It was a quiet evening at Jack's house. Daniel had settled into the couch in the living room while Jack was in the kitchen emptying the dishwasher; Daniel was relaxed, letting his mind wander as he listened to the clatter of glasses and plates as Jack put away the dishware. 'So glad his arm is fully recovered,' Daniel thought. Jack had been grumbling about the mild physical therapy that he had to do since getting out of the infirmary. Now that he was fully recovered and away from Janet's watchful eye, Jack seemed much happier.

It had been over two weeks since Maybourne had shot Jack in the back while they were rescuing Sam from Saint Christina's. Apart from a nasty bruise on his back (thanks to the bullet-proof vest) and a hole in his arm, Jack came out of it okay. Daniel still shivered in remembrance of the moment he heard Sam's voice over the radio calling out "Man down, Colonel O'Neill has been shot." His heart had skipped a beat at that instant, his mind a blur of nightmare worries and angry fear (oh god he's shot what if he's dying Jack don't you *dare* die) as he flew downstairs to where Jack lay in the dark hallways underneath the hospital.

When Daniel had reached Jack and found him hurt but in far better shape than Daniel had pictured him, his legs had weakened with relief and it was all he could do to fall to his knees next to the wounded man and run his hands carefully over the slug imbedded in his vest. "Oh, thank god," he murmured breathlessly. He ran his eyes over Jack's face, taking in Jack's pained expression. He gave Jack what he hoped was a confident smile. "Help's on the way."

"Good," Jack said tersely. "Fuck," he groaned, and gripped his bleeding arm. "Next time I see Maybourne," he said between clenched teeth, "I'm gonna kill the bastard. Fuck!"

"Maybourne shot you?" Daniel asked, surprised. Harry Maybourne was hardly what he would call a good man, but he wouldn't have expected him to literally shoot Jack in the back, of all people. "Are you sure?" Daniel heard the sound of the med team coming down the stairs, and let out a sigh of relief. 'Thank god,' he thought. Sam left them to go meet the team.

"Who else?" Jack hissed, wincing in pain. Daniel checked to make sure no one was looking, and cupped Jack's face with his hand. He knew it was risky, but at that moment he almost didn't care what anyone else saw. Jack turned into the comforting warmth, and closed his eyes, relaxing a bit. After a few seconds, Sam returned with the medics, and Daniel quickly pulled his hand away as they drew near. He moved aside to let them tend to Jack.

A loud clatter from the kitchen pulled Daniel out of his reflections. "Everything okay in there, Jack?" he called out.

"Yeah, just dropped a mug. Didn't break it, though," Jack replied. He stuck his head out of the kitchen. "Why don't you get started on work so we can get to the good stuff early?" Jack suggested, and gave Daniel a leer. Before Daniel could respond, he ducked back into the kitchen to finish the dishes.

Daniel grinned at Jack's suggestive proposal, and decided that wrapping up the evening's work was a pretty good idea. He got up and went in search of his laptop and some folders on recent translations that he was working on. And there were some interesting statues that SG-11 had brought back with them from P5X-036 that he'd been meaning to do some research on for a while now. They had definite Mayan influences, and he suspected perhaps some stylings of the neighboring Zapotec. He'd have to do some comparison work.

Daniel walked into the bedroom. There was an article on Mayan jade sculptures that he was sure he had read about a few months ago in one of his archaeology magazines. "Maybe it was National Geographic," he wondered aloud to himself as he headed towards the closet. But when he opened it and looked inside, where normally there had been two hefty stacks of the periodical, there was now instead two rectangular depressions in the rug. "What? Oh, no... Jack!" he called out.

"What is it, Daniel?" Jack called back. Daniel heard him walking through the hall from the kitchen towards the bedroom. "What's up?" he asked casually as he entered.

Daniel pointed at the space where the magazines should have been. "What happened to my National Geographics? You know I use them for reference, and there was an interesting article I just remembered that I wanted to... Oh, no." Jack was getting that 'innocent' look on his face again, which usually meant he had done something extremely un-innocent and he knew he was in trouble for it. "Did you put them in the basement? It's too damp down there, they'll never last, I told you that, even if you do have other uses for the space. You didn't throw them out, did you? Jack, you... Maybe they're still out in the curb, I don't think the garbage collectors have been around yet. Jack, if you wanted me to move them, all you had to do was ask, I need them for my work." Daniel started towards the bedroom door, but he stopped when he realized that Jack hadn't interrupted him yet like he usually did. Uh oh. "Where are they, Jack?"

"Well, you know things got kinda crazy when we were trying to track down Carter," Jack said carefully. Daniel nodded and motioned for him to continue. "Well, ah, I found this guy who saw her get snatched, and I, uh, gave them to him," he finished. "For, y'know, information. Exchange." Jack gave Daniel an apologetic smile.

Daniel walked back to the bed and sat down. "You gave, ah, this person *all* my National Geographics? That's... that's a rather odd form of payment. Why didn't you just pay him cash?"

"I tried, but that's what he wanted. Needed some new reading material, I guess." Jack walked over and closed the closet door. "But hey," he said brightly, "he helped lead us to Carter. I'd say that's worth a pile of dusty old magazines, wouldn't you?" He walked over to the side of the bed, knelt behind Daniel and began massaging his shoulders.

"Mmm, that's nice," said Daniel, leaning into Jack's hands. "And I understand that it helped get Sam back." Jack relaxed, the danger seemed to have passed. "However..." Daniel began, and Jack realized that he wasn't going to get away with just logic and a shoulder massage. He worked a little harder at the sore muscles anyway.

"However," Daniel repeated, "it does mean that I need to go out and find them all over again. I'll have to try the flea market in the Springs, and there are a few good used bookstores that should have parts of the run. I'm sure you'll be happy to help me look," Daniel turned his head towards Jack and gave him a pleased smirk. "We can start this weekend."

Jack bowed his head in defeat, thinking of his former, non-bookstore-involving plans for the weekend and said, "Sounds... great." 'Sounds like it violates the Geneva Convention is more like it,' he thought to himself. It was going to be a long, long couple of days.