Dead Weight

He's watched Daniel fumble loading a gun, heard him whisper in a voice so carrying they could probably hear him back in the Gateroom, never mind over the rise where a score of Jaffa are skulking.

He's waited through ill-timed lectures about the sanctity of cultures Jack cares nothing about, his patience shredding, and he's sighed, listening to Daniel dig them in deep with the politicians who wander, bleating about costs, through the SGC.

But this, stumbling up the ramp, through the 'gate, Daniel slung over his back, is the first time he's thought of him as dead weight.

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