Daniels Diaries. Stargate SG-1 Fanfiction by Scribe
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Shower Scenes


An untold tale from the Diary of Dr Daniel Jackson


All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.



This story is rated PG and falls into the category of humour. Oh yes, it takes place before my story 'Thorns', and contains the key to a cryptic comment made by Sam.

It's a little known fact that there are in fact more than 101 ways to remove Daniel Jackson from his clothes. Trust me - I've seen the list. Here is just one possible way<g>.

Thanks to Ellen for beta reading and for mentioning the very wicked word *Polaroid*.

Well, this puts a different slant on Stargate missions! For some reason best known only to himself, General Hammond wants to see what difference having a linguist along will make to SG3's missions. Of course he had to choose me as the linguist. The one person most likely to tick off a bunch of gung-ho marines. Jack is just about growing feathers he's so into his mother hen act. Personally I'm just hoping to come back alive...


Damn. Jack had known it was a bad idea to send Daniel through the gate on a mission with SG3. Colonel Makepeace had a lot of good points, but Jack suspected tolerance towards an opinionated civilian scientist with a tendency to act on instinct rather than military orders wasn't one of them. And now he had proof.

As Daniel stepped back through the active gate, it was clear he was sporting a broken nose and two black eyes. Damn it, Jack thought to himself. He should never have allowed SG3 out alone with his archaeologist.

*His archaeologist*. Jack backed up at his own thought. Jeez. When had he started thinking of Daniel as *his archaeologist*? Jack, you're getting soft in your old age, he thought wryly. He corrected himself almost immediately though. Face it, SG1 is pretty much the only family you have. Feeling protective towards them is natural. Why else would you be standing around the gateroom waiting for one of them to come home?

Jack automatically moved closer to the bottom of the ramp to greet Daniel, but it was the archaeologist that spoke first.

"Hi Jack!" He waved an arm towards the event horizon. "SG3 said not to panic. They'll be right along. There's a problem with the MALP - something technical. They said I should leave them to it."

"What happened to your face?" Jack asked, cutting straight to chase. He really should've known better than to trust SG3 with Daniel.

"Oh, that!" Daniel fingered the tender flesh gingerly, and gave Jack an embarrassed smile. "The indigenous population had a rather unusual way of greeting strangers."

"What did they do? Head butt you?"

Daniel blinked at him. "Well yes, actually. See they don't have noses as such, instead they have this ridge of bone that runs down the centre of their faces. So it's a perfectly understandable form of greeting. Unfortunately for me..."

"Ouch!" Jack said getting the picture. OK, so SG3 hadn't thumped Daniel. But they'd still leapt at the first chance they could to send him home. Jack's thoughts were cut off by the sound of heavy boots on the ramp.

"Jackson!" Makepeace yelled as soon as he stepped through the ring. "What the hell are you still doing in the gateroom?"

Jack grimaced. Here we go, he thought.

Makepeace virtually ran down the ramp towards them. Much to Jack's amazement though he threw his arm around Daniel's shoulders. "Come on! Let's get the doc to check you out." He shot a quick glance at O'Neill, acknowledging his presence. "Colonel. Hell of a guy you've got here. If it weren't for him sweet-talking those alien headcases we'd be coming back in body bags."

O'Neill's face went from sheer surprise to one of pride. "Trained him myself," he said dryly.

The comment was lost though as Makepeace swept Daniel away. "First the infirmary," he said. "Then the guys and me are taking you out for a decent dinner. Definitely no macaroni!"

"And no chicken!" Daniel added with a laugh.

Jack was left standing at the bottom of the ramp as the rest of SG3 swept past him. He waved a hand in their direction calling out "See you later..." in a somewhat bemused tone. As an unfamiliar feeling settled itself between his shoulder blades, he glanced around the gateroom and realised everyone else had drifted back to their duties. Trying to look casual he headed for the exit, shoving the unwelcome emotion down into a corner.


Daniel didn't think he was drunk - until he stood up to propose a toast and the room did a quick swing around the lampshades. He sat down again quickly and waited for the table to come back into focus. It flickered through his mind that maybe he shouldn't have been mixing alcohol with the painkillers Janet Fraiser had given him, but he was sure she would've mentioned it. He frowned - had she mentioned it?

"You OK, Doctor J?" Johnson asked quickly.

"J..just f..fine." Daniel replied. Oh boy, he thought. He hadn't been this soused in quite some time. He looked down the table and realised the after-dinner whiskies were out-numbering the coffee cups by about three to one. There was a time when he could cope quite happily with several glasses of Skaa'ra's moonshine, but over the past couple of years he hadn't touched much booze. The occasional beer with Jack. A glass of his favourite Irish whiskey to ease away the aches and pains of a tough mission. Oh yes, he was well out of practice. Unlike SG3!

"A toast!" Colonel Makepeace climbed to his feet yet again. "To linguists everywhere!"

"Here! Here!" yelled the rest of SG3 enthusiastically, attracting even more stares from the other diners in the restaurant.

"Hey, Colonel!" Johnson called. "How about we keep Doctor J here? Make him a permanent member of the team."

"Good idea!" Makepeace responded as he sat again. "What do you say, Daniel? Want to join us?"

"I.. err.." Daniel was having a difficult time concentrating. "I'm not sure Jack would approve."

"Stuff O'Neill," Rogers called out. "We want you on our team!"

Makepeace laughed. "Somehow I can't see Jack O'Neill agreeing to let his space monkey go without a fight. But..." As Daniel cringed at being dubbed Jack's space monkey, Makepeace peered round the table looking for approval from his team. "There's nothing to stop us making Daniel an honorary member of SG3 is there?"

"Yeah!" Both Johnson and Anderson slapped Daniel on the back to show their approval. Anderson continued, "How about it, Dr J? Want to be part of us, honorary-like?"

Daniel nodded. An honorary part of the team - sounded like a good idea to him. Of course, right at that moment pretty much anything would've sounded like a good idea. Johnson shoved another glass of amber liquid into his hand.

This time it was Rogers who proposed the toast. "To SG3!" he cried.

"To SG3!" everyone chorused, downing the whiskey in one.

"So Colonel," Rogers said as the group quietened. "To make this official, how are we going to initiate Dr J?"

"Initiate?" Daniel set his glass down with deliberate care to ensure it actually found the table and not the floor.

"Oh yes," Anderson chipped in. "You wanna be part of the marines, you have to be initiated."

Daniel frowned. Somewhere at the back of his mind warning bells were ringing about marine initiations. "You aren't going to strand me naked half way up a mountain are you? Only..." He pointed an unsteady finger at Anderson. "I'm not good at all that survival stuff... except in the desert. I can handle the desert."

"Dr J." Anderson sounded hurt. "Would we do something dangerous like that? Please. We're your buddies. You can trust us."

"Good!" Daniel replied. He turned just in time to catch Makepeace and Rogers exchanging a conspiratorial look. Almost immediately Rogers excused himself from the table. "Colonel?" Daniel asked, suspicion in his tone.

"Of course not Daniel," Makepeace reassured him. "Naked half way up a mountain? In this weather? Man could lose vital bits of his anatomy." He glanced over his shoulder and caught the eye of the waiter. "Can we have the check?"


The good-natured with somewhat gutter-like banter continued as the group drained their coffee cups, and headed out into the crisp autumn air.

Daniel was surprised to find an official car waiting outside. "Are we heading back to the SGC?"

Makepeace nodded. "Rogers took a call back in the restaurant. Seems there's some emergency."

"Oh!" Daniel rubbed at his eyes tiredly. "Are you sure they need us? I mean, I think I've had a bit too much to drink, and..."

"You'll be fine, Daniel. Just fine." Makepeace opened the car door. Before Daniel could object he found himself seated between Rogers and Anderson. Unease prickled at the back of his neck. *Initiation* He just knew he was going to end up in trouble. Determined to keep his wits about him, he tried to concentrate on the raucous conversation. If he could just fight off the overwhelming fatigue he felt - a fatigue worsened by the drink, and the fact that it was really warm in the car...


Daniel woke with a start. Owwww! Everything hurt. His head. His nose. His hands. His hands? Oh-oh - a flicker of fear surfaced as he recognised that sensation. He peered at his hands suddenly alert. Oh shit! He was handcuffed. To what he couldn't quite decide - his vision refusing to focus through the pounding in his head.

Almost immediately another sensation demanded his attention. God, it was cold in here. A sick feeling crept over him as full realisation of his plight made it through to his brain. No, it wasn't cold in here. The floor was cold - stone cold in fact. And there was an awful lot of him in contact with it. And that meant - he was handcuffed and as naked as the day he was born. Oh shit! Oh shit!

Panic and fear jostled for dominance before he managed to get a grip on his imagination. Think Jackson, he told himself firmly. You've been in worse situations. Well, maybe not worse. But just as dangerous. OK maybe not as dangerous, but... Stop it!

He closed his eyes, concentrated on breathing deeply for several minutes and was rewarded by the nausea stealing back to the pit of his stomach and a slight lessening of the timpani in his head.

He opened his eyes again, and focused on the pipework to which he was cuffed. It looked vaguely familiar. Tilting his head to one side, Daniel peered up at the white oval above his head that looked suspiciously like... A sink? Who the hell would take him prisoner and handcuff him to a bathroom fixture?

Oh boy. Memory slapped Daniel hard around the face. SG3! Too much whiskey. Too little sleep. An initiation. Oh God! They'd stripped him and cuffed him to a sink. And that meant...

He swallowed hard as a door began to open.

...the women's restroom!


Jack O'Neill pushed open his office door and gave his desk a sour look. He'd been putting off writing a report that General Hammond needed for the SGC accountants, and now he was up against a deadline. He glanced at his watch. OK. It was 6.30am. He could plough through some of the background material, attend the briefing he and Daniel were due to give SG5 at 7.00am, and then write the report in time to get it on Hammond's desk for 9.30.

Walking round to his chair however, his attention was caught by a manila envelope sitting squarely on top of his desk blotter. His name was scrawled across it in black ink, and in the bottom left corner somebody had written 'You might need this'.

He picked it up, feeling something slide to one corner as he did so. Curious he ripped it open and shook the contents out onto his desk. One small, silver key. Jack frowned, not recognising it as one belonging to any lock he knew of. Picking it up he double checked the envelope for a note - nothing! Still frowning, he held the key to the light and peered at it as though the scrutiny would reveal its secret.

Damn. That was all he needed. A mystery. He tossed the key into his top drawer and dragged the paperwork for Hammond's report to the front of his desk. He had more important things to do than play hunt the lock.


Janet Frasier was humming quietly to herself as she entered the restroom, her thoughts engaged on the tests she was planning for SG11 on their return through the gate later in the morning. She took two steps through the door and came to an abrupt halt, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Oh... my... God!" She clapped a hand over her mouth, as the doctor in her wrestled briefly with her sense of humour. "Daniel?" The sense of humour won out, and she barely managed to suppress a laugh.

Daniel, his face the deepest red Janet had ever seen, was trying desperately to hide as much of himself as possible behind the waste pipe of the sink. His knees pulled modestly up to his chest, he peered up at her, his expression one of total embarrassment. As recognition filtered through, relief flooded his face. "Janet, thank God, it's you. You've got to help me."

It was all Janet could do to resist pinching herself in case she was dreaming. Oh this was too much. This wasn't the first time the female restroom had received unexpected male guests - but for it to be Daniel Jackson! Oh boy, her nurses were going to be totally green with envy.

Her gaze moved from his face to his manacled wrists. Now there was an idea for the next time he attempted to scoot out of a physical exam because he'd had some bright idea he *really* need to pursue right then and there. The thought was almost immediately followed by memories of all the times Daniel had been uncooperative in the infirmary. A broad smile crept over her features - who said revenge wasn't sweet? Biting hard on her lip to choke back the threatening laughter, Janet managed to sound vaguely professional.

"Help you?" Her eyes widened with feigned innocence. "Is there a medical problem here, Dr Jackson?"

"Janet!" Daniel protested, obviously failing to find her lack of compassion funny. "Yes there's a medical problem. I'm dying of embarrassment here."

Janet's smile turned even more mischievous. "Well the last time I checked, embarrassment wasn't listed as a potentially fatal condition."

"Janet, please!" Daniel whined, changing tack. "I'm... I'm freezing to death."

"Ahhh!" Janet nodded sagely. "That's more like it. A proper appeal to my medical expertise. Hypothermia..." She eyed him studiously. "Yes, I can see that might be a problem. The thing is, Daniel..."

"Yes?" he asked desperately.

"I'm not on duty for another 15 minutes."

Janet couldn't hold back the laughter any longer as Daniel's expression moved through a rainbow of emotions. He finally adopted a hurt expression, vulnerability painted in blue eyes that gazed up at Janet through a veil of dark lashes. The bruising on his face simply added a touch of pathos.

He'd got her! Damn it, Janet thought to herself. He always wheedled round her with that look. That and of course that no matter how hard she tried she wasn't impervious to the fact he was so damn good-looking. Attractive, naked and vulnerable. Oh boy, Janet rebuked herself. Don't even start to go there! She shook her head, and retreated hurriedly back to the safety of mirth.

"OK Daniel! I'll help." Before he could speak, she headed for the door. "I'll be right back." She glanced over her shoulder and smiled sweetly. "Don't go anywhere!"


"Janet! Are you all right?" Sam Carter rounded the corner to find the petite doctor leaning against the corridor wall, shoulders trembling. "Janet, are you crying?"

Janet pulled in a ragged breath and nodded. "Yes!" She gulped in air. "But it's not what you think. It's... so funny!" She nodded towards the restroom. "Daniel!"

Sam looked at the door, her face totally bemused. "Daniel? Janet, what's going on? Why would Daniel be..." She stopped, her eyes widening in disbelief. "You're kidding me."

Janet had finally managed to pull herself together. "Colonel O'Neill mentioned Daniel had got on well with SG3. I can only guess they decided to..."

"Initiate him." Sam finished the sentence in unison with Janet. She peered at the restroom door, biting her lip in indecision. Part of her wanted to burst through the door and see the sight for herself, but another part... Well, Sam had to admit it, she was pretty protective of Daniel. In a lot of ways he reminded her of her brother. So why would she want to see him naked? It wasn't like she was one of Janet's nurses, reduced to a puddle of drool every time he walked by. Quite the opposite if anything. Being out in the field with someone was the fastest way Sam knew to get to know the real person - bad habits as well as good. And as much as she counted Daniel as a close friend he could be a complete pain in the butt first thing in the morning - not to mention the fact that it was hard to glamorise someone when you'd seen them scruffy, unshaven and unwashed. But still... could she really let such an opportunity pass by?

She looked at Janet uncertainly. "You know I really shouldn't go in there."

"Nope. You really shouldn't," Janet agreed readily, her expression belying her words.

"Especially as he's..." Sam paused, her face questioning.

"As a new born babe," Janet informed her happily.

"And cuffed?" Sam had heard about certain SGC initiations even if she hadn't witnessed one.

"As secure as can be!"

"So he'd be really embarrassed, right?"

"Oh yes," Janet nodded. "I don't think life gets much more embarrassing than this."

Sam grinned as a different thought occurred to her. "You know it would serve him right if I did walk in. I mean, he did drop me in it with Graham Simmonds. And then there was that time with Martouf. Not to mention that whole *dress* thing. So if I were to wander in without realising..."

Janet put on an innocent look. "You could hardly be blamed. After all, this is the women's restroom."

Sam took a step towards the door, one hand resting on the handle. "But... I have to work with him, right?"

"So do I," Janet countered.

"Yes, but you're his doctor. So you've like..." She grinned at Janet. "Seen everything a hundred times."

"Trust me. You've seen one, you've seen 'em all," Janet commented matter of factly.

"Right!" Sam replied. "Exactly. But if *I* go in there..." She gave the door a long look then stepped back. Oh yes, it would embarrass Daniel, but she had a pretty good idea it would embarrass her more. "You keep guard, Janet. I'll fetch Colonel O'Neill."

Janet smiled, as Sam hastily moved down the corridor. "Tell him to bring a hacksaw!"


"Colonel O'Neill!"

Jack jumped as Sam burst into his office. "Captain? Is there a problem?"

"Yes, Sir!" Sam automatically snapped to attention. "It's Daniel, Sir. He needs you."

"Daniel!" Jack was out of his seat in a moment. "What's happened? Where is he?" Jack's exit from his office was halted as he caught the expression on Sam's face. "Captain?" he asked warily.

Sam grimaced. "He's in the women's restroom."

Jack's eyebrows rose.

Hastily Sam spilled out the rest of the story. "Sir, he's handcuffed to a sink and err... he seems to have mislaid his uniform."

"Mislaid his uniform?" Jack said slowly. "Mislaid his uniform! Are you telling me he's naked?"

"Yes, Sir."

Jack blinked at the thought. SG3, he thought. A certain satisfaction caught him unawares. Well! That would teach Daniel to hang around with marines instead of... His thought was cut off by the sight of the blush rising up Sam's neck.

"Captain, were you the one to find him?"

"Oh no," Sam quickly reassured him. "Janet did. She's keeping watch. Making sure no one goes in there."

Jack smirked. "I see. Protecting Daniel's..."

"Dignity!" Sam said quickly.

"Yes," Jack agreed with a smile. "Exactly what I was going to say."

"Sir?" Sam began to follow him. "Janet said you should bring a hacksaw."

"A hacksaw. I should bring a hacksaw." Jack said the words as though the idea was totally novel. He paused and then turned back to his desk. Leaning over he opened his desk drawer and pulled out the key he'd found earlier. He didn't need three guesses to figure out what lock it opened now. A wicked smile played across his features.

"Sir?" Sam was beginning to fidget now. "I'm sure Daniel would appreciate it if you hurried."

"Oh yes, Captain. We don't want to keep the good doctor hanging around." He grinned, and then added. "For too long!"


"Jack!" Daniel felt relief flood over him as he saw the lean face of O'Neill peer cautiously around the restroom door. At last. Somebody who would do something about his plight.

"Daniel." Jack's greeting held a hint of reprimand as he stepped into the room. "I see Carter wasn't joking when she said you were a bit tied up."

"Very funny!", Daniel retorted, his tone still nasal from his broken nose. He scrutinised O'Neill. "Didn't you bring a hacksaw?"

"Nope!" Jack replied casually.

"No? Why not?" Daniel tried to keep the panic out of his voice. "Jack, you have to get me out of here."

"No can do." Jack shook his head as though saddened by his inability to act on Daniel's behalf.

"Why not?" Daniel almost screeched the words.

"Because..." Jack said slowly. "If I set you free before Janet's nurses get here, my next physical is going to be hell. Do you know what those women do with that really thin tubing they keep..."

Daniel's face went pale and he drew his knees tighter to his chest. "Jack, please. Don't do this to me. Not Janet's nurses!"

Jack settled himself against a wall and pulled something small and metallic from his pocket that he began to rotate between his finger. "Well I guess I might be able to appease them those Polaroids Makepeace took of you."

A strangled noise emanated from Daniel. Jack smirked at his reaction and then continued in the same matter of fact voice. "Besides, you're appealing to the wrong person. From what I gather, Makepeace considers himself to be your commanding officer now. He said something about seeing Hammond to make your transfer official."

"He didn't!" Daniel was appalled. This was going from bad to worse. Polaroids! Transfer! "Jack, you can't let him do that!" he said desperately.

Jack merely shrugged. "Well, I figured all those threats you've been making about getting a marine haircut were actually hints that you wanted to switch teams. Besides Makepeace insisted you'd agreed to the transfer."

"Jack! This is all a terrible misunderstanding."


"Yes. Look, I just went for dinner with them. And I had a few drinks. And then there were the pills Janet gave me, and..."

"Ahhh - so this is all Janet's fault?" Jack said his sarcasm blasting through Daniel's train of logic.

"Yes!" Daniel had the decency to immediately look shamefaced as he corrected himself. "No. No it's not Janet's fault. I... Jack you have to believe me. I never asked to join SG3. I don't want to be in SG3!"

"I see." Jack's gaze wandered to the object he was fiddling with.

Hampered without his glasses, and still more than a bit hung over, Daniel tried to see what Jack was finding so fascinating. Feeling vaguely irritated by Jack's apparent lack of concern he demanded somewhat petulantly, "What the hell is that?"

"This?" Jack responded.

"Yes, that!"

"It's a key. You know it's very odd. I found it on my desk this morning."

"Jack!" If Daniel wasn't restrained he would cheerfully have hit O'Neill. "That's the key to these cuffs, isn't it?"

"Ya think?"

"God, Jack! You're in on this, aren't you?" Daniel suddenly realised O'Neill had been taking him for a ride. "I bet Makepeace isn't insisting I transfer to SG3 at all."

Jack grinned. "Well, not exactly..."

"And the Polaroids?" Daniel asked hopefully.

Jack's expression made it clear he wasn't going to put Daniel out of his agony over that one.

Exasperated Daniel rattled the cuffs. "If you don't mind?"

O'Neill moved towards him and then paused. "One thing first."

Daniel groaned. This really wasn't happening to him. He was cold. His nose hurt. He was more embarrassed than he even wanted to think about. His mouth felt like something had died in it. And he was desperate to use the facilities that surrounded him. He really didn't need Jack taking advantage of the situation to blackmail him into something.

"What?" he snapped.

Jack suddenly looked slightly embarrassed. "You have to promise you really won't quit SG1 for SG3 or... or for that matter, SG anything else."

Daniel blinked. He'd been ready for some acid insult about not getting the team into trouble again, or maybe even being forced to agree to dig the latrine whenever the team went through the gate, but this caught him off guard. He looked up at Jack and realised he was serious. God! Was Jack... jealous?

In the briefest of moments it suddenly dawned on Daniel that Jack actually wanted him on his team. For the past two years, Daniel had just accepted the fact that he had pretty much foisted himself on O'Neill and Jack had put up and shut up. The idea that now Jack might actually choose him to be part of SG1...

Daniel held Jack's eyes as he spoke. "I promise."

"Good!" Jack said, his tone matter of fact once again. "Good! Now I guess we'd better get you the hell out of here before the women in white arrive."


"Captain Carter!" General Hammond steamed down the corridor like a particularly angry Texan bull. "Do you know where Colonel O'Neill and Dr Jackson are? They were due in the conference room 15 minutes ago."

Sam snapped to attention at his tone, wishing Janet hadn't deserted her for morning rounds. Words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Yes, Sir."

"Then would you kindly tell me so I can personally kick both their butts!"

"Errr..." Sam felt a blush creep up her neck.


"They're... errr. Indisposed, Sir."

"Indisposed?" Hammond's look suggested Sam was about to become indisposed.

"Uniform problems, Sir," she said quickly. "Shortage of supplies, I believe. If you'd like me to get a message to them? Save you the trouble. Sir!"

Hammond gave her a suspicious look. "Tell them, Captain, they have ten minutes to get to the briefing room. Otherwise both of them will be spending the next week acting as guinea pigs for Dr Frasier's new MRI equipment. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly Sir."

Hammond glowered at her as she remained rooted to the spot. "What are you waiting for, Captain?"

Sam glanced towards the restroom, not wanting to move away. "I was just going..." she waved her hand towards the door. Hammond didn't budge. Oh boy, there was nothing for it. She opened the door and stepped in, distinctly hearing Hammond mutter something about running a goddamn kindergarten as the door closed behind her.

Face flushed, head down, Sam concentrated on the restroom floor as she dived into the nearest stall. Safe behind a closed door, she relayed Hammond's message, but as she spoke, she suddenly noticed this particular stall had lost its lock. Instead there was a neat, and all too convenient, hole in the door. Oh boy! She couldn't. Could she? As she toyed with her conscience she heard O'Neill speak. 'Time to go, Dr Jackson', and the distinctive sound of handcuffs being unlocked.

It was now or never. Sam stepped forward, leaned towards the hole, and got an eyeful of Daniel Jackson in all his glory. Almost immediately she saw Daniel catch O'Neill's jacket, and make himself at least part-way decent.

As the two men made their way cautiously out of the restroom, O'Neill called over his shoulder to her. "You can come out now, Captain."

Sam stepped into the empty restroom. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and blushed, recognising that she looked all too much like the cat that had got the cream. Sam Carter, she told herself, you are one wicked lady!


Dressed, warm but still hung-over, Daniel completed the barrage of meetings he'd had planned for the day and finally escaped into the sanctuary of his office. Sighing with relief to be free of all the jokes and innuendo, he vowed not to step out of the door again for at least a week. All he wanted was a juicy piece of translation to help get his mind off the embarrassment of the past few hours.

He closed the door behind him and pulled his desk chair out. Almost instantly his eyes fell on a small package wrapped in brown paper on his desk. Curious he picked it up, feeling its soft contents compress against his probing fingers. His name was scrawled in black ink across the top, but there was no address and no postal stamps. It had obviously been hand-delivered. Flipping it over he undid the tape and unfolded the paper to reveal a pair of dark green boxer shorts. As he picked them up a Polaroid fell face down onto his desk. Daniel's stomach lurched. Oh God, they really had! Holding the shorts suspiciously in one hand, he picked up the photo and turned it over.

Daniel smiled. The picture was one from the restaurant - himself and SG3, arms around each others' shoulders and daft grins on their faces. He flipped the photo over and read the inscription scrawled on the back, 'No hard feelings?'.

Feeling relieved he shook the folded boxers out, seeing as he did so the personalised lettering in bright green. SG3 - GOA'ULD BUTT KICKERS! Underneath in neat embroidery were five names - Makepeace, Johnson, Rogers, Anderson and... Jackson.

A warm feeling enclosed Daniel as he remembered Jack's demand in the restroom, and Makepeace's concern for him in the gateroom. It had been a long, long time since he truly felt he belonged somewhere. Now he'd been blessed with more friends than he might once have thought possible. No, he thought. There were no hard feelings. In fact, just the opposite.



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