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— ”
    “All these years… you don’t think I’ve being doing that already?”
    “No. No, I don’t. That latest near fiasco rescuing Teal’c and his kid made it very clear. You wanted to go in, guns a blazing, with no thought to whether or not you’d survive.”
    Daniel winced at the reminder of having to stand by and listen while Teal’c and Rak’nor were nearly whipped to death. He’d hated every moment of it.
    “Look at what happened on Kelowna.” Jack raised a finger. “First, you jump into a radioactive mess without even thinking and get yourself killed. You should’ve learned your lesson there, but no…” A second finger shot up. “Now you’ve come back, all nice and clean, alive and whole, and what to do you do? The second we get back on that planet, you do it again. You don’t watch your own six because a freaking crystal means more than your own life. If it wasn’t for Jonas blocking that Jaffa’s blast — ”
    Daniel sputtered. “How was that my fault?”
    “Because you didn’t think first!”
    His glasses slipped down his sweaty nose. He pushed them back up. “And I supposed you would have done it differently?”
    “Hell, yes.” Jack thrust the rifle at him again.
    Daniel had no choice except to take it. “And throwing things at me… That’s supposed to teach me to think first?”
    “Something better.”
    He watched Jack storm off toward the pile of objects he’d been lobbing at him. “Stop trying to make me more like you.”
    “And that would be bad, how?”
    “You could have said something. Told me how you felt.”
    “No feelings.” Jack pointed at the target. “Just shoot.”
    Even from this distance, he could see Jack clench his teeth.
    “So help me God, Daniel.”
    If taking a few MREs thrown at him would prove himself to Jack O’Neill, then fine. He’d do it.
    With a shake of his head, Daniel raised his rifle. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jack grab another MRE.
    He focused on the target. Finger on the trigger.
    Pop. A bullseye on the target and a slam against the head. His hat and the MRE dropped in unison to the ground.
    “Again.”
    With a sigh, Daniel aimed once more. “I thought we were friends.”
    “Friends grab a drink. Friends play poker,” Jack said. “Shoot it again.”
    Daniel knew better, but held back a response. He squeezed the trigger.
    “Friends don’t skip out on the next Oma Express.”
    Hardened clay splattered on the dirt. Daniel’s shot had gone wild, hitting the Zhenmushou ’s front paws.
    A sick feeling hit his stomach.
    “Nice shooting there, Ace.”
    Daniel threw down the P90, no longer caring. Not about Jack. Not about proving himself. He’d just done the unspeakable, damaging a critical artifact.
    Grabbing his hat off the ground, Daniel headed down the hill and as far away from Jack O’Neill as he could get.
    * * *
    Daniel slid between two perpendicular walls at the far end of the ruins. Hopefully, the six-foot high crumbling facades would provide enough cover so he could hide for a while. The last thing he wanted was to talk. Not to Sam, not to Teal’c, not even to his old room mate who had stared at him with raised eyebrows as he’d stormed by.
    He especially didn’t want to talk to Jack, though he doubted the man would be aware enough to know just how offensive he’d been.
    Daniel drew a ragged breath and coughed. Waving at the dust he’d kicked up, he looked around. No tools, no bailing twine, no flags. Either S.G.C. personnel hadn’t made it this far, or they’d been and gone.
    Moving further into the secluded area, Daniel tried to think through why Jack had pushed him so hard. He thought back on their earlier conversation in the mess, when Jack had said something about coming back wrong. That had to have been a joke, right? More now than ever before, Daniel was sure he was doing what he supposed to be doing. Fighting the good fight. Pushing back against the Goa’uld. In the process, he was learning more