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"Ready?"
"Ready," Jack said, zipping up the neat black garment bag with one firm sweep of his hand.
"Good," Daniel said, from his post in the other room, looking out the big windows to the boulevard and Lake Michigan. "Because the car's here."
"I still can't believe they're doing this."
"You said that," Daniel said, hefting his own garment bag over his shoulder and holding the door of the apartment open for Jack. "At least twice a day since Paul called."
"And it's still true."
~~~
Teal'c met them at the airport in Colorado Springs, and they hugged him, long and hard, and got to catch up, in their limo, on the drive up the mountain. The road was wider; that was about it in the way of change. Jack was everlastingly happy, and never got tired of marveling, that of all the Tau'ri customs that Dakara had adopted, hockey had caught on the most widely. It must have been the long sticks, Daniel had often thought. Pretty easy to adapt to hockey after all that training in slinging staff weapons. Jack couldn't very well follow the leagues, as rarely as information leaked from the Dakara Federation through the stargate to Chicago, but when he could, he grilled Teal'c lengthily and lovingly about the standings and the teams and the rule changes. Teal'c never failed to indulge him, even if the agenda for their rare meetings had to include things besides Jaffa hockey.
Daniel watched and listened, picking at the seam of his dress slacks. He was sure they were both thinking and not-thinking about what they were about to do. Hockey was a wonderful distraction, if hockey worked for you. Jack's profile, in the clear mountain light, revealed a tiny spot he'd missed early this morning with the razor, just below his left ear. Daniel smiled, and looked out the window, running through the ceremonial phrases he'd reminded himself of in the night when he was trying to fall asleep. It had been a long time since he'd had to speak either Ancient or the Chulakian dialect that had become the Jaffa lingua franca, and there wouldn't be much for him to say today, but still. Hockey, alien languages, distraction was distraction.
Sooner than he remembered, they were there, the gate fences progressively opening for them, and then, the tunnel closing around them. It was retina scans now, not palms. He hung back with Teal'c and let Jack take all the salutes and the back slapping.
He wondered if the president weren't making a big mistake, but he supposed it was better to do it this way, when there was no reason to do it. Perhaps there would be panic, as President Hayes had been so sure of, perhaps not. Alien planets and wormholes would certainly distract the public from the China Sea war and the bottom dropping out of the gas and petroleum markets, he supposed. He tried not to be cynical about US politics. But they had survived so many near-exposures in the last twenty years that it all seemed anti-climactic.
The escorts and the crowds he saw as they paced the corridors seemed so young. Time had gotten on when he wasn't looking, hadn't it. He was amazed that the department had wanted to do it this way, with them. Surely they had some new teams that would make better poster children for the unveiling of the project than the old SG-1. Younger teams, people who were cuter, with less, well, baggage. But the State Department and the Defense Department had been insistent, and so, here they were.
They were herded into a VIP lounge, given schedules, times, directions, maps, badges. Sam would meet them in the gateroom for the first big round of announcements, and Paul himself (He would never remember to call Paul "Mr. Secretary," Daniel was sure. But Paul wouldn't mind.) was directing that part, and then there would be sessions with smaller groups of reporters after that, and tours, of course. He didn't recognize any of the planet designations the tours were to go to, except Dakara and the Land of Light. It had indeed been a long time.
He and Jack were shown into some empty quarters to change, and it didn't take him long at all to shrug into his own suit coat and tie, so he could admire Jack adjusting the tie and the belt of his dress blues, and then he could amuse himself by fiddling with the bars, tightening the pins, and making sure the stars on Jack's shoulders were all pointing the same direction. It had been a long time since Jack had put on the uniform. He was trying to remember the last occasion; probably a funeral. He noticed then that his hands were trembling a little.
Jack noticed, too, and tossed his hat on the bed and covered Daniel's hand with his.
"You ready for this?"
"We've faced worse."
"Yeah, but it's a big change."
"Not the biggest. Not by a long shot." Jack regarded him for a moment -- same keen stare, though the hair was all silver now, no gray, and the crows feet never really went away. More laugh lines than frown lines, though, Daniel thought, transfixed, as always, by the intensity of Jack's regard. Jack either didn't notice at all, or he looked. Right through you. That had never changed.
Jack looked down where his right hand lay now in Daniel's sweaty left.
"You forgot something."
"Oh. Not forgot. I just."
He looked at the white line on his hand, clear against his fishing-on-the-lake and jogging-on-the-shore tan, and then Jack brought his own left hand up and covered Daniel's. Daniel shook his head at himself. Jack was wearing his ring, like always.
He met Jack's eyes, hoping he would not now see hurt there. To his relief, there was only fond exasperation. Jack let go of him and reached into his pocket.
"Way ahead of you, Daniel." He pulled Daniel's ring out and held it up, and Daniel took it. He held Jack's smiling gaze, frowning a little himself, and slipped it back on, where it belonged. He never felt it when he was wearing it, only when it was gone. Funny how something so weighty, so symbolic, could become so everyday, so unnoticed. So normal. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, waved his hands and stepped back.
"So what are you going to say if the reporters notice that, ask you if you've remarried?"
"I'm going to tell them, yes, I have." Jack was barely smiling at him now, but Daniel could tell Jack wanted to laugh out loud. However, with Jack, amusement was more fun if held in, as if he wanted to get as much mileage out of it as possible before letting it disperse into the air around him.
"Well, the truth, yes, certainly, but we've never been celebrities before. You never wanted that, I never wanted that, but now we're going to have celebrity, in spades, and Illinois law is one thing, but with your retirement and the policies of--"
Jack stopped him with a finger on his lips.
"Shh. It'll be fine. You'll see." He stepped back and replaced his finger with his lips, one soft kiss, quick and quieting. Then he tugged at his cuff to see his watch, automatically finding the far-sighted distance because he'd tucked his glasses away in his breast pocket. He did have some vanity left, though he always made a show of denying it when Daniel pointed that out. "Come on. It's show time."
He opened the door for Daniel and waved him out into the hall ahead of him, and they negotiated the familiar corridors to the side door to the gateroom. It was a blaze of white light, stuffed with reporters. Daniel found Sam, hugged her, hugged Teal'c again just because he wanted to, noticed the odd new trend in Jaffa fashion (even though the armor wasn't really necessary anymore they had apparently never lost their taste for chain mail), and noticed how some officers just looked dumb and uncomfortable in dress blues, but Sam and Jack could be catalogue models for them -- always could.
They took their places on the ramp. He stood there, listening to Paul Davis, Secretary of Defense, spin through the event's latest round of announcements and explanations, waiting his turn, there between Sam and Jack, like always, and he glanced down. Down at Jack's left hand, hanging next to him, not fidgeting, and close enough to touch. Daniel smiled to himself, stood a little straighter, and pulled his hands out of his pockets to rest at his sides.
end.