do make them go through mud.”

Bra’tac laughed, “A sight that must be! But no, there is a reason for this test that we send our recruits on,” He tilted his head, the armored skullcap glinting in the moonlight, “No matter how one tries, the briar will always prick you! We do not give them adequate time to bandage their legs, as an army must be swift, nor must they waste their kit on frivolous comforts. How does one, then, get through a briar patch?”

It was an interesting conundrum, and he briefly wondered how Bra’tac must have convinced a younger Teal’c to commit to such an injustice to his dignity. Maybe, he thought, Teal’c’s ineffable grace was from the cachinnatory tricks that his mentor put him up to. After enduring so much, it would be easy to look serene, And yeah, that made sense. It also made him respect Teal’c’s demeanor a hell of a lot more, and he pushed away the brief urge to see if there was scarring on his legs.

Feeling a bit warm, he glanced back at Bra’tac, who was already looking at him in the smoothly-concealed amusement he was really beginning to think all old folk could do. He stifled the thoughts, turning his attention back to the allegory at hand, “Well,” He prevaricated, “You don’t want to linger, otherwise you’re going to get a heck of a lot of bleeding. But you also don’t want to go too fast, in case you step wrong and end up getting a sticker through your foot.”

Bra’tac nodded encouragingly, “And then?”

“And then…” That was a conundrum, “I suppose you just… have to go through it. Just keep going, because you’ll be at the end of it eventually.”

He squinted at the stars above them, wondering what the names of these constellations were. They were the same stars, just viewed differently—maybe that was what Bra’tac was going on about. Maybe? Then again, the stars had always managed to make him feel small, Stargate or no Stargate.

His thoughts were interrupted by Bra’tac smoothly rising from his seat, striding over to him and clapping him heartily on the shoulder, “You know,” The man said, grinning, “You solved that a lot faster than Teal’c did.”

Wait, what?

“What?”

Bra’tac lifted a hand over his own shoulder, where he was already halfway back to the meeting tent, “Don’t stay out too long! You’ll catch a cold!”

He squinted against the slash of light that indicated that Bra’tac was being greeted by someone already waiting for him from the tent. Stars, he decided, were a hell of a lot easier than people.

Trying not to shiver from the breeze that had circled around the edges of his cuffs, he relaxed into the heat of the tent as everyone let their feet lead them to the map. It had been repositioned, more toward the center of the tent, and his stomach rumbled at the sight of a fresh, piping hot jug of tea waiting for the delegation. Those snacks he had suspected of hiding around somewhere were apparently for after the first break, and he made a beeline to the closest tray, accepting the hot tea pressed into his hand by a Tok’ra aide.

“Thanks,” He said, toasting them. The man nodded, making his way around to the others that could be spotted with empty hands.

He wasn’t entirely sure what the food was, but it was a healthy mix of junk food and savories, so he felt content to pop a couple in his mouth to try things out. Everything went great with the tea, anyway, so he couldn’t find himself to be picky. Teal’c was nearby, and so he wandered that way, his friend sitting tall and possibly a little dour as he held the cup in his own hand like a prop to avoid conversation.

The mingling felt a little like half-time, and he was content to let the buzz of idle conversation linger, parking his butt next to Teal’c, “Long time, no see,” He commented, “Why the long face?”

It was a very long-suffering look he was treated to, and he shook his head in amusement, “Did Bra’tac get to you, too?”

Teal’c took a moment to briefly look disturbed, “No. I was the recipient of many questions from the Jaffa accompanying Bra’tac, who were curious as to why I had joined SG-1.”

“All good things, I hope?”

He got a raised eyebrow for that, and yeah, okay, maybe that was a little bit of a stupid question—Teal’c was not a man to mince words, and he freely condemned the Goa’uld in the same measure he condemned the yearly audits of SGC. Raising his mug to clink it against Teal’c’s, grinning when his intention was preemptively interpreted by Teal’c meeting him halfway, he gave a shrug, “Ah, well, you seem to have made a good impression, at least.”

“Indeed.” And if that wasn’t dry enough to water the desert, he didn’t know what.

The mood of those with them in the tent shifted, a sense of anticipation in how the delegates settled themselves upon their own cushions around the map. He felt content to wait it out, Teal’c an assuasive bulwark as they waited the sedate commotion out.

Bra’tac and General Carter sat on opposite sides of each other, leaving he and Teal’c one the long side between them. The last side was left open for everyone else, people settling in—and, he noticed, not quite homogeneously. He discreetly elbowed Teal’c, gesturing a little with his cup of tea to look opposite of them, who nodded with a hint of brightness on his face.

“Not so hopeless after all, eh,” He murmured into his cup, catching Teal’c’s contemplative noise with a smile.

When the noise seemed to reduce a little—and neither General Carter nor Bra’tac bothered to speak up—he sighed a little bit and put his cup down, clapping his hands once, “Alright, everyone, welcome back,” He announced, “Now that we’ve got a visual to work with, are there any questions, comments, or concerns about it?”

Teal’c’s lips twitched into a smile, and he smugly wondered how long Teal’c would be able to hold back cracking a joke in response to that, especially given how literally so many of the Jaffa and Tok’ra took the statement. He half expected some raised hands, though honestly that would probably make things easier on the lot of them to get this hurdle done.

“There is a question,” General Carter said, breaching the quietude, “If the Jaffa agree to a merchant treaty to establish the trade routes, then how would we begin that? I assume creating some contracts for trade, but there are some concerns about whether we would need to make a new one for each clan.”

Good point, he thought, Unfortunately. He could already imagine the reams of paper needed to print out the agreement by the time they were all done iterating each and every clan of Jaffa, and it made his head hurt just thinking about even attempting to convert that into triplicate.

Bra’tac seemed to think so, too, given the chagrined look he was wearing, “To regulate such a series of work contracts across all of the clans would, I am afraid, prove unwieldy,” The man sighed, “Particularly as the Jaffa are in the process of creating new clans from old, as a means of recuperating from the turmoil the Goa’uld’s wars wreaked on our peoples.”

There were several nods around the map, and surprisingly a few from the Tok’ra, as well. Or maybe not so surprising, he thought, remembering that many of their missions were not just posing as humans, but also as Jaffa. Maybe this will help me get them to reconcile a treaty, if the Jaffa know that the Tok’ra are already familiar with their struggles to be free of the Goa’uld on a personal level.

It… could work. He wasn’t sure yet how to levy that potential advantage, but it was certainly something to keep in his back pocket as a referee card in case the situation called for it.

“What are the most pressing needs of the Jaffa,” He asked, “In terms of supplies that the Tok’ra could arrange along these proposed routes?”

“Food,” Bra’tac immediately replied, “Many of the planets we use for agriculture are struggling to remediate their fields, or elsewise are still in Goa’uld control. Until we can stabilize our access to a reliable supply of food, it will be difficult to rebuild our cities and provide adequate care to our people.”

General Carter was gesturing an aide over, holding a murmured conversation. Many of the Tok’ra had varying degrees of concern on their faces, or else the faraway look that indicated communication with their their hosts or their symbiotes. Jack watched with interest, aware that the Jaffa looked a little startled at this deviation from the almost preternaturally-calm behavior of the Tok’ra so far in the summit.

When the man spoke again, it was Selmak’s voice that came through, tinted in compassion, “Our underground bases have dedicated areas to grow food. It is not spacious, but it can help relieve some of the burden the Jaffa are currently facing. If we provide some of the crystals we use to create them, along with instructions, would that suffice as a temporary measure?”

Bra’tac looked taken aback, and he glanced at him and Teal’c in indecision. While he didn’t think anyone General Carter would choose to associate with so closely would be cruel, it was indeed an unusual offer, and not one he found the Tok’ra made—if they did, he’d probably have to grill either of the Carters on it. The fact that it was in consideration at all, though– he looked at Teal’c, “What do you think?”

Teal’c was silent for a moment, obviously turning the proposition over in his mind, “I believe Selmak has no reason to offer a proposition that the Tok’ra cannot afford to commit to,” He said, looking speculatively at the Tok’ra delegation, “But neither do I believe that General Carter would allow Selmak to say something disingenuous.”

He raised an eyebrow, turning the words over. It was exactly the sort of deduction that he expected Teal’c to make, reducing all the extraneous information and distilling it into a clear set of paths for consideration. Well, he thought, decision made on that one.

“Sounds reasonable,” He said, answering both Bra’tac’s silent question and Selmak’s proposition, “How many people can that feed?”

“Approximately one base for a period of six months,” Selmak replied, “It varies by the composition of the soil in which we build, but the schematics can be delivered for review.”

Nodding, he ticked his gaze back to Bra’tac, “Does that sound good?”

The man was stroking his beard, looking a little confounded at the whole subject. Yanoc was herself muttering something to him, too quickly to try and hazard lip-reading, making Bra’tac nod at certain intervals. “Hmm,” He said, loud enough for the group to hear without straining, “It is a generous offer. Do you know when these crystals would be available for the Jaffa, and how many could be built?”

Jack takes a sip of his tea, drearily realizing that the badminton game of negotiation truly does never change. It’s almost enough to make him want to zone out, but despite how well Bra’tac and Selmak are bandying minutiae around, he is still technically a major player of this negotiation. Teal’c doesn’t look bored, but he does have that “kel’no’reem with the eyes open” face, which means he might as well be bored to sleep.

I wonder how often he had to sit in on these things when he was Bra’tac’s apprentice, he thinks, trying to imagine a much younger Teal’c sitting where Yanoc was—or probably standing, given the Goa’uld penchant for making everyone wait on them. Hmph, at least he can nod off if he wants to, now.

And with that heartening thought, he zoned back in to the riveting discussion of how much Naquadah each different crystal cost—or rather, would cost, if Selmak weren’t skittering around the fact of how those fancy crystals even worked. He wished he knew, or at least witnessed some of Carter’s techno-babble as she figured it out, if it meant helping Bra’tac out a little bit. For all that the Tok’ra were needing to stop skulking about, they sure did have the upper hand when compared to how fractured the Free Jaffa were.

“Would you at least be able to tell us how long it would take to produce a batch of these crystals?” Bra’tac’s voice had gained the very slightest of frustrated edges, enough to pick up on with the Tok’ra, “I cannot promise food for our people if I do not know when I could deliver it to them.”

Selmak did look genuinely regretful, “I am sorry, Bra’tac. That is a decision that the entire Council must make. If we were to let loose the knowledge of how long it took to replace the crystals we use, then it would be easier to estimate when we move our bases.”

The sigh Bra’tac loosed was a very deep one, “We are not your enemies,” He countered, weary, “If we cannot garner the necessary cooperation with the other Free Jaffa to agree upon suitable routes that would benefit both of us, then the news of an ambiguous generosity of supplies in terms of quantity and availability will only foster resentment when we are able to acquire it.”

Perhaps it was the tone of his mentor’s voice, or some less sentimental cue, but Teal’c roused beside him, an evaporative sigh that spoke of his weariness, “I fear,” Teal’c said quietly to him, “That neither are willing to see the benefits of each other’s company.”

“They’re too ready to accuse each other of being the bad guys,” He agreed, surprised at himself for saying it—hadn’t he been railing on for so long that the Tok’ra were rat bastards that were obsessed with controlling every detail? He might not have the sort of perspective Carter had, given how often she communicated with her father, but hearing both sides of the story at this summit was revealing some interesting angles he hadn’t considered before. How do I get them to agree with each other?

Selmak looked fit to protest, but he cut off the forming words with his own interruption, “We’re nobody’s enemies here,” He said, “That’s the entire reason why we all agreed to trudge all the way over to an entirely out of the way planet in order to talk.”

It got their attention, and he ran with it, “Now, I may not talk to the Tok’ra as often as I could, but I have run into enough Goa’uld to know that they’re nothing like them,” Selmak gave him a relieved nod, “And we need to remember that we do have something in common—the Goa’uld are our enemy. Not the Jaffa that fight in their name, and not the Tok’ra that sneak in to find new ways of defeating the Goa’uld.”

Everyone was staring at him, which wasn’t nearly so unsettling as the way Teal’c was looking; he didn’t want to run out of steam by trying to get a good look at his face, or to parse it, so he shelved that thought for later, “Whatever can defeat them is what we ought to be doing, not worrying about how we’re going to do it, so long as we’re doing it together.”

“Agreed,” Teal’c said, strong enough in his conviction that it rippled out to other voices. He felt like smiling at the unwavering support his friend was giving him, but felt it might be a little incongruous given the tenseness that wasn’t quite diffused. Still, he felt the warmth of that regard down to his toes.

“How will we convince the Jaffa to agree to this treaty?” Selmak asked, “If we must negotiate with all the Free Jaffa, then we must have the approval of all of the clans. Unless there is an alternative to a formally-created government, then we must prioritize the most influential clans as trade partners, in the hopes that they can convince their brethren to agree.”

A murmur was incited at the despondent news, and he knew instinctively that this summit was about to fall apart scarcely two days in. Beside him, Teal’c was surveying the approaching mass of trouble, his face wiped too clean to be anything other than a sign of impending distress. It made a sour, leaden weight drop in his stomach, knowing that his friend had gambled on so much with joining him, and that every Jaffa death made him grieve quietly despite how fiercely they fought SG-1.

To see that Teal’c was effectively watching his people’s chances of survival plummet in front of his eyes with nary a drop of blood shed made him itch to do something. The impetus was there, but the power to change the tides of an ocean remained elusive. He wracked his brain, trying to connect the loose dots yet floating around. They don’t have a government to represent them, he thought, No one to stand up for them.

“You can get a representative,” He blurted out, “One person nominated to agree on their behalf.”

It ran entirely counter to the problems discussed thus far, and he belatedly realized that, technically, Bra’tac filled that role—but no, Bra’tac didn’t, because not all of the Free Jaffa would listen to him, as much effort as he was putting in to make sure that all Jaffa even avoided the simple problems of starvation while they worked on the larger issues of freedom for everyone.

Regardless, the murmuring changed its tone, Bra’tac sending him an unreadable look as he fielded the numerous sentiments the Jaffa surrounding him were bombarding the man with. The Tok’ra were looking tense, ready to bolt if the situation went south. His nerves felt tangled and hot-wired just watching it, only chancing to breathe when Bra’tac reached for his tea, taking a steadying sip before speaking.

“It would be difficult to find someone to fulfill such a role, Colonel O’Neill,” Bra’tac said, his voice measured, “We would need someone not entrenched in the struggles of the Jaffa quest for freedom, but one who understands them nevertheless.”

Yanoc was the one who spoke now, breaking her outward silence—and, he hoped, acting as a devil’s advocate rather than the hammer that would send all of them home, “How? Whom? One clan will not necessarily agree with another’s decisions,” She said, expansively gesturing around the room, “It could take months—years—before any resolution is found to that issue.”

He got the sense of another disagreement beginning to break out, and was already squaring his shoulders to face it, but Selmak raised a hand. After the room quieted, Teal’c nevertheless still a statue of silent readiness beside him, he gestured for Bra’tac to speak, the two exchanging acknowledging nods.

“There is,” Bra’tac neatly announced, his tone similar to how it was when they were speaking during the break, and he felt Teal’c exude a similar reaction in the way he stiffened at the edge of mischief to his mentor’s voice, “A way.”

Oh no. He took a bracing sip of his tea, settling the mug on his knee and feigning curiosity as he felt terribly certain this was going to be Bra’tac’s very own briar patch for him to tread through, “And what way would that be?”

“You, Colonel O’Neill, are already mediating this summit between us Free Jaffa and the Tok’ra, and are nearly equidistant from both of us in terms of both familiarity and bias. If,” Bra’tac announced, looking entirely too pleased for himself, “you can gain the favor of acceptance into a clan, then the Jaffa will respect the ties to one’s family, as well as your Tau’ri ancestry, and thus you may act as our appointed representative.”

He nearly sighed, and very deeply. Teal’c was, perhaps unnecessarily so, sitting stiffly beside him. Perhaps Teal’c was aware of the tricky things his mentor got up to, and was having some flashbacks of his own. No wait out but through, he thought to himself, and bit the very obvious bait.

“And how would I do that?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and hearing the very stifled shift in breathing from Teal’c that indicated either annoyance or displeasure.

“By battle, of course,” Bra’tac announced, smiling beguilingly, and that man was one wily bastard, “After all, the Jaffa live for the fight.”

It was by lucky happenstance that Teal’c agreed to train him for the ritual battle that would initiate him as a member of some poor Jaffa’s clan, and he though ruefully that nobody would be able to top Teal’c in this arena. He wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for how much skill and training had gone into making sure Teal’c was First Prime of one of the most feared Goa’uld in the galaxy—his lungs sure as hell didn’t, even if he insisted on carrying a conversation while he brushed up on his quarterstaff fighting skills, as measly as they were in comparison to the massive spears the Jaffa preferred to fight with. Living for the fight, indeed.

“It’s curious, yanno,” He pants, ducking yet another swing of Teal’c’s quarterstaff. You’d think he’d manage to figure out the pattern to these by now, given the man’s reassurance that they’re all standard-issue katas. “If us Tau’ri did everyone by who’s- oof, Teal’c, c’mon! By who’s related to whom, we’d have even worse politics.”

“Indeed,” Teal’c didn’t sound the slightest bit sorry for him, and in fact seem to be enjoying battering him around with a kid’s training tool. The only specks of mud on him from within the roped-off ring were from Jack landing on his ass so much. He wasn’t even out of breath, the bastard.

The Jaffa around them, and the outlier smattering of absurdly curious Tok’ra and locals—probably on their afternoon break or something—didn’t have as much grace in the way they hooted and giggled while Jack hauled himself to his feet for the umpteenth time. He was covered in mud, and felt exactly like the pig that got loose at the local 4-H when he was a kid. A spot of fishing didn’t even sound relaxing right about now, something that made his grumbling a little more surly than aged.

“Daniel Jackson has informed me many cultures on Earth do, in fact, perform their negotiations via familial relations,” Teal’c informed him, that edge of smugness at winning the trivia contest making Jack wag a finger at him, “We have debated for many hours on the merits of the American political system.”

“It’s a clusterfuck,” Jack summarized bluntly, readying his staff for the next round of mud-splashing, “And I mean that both metaphorically and literally.”

Teal’c raised a considering eyebrow, head cocked as he briefly attempted interpreting that newest nuance to Earth culture. “Is that like the… ‘movies’?”

Jack grinned, knowing exactly the source of his hesitance, “The other ones.”

He relished the disturbed look on the man’s face, at least for the point-two seconds it took to decide to try pressing his—temporary—advantage.

The staff was redirected a smidge too slowly, and he crowed internally at nearly sweeping Teal’c’s ankles before he was redirected. He almost nailed the backswing, too, and landed on his ass a few seconds later. Still- progress!

“I could really use a beer,” Jack lamented baldly.

Teal’c gave him a thinly veiled unsympathetic look, well-used to his dramatics by now, “You will need to simply function without.”

He vainly attempted to scrape off the most obviously clods of the clay-like mud off his pants, glad that at least during this training session his shirt had escaped the torment, lying, neatly folded as it was, over the edge of the fence. Its pristine olive drab called to him, and he sighed.

“Can’t we at least call a time-out or something? I think I’m starting to collect a geological record over here.”

He won an amused huff, Teal’c nodding his assent and following him to the edge of the ring, “Shall I inform Daniel Jackson of your newly-formed state?”

Jack shot him an appalled look over the waterskin one of the onlooking Jaffa had gifted him with. “Absolutely not. He’d make me stand in the sun for the rest of the day just to make a point.”

“You are standing in the sun now,” Teal’c pointed out, taking a hearty swing of his own water. He got another affronted pointing of fingers for his efforts at comedy, which only served to make his eyebrow-raise more severely amused.

“I stand by my beer sentiment,” He muttered, taking the shirt and, with a mournful look of decision, used it as an impromptu wash-rag instead of throwing it on. God knows how awful that free hair wax would have been, otherwise, and Jack stifled a shudder.

Teal’c had a peculiar look on his face, “Do you require clothing?”

“Yeah, something without mud,” Jack grumbled, folding his shirt over so there was a marginally cleaner side with which to act as a sorry piece of towel. At this rate, the mud would never get off. He paused, “Wait. Do you have a spare shirt or something? I don’t think I’m supposed to walk around half-naked around the women, am I?”

The complicated passage of expressions might have been endlessly fascinating another time, but as it stood, Jack was tired, sore as hell, and in dire need of some beer and a hot meal. If a shower got thrown in somewhere in the mix, that’d be a cherry on top. So, he stared back, lifting and dropping a dismally dirty shoulder, “That a no?”

“Indeed.” Teal’c replied crisply, his lips pressed together in a way Jack had learned to guess was disapproval.

He watched as his friend turned and beckoned to one of the gawkers, scarcely waiting until the young Jaffa was in hearing distance before issuing what was very plainly a command. The other bowed quickly, shooting a look at Jack before scurrying off—presumably, somewhere fresh clothes awaited. Jack was sorely tempted to follow, but he didn’t think he could keep up with the scrambling pace at the moment.

Instead of trying to figure that particular puzzle out, Jack unfolded his poor, abused, military-issued shirt and gave it a few whacks against the post. It didn’t dislodge everything—he doubted the mud would wash out, regardless of its planetary origin—but it made him feel better to get a few whacks in without getting whacked back.

“O’Neill?” Teal’c’s quizzical look was better than the earlier disapproval had been, but the pursed lips thing was not Jack’s favorite look.

“I hate buying new shirts,” He bemoaned instead, staring miserably at the shirt as he unfolded it over the top of the fence, resisting the urge to pick at it so it laid correctly. The damn thing probably choked on its last breath, and wasn’t worth any energy to fix it, “It takes forever to get that GI smell out of them.”

“What is a ‘GI smell’?” The concern on Teal’c’s face would have been comical if the bastard didn’t know exactly what he was talking about, so Jack just raised an unamused brow at him.

“Remember when the Quartermaster handed you your first BDUs?”

He smothered a laugh at the faintly disgusted look on Teal’c’s face, having been there himself when the large Jaffa had to cycle through several fittings just to find the correct size. They were lucky an alien came in one of the regular flavors of “muscled career soldier,” which was only bested by how Daniel managed to make the same outfit look like it was hung on a clothes hanger within approximately the same week.

Their exact same surprised looks of polite revulsion were some of his favorite memories—right down to the fervently-whispered discussion between them on how to avoid the base launderer’s abrasively-effective detergent. It was one of those moments where he had immensely enjoyed the ability to live off base and wash his own clothes.

It did remind him, though, that Teal’c was effectively unable to do the same, and for approximately the same reason Jack himself couldn’t negotiate a better contract on the behalf of Teal’c’s people—neither one of them legally qualified as a valid person. He frowned, giving his shirt a sour look.

“I think,” Jack announced, breaking both of their trains of thoughts, “That if I can’t find a beer, I should make one.”

The abjectly horrified look on Teal’c’s face was absolutely worth the baffled look on the other Jaffa’s face when they came back with a stack of fresh clothing clutched to their chest.

The robes were more Daniel’s style, but Jack could readily admit the breeze was very much appreciated. Particularly when his first opportunity to try out the retrofitted Goa’uld showers dotting the midway camp made him feel, literally, like a god.

“The snake-heads’ real delusions of superiority absolutely do not come from their fancy doodads,” Jack stated, very confident in this revelation as he tugged on his boots.

“And where do they come from, O’Neill?” Teal’c asked, bemused. The other had managed to procure a tray of piping-hot food, and while Jack had approximately zero idea what was in them—though he really hoped it was DFAC-quality, he was looking forward to whatever the appetizing smells contained.

He stretched, accepting that while his clothes were too foul to be cleaned even by literal space-age technology, he could at least get something that fit and didn’t itch. Mercifully. Jack had no idea how Daniel had coped with probably-a-sheep’s wool clothing, but they had apparently shelled out the nice stuff for the Tau’ri ambassador.

Really made him feel like a million bucks, even if the shades of beige and different beige made him just the slightest bit nostalgic for his BDUs.

“The amazing showers,” Jack sighed, shaking his wrists out and grinning when they didn’t so much as click. That hot water was really something, “Should’ve been salesmen; they’d have put Sears out of business in no time.”

Teal’c’s smile lasted even as he shook his head, plating his food in a merciful gesture of not making Jack figure out what to eat or how to eat it. He beamed at his friend, settling down on one of the cushions by the low table.

He dug into the meal, content to see that it seemed to be the standard off-world fare—meat, vegetables, and enough sauce to make your mouth water, though this time he hoped it wasn’t so hot as to burn his tongue off, like it did on P9X-864. Tentatively dipping a strip of the flatbread into the food, and disregarding Teal’c’s silent amusement as he concisely mowed through his own plate, Jack found that while it wasn’t at the “oh Jesus, where’s the goat milk” level of spicy, it had a pleasant burn that settled the last of his soreness.

“Oh,” Jack said blissfully, mopping up a chunk of the stew and hoping there was more bread lying around, “That’s pretty good.”

“You are settling well,” Teal’c said instead, a glint to his eye that Jack didn’t know how to interpret in conjunction with the man’s smile. He did uncover the other dish, though, which was where the rest of the bread was, and that settled enough mysteries that Jack smiled back contentedly, “I am pleased to see you are enjoying yourself.”

“Yeah, well, politics is rough work,” He replied, “I’m just happy I don’t have to eat another MRE. …Or guts.”

Teal’c nodded gravely, but that little twinkle in his eye betrayed the amusement Jack’s reference to another ill-fated planet—P5X-631, or as Jack liked to call it: “The kids picked left instead of right, like he told them to.”

“Indeed,” Teal’c summarized neatly, and Jack nearly envied him his eloquence on the matter. Three days of trudging through swampland in the middle of a supposed drought, in order to reach a city both Sam and Daniel claimed was there, only to be met by the locals that subsisted off the most uncooked of delicacies.

He, for the record, was never again going to complain about the maintenance kel’no’reem took, if it allowed Teal’c to win the impromptu eating contest so they could be guided to the actual city. The muttered apologies as the kids double- and triple-checked their equipment for the next three milk runs was nearly worth running through all of his Tabasco sauce in one go just to get the taste out of his mouth.

“I’m just happy the food is cooked,” He muttered, sighing as he scooped up another bite of rich, buttery-soft meat and popped it into his mouth, “My compliments to the chef.”

Teal’c nodded, “I will convey your well-wishes.”

Thus passed the next few minutes in companionable silence, and Jack appreciated the opportunity to stretch his legs out on the artfully-piled cushions as he leaned an elbow on the table. If it weren’t for the unenviable role in bridging two unalike cultures for the sake of galactic peace—or at least a durable, tactical edge—he could almost consider this a vacation spot.

Eventually, though, they needed to get to the next item on the menu: more work. Jack sighed, stretching his joints as he stood up. Spring chicken indeed he may not be, but there was something to the successive release of pressure in his joints that was nearly as satisfying as the ability to pop right up.

He felt relaxed either way, despite the rocky start to the negotiations. It left him refreshed, and with Teal’c by his side, a silent shadow that yet beheld depths to his constancy, he felt some vestiges of anxiety eke out with every step.

The mood was something that seemed to transfer over to Teal’c, the man walking strong and tall as he escorted Jack to the meeting tent, sun-down imparting a nuance to it that made him feel confident they could hammer out these agreements in a manageable time, now that they had a viable path forward via Bra’tac’s proposition. He wasn’t sure they could reach Daniel’s mythical work pace of “two days or two weeks,” but between him and Teal’c, he felt confident they could agree on something that was beneficial to everyone involved.

While it wasn’t his first balancing act, having played lackey and liaison apiece across his career, it was admittedly refreshing this time to dust off his hat for the political rodeo—this would have real and genuine results, and an impact that would stretch far longer than his own existence. As far as legacies went, it wasn’t a bad one, and wouldn’t hold the bitter tang his details at DC had, even so far as acting as Hammond’s second for “earthling” politicking.

Teal’c seemed to sense his mood, bustling closer in a way that was visually indistinguishable but felt warmer all the same, and it did the job of banishing his memories to fully realize the present. He sucked in a breath, approaching the tent that had held such a precarious dispute just over a week ago. They had prepared as well as they could for this step in the negotiations, and there was little use wishing to go back—it was too important. Besides, what would be the use of failure to any of them now?

Idly, his mind spieled instead to the future. Bra’tac said he’d be joining a clan, should this endeavor be successful, but what did that mean? Was it some random lottery, pass around the Tau’ri? Or was it more like a marriage, and the old man was just being sly with him? He had already accepted, and it would be foolish—not to mention hugely detrimental to Earth’s relationships to anyone in the interstellar stage—to back out just because he was squeamish about how the results might pan out in the name of uniting two of Earth’s most versatile and arguably powerful allies.

“Say,” He says, listening to Teal’c hum an affirmative that he was paying attention, “Am I joining the clan of whomever I fight, or do I get to pick? Because I gotta say, I’m reasonably confident of squaring out a touchdown with you whacking me around the training ring so often, but I’d like to know what kind of family I’d be getting married into, if you catch my drift.”

Teal’c muttered something too low to catch, and too Goa’uld to parse, but before he could gamely ask for a repeat of whatever that was, his friend spoke up, “It is negotiable as to your relation,” He said, sounding dour, “But yes, it would be of whomever you would do battle with.”

“Ah.” That cleared up exactly nothing, but he supposed the intricacies of Jaffa culture were currently beyond him—hopefully his future “relation” would help clarify a few things here and there if he asked nicely.

“Indeed.”

He could definitely hear the frown in that one, and it made him toss a concerned glance at Teal’c, “Be honest with me here,” Because if there was anyone he could trust to be honest in this situation, it would be his one lifeline to plainly interpreting Jaffa culture, “Is what I’m getting myself into an unusual thing?”

Teal’c squares his jaw, slowing to a stop. So it was going to be a serious answer, then, he thought, and wondered if their training in the ring the past few days was a way of Teal’c gamely showing concern by sharpening his proverbial sword as well as possible. It almost, almost made his stomach flutter with a bout of anxiety at the unknown, but he knew bone-deep that Teal’c would never let him get himself into trouble if the other man knew something about it—an adequate warning, at least, but not an absolute non-answering silence like the other Jaffa were at dancing around his half-hearted inquiries. He drifted closer, keeping an eye on the complex micro-expressions on his friend’s face.

“It is… not unusual, no,” Teal’c said, meeting his eyes and then flicking his gaze away again toward the tent a few yards from them, “Merely the circumstances which make it an object of speculation.”

“They’re gossiping?” He asked, surprised. It was a universal constant, true, and he had expected some noise about it, but- “Is it because I’m from Earth, or…?”

Sighing, Teal’c looked back at him, relaxing his shoulders. When had they been up? He wondered, concerned that he hadn’t noticed. Teal’c had been so cheerful while training him, it was difficult to tell how he reacted around the other Jaffa, halfway because he was too tired to pay attention after each bout of getting knocked around the ring. But then, he had noticed a more cordial, polite air toward the Tok’ra and the locals, the clipped directions and distance to the Jaffa only noticeable in retrospect. Has all of this been making Teal’c a stranger from his own people?

That worried him—all of this effort to help Teal’c, and Bra’tac, help the Jaffa, and it might end up in ostracizing him from his family while Jack would get thrown into the middle of them. It didn’t seem like an even exchange, particularly when he was especially ignorant to what seemed to be ubiquitous aspects of Teal’c’s own culture. He frowned, brows knitting together.

“Teal’c,” He said, softening his voice, “C’mon. Tell me what’s wrong?”

Whatever was troubling his friend, he wanted badly to fix it—there would be another way to help the Free Jaffa, if this was only hurting Teal’c, even if he’d have to knock his own head a bit to find a better solution. They had accomplished the impossible before, and if Teal’c needed him to, he’d find a way to do it again.

Something must have cracked that particular dam, for Teal’c blinked a couple of times, meeting his gaze again. His breath caught, wondering to know what was on his friend’s mind.

“It is only,” Teal’c said, gusting out the words as if they had stayed lodged in his chest for a very long time, “That there has been much… speculation, about who would battle for the honor of… having you. In their clan.”

Huh?

His confusion translated into a reflexive witty comment, “Wow, I must be in high demand. They’re really itching for a fight, huh?”

Luckily, Teal’c spoke Jack-ese, and was able to translate it back into something that made sense. Teal’c clapped a hand on his elbow, a secure hold that was as steadying as it was startling. “You are in high demand,” Teal’c said, wryness belying his warm tone of reassurance, “But just as you have extended to me the choice of my future, I will make sure the choice of your future is extended to you.”

And that was- that was certainly something. His heart thudded, seeing the plain truth written over Teal’c’s face. Once again, his friend was to the rescue, thinking ahead and making sure the way was clear, “Thank you,” He rasped, “I’ll make sure to do well.”

“You will,” Teal’c said, utterly confident, before he smiled, an edge of mischief to it that was difficult to tear his eyes from, “I have ‘whacked’ you around the training ring enough.”

It startled a laugh out of him, and suddenly all was well. Teal’c was here, and Teal’c was sure there was no way he could fail. What else could he do with that vote of confidence, other than succeed?

The crowd that was awaiting them at the tent was full of the usual suspects from the summit, plus or minus a few locals milling about in what surely looked like curiosity at the anticipatory energy permeating the crowd. Bra’tac spotted them quickly, departing from the group of Tok’ra he was talking to and taking General Carter—or Selmak, he wasn’t sure yet—with him.

“Well met!” He greeted them, “You are nearly late to your own battle! We are nearly ready to depart to the site that our hosts have so graciously prepared for us.”

“Will it include sticks?” He replied dryly.

Bra’tac laughed, “Yes, many sticks, indeed.”

It twitched a smile even on Teal’c’s face, who had fallen back into his stark neutrality as they mingled through the crowds. Nodding to the only other person in their temporary group, he asked, “Looking forward to the show?”

General Carter was the one that answered, chuckling, “It’s not every day a Tau’ri gets to dabble in Jaffa politics. You certainly go big or go home, don’t you, Jack?”

“You know me, General,” He said, grinning, “Never one to settle for anything less than the best.”

“Isn’t that the truth!” General Carter shook his head, “It’s with an attitude like that you’re the head of the best team of SGC. Hammond doesn’t shut up about you guys, it’s the highlight of our calls for the Tok’ra.”

He flushed, “Oh, naw, don’t believe a half of it,” He replied, “Unless it’s about the rest of the team, then yes, absolutely believe it.”

The general leaned forward to clap him on the back, “You’ll do fine, Jack,” He said, “Everybody’s rooting for you.”

“So Teal’c says,” He replies dryly, cocking his eyebrow at the glances both the general and Bra’tac sent Teal’c. For his part, Teal’c remains unmovable, his only deviation the impressive stink eye he was levering to Bra’tac. They really are family, he mused, hiding a smile at the equanimous serenity Bra’tac was sending back. He decided it was better to get back to the tack on hand, even if he was firmly quieting the last vestiges of dread at its prospects, “We all ready to go?”

“Ready when you are,” General Carter said, gesturing to the other tent flaps at the opposite side that he and Teal’c had entered from, “Everything’s that way.”

He nodded, cracking a grin, “Lead the way, then—I don’t want us to get lost on the way there.”

“There” was a sandpit that wasn’t terribly different from the training ring that the locals had loaned out for him to practice in. He sighed, already accepting the graininess that would weasel its way into his socks, looking to Teal’c for some direction.

“Bra’tac will be deciding when the ritual begins,” Teal’c said, nodding to where his mentor was conducting people along some undecipherable plan, “You will be prepared for the battle, and the battle will proceed forthright.”

He nodded, straightening his shoulders. It was still in the early stages of nightfall, the sun on this planet falling slowly, and an ideal temperature in a desert. Smart, if you were going to work up a sweat, and needed the nighttime chill to keep from overheating. Torches were already being lit, enough to add some scenery to the whole shebang.

The sight was pretty, but it did rouse a question from the back of his mind that he had repeated early on in the explanation of this ritual battle, “Why are we doing this at night?”

“It is traditional,” And yep, he expected that, nodding automatically. Teal’c watched the crowd, continuing after a beat, “Should the challenger be successful, the Jaffa will celebrate, usually until dawn. It was a means to keep the Goa’uld from noticing the fighting, as it could have been construed as an intention to undermine their authority.”

“Damn Goa’uld,” He muttered, to Teal’c’s agreeing rumble of a hum. It seemed pertinent on any occasion, at any rate.

Bra’tac was making his way back toward them, two spears in his hands that did, indeed, vaguely resemble the sticks Teal’c insisted they train with. Handy, he thought, accepting the one proffered to him. It was heavy, but well-balanced, made of a wood that he could tell immediately must have been precious to the Jaffa, straight-grained and polished to a warm color that reflected well in the torchlight. Holding it made the entire thing feel real, an antiquity to it that resonated of history passed down for generations.

His breath whooshes out a little bit, he’ll be honest, and he meets Bra’tac’s assessing gaze. He endures the staring, knowing that it was only on Bra’tac’s go that things went ahead here. Beside him, Teal’c is surveying their surroundings, his body facing Bra’tac in a way that confirmed for him Teal’c was paying attention, as well.

“Hmm,” Bra’tac nodded, leaning the other spear against his shoulder, “You are ready for this battle. Teal’c prepared you well.”

“Indeed,” Teal’c said, raising his own eyebrow to Bra’tac’s amused one, “Shall we commence?”

The rare admission of impatience cracked his fears in half—if this were truly so severe a ritual, then Teal’c would let the waiting draw on for as long as possible, in order to net an advantage. It really is just a cultural thing, He marveled. Incidentally, it buoyed his spirits, I can one-and-done this thing. Alright… I can do that. Yeah.

Meanwhile, Bra’tac was peering at Teal’c, the same poised serenity on his features that had been there nearly the entire summit. If it weren’t for the way he had argued the conditions of the treaty with Selmak and General Carter, he would almost think nothing fazed him, in much the same way that Teal’c faced difficulties. Here, though, the unflinching attitude was to stare down Teal’c—who, himself, was politely glowering at his mentor.

“… Everything alright?” He hazarded asking.

“We need only that your competitor appear,” Bra’tac said, his composure unruffled. It was impressive how unyielding he was to Teal’c’s stare-down, though he supposed privately that if anyone would be unflinchable, one’s teacher would certainly be a primary exception.

Glancing back and forth between them, noting absently that the crowd around them wasn’t—yet—showing any irritation at the delay, he watched the way both of them held their little silent argument. It was fascinating, in that he rarely ever saw Teal’c so hung-up by something that he looked downright obstinate.

Neither one of them looked close to budging, unfortunately, and he didn’t think that they actually had all night to wait out whatever this dispute was. “So uh,” He asked, “Who’s my competitor?”

Teal’c seemed to visibly pull his irritation inward, and even if he couldn’t discern the precise causes of it, he frowned in concern. The steadying breath that followed wasn’t entirely unexpected, but the forcibly steady tone he had found himself gritting out in the past was, “Indeed,” Teal’c said, still staring at Bra’tac with a message he couldn’t quite parse, “The competitor has been appointed.”

And, well, if Teal’c was saying it- I guess it’s a mystery for me, then.

Bra’tac nodded slowly, switching his gaze to Jack, face folding into a warm smile, “Indeed. Let us proceed to the ring, Colonel O’Neill,” He said, turning with an arm extended to the main attraction, “We shall meet them there.”

“Well, if you insist,” He drawled, following the older man through the crowd.

As much as his nerves were being taken for a trip, the ring itself was of simple construction, something that wouldn’t be out of place on any Jaffa planet he had seen. The familiarity settled him, and he cast an eye over the Jaffa he recognized from the delegation that Bra’tac greeted on their way to the portion of rope fencing that was currently untied. None of them seemed to be ready for this ritualistic battle, dressed in clothing he could recognize as casual—though, he had learned to never take a Jaffa by their jewelry, having seen them get up and participate in a fight even in the most relaxed of situations, so he couldn’t discount any of them yet.

Bra’tac drew him out of his calculations with a hand on his shoulder, directing him the last steps. “Colonel O’Neill,” He said, “Fight well, and know that you have represented us honorably in either outcome.”

It was a cheering sentiment, and he took it to heart alongside the other honestly-spoken opinions that were the Jaffa’s way, lifting his spear in acknowledgement before entering the ring.

The sun was down enough that the torches surrounding them were beginning to be the main source of light, making him blink a few times to adjust to the spots of color behind his eyelids. It was sufficiently distracting that he didn’t instantly see who had entered the ring with him.

To the rising murmuring and cajoling of the crowd, it was Teal’c himself who stood across from him, face wiped clean of anything except seriousness.

His breath caught in surprise, an initial fluttering to his stomach that was ground away by Bra’tac raising his hands where he stood at the edge of the ring, the crowd separating from him enough to grant the man the status of presiding over this fight. Silence fell over them, and after a beat, Bra’tac lowered his hands.

“We are gathered here today,” Bra’tac boomed, in a voice that he easily imagined would echo across an army, “To witness the defense of Jaffa honor. Colonel Jack O’Neill of the Tau’ri has called this challenge, in order to earn the title of meḥ ȧb menkh against Teal’c of Chulak.”

And despite his earlier implied reassurances that this was a deeply-held cultural tradition, Bra’tac sold it with enough formality that he straightened his posture more than he already had, hoping it was imperceptible to Teal’c. His mind ran circles around itself. Is Teal’c only fighting me because he’s with the team? He wasn’t sure, but given the grave demeanor on his friend’s face, he refused to do anything other than meet the gravity that Teal’c was bringing to this ritual.

Jaffa honor was no small order, and he would keep to his promise to Teal’c, even if he hadn’t necessarily voiced it to his friend—Teal’c deserved to see the freedom for all of his people, and if this accomplished it, then dammit, that was exactly what he was going to do.

He’s going to kick my ass. That was one thing that was certain. Any other Jaffa might have gone a little soft on him, assuming that just because he was Tau’ri, that he wasn’t capable of meeting Jaffa standards. He didn’t want to be judged on a different scale, not for something that was so important to not only his friend, but this summit and everyone who depended on it. He glanced back at Teal’c, a new appreciation for what his presence was saying. Teal’c won’t let me down, he’ll make sure I’m fighting at my best.

His mind clicked back to the oohing of the Jaffa in the crowd, just in time for Bra’tac to continue speaking, “The challenge shall continue until dawn, or until one of the competitors calls for the match. The winner shall be determined upon the sufficient defeat of their opponent. Injury, though not death, is permitted.”

Clean, simple rules, even if his stomach did roil at the thought of drawing blood from Teal’c, injury or not. Teal’c was still facing him, so he assumed that was what he needed to do, too, spear held akimbo to the ready position he knew now was the quickest way to arm himself. It was missing Teal’c’s approving glint in his eyes, and he quieted the corner of dissatisfaction in his thoughts at the knowledge.

Bra’tac did not make them wait, clapping his hands and summarily shouting, “Begin!”

Sharpening his focus to exclude the crowds, he noticed immediately that this was different from how Teal’c was training him, a seriousness that wasn’t present when he had carefully coached him through the basics—no, this was show time, Teal’c’s only courtesy an initial downtick of his initial swing from his norm, just enough to make sure he could register the presence of his spear in order to dodge it. The following blow, even if he successfully blocked it, was still brutal, making him grunt and briefly worry that these spears would break.

Regardless, Teal’c kept him on the defensive for the first few seconds, the recognizability in his moves nothing on the speed and strength in which the strikes were delivered. He spent a fair amount of time trying to combine his experience with Teal’c in the sparring room at SGC and how Teal’c had behaved while training him for this exact match. Neither quite matched the intensity of a Teal’c mimicking a warpath, and it forced him to react instinctively, trusting that the nearly week and a half’s worth of brush up to his close quarters combat training would be sufficient.

As relentless as Teal’c was, the sand proved more unsparing, slipping under his feet and sapping his energy as he was forced to constantly, minutely adjust his stances. It was only luck that Teal’c was forced to deal with the same handicap, just overcome by sheer willpower to not move as the ground was directing him to.

It was proof of concept that Teal’c was an intimidating opponent, skillfully wearing him down in a way that must have terrified his enemies on a real battlefield when he was still First Prime. As scintillating of a display that would be ordinarily, right now it was frustrating, sweat making the thin linen of the robes borrowed to him stick awkwardly to his skin and his muscles bright with a soreness that he knew would begin to make him tremble if he blocked too many more blows.

He knew how long Teal’c could hold him off for, and holding this on the same day as their training, with little rest in between, may have been a deliberate choice to test him. Gritting his teeth, he lets Teal’c circle him around the ring, fending off the other’s spear as he let the thought untangle itself.

Maybe this was meant to be unwinnable, and the thought was supported by the vicious whack of Teal’c’s spear from underneath, making him scramble back and twist to parry the follow-through. It aggravated his old injury from when that spike had pinned him to the gate room’s wall, and he grimaced, knowing at the same time that Teal’c recognized the particular edge to that pain. He saw the considering light in Teal’c’s eyes and recognizes it as one of mercy.

Sorry, no, you don’t get to do that, he thinks, pressing against the insubstantial support of the sand to double-down on his counter-strike, throwing Teal’c off-balance more because of the unexpected nature of his stubbornness rather than acknowledging the weakness they both knew about. He caught a faint nod from Teal’c, and their fight resumed to their original pace.

The entirety of that short exchange reverberated around inside his skull, sticking with the adjacent, nascent idea that this ritual was intended for the challenger’s failure in the first place. How do I win? He had promised to do so, and while he knew that it was going to be damnably difficult, he had anticipated someone other than Teal’c to be his opponent, by sheer virtue of the numerous exceptions that usually prevented someone so close to him from participating. It was a conflict of interest, and- that sparked an idea, actually.

Regardless of how Teal’c got there on the other end of his spear, he was there, battering away at him in a manner stopping just short of mercy. His attention was routed back to the present, spear swinging dangerously close to his head. Grunting, he blocked it, feeling the ringing in his ears at how close the noise was. I need to stop this.

That was the most urgent thing to do—winning was ending the match, but either way he was going to run out of steam eventually, and he wasn’t even close to paring down Teal’c’s Goa’uld-hardened stamina. Teal’c’s spear came next for his feet, the pointy end in danger of skewering him, and he had to figure out a way to get out of the lock Teal’c was cornering him into.

Oh. That would be it.

Jack throws his spear down, knowing that Teal’c could beat him in every conceivable move he could think of using such a weapon, and grabbed Teal’c’s spear, using it to steady himself as he kicks at his friend’s ankle. Likely it wouldn’t do too much, but it was a distraction, and hopefully it would level the playing field a little more if he could get Teal’c away from the spears which he had made a career out of fighting with. He gulps in air, hanging on as Teal’c attempts to dislodge him, and grits his teeth as he feels his wrists creak at the strain.

Instead, he digs in feet into the sand, letting Teal’c think that it would be a futile effort to resist being thrown to the ground, waiting for him to come closer. The staff started to rotate, minutely, in the direction Teal’c was intending to move it in, and he let his hand slide down, tracking it by touch only as he lashes out with the other hand straight to the symbiote pouch. It made his heart ache, to take such a dirty trick like that, but he knew his friend would forgive him even as Teal’c groaned, remembering first hand the memory of such a pouch from Hathor’s wicked machinations and exactly how to hurt someone who had it.

The trick paid off, and he twisted behind Teal’c, using the man’s forward-braced leg as a brace to orient himself. He kept the staff in his off-hand, stepping quickly out of Teal’c’s reach as he grimaced in apology for the pain he had dealt out. He waited, steadying himself despite the sweat creeping down his face and the scattered torch light in his eyes, but Teal’c sorted himself out soon enough. He glanced quickly at Teal’c’s stomach, relieved beyond measure when he only saw sweat and no indication of an injury seeping through the beige cloth of Teal’c’s shirt—or at least one serious enough to make him consider calling the match off, galactic treaties be damned.

Janet’d have my ass, he thinks, and doesn’t have time for anything more than that to think about when Teal’c stalks toward him, disregarding Jack’s own spear that had been thrown scarcely a few feet from them. The time for spear-fighting was, apparently over, and he gulped in air as he enjoyed the increased maneuverability. Grappling was much closer to his specialty, but if he couldn’t get his hands on a weapon with longer range than a spear, it was close enough.

It was also much closer to his experience with Teal’c while sparring, too many hours on the training mat to forget the way Teal’c favored grabbing with one hand over the other, a hold-over from fighting with a spear for so much of his life. He played into that, feinting in the way he knew was expected of him, expecting both of them to react to the same memories of training.

But this was a game to play dirty, and since he had already cracked open the can on this one, he might as well go full hog. With that in mind, he grabs Teal’c by the belt, forcing his friend’s momentum off so he could push him off even more. Teal’c attempted to course-correct, exactly the way he expected him to, and followed up with a sharp knee to the back of Teal’c’s own, tumbling both of them into the sand with a thump.

He didn’t know the precise rules on what constituted a win, but he assumed the general gist was “get down and stay down,” and rolled with that.

The sand was absurdly obnoxious, and he immensely didn’t enjoy having it plaster to where he was sweating, nor where it was seeping in between the folds of his loaned clothes. But its flaws were his advantage, because Teal’c had to deal with it, too, evening their reaction times out just enough to give him some leverage. They grappled, both of them trying to pin the other down.

A few punches were thrown in, but despite the determination lending intensity to it, they were both hampered by their close proximity to truly deal a blow. His arms felt sore, blocking the blunt punches toward his face, but he knew Teal’c was equally as winded with the quick hits he managed to deliver to his friend’s diaphragm. It was disorienting, to feel Teal’c’s breath so close to his ears and know it wasn’t because they had gotten a little too absorbed in their sparring before they called for a break.

He wedged a leg up between them, foot on Teal’c’s thigh as he instituted a roll, keeping a hold of Teal’c’s arm. It was difficult to do that and twist the arm behind Teal’c’s back at the same time, but he managed it, putting his weight on Teal’c’s back and praying that he at least had enough time to catch his breath.

“Hol mek!”

Teal’c abruptly went limp at the sound of Bra’tac’s voice, his friend’s breathing rough, so although he was wary of some sort of… traditional distraction or something, he did take some of his attention off of Teal’c.

He needn’t have worried, because Bra’tac was entering the ring, a smile on his face big enough to see even through the exhaustion. “Hi Bra’tac,” He said, “What brings you around here?”

“You have succeeded in the rite of meḥ ȧb menkh,” Bra’tac says, looking immensely pleased with him, “Congratulations.”

That didn’t quite register, despite how sore and sand-encrusted he felt. “Seriously?” He asked, pausing at Bra’tac’s nod, “I hate to be the downer, here, but… how?”

He raised an eyebrow at Bra’tac’s pertinent look down at where he was still pinning Teal’c, albeit with less energy than he would seriously. It seemed to get the point across, and Bra’tac gestured toward them both, “It takes courage and dedication to pursue an objective, particularly so for a cause close to one’s heart. To see that you had assessed not only the rules, but the point of them—that they are merely traditions, and can be at opposition to your goals more than your opponent—is a sign of adaptability.”

It was a lot to digest, but he could see it, in the particular way Bra’tac was presenting them. He nodded, and the other man continued, “It is one of the core tenets of Jaffa culture—hold close that which is dear, which makes us Jaffa, but be ready for change, and to incorporate it into a new perspective of self.”

That did immensely fall in line with what he knew about Jaffa—hard-headed, traditional, but the fights they were always willing to get into were as much about progress as it was defending themselves. It reminded him of Teal’c, and also, embarrassingly, the fact that he still had his friend pinned in what was an unenviable position.

“I succeeded in my challenge?” He asked Bra’tac, frowning.

Bra’tac nodded, a wry look on his face that didn’t match his own apprehensiveness to make sure that this was done, “You have, indeed, succeeded. And may let go of Teal’c, if you prefer.”

He nodded sharply, “Thanks.”

Objective completed, Jack turns all his attention to Teal’c. It was an easy thing to help Teal’c move his arm back into a sensible position, simpler to keep their hands joined together to help his friend sit up.

Less simple was the post-battle flood of worry to contend with, and he solved his main priority—how badly Teal’c was injured—by ripping Teal’c’s shirt upward to see for himself confirmation that he hadn’t actually hurt him. To see only the faintest of bruises smudging the dark skin shook a relieved sigh out of him, and he instinctively reached forward with a hand, touching it to be sure.

The skin rippled underneath him in a flinch, and for a moment fear shot through him, but it seemed to have only been surprise making Teal’c react like that, for a hand covered his, “I am well,” He rumbled, “Do not worry.”

“I always worry,” He quipped absently, the smile on his face quick and fleeting.

Teal’c removed their hands from his stomach, but not from each other, and it was reassuring in its solidity, “You have fought well for the Jaffa,” His friend said, smiling, “I am proud.”

“Thanks,” He murmured, still feeling the leftover trembling from the adrenaline draining from his system, making him turn his hand around so he could hold Teal’c’s tightly, “I’m glad.”

Now that all of their immediate worries were taken care of, he felt the wash of fatigue that had been hounding him since they had arrived on this planet. “Are we good to go?” He asked Teal’c, eager to take yet another of those wonderful showers, and hopefully pass out for the night, celebratory partying be damned, “I’m not sure I’ve got the energy to keep going all night.”

And that brought the same damnably confusing mix of emotions to Teal’c’s face, the same flavor that had been peeking through since Bra’tac schemed his plan. He sighed, standing up with a groan and helping Teal’c up while he was at it, “Alright, you’ve got to tell me—what is it?”

“I do not understand.” And sure, he could almost buy Teal’c’s charmingly confused face at any other time, but not tonight.

“I don’t understand, either,” He says, feeling more weary than frustrated, even if by a slim margin, “What I mean is, you’ve been having a look on your face, and I can’t figure out what you’re thinking. So, spit it out—what is it?”

Bra’tac was, unhelpfully, still within earshot, because he turned from the aide he had been speaking to in order to answer the question behind Teal’c’s now-chagrined face, “Ah. You are unfamiliar with what entails meḥ ȧb menkh. For that, you have my apologies,” Bra’tac said, ushering them toward the exit to the ring, “The rite of meḥ ȧb menkh confers upon the winner its title—I believe the translation is ‘one who perfectly fills the heart.’ It is applied to many types of relationships, but I believe Daniel Jackson would refer to it as an intimate bond between two people, of whom the challenger has joined the other’s clan.”

“What.”

Beside both of them, Teal’c was studiously keeping silent, and what he had earlier just assumed was being content to trail behind them now came across as staying out of Jack’s line of fire. He frowned, noting that Bra’tac was lodging an expectant look at Teal’c.

It brought to mind Teal’c’s words before they had joined all the delegates here. ‘But just as you have extended to me the choice of my future, I will make sure the choice of your future is extended to you.’

The thought that occurred to him was not, as Teal’c may have been assuming, about himself—he knew he had jumped into this opportunity to net a good alliance between the Free Jaffa and the Tok’ra knowing it might cost him personally, but rather the cold chill of a thought that ran down his spine about whether Teal’c had been speaking from experience. He vaguely knew that as First Prime, Teal’c had to agree to some… disagreeable orders, but he had never pried into such a personal aspect of Teal’c’s, or indeed any Jaffa’s, personal life.

Objectively, he didn’t know anything, but as far as he was concerned, he could trust Teal’c with anything, up to and including this rite they had just agreed to. Looking between a reticent Teal’c and a quietly-observing Bra’tac, he couldn’t help but frown in concern. “Bra’tac, could you give us a few minutes?” He asked, “We’ll meet up with all of you at the, ah, party.”

Nodding discreetly, Bra’tac let himself be swept away in the departing crowd heading back to, presumably, the main tent that had functioned as everyone’s meeting grounds for the summit.

Scrubbing some of the sand and sweat off his his face with his sleeve, and grimacing a little bit where some of it just smeared or flaked off entirely, he faced Teal’c. “Hey,” He said, “I’m not… mad, or upset, or anything. Just… so you know.”

Teal’c looked at him warily, and he decided he didn’t like that. He reached a hand out instead, placing it on Teal’c’s arm in the same way as Teal’c had done before this. It seemed to register, if the slowly exhaled breath was any indicated, and he cracked a smile in encouragement, “So, wanna let me know if I’m interpreting things correctly?”

“… If you wish.”

There was still that mildly pained look on Teal’c’s face, and he resisted the urge to check him over again for injuries—now wasn’t the time for that, and it was the time for talking, even if he couldn’t yet figure out what it was that they needed talking about. Still, it was always good to touch base, and make sure they understood each other correctly, anyway.

“So Bra’tac said that this- this rite is…” He wasn’t sure why the words were stuck on his lips, so difficult to speak, so he wet them just to be sure and kept going, “Is like… marriage?”

It felt significant, to watch the play of emotions on Teal’c’s face. Given the supposed implications of this mehhab-mink-thing, it slotted together more of the puzzle pieces, and he was a bit startled to find that Teal’c looked… abashed. It was new, and surprisingly made him feel warm down to his toes. He hadn’t felt that way in a while, and was amazed at how nice it felt. When Teal’c nodded, once, slowly, it tilted his axis, reinterpreting everything around him.

“Oh,” He said faintly, “That does… That is- considerable.”

“You need only interpret it as you wish,” Teal’c said, sounding much more grave than he thought the situation warranted, but then he was admittedly still reeling from the news, “I stand by what I have said.”

And the seriousness with which Teal’c was swearing, basically, to allow Jack to ignore all of this, made him blurt out the first thing on his mind, “No!”

Teal’c was the uncomfortable conjunction of a plummeting heart and confusion all at once. He lunged forward, grabbing Teal’c’s other arm so he couldn’t step away, sliding his hands down so they were holding each other’s, “I mean-” He said, inhaling deeply, “I mean- no, you don’t have to do that. Explain to me what it means to a Jaffa?”

His- his husband, he supposed, and that thought was a little dizzying, looked shocked. Ruefully, he thought he would probably be also having an unflattering gape on his face in Teal’c’s shoes, but all he could notice now was how taken aback he looked. Right then and there he resolved to ask Teal’c about his culture more often, if only to make sure Teal’c never felt the need to process such questions from him again. He wasn’t used to being a husband, anymore, but for Teal’c he would do his best.

“For a Jaffa… the meḥ ȧb menkh is,” Teal’c was looking at their hands, making him feel a little self-conscious about how he looked, but Teal’c was unmoved in his inspection of the sight before him, “One of the most important bonds we can form in our lifetime. In some ways, it has superseded the vows to one’s god, because no Goa’uld would venture into battle with the Jaffa.”

He nodded. A part of him wondered how often Teal’c thought back to those vows, for all that he knew he would never, ever swear himself to a Goa’uld again, not even as a ruse. It was something he had always admired about Teal’c—the absolute conviction to what he believed in, and to commit to it through all hardships. Having such a person around had boosted everyone’s determination at SGC, with Teal’c acting as their nucleating point to make it through the sometimes godawful days that they had to deal with, courtesy of the very Stargate that let Teal’c join them.

But it did bring an important point into higher definition: this… bond of theirs ranked higher than even the rightfully-intimidating Goa’uld. That was no small thing to shake a stick at, and he felt a little off-footed at realizing that among Teal’c’s many reasons for volunteering to be his opponent were personal motivations hidden underneath his duty-bound obligations. He tightened his grasp on Teal’c’s hands, understanding now that it was very important that he hold Teal’c’s presence in his life as important as he now ranked in Teal’c’s.

“How…” He didn’t even know how to ask, what to ask, even. Simplest first, he reminded himself, I can do that. “How would we be acting right now, if I were a Jaffa?”

Teal’c pursed his lips, “You are not a Jaffa,” He said, firmly. He also squeezed Jack’s hands, as if anticipating needing to preempt the sunken-pit feeling in his stomach, “We must forge our own path—that is the Jaffa way, and that is also the Tau’ri way.”

Both were reassuring, and he felt his shoulders drop a little. There wasn’t anyone around them now, all vacated to the meeting tent, so it felt a little safer to admit his revelations. “I don’t mind this,” He said quietly, reminding himself that Teal’c hadn’t let go, that nobody here would judge him for agreeing with Teal’c on this, “I want to- to actually try. To be this, with you.”

And it was worth all the stars in the sky to see Teal’c’s reaction, the utter amazement that held no qualms as to his beliefs. It felt… right, to accept it—to accept that he was accepted, and it made him bold enough to look up into Teal’c’s face and ask, with a rough voice, “And how would we be acting right now, if I were a Tau’ri, and you were a Jaffa?”

It lit a smile onto Teal’c’s face, enough to dim the torches around them. He was achingly aware of how Teal’c lifted one of their joined pair of hands, pressing a kiss to the back of his before moving to cup his cheek. The touch was soft, despite the sand clinging to the both of them, and he drew in a breath at how fulfilling it felt, his own hand falling to Teal’c’s shirt.

“I would be asking you for a kiss,” Teal’c murmured, “So you know how cherished you are to me.”

“Oh,” And how could he refuse that, already leaning in despite his pounding heart, “Please, yes.”

He had, idly, expected it to be shocking, to be kissing a man, and with a serious intention. But it was Teal’c, always Teal’c, and he was still himself. It felt good, stealing his breath away as he pushed into Teal’c’s space. To part their lips was loatheful, so he chased them back, the startled intake of breath from Teal’c buzzing deep in his bones.

It was night, and the torches were prepared well enough that they were virtually meaningless to tell the time—so he didn’t know how long they had spent, adjusting the slant of their mouths here and there, lips tingling no matter how close or how far they were from each other’s. Somehow, Teal’c had managed to loosen the robes he hadn’t been paying much attention to, warm in all the ways that mattered against the nighttime chill. He shuddered at the feeling of trailing fingers along his collar, and oh, he had no idea that this might be why it was considered so immodest.

Feeling a little punch-drunk, he twisted the fabric of Teal’c’s shirt in his hands, rucking it up enough to bare a strip of skin. His hands were greedy, immediately skimming the flesh there, shy around the scarring that he had harmed so deliberately earlier.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked, feeling the prickling of Teal’c’s skin under his fingertips and full of wonder at how he could feel every shudder of breath. It was novel, and he wanted to keep feeling it, skating his fingers up further.

Teal’c exhaled, breath sliding down his jaw in a trailing tendril of heat that plucked at his attention easily. It was an unthinking decision to tilt his head up, momentarily distracted by the way their pulses felt like the same rapid patter, echoing from his fingers to Teal’c’s lips trailing down his neck with unending patience, “Oh.”

He felt a slight edge of teeth at the edge of a tendon, a direct contrast to the hand that Teal’c had still kept to his cheek, making his fingers curl against Teal’c’s skin. It was enough to turn things into a bite, and he groaned. Time turned a little hazy after that, roused only back to the present by the brisk brush of cold where Teal’c’s mouth had been, “I am well,” His- his husband (husband!) said, pressing his lips against his own, kiss after kiss seared onto his lips in a dizzying array. He couldn’t tell whether his breath was caught or going too fast, but his senses were riveted on the way that Teal’c covered one of his own hands, centering them over the symbiote pouch in something gentle enough to assuage him, “I am not harmed, and it does not hurt any more. You fought well.”

Relief washed down his spine, knocking him out at the knees. He didn’t have time for the fear that didn’t occur, for Teal’c was already there, keeping him upright with nearly-enviable ease. “We should depart,” Teal’c murmured, humor in his tone even as he kept connected to him with the unceasing press of lips upon his skin, “The torches will not last, and I believe we would not enjoy the cold of the desert.”

“Mrgh,” He groaned, sorting his mind back into somewhat functioning order, “Yes. S’pose we should.”

They righted their garments, Jack’s more complex due to how the fabric was ultimately held up with little more than his own frame and a some belts, but easier with two sets of hands making sure everything draped correctly. It didn’t help the burgeoning stiffness of his cock, particularly with how Teal’c insisted on running his hands all over him under the guise of making sure the clothes properly adorned him—eventually, he had to grab at Teal’c’s hands, breathing hard and struggling not to fall into another kiss with the impish glint to Teal’c’s eyes.

He licked his lips instead, grinning when he caught Teal’c’s attention with it and tacitly ignored the spike of pleasure he felt at still tasting the man in his mouth. His eyes tracked back down to his husband’s mouth—and, oh, he was getting the hang of that, too—feeling his attention drift away again. Before it could quite reach the ether, though, he asked, “Where were we supposed to be going, again?”

“Our tent,” Teal’c answered, a sly smile on his lips as he tugged him close again, but not quite in a way conducive to more kissing. He was assuaged with a hand briefly sliding down, then up, his side, “The festivities are primarily for the spectators, as the meḥ ȧb menkh are expected to resolve their… injuries together.”

“Mmm,” He liked the sound of that, leering at Teal’c from the side of his eye, “Want me to kiss it better?”

What he did not expect, but was absolutely delighted by, was Teal’c leaning down to his ear and murmuring, “Only if I may do the same to you.”

It seemed that they were, truly, not expected to join in on the revelry—not a single person intercepted them on their way to the Tau’ri delegation’s dedicated tent. They stole in between the flaps of the entrance, the darkness settling around them in a hush that made every whisper of breath and slide of fingers more pronounced.

He wasn’t sure who started kissing whom, but he was more than happy to be participating, the both of them stumbling around each other’s hands as they sought the quickest route to a bed. Teal’c seemed to have something else in mind—or perhaps he, too, was impatient—because he abruptly realized Teal’c’s hands were not just wandering aimlessly, for they had undone his belt. The robes were falling around him, any chill in the air unnoticeable as he helped Teal’c unravel them.

Their hands were tangling over each other, and he huffed a laugh, “How about this,” He murmured, moving his focus to Teal’c’s clothes. The fingers sneaking beneath the folds of cloth were distracting, but he persevered, rather enjoying the feeling of Teal’c’s muscles under his hands as he slipped his husband’s shirt off. The sigh was tangible, scrambling any sense of thinking as he felt Teal’c’s chest move, the muscles moving in a slow slide as Teal’c took the shirt the rest of the way off, “Oh. Now that’s nice.”

Teal’c was smiling at him, the same amused tilt to his lips he had noticed so many times before, but only registering the affection in it now. “Meḥ ȧb menkh,” His husband said, reaching out with the hand free of holding a shirt, drawing a finger along his jaw to rest under his chin. He didn’t know if Teal’c could feel how his pulse thundered at the action, but something in the deep look in Teal’c’s eyes made him think noticed, “Jack. What would you like?”

‘Everything’ and ‘I don’t know’ warred on his tongue, rendering him speechless instead. He stared at Teal’c, at a loss for how to communicate the jumble in his mind. It occurred to him that maybe Teal’c would lose patience with him, but no—the only time Teal’c had lost patience with him was when he couldn’t decide what flavor of ice cream to get at the commissary, which was entirely valid, given the sales they had going on at the time.

He inhaled sharply to dismiss the rambling train of thought, Teal’c remaining exactly where he was. “I-” He licked his lips, startling at the jolt to his heart when his tongue met the edge of Teal’c’s thumb, attention pricking at the sight of Teal’c’s eyes dilating at the accidental action in the dim light, “I would like to find out.”

“That,” Teal’c said, his voice a shade deeper in a way that made his blood stir, “May be arranged.”

Being drawn into another kiss, with the move entirely telegraphed, was electric. He moaned, unable to think between the way Teal’c had drawn one hand behind his head, the other slipping under the robes which barely hung on to rest warmly against the small of his back, lips stealing the last of his mind with a full-bodied lavishing of attention. It kept him right where Teal’c wanted him, and he could do naught but keep his hands on Teal’c’s shoulders, fingers digging in to the sculpted muscles as he gasped at the feeling of Teal’c’s tongue drawing at the edge of his lips.

It was a tease, then, and he slipped into the game of trading lip for lip, seeing who would yield first to deepen the kiss. He couldn’t help but grin at the annoyed rumble when he stayed just far enough away to make Teal’c work for it, lips barely cresting against his husband’s. The annoyance couldn’t stay long, the smile switching to Teal’c when the rat bastard cheated by slipping his hand down to paw at his backside. It was a winning moment for both of them, though, and the craftiness was quickly forgiven in favor of savoring how dizzying it could be to finally kiss this deeply.

Somehow or another, they had walked around, his calves hitting the table that adorned the center of his room. He broke off the kiss, panting to catch his breath as he stared up at Teal’c. His husband was looking at him hungrily, nearly making him moan again at just the sight.

Teal’c shifted, moving a foot just barely toeing in to the space between his legs, looking as if he were gauging the look on Jack’s own face, “Would you like that?” His husband asked, voice low, intention coming across loud and clear with how searingly-hot Teal’c’s hand was, where it was still dangerously low on his back. His mouth dried at how much he realized he wanted Teal’c closer, just like the way he was hinting at, and the image unfolded in his mind’s eye. Teal’c seemed to take that as an invitation to another kiss, mouth hot on his and swallowing his sigh, “You need only say what you wish, and I will listen.”

Another thought weaseled into his mind, and he rolled his hips, luxuriating in the choked sound Teal’c made even as the hand on his back slipped down to his ass. “I bet you will,” He replied, “And what would you like, Teal’c?”

Much as he was in the mood to minx, he kept his attention focused on Teal’c, holding his breath as he watched the thoughts cross his husband’s (and, honestly, he loved being able to say it, at least in his head) face like a ticker tape. His hands were still lingering on Teal’c’s shoulders, and it was an easy thing to draw a hand back, fingers lightly skimming skin until he could rest it against Teal’c’s face.

To be on the reverse side of the equation was equally as exhilarating. It was something like a hunt, and for a moment he caught a glimpse of what Teal’c must have been thinking, having him in his arms. The image was hotter than he expected, and nearly convinced him to let Teal’c commit to whatever merry thought ran through his head—but he wanted to do something for Teal’c, too, even if he wasn’t entirely certain how he’d go about it.

His mind wandered down that path, too, for an instant—creativity was certainly a trait he excelled in, and it was easy to let that train of thought run away from him. Something must have meshed with Teal’c, or perhaps his thoughts were written on his face, because Teal’c gripped his hips with a full-handed spread of his fingers. It pushed the last tatters of his clothing down, and it definitively made clear what they were doing, if he had somehow been unaware of it before.

Startlingly, the idea that they were running toward sex was exciting. He couldn’t fathom it being off-putting, and he pulled Teal’c’s face down for another kiss, going straight for dirty in a way that made Teal’c groan. His cock jumped at the sound, obvious to his husband with how close they were, brushing up against Teal’c’s BDU pants in a way that made Jack very, very aware of how hard Teal’c himself was.

Things were a little bit unrecorded to his mind after that, and somehow they ended up on the table, anyway. He had a leg around Teal’c’s waist, grinding up into him as Teal’c was focusing on marking a very obvious hickey into his neck. His breathing was uneven, wobbling each time Teal’c decided to move his mouth elsewhere, keeping him off balance as his hands roamed across his body.

“Oh god,” He gasped, trying to kick down Teal’c’s pants and focus on the hand on his cock at the same time. It was an admirable failure that was rewarded with Teal’c pushing his hips back at him, making him feel like he was being compressed into something whose only thought was ‘more.’ The effect was downright delicious, and he scrabbled his hands on Teal’c’s arms, trying to convince him to move his head upward from where it was biting a trail down his shoulder. There was no budging, but he did get Teal’c neatly lifting his other leg to rest atop his shoulder, and he was blatantly grateful for his calisthenics training that kept things at a mind-numbingly pleasant burn, “Teal’c. God, Teal’c-”

His writhing must have been convincing, for it made Teal’c lift his head, unfortunately only long enough to descend again for a searing kiss that was sloppy and hot and nearly made him cling to his husband’s head for seconds. The destination was, however, exceedingly better than the journey, much as Teal’c tried to convince him otherwise with the care he was lavishing on as much skin as his mouth could reach.

Teal’c paused just before his mouth touched his cock, breath tingling and hot, and after a beat where he outright wanted to yell something truly sacrilegious, what he got instead was a tender press of lips on his thigh. His head dropped back down, a thump that would probably hurt later, but his drawn-out sigh and the way his thighs inched just the slightest bit more open probably reassured Teal’c—a trail of kisses, much like the ones blooming bruises across his neck and shoulder, danced back and forth wherever Teal’c’s mouth landed with wet intention.

When Teal’c bypassed his cock again, tantalizingly biting marks into his other thigh, he gave up any attempts of trying to change Teal’c’s mind. “Was- Jesus,” He gasped, feeling Teal’c flirt his way further down, tongue laving close but not quite to his balls, “This what you wanted?”

“Mmm,” And god, even that was amazing, Teal’c indulging his rolling of hips by brushing his lips across his balls in a way that honestly made him want to cry, “Indeed.”

“Christ Almighty,” He gasped, because despite his strong conviction toward atheism, little else felt quite as fitting as an expletive, heart fluttering across its beats at the way Teal’c’s mouth danced across his skin, “I only just got married again and I’m gonna die by sex, I love you.”

He bucked his hips as Teal’c’s mouth clamped down on the apex between thigh and ass, yelping as it jolted his cock into leaking. Panting, he waited for his vision to get closer to the 20/20 he was supposed to have, tilting his head up from the table just enough to see Teal’c’s astonished eyes. The sight was enough to make him ignore—for now—the fact that Teal’c’s face was so very close to his cock and easily imagined as so.

It didn’t quite work, but Teal’c staring blatantly at him in incomprehension was enough to convince him that his brain needed to hop on a different track, at least temporarily. His brows inched together, “What’s wrong?”

“I-” Teal’c swallowed, and it was rare to see him speechless, his heart aching at the sight, “Do you- Is that earnestly intended, Jack?”

His brain had to jog a bit to catch up with the conversation, but when it did he flushed. Teal’c looked sincerely hesitant, and he remembered being on that side of the equation before, albeit a long time ago. He swallowed, thinking back to his words. They still wanted to leap to his lips, easy as pie, and his exhale was a little shaky as he nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, it is. I love you.”

And it was even easier the second time. Teal’c’s face became an exquisite picture of awe, coaxing a smile on his face that was easily accepted. The world didn’t turn upside down, he wasn’t going anywhere but where Teal’c wanted him to—the world he lived in was one where Jack loved Teal’c, and he was guessing also one where Teal’c loved Jack. He reached a hand out, ignoring the trembling that Teal’c—his husband!—had so effectively invoked in him, “C’mere.”

Teal’c obeyed instantly, shimmying up in a smooth movement that had him bent in two. He laughed, a grin on his face as he pulled Teal’c’s head down for a kiss, relishing the way Teal’c’s mouth opened up so easily for him. It was easily one of his most favorite activities now, just feeling how close Teal’c was to him, how he could taste his husband’s pulse and feel his ragged breathing with nary an effort. “Teal’c,” He murmured, pressing it into their kiss and delighting in how absorbed Teal’c’s focus was on him. Withdrawing just the tiniest, smallest amount, lips moving against Teal’c’s, he spoke carefully and slowly to make sure he did right by Teal’c, “Meḥ ȧb menkh. Husband.”

“Meḥ ȧb menkh,” Teal’c replied immediately, sealing it with a kiss—many kisses, really, quick patters across his lips that spoke only of joy, “Jack. Husband.”

He grinned against Teal’c’s lips, feeling the reciprocal one that elated him. The sky was up, the Stargate was strange, and Teal’c was his husband—everything was right with the world, and he translated that into an open-mouthed kiss that slid neatly into Teal’c’s beaming smile, making a contented noise. Teal’c met him there, melding his body again his own, a slow grind that warmed him from the bones up.

Those pants of his husband’s were still terribly in the way, though, and he trailed a hand down Teal’c’s shoulder, tapping at the skin warming his knee where it was sitting at a much more sociable angle, “Mmh,” It was difficult to pull away from Teal’c’s mouth, languorous as it was, but he put in a good faith effort, “Teal’c, be a dear and gimme your cock, yeah?”

He licked his lips and snickered at how Teal’c sighed, resting his head against his own, “Meḥ ȧb menkh,” His husband said wearily, the amusement peeking through in a way that made him crack a grin, “Truly, I shall do so. You must first attempt to stop being so seductive that it is distracting.”

“Aw, shucks,” He flushes anyway, “You think I’m seductive?”

Teal’c looked up at him as he divested himself out of his pants, taking the time to peel himself away and work on Jack’s boots as well, making his skin a little warmer at the realization that he had forgotten about those. What a sight we must make! He thought, distracting himself with the nearly seamless line of naked Teal’c that was freely on presentation for him, Mmmm.

It was a shame that Teal’c seemed to debate with himself where to sit down to take his own boots off, but the indecision warring on his face he took as a compliment, and he waggled his brows, “It’s alright, honey, I promise not to tell anyone you wear socks in bed.”

That got him a dour brow of amusement, and Teal’c paused in unlacing his boots. “Very well,” He replied calmly, abandoning his shoes and choosing instead to loom over him, “I shall wear them in bed.”

“What are you-” Teal’c settled his legs around his waist, scooping him up and standing in a move that made him dizzy in more ways that one, “Oh.”

“Indeed.”

The trip to the bedroom—and, it seemed, to Teal’c’s they were headed, if his memory of the paths were correct—was much shorter than they had originally struggled to do. There was a brief pause where Teal’c wordlessly toed his boots off, and then he was gently deposited on Teal’c’s bed in a flump of blankets. It was too dark to see anything, the lamps each room had been provided too far away and too cumbersome to bother with right now, but his imagination managed to fill in the blanks about how Teal’c looked right now, standing over the bed while it smelled of him and had Jack smack in the middle of it.

His hand was already on his cock, a relieved groan echoing out of him to take some of the pressure off. He heard a bemused sound from next to the bed, so Teal’c must be close by. “I believe it was considered uncouth to finish without one’s partner,” Teal’c said mildly, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell of an image in his head that choked a moan out of him, “I will be there momentarily. Please refrain from coming until I am with you.”

“You-” He stopped on a dime, incredulous and strangling a groan at the way his cock dripped at the words, “You’re kidding.”

There was the sound of rustling, and then a zipper being undone. It took a minute for his brain to catch up, given that Teal’c had already shucked his pants off, realizing as soon as Teal’c’s weight settled down next to him that his husband had been retrieving something from a bag.

“I am not,” Teal’c replied serenely, one hands landing on his leg with unerring accuracy and coaxing him closer, “You have demanded my cock, and I am disinclined to ignore your requests.”

He choked on a breath, nearly coming right there, Teal’c’s not-demand be damned, “Please touch me.”

“Do not worry,” Teal’c soothed, smoothing his hand up the inside of his thigh until he grabbed his cock, “Only ask for what you need.”

Whatever he was going to say, it came across as a vague gasp instead, reaching out to Teal’c to hold onto. It was, by either miracle or just regular Teal’c-ness, obliged nearly instantaneously, because he was shuffled closer, tucked against both the bedding and his husband. It brought his blood back down to a simmer, and he moaned, too many sensations at once brought on by a Teal’c with tempting intent.

He was hushed, gently, lulled into a kiss that seemed to melt the bones from his body. The rumble of approval Teal’c made echoed against his own chest, eliciting a sigh and cant of his hips that Teal’c supported with a hand on his ass.

It was almost a surprise, when one of his hands was located and a bottle pressed into it. He gave it an experimental squeeze, cocking a brow when it had a significant amount of give, “Old reliable?”

“Yes,” Teal’c replied, almost a little curt with the exasperation limning his voice, a juxtaposition to how his husband was slipping another hand under his ass, hoisting him up just enough to resume their earlier activities in a more effortless setting, “You were progressing admirably in your training, and I required recourse to my desires.”

It was coupled with Teal’c’s mouth finally settling on his cock, so he forgave himself a little bit at the double-whammy of that stunning mental image with his cocked being sucked. He gurgled a moan anyway, thighs clamping around Teal’c’s head as his free hand twisted in the blanket. “Tr-training?” He gasped out, baffled, the last section of his hind brain valiantly rallying and reminding him not to roll his hips, no matter how diligently Teal’c was applying his tongue to good use, “Wh-”

Teal’c was, apparently, intent to focus instead on keeping him as close to coming as possible with only his mouth. He flung a fist to his mouth, biting down on a sob as his skin felt electrified from head to toe. It was an agony he couldn’t bear to stop, Teal’c a nexus point to all of it as his mouth was never predictable, never doing the same thing for long enough to let him come.

When a finger was pressing against his ass, he scarcely noticed it, too absorbed in the rhythmic galloping of his pulse. As it were, he came down from the clouds long enough only when Teal’c was pulling his mouth back, invoking a full-bodied shudder that heaved in breath after breath. Teal’c waited, patient, thumb stroking his hip in a repetitive motion he found immensely grounding.

“Teal’c,” He gasped, legs flexing around his husband’s head as that finger kept up a delicate, repeating pressure, “Teal’c.”

“I am here,” His husband reminded him, as gentle as the way he was busting his mind to pieces, “Meḥ ȧb menkh, I am here. Tell me what you want.”

He nodded frantically, nearly abandoning the bottle in his hand to seek out Teal’c’s hand on his hip, remembering it only at the last moment to keep—his brain fizzled at connecting the dots for the purpose of its existence in his hand, but he had no more energy to do anything more expansive than groan and release it where Teal’c could find it.

Wonderful Teal’c, he instantly gleaned the purpose of his flailing, grasping on to his hand and enveloping it in a firm grip. He gasped, feeling anchored, and the sensations trickled into his mind in a more orderly fashion. Desperately aware of the hovering, intermittent heat of Teal’c’s mouth near his cock, the finger resting against his ass with a feather-light touch that undulated, it seemed, with his pulse, and the plush cushioning of the blankets underneath him, he could feel the rabbiting of his pulse synchronize into something more manageable.

“Jack,” Teal’c murmured, thumb rubbing against his hip in an orienting manner. He blinked rapidly at hearing his name from Teal’c’s mouth, quiet and careful and affectionate, heart feeling two sizes too big. Inhaling, he nodded briefly in acknowledgement, prompting Teal’c to speak again, “Would you like this?”

He squeezed Teal’c’s hand reflexively, lips tipping into a smile as his hand was squeezed in return, and tentatively rolled his hips. The sensation was unusual, and he licked his lips, trying to parse if it felt good rather than strange. His husband rode the movement, patiently staying close—it meant that Teal’c’s finger edged ever so slightly past his rim, and he trembled, caught between the juxtaposed urges to draw back and push forward.

“Oh.”

“Indeed,” His husband replied, guiding him by the hip to rest fully against the bed again, “Is this new for you?”

“I-” The errant thought had passed through his mind a time or three before, but he had never entirely thought about it. Did that count? He wasn’t sure, “I guess?”

Teal’c hummed, turning his head just enough to press a warm kiss to the inside of his thigh, inciting a sigh, “All is well, meḥ ȧb menkh. We may try this at your leisure, if you wish.”

And it bewildered him, that it was just so… easy to figure out whether he really did want this—all of the pressure was taken off, his mind circling back only to the acute need to be close to Teal’c. Clenching his thighs absently around Teal’c, he contemplated drawing Teal’c in further with his legs, the heat rippling across his skin at the idea drawing a subdued groan from him. It sparked Teal’c’s interest, even as his husband remained still, waiting for his opinion.

He drew Teal’c’s hand in his forward, the man himself tugged upwards at the slightest inclination, legs skimming down Teal’c’s shoulders and momentarily distracting them both. Disentangling their hands, feeling bereft even as he cupped his husband’s face, he smiled, “I think you have very good ideas,” He said, feeling Teal’c’s hand skim tantalizingly down his side, the beaming on his husband’s face at the compliment warming him, “And I would like very much to try them out.”

Their next kiss was simmering, not least because of the taste of Teal’c’s reciprocal smile. He gasped as Teal’c teasingly pressed that puckish finger forward, a slow breach that was wired directly to his cock, hips jumping at the sensation. His husband, the bastard, didn’t indulge him, massaging him in a way that made him flush—the way Teal’c licked into his mouth immediately afterward felt filthy, making him dig his fingers in to his husband’s shoulders to handle the moan that got caught between their mouths.

Riding out the slow stretch—and oh, he suddenly understood those jokes in much more detail now—he felt heady, deprived of air in a way that made reality fizzle and pop. Each calculated push of Teal’c’s finger competed only with the feeling of being pressed into the bed by Teal’c’s weight, enveloped even as he was pried apart with an insistence that could only be considered attentive.

He outright moaned when Teal’c withdrew his hand, the sound strangled when the hand instead alighted upon his cock, a smirk branded onto his mouth when his cock was pumped. “Meḥ ȧb menkh,” His husband spoke, brushing his lips across his own and nearly making him feel ticklish, unable to squirm with how Teal’c’s hand on his cock was keeping him effectively pinned. Teal’c wasn’t quite finished seeking his own amusement, though, squeezing at his waist before removing his hand, pressing the long-abandoned bottle back into his hand, “I believe I require your assistance.”

“Oh god,” He groaned, clutching tightly at the bottle. His mind ran rampant, connecting the dots of what they both wanted rapidly, and he could swear Teal’c smirked when his cock twitched at the imagery.

Teal’c, with a lingering kiss that he wanted to follow, removed the hand from his cock and held it out in front of him. He couldn’t quite figure out what Teal’c was wanting, not immediately, but the nudge against his hand clued him in.

Popping open the bottle was easier said than done, the clicking of the cap momentarily startling him with its abrupt sound, flushing at the sound of squeezing some of the lotion into Teal’c’s outstretched hand even as his mouth watered in anticipation. Teal’c checked in with him, anyway, his heart melting at the gentle press of lips against his own. He pressed back, sliding his mouth across Teal’c’s with fervor.

When Teal’c returned his hand, the ease with which he pressed forward made him groan. “I’m alright,” He preempted, clutching at his husband, toes curling in the blanket as he felt himself shiver, “I- Teal’c.”

“Yes?” Teal’c had stopped, so still it felt like the moment was frozen in time.

He parted his lips, heart thudding, “… More? Please?”

It felt significant, the way Teal’c ran a hand up his arm, finding his hand only to press a kiss to it. He blinked rapidly, uncurling his hand to cup it on Teal’c’s jaw, “Of course,” His husband assured him, so quietly he wouldn’t have heard it if the night weren’t so dark and the air between them so thin, “Always.”

Teal’c slowly withdrew his finger, tip catching against the rim, his heart skipping right over the beat that it took for his husband to return with two. He inhaled sharply, focusing instead on the way Teal’c’s jaw was clenched tight under his hand, the feathering of squinted eyes against his fingertips in what most probably had to be concentration. It made the slick burn of being stretched open an intense surreality, the rhythmic movement suggestive of something equally as intimate.

His legs felt like jelly, each huff of breath coaxed forth with the push and pull of Teal’c’s fingers, a luxury that he nearly felt would be worthy of a strung-out orgasm at any other time. Sighing at the firm slickness, he rolled his hips at the intake, stomach swooping at the sensation as he brushed against Teal’c’s cock with his own. The fingers in him stuttered, itself a unique agony of pleasure as they crooked inside of him, the moan his husband made reverberating against his hand.

“Oh,” And he rolled his hips again, seeking out more of the sounds that Teal’c would make.

The nigh-on instinctive attempt was rewarded with a punched-out sound from Teal’c, deep and heartfelt. He hitched his legs up, already addicted to pulled noises out of Teal’c like that, “Teal’c, Teal’c-”

His message was most definitely received, the withdrawal of Teal’c’s fingers speedy enough to make him whine, abated by how he was slotted neatly against his husband, knees tucked high over Teal’c’s waist. It put him ass over cock, the slickness from Teal’c’s ministrations abashing him with how he could feel his heartbeat pick up, gasping at the way his hips were drawn up further, “Oh- oh, please-”

“I intend to,” Teal’c said, voice low as his ass was clutched with two firm handfuls, spreading him open with that simple gesture. He cried out at the feeling of Teal’c’s cock sliding over his hole, a rocking rhythm to it that he squirmed toward.

It was a memorable sensation, feeling the way Teal’c pushed his cock in with a slow, calculated thrust. His eyes rolled upwards, breath caught as the tendrils of a burn wove in to the rapid flutter of his heart, hand squeezing at the back of Teal’c’s neck to try and provide himself with an anchor point. What he received was a searing brand of lips on his jaw, teeth scraping along the skin as Teal’c bottomed out in him.

They panted in unison. When he eventually felt like he could unclench his hands from where they were resting on Teal’c, he exhaled, experimentally testing the waters by bearing down on Teal’c’s cock. It made his husband jerk his hips forward, the paroxysm of pleasure nearly drowning out the moan of his name.

He groaned, liking the way his name sounded in Teal’c’s mouth a lot, repeating his actions and garnering a quick roll of Teal’c’s hips. Meeting the push, he locked his legs tighter around Teal’c’s waist, rocking himself onto Teal’c’s cock. It was a slide he immensely began to crave, staggered as it was between them. He knew they had discovered a rhythm when they evened the motions of their bodies out, a synchronicity of pleasure that etched into his mind.

Perhaps he was speaking, or maybe he wasn’t, but his throat was sore, gasping as Teal’c built up their rhythm until the pace was nearly punishing. He loved it, loved how he could feel Teal’c’s self-restraint slowly unravelling, all of that admirably intense focus on him. It was riveting—gratifying, to know that Teal’c wanted him, had wanted him all along and had kept it tucked away into a friendship that he was so eminently comfortable in because of the care and love behind it, just for him.

Blinking away the sweat, and the tears from his heart that felt too full, he groaned as he was rucked up the bed. It was difficult to get a hand between them, not least because Teal’c was so close and he was so loathe to part from his husband for even a moment, but he was able to convince Teal’c when he moaned, arching his back. The momentary change in position, with Teal’c rearing up and grasping his legs to pound into him, was incentive enough to squeeze his cock with all the strength he could muster when every limb trembled.

“Teal’c,” He blurted out, dragging in breath after breath, eyes burning, “Ah. Teal’c-”

“Jack,” His husband said plainly, ever-present and panting, and oh, how could he not love him?

He choked on his breath, hips bucking as he came. Electricity rattled his nerves, sparking and blinding, and still he could feel Teal’c moving in him, a dedicated pace that made him whine in the aftershocks, “Patience,” Teal’c groaned out, coaxing his legs further apart. He gasped at the stretch, hand falling away from his cock in a jolt, “Meḥ ȧb menkh.”

It was nearly too soon and yet not soon enough when Teal’c did come, his mind wrapped around the feeling of Teal’c’s cock splitting him open as his chest heaved to take in air. This time, he knew he was speaking, a constant litany of Teal’c’s name that barreled out past his kiss-bruised lips. He shuddered, drawing inward when he felt his husband come in him, feeling more than a little overwhelmed.

Time felt sluggish, as if even it needed to catch its breath—he believed it, curling his toes and scarcely feeling it. His mind was still dazzled with everything, and he felt his vision would have taken a temporarily leave of absence even if had been useful right now. It was better to focus on catching his breath, hyper-aware of the repetitive, almost absent-minded, squeezing of Teal’c’s hands on his thighs as he, too, had a chest heaving like a bellows.

“Mmgh,” Speaking was difficult, but his sigh came out as more contented than frustrated, squeezing his legs weakly around Teal’c, “C’mere.”

“Hmm,” Teal’c seemed momentarily more content to run hands up and down his legs, eventually turning to cup his hips and issuing a command, “Up.”

He groaned at the idea of moving right now, but complied, bracing his feet on Teal’c’s calves. It was a close thing to not slip from sheer exertion, but he managed, crying out when Teal’c used the angle to withdraw from him. “Unh,” It was disconcerting, feeling his ass flutter over nothing despite being warm and sore, but Teal’c was already there, pressing a couple of fingers against him in a massage, “Oh.”

It nearly tempted him into persuading a second round out of Teal’c, knowing where those fingers had led them last time, but then his mind put together the idea of coming from just those fingers and he moaned anew. Those fingers paused, and he could feel the skepticism emanating from Teal’c, “Perhaps wait,” His husband advised, being a bastard and stroking him again anyway, the slow pace dissolving his concentration with a swiftness that startled him, “We have enough time.”

Sighing, he was tempted to roll himself onto those fingers, anyway—it seemed a pleasant way to spend his time, and Teal’c seemed equally disinclined to go anywhere despite his protests, “Noted,” He said, aching already for more, “But soon, right?”

“Meḥ ȧb menkh,” And this time it was an affectionate sigh, drawing a grin out of him, “Yes, as you wish.”

“I knew I loved you,” He said, pleased, sighing as Teal’c’s fingers slipped past his rim in startlement, “Mmm. Just like that.”

“I see the life of a married man has not changed you,” His husband said dryly, withdrawing his hand despite his complaints, kissing the offense better and bundling them up side-by-side on the bed.

Teal’c did indeed have the most magnificent of ideas, and he walked his fingers across Teal’c’s ribs, saying blithely, “You bring out the best in me.”

His husband reached over him, grabbing a handful of the blanket with a firm kiss to his cheek—it was cozy, being enveloped like that between Teal’c and Teal’c’s blanket, and he sighed as he curled up close. “Rest,” Teal’c bid him, voice warm, and it was almost magical how that already made his eyes slip closed, a sigh wisping out of him, “I will still be here.”

“Love ya,” He murmured, pressing his cheek against Teal’c’s collar.

Teal’c held him close, the beat of his heart steady, “As I love you.”