It's not that Daniel hadn't been aware of it happening around him; you couldn't possibly miss it. And when he was new, he'd watched, and carefully cataloged, and assessed the actions and reactions of this bizarre society he'd landed himself in. Most of the officers were fairly circumspect about keeping serious punishments behind closed doors, but for minor things where someone is just doling out a few hits, just as many seem to prefer to take care of it wherever they happen to be. He'd trod very lightly the first couple of weeks, learning who and what to avoid, but after a while, it all seemed to just fade into the background, for a variety of reasons. 

First, he was a civilian. And while he had, yes, had to sign paperwork that he would submit to the Air Force's corporal punishment policies in order to work on the project, the rules were different for civilians. What the rules were, exactly, was less than clear in the paperwork. He'd asked about that, but Catherine had waved off his concern, explaining that there were simply too many different civilian contractor positions with too many different sets of expectations to set it in stone in the official paperwork. 'Just use your common sense and professionalism, Dr. Jackson,' she had said at the time, 'and you shouldn't have any trouble. If in doubt, you can always ask whoever your commanding officer is, and they will be happy to clear up any misunderstandings.' And of course, at the time, he hadn't had any other options left - homeless, jobless, having just blown his academic reputation, he'd signed the paper and resolved to just figure out how to never get on the wrong side of the line. 

Second, it was just...common. And nobody fussed about it, everyone was so calm, it was easy to forget it was going on. (Forget? Who was he fooling? He never forgot, he just could...pretend). Daniel had categorized the soldiers into two main camps. Camp one: those for whom corporal punishment was a transactional experience, simply a part of the military experience; they took their licks for the things they did wrong and moved on without a grudge. But, camp one wasn't the problem. The problem was camp two: the ones who seemed to actually...get something out of it. Was it closure? Stockholm syndrome? Those were the people Daniel was uncomfortable watching too closely.

The third reason it was easy to let it all fade into the background was that it wasn't like anybody was just grabbing anybody and summarily executing justice. For the military guys, he'd observed a sort of two-tiered thing going on. If it was a minor infraction, and the sort of thing someone was likely to get less than like six hits for, anyone technically above you in rank could call you on it and carry out the sentence. Before he started to tune it out, he saw a lot of people in shadowy corners and side hallways getting dressed down for things like uniform infractions, failure to salute properly, or being late to drills....in other words, things Daniel had already dismissed in his mind as 'Air Force nonsense' and rules he, as a civilian, had already decided didn't apply to him anyway. For more serious punishments, the rules changed, and they seemed to become answerable only to whoever was directly above them in their command structure, or on rare occasions, someone their commander answered to. So as a civilian, Daniel didn't have to worry about just anybody trying to grab him and start hitting him.

This had led to reason number four that he'd eventually written the whole thing off - he'd never, not once, seen Jack hint, threaten, allude, intimate, signal, or mention that he'd punished someone or intended to punish someone. Daniel had seen Jack turn a blind eye to a lot of things, but he'd also seen him handle all the same petty infractions that had other officers dragging a soldier over to lean against the nearest wall for 'six of the best' with a quiet word and nothing else. And not that there was never a chance on SG-1's missions, either! Daniel and Sam, even Teal'c, had had their share of mishaps that perhaps weren't all unavoidable accidents. Jack had yelled, he'd lectured, he'd made hurtfully sarcastic comebacks that they all realized were to shield himself from admitting he'd been scared or worried, but he never resorted to...corporal.

So Daniel had just...let it go. Written it off as a weird cultural thing that, yes, happened in his world now but it happened to other people; not to him. 

Which is why he'd been so devastatingly unprepared last week, and he's still reeling now. He hates it, because both Teal'c and Sam have started to notice in the last 24 hours or so, so he has got to pull it together already and get a grip.  If only it didn't still feel like someone had pulled the floor out of his world and left him in free fall. 

"Daniel?" 

He barely avoids dropping the kettle into the fire, because he hadn't heard her approach at all. He has to swallow twice. "Hm?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he forces a chuckle, standing up with the kettle, "I must be more tired than I thought, I forgot to put water in this before I brought it over." He's uncomfortably aware that he's earned both Jack and Teal'c's attention as well, they've looked over from where they are finishing erecting the second of the tents a safe distance from the fire. "I stayed up too late making sure I'd reviewed everything we know about these ruins, you know how it is."

Sam doesn't accept his answer right away, looking at him for too long for it to be a coincidence. "Alright, well, let me know if you start to feel unwell, ok? Everyone's been getting that viral thing, from PX6-972, but Janet has a shot for it now. The last thing we need is someone sick out here."

"Yeah, sure," he murmurs, smiles the right reassuring way, and hurries over to the other side of the MALP to fill the kettle with potable water they brought with them. With any luck, Jack will volunteer to go with Sam to test the spring that's supposed to be supplying their water for the next week or so, and Daniel can have a cup of tea to wash down the MRE they had for dinner and be in his sleeping bag and at least pretending to sleep before they get back. 

"Done, and I think that's the last of it," Jack says, stretching as he stands from where he'd been crouched to hammer in the last of the tent stakes. "T?"

"Indeed." Teal'c comes around the other side of the tent and over towards the MALP, where he waits patiently to refill his canteen after Daniel has finished filling the kettle.

"Carter, you good with the rest of the equipment?"

"Yes, sir, everything is secure for tonight. Most of what is left gets set up at the site tomorrow."

"Alright, why don't you and T go check the water then, and we can all turn in and get a good eight hours."

Of course he won't be so lucky. Sam and Teal'c don't even hesitate, just gather their things and take off down the trail without even a wave. Daniel keeps his head down, putting the kettle on the grate and settling on the far side of the fire, but he watches Jack as surreptitiously as he can as he comes around the fire to their gear, picking up their bags and carrying them over to the tents. When sets both bags down just inside the door of the further away tent and goes to zip up the flap, Daniel finds his voice. 

"I'm going to bunk with Sam this trip, actually," he says, not looking over. 

There's a moment of silence, and then he hears the sound of a zipper and looks up. Jack hasn't removed either bag from the tent. "No, you're not," the Colonel says flatly. 

"Why not?" Daniel demands.

"You know why not," Jack counters, "T and I don't bunk together unless we all bunk together." Daniel does know that, he was just hoping Jack would let it slide. It's one of his security things - they also don't share a watch. He'd wanted to be offended on Sam's behalf when those edicts had been handed out over the first couple of missions, she was fully trained after all too, but she'd patiently explained to him that there was still a major difference between the type of training that Jack got in special forces and Teal'c's training, and hers. Sam wasn't offended, and he didn't need to be upset for her either. 

"Then I'll share with Teal'c." 

"Daniel," Jack growls, and then pauses, visibly taking a deep breath. Daniel resists the urge to immediately back down at this first sign of frustration. His commander turns and stalks towards the fire. He comes around far enough that Daniel can't stay partially hidden, looking directly down into his face. "You always bunk with me," he points out, leaving unsaid the other parts. You hate when we change the routine. Teal'c's the biggest and Sam's the smallest, which is how we ended up with this configuration in the first place. He doesn't look mad, Daniel decides, before he drops his gaze, just frustrated. "Daniel...if you tell me this is something you need, fine, we'll adjust. If you're just being..." Jack trails off, rethinking whatever words he'd been about to use, and Daniel hunches in over himself a little more, embarrassed and less certain, "We're sticking to the normal plan."

Daniel doesn't answer, and after an uncomfortable few heartbeats, Jack exhales. He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, 'that's what I thought' before he stomps over to the MALP. Daniel hears the water trickling again, hitting the bottom of Jack's bottle, and then Jack wanders back over, settling down not next to Daniel but just far enough away that they can look at each other. He doesn't talk right away, taking a few long draughts from his water first before pinning Daniel again with a too-serious gaze.

"Daniel,"

His mouth and throat feel like the Sahara. He doesn't have his water, because he's waiting on the cup of tea. He has to swallow several times. "Jack?"

"We need to talk,"

Daniel's heart starts to race, and he runs down a quick mental list of all the things he's done today. Other than just now, arguing about the tents, he thought he'd done exactly what he was supposed to do, when he was supposed to do it. What could Jack possibly be upset about? Okay, so, he'd been a few minutes late to the Gate room but he just couldn't find that one last text he needed and he sent word ahead and it was less than ten minutes,

"because I think I really fucked up,"

it couldn't possibly be that kind of offense but he has been late a lot of other times, just like he has touched things he's not supposed to touch a lot of other times and what if this is the last straw time for that too, but it's a very different level of offense and maybe he could talk his way out of it if he could just find the right words but he's frozen and did it get really cold all of the sudden, his hands are freezing -

 "and I need you to tell me how. Daniel?"

He's looked up, locking eyes with Jack, trying to force out words to plead his case, who looks - not mad? Daniel's whirling thoughts grind to a halt because the alarmed, concerned look on Jack's face is incongruous with everything he had been imagining. Jack reaches out and on pure instinct, he flinches away, ducking his head down and squeezing his eyes shut. 

There is no noise, and the hand never connects. Daniel squints one eye open, and Jack has frozen where he was, mid-reach, looking horrified for a millisecond before his face clears to something Daniel doesn't recognize. "I was going to take your pulse, at your wrist," he says slowly. "You've gone really, really, pale, kid."

He lifts his head a little and looks over, at Jack's hands and then his face. Jack must read the uncertainty, or else he's figured out what was going on in Daniel's head while he was talking. He's always been a good Daniel-interpreter.

"You are not in trouble, and I am not going to spank you right now," Jack says, holding his eyes. "And I am never going to hit you in the face."

The thing is, Daniel believes him. He's always trusted Jack. That's part of what made last week so awful, was the broken trust. He lets himself nod, just a little bit, acknowledging Jack's promise, as well as what he didn't promise. He didn't say he wouldn't hit him again - just not right now. And not in the face. Of course, the logical, grown-up part of Daniel already knew his Jack would never hit him in the face - but it wasn't the logical or grown-up part of him that was responding in the moment, was it?

"Okay," he watches Jack take another deep breath, and then move again, but slowly this time. "I'm going to check your pulse. No, don't shake your head at me, you still look like someone dressed you up as a ghost for a B-rated horror film." Jack's scoots closer and he takes Daniel's wrist in one hand, warm fingers closing firmly around as he glances at his watch and tracks the seconds ticking by for a moment. Whatever he sees, he doesn't comment, but he also doesn't release Daniel's arm right away. 

"We need to talk," he says again, but this time so quietly that Daniel almost has to lean in to hear it. Still, that's the very last thing Daniel wants to do, so he shakes his head and tries to pull his wrist away, but Jack's grip, though gentle, is unyielding. "Yeah, we so do," he replies to Daniel's objection in a humorless tone. "You're afraid of me, Daniel. That's something we're going to have to talk about."

"I'm not...afraid of you." Daniel challenges the semantics. Because he's not afraid of Jack. He's afraid of Jack hitting him.

"It's the same-"

"It's not!" Daniel tries again to yank his hand away, and this time Jack lets him. With the newfound freedom, he wraps both arms around his stomach. When he peeks over at Jack, the colonel has his eyes closed and looks suspiciously like he might be counting to ten. 

"Fine, it's not. It's still something we're going to have to discuss, because it's a part of the Stargate program, Daniel, and you knew it, you signed the paperwork! But I can't..." Jack winces, and looks kind of...sick to his stomach for a minute. It makes Daniel's stomach turn over in sympathy. "I get it, it sucks to talk about, but we're going to have to."

"Not here!" Sam and Teal'c could be back any time - and there's nowhere to run, to hide, to get away. The very thought makes him want to take off right that minute, but Jack is shaking his head. 

"No. When we get back after this mission." He nods, very slowly, but that doesn't seem to satisfy Jack, who leans forward again to catch his eye. "Only if you're really good to be here, though. If we need to go back, figure our shit out, and come back at a different time, the ruins aren't going anywhere."

And wouldn't that be humiliating - yeah, General Hammond, we didn't complete the mission because our civilian couldn't handle the same thing your military does on a daily basis and he fell apart, so I brought him home to sort him out first. Yeah, we're supposed to be your premier Gate team, maybe you should assign someone else, good idea. No. Daniel shakes his head fiercely. "I'm okay."

"Okay, Danny. You let me know the instant that changes, understand me?"

"Yeah, Jack." He doesn't roll his eyes, or if maybe he can't help himself, he keeps his chin down and his eyes averted, knowing his long-suffering tone is plenty to get his opinion across. 

"Sounds like your water's hot," Jack murmurs as he stands up, and though he's moving slower than usual, there's no real sense of hesitation when he reaches out to ruffle Daniel's hair. For Daniel's part, he's proud that while he might have frozen a little, you certainly couldn't call it a flinch this time.