There are entirely too many opportunities for him to think (and remember) while he's speeding across Colorado Springs to Daniel's place.

The way Daniel had been confused, and then defensive, of Jack's accusations. Like an idiot, Jack had interpreted the defensiveness as guilt. But he knows Henry, and Mackey's words had confirmed it - it was likely that Henry had already gotten pretty hot and heavy in his accusations, it was only natural that Daniel would have felt defensive about getting the third degree (again) from Jack.

The way Daniel had protested the unfair treatment, but he hadn't begged. At least not out loud. Jack remembers the searching look that came before his friend's docile compliance. Daniel had trusted him, presented his case and expected Jack to live up to that trust, and Jack had failed. Big time. But the fact that Daniel had just given in when it became clear that Jack was going to spank him for something he knew he hadn't done is living in his head every minute of the drive. Why hadn't Daniel protested more, put up more of a fight? Jack doesn't understand.

The way he hadn't fought or reacted while Jack lit him up. He hadn't gone easy - his conviction of Daniel's guilt and his frustration over being (he thought) lied to had seen to that. It had been serious discipline, for all that it happened over his knee with his hand, and not in a more conventional Air Force method. But Daniel had suppressed all of his reactions, a far cry from his usual tears and honest squirming.

The way he had told Daniel he was disappointed in him. Because, God, could he be more of an asshole? Jack isn't really sure where they are going to land when they eventually fall off the tight rope they've been walking in regards to their personal relationship, because he doesn't like to examine his feelings too closely. But what he does know is that Daniel doesn't have many people he lets in, and for whatever reason, he's claimed Jack as a friend, and he takes words to heart. Those were pointedly hurtful words, and he should never have said them.

The way that he let him go without a hug. Without reassurance. Without any sort of reconciliation - he knows better. In general, but especially with Daniel. The kid is so touch-starved that even generally oblivious Jack O'Neill can see it. Some soldiers can walk off a punishment with a side hug or a solid pat on the back, but to end a discipline session with nothing? Absolute shit handling on Jack's part, even if nothing else had gone wrong.

Everything else had gone wrong.

He's parking his truck at Daniel's apartment building quickly enough that he's shocked he wasn't pulled over and ticketed for reckless driving, and then he has to take several steadying breaths before he gets out and heads inside. As he takes the stairs two at a time, he notes (not for the first time) that the security in this building is ridiculously lax. He knows Daniel loves this apartment, something about it being a place he's finally been able to put down roots and collect his own things again, but it's not safe. Daniel needs to be living somewhere less vulnerable. He's too important (to the program…to the world…to Jack…) to be this easily accessible.

Pushing away the knowledge of how much Daniel probably doesn't want to see him, he knocks decisively on the door. In the back of his head, he starts to concoct a plan for what to do if Daniel doesn't answer. He weighs the pros and cons, and success probability, of each.

Option one: shouting until Daniel opens the door. Pros - it would feel good, burn off some of this skyrocketing stress. Cons - unlikely to get Daniel to open the door, especially if he's already frightened of Jack. Might get the neighbors to call the police. Probability of success: low.

Option two: kick the door in. Pros - would get him into the apartment, and quickly. Pros - Daniel would have every right to be pissed off, and nobody in their right mind would take Jack's side. He'd be spending his time fixing said door, best case scenario. Worst case scenarios much more vivid. Probability of success: high for gaining entry, low for working it out with Daniel.

Option three: sit outside until Daniel opens the door and lets him in. Pros - non destructive. Neighbors would probably get a kick out of it and leave him alone. Cons - Daniel has a stubborn streak a mile wide, and Jack would be cooling his heels for a while. Probability of success: low.

Option four: pick the lock and let himself in. Pros: would show how dedicated he was to the task. Probably wouldn't get the police called. Cons: Daniel would likely just kick him out or refuse to talk to him. Might even call Hammond, which is not ideal. Probability of success: low.

Option five: Daniel opens the door.

He hadn't considered pros, cons, or probability of success because to be really honest, he thought that probability was zero. But now he's blinking across the threshold at Daniel, who looks just as shocked to see him.

Only for a second though, and then the shocked, open look on Daniel's face is shuttered away behind a blank mask. It's not fast enough, though, for Jack to miss the flash of fear there, or the way his whole body stiffens. A blank expression is also not enough to hide the evidence that Daniel's been crying, and crying hard. His eyes and nose are red and puffy, and Jack can see the evidence of dried tear tracks on his face.

"Daniel," he breaks the silence first. "I'm glad you answered. Can I come in?"

"I thought you were my food delivery," Daniel says after another uncomfortable stretch of silence, and he sounds lost.

"Can I come in?" he repeats himself, careful to keep it a request and not a demand - or an order.

Daniel visibly hesitates, fingers tightening briefly on the handle of the door he's still holding. Before he says anything, Jack watches him intentionally try to clear his expression, taking a slow breath in. "Sure," he answers, though it falls flat of the nonchalance he seems to have been going for.

He steps back Jack walks past him, and closes the door without turning his back on Jack. As the Colonel moves further into the apartment, hovering in the space between the door, the kitchen, and the living room, he tracks Jack's movement with both his eyes and his whole body.

Now that he's here, Jack is a little paralyzed. Most of his planning had revolved around how to get access to Daniel, and he hadn't quite gotten to the stage where he actually had to apologize and try to make it right. This is the part he is infamously terrible at.

Jack takes a deep breath, his eyes scanning the small apartment as he tries to figure out how to approach this. From a glance, it looks like over the past few hours Daniel has set up camp on the couch. There's a cup of tea, and teabags on the saucer underneath. A box of kleenex moved within easy reach. A pile of blankets that it looks like he just crawled out of. A book propped open on the side table in easy reach, and next to it one of Daniel's journals, pen stuck inside to mark his place.

Those could all just be Daniel getting cozy for a night in. What makes his stomach drop is the bottle of ibuprofen next to the glass of water, and the ice pack next to the tea cup. He knows he's messed up, big time, and Daniel is hurt and probably angry. He's right to be. Jack doesn't have a leg to stand on. He'd been wrong to punish him for something he hadn't done, and he should have listened.

"Why are you here, Jack?" Daniel breaks the silence first, his voice thin; almost sounding brittle.

"I spoke to Captain Mackey," he says slowly, and watches resignation creep into Daniel's face and his shoulders hunch. He's confused by that, voice faltering, until he realizes that it's because his friend thinks Jack is just here to yell at him some more. Not only does he think that, but he isn't going to try and defend himself again. Possibly, Daniel was prepared for this when he let Jack in the door.

He didn't think there was much left that could make him feel shittier, but he was wrong. That realization is enough to kick him into action.

"Daniel, I need to apologize."

"Um," Daniel looks shocked, eyes widening in disbelief, but that's better than the kicked-puppy look of before. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Jack says, "I shouldn't have spanked you." He takes another deep breath, trying to steel himself for whatever reaction he gets. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Daniel just looks at him, eyes still wide. "But you did," he rebukes, his voice shaking slightly. "You said…you didn't believe me."

Jack nods slowly, feeling the weight of his own guilt pressing down on him. "I know," he says quietly. "And I was wrong." He takes a step towards Daniel, closing the distance between them slightly. He doesn't love the pallor of skin, or the look in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Danny."

Daniel watches him warily, still trying to process what he's hearing. "Why are you telling me this now?" he asks finally, his voice shaking.

Jack holds his gaze carefully, trying to convey the sincerity of his apology through his eyes alone. "Because... because it's important," he says softly. "And because... because I care about you." He takes another step forward, reaching out a hand towards Daniel, who recoils as if burned.

"Don't. Just—don't." Daniel looks away, down, a tremor running through his frame. Jack wants to touch him, to reassure him, but he stops himself from trying again. He hates it, but he knows he hasn't earned back the right to touch, not yet. To help resist the urge, he shoves his hands deep into his pockets.

"I'm sorry," he says again, uselessly.

"For what?" Daniel interrupts, his voice flat. "For not listening? For hitting me? For calling me a liar?"

"Yes, and yes. Yes. For all of it. Look, can...can we talk about it?" Jack asked tentatively, hoping that Daniel would be willing to hear him out. "I was wrong, okay, and I know that. But I want you to understand I know I was wrong, and what happened, and so I can learn from my mistake."

Daniel hesitates for a moment before nodding slowly. "Okay," he said softly, taking a seat on the couch across from Jack. "But…but you don't get to be upset by anything I say."

"You got it, boss," he agrees, and tries his best not to be disappointed when Daniel doesn't crack even the tiniest smile.

Daniel skirts around him and goes back to his nest of blankets on the couch, putting another knife in his heart when he can't fully suppress the sharp inhale and wince when he sits down, and then rolls immediately over onto his hip.

Jack would usually sit next to him on the couch but, with everything, he takes a place in the armchair nearby instead.

"I was wrong, and I should have trusted you instead of jumping to conclusions." Jack had been frustrated, and scared. That one day, Daniel wouldn't escape unscathed from one of his misadventures. His feelings, it seemed, hadn't only blinded him but also deafened him. He hadn't listened, or trusted. It wouldn't have hurt anyone for him to take some more time to investigate Daniel's claims of innocence - look at how quickly Chris had done so.

And the truth is, for as many other things that frustrate him about his teammate, Daniel doesn't lie.

"Why didn't you?" Daniel asks, voice subdued. "You blamed me, and trusted Major Boyd."

Jack swallows hard on a rising feeling of shame as he can see the pain in Daniel's eyes - pain that goes beyond the physical discomfort of the spanking itself. He knows that Daniel had been hurt not just by the punishment itself, but by the betrayal of trust that preceded it.

"I'm not sure," he says honestly. Why had he been so quick to trust Henry, and not Daniel? He's determined not to let his pride get in the way of making things right between them, but he doesn't understand what happened this afternoon. And some of the thoughts he is having he's not sure he wants to voice; he doesn't want to cast blame on Daniel, or drive any further wedges into their relationship.

"Not sure... doesn't feel like an acceptable answer." Daniel shifts, restless on the couch. "I understand what it looked like, Jack. If you'd just yelled at me…but…"

Yeah. Jack closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. He was afraid of that, and he's not sure what to address first. Was the more pressing concern that despite being aware of Daniel's deep-seated apprehensions about physical discipline, he had acted without ensuring they were on the same page? Or was it that his closest friend would have tolerated him lashing out verbally without justification, it was only the physical punishment that had crossed a line?

"Yelling would have been just as unacceptable," Jack leans forward intently, but then freezes, aware of how aggressive he might look and sound. Not normally something he bothers to moderate but given the day they've had…he makes the conscious effort to sit back and take a breath. He's aware of Daniel studying him, and his shoulders coming down from around his ears just a tiny bit before he looks down at the floor and then back up.

"You still haven't told me why you believed him."

Jack wishes he had a good excuse, an answer that would make sense. It feels like a pivotal moment. "Look, Danny, it wasn't just one thing. It was..." He searched for the right words.

Major Henry Boyd is a known entity. He's career military. In a lot of ways, he's like Jack. Jack understands his choices, his actions; it's easy to identify with him. As he'd scanned the pages of Henry's debrief, with its straightforward account of Daniel acting on his own accord, the narrative had seemed all too plausible.

Doctor Daniel Jackson, on the other hand, is a baffling unknown. Generous, brilliant, but with absolutely no concept of his own safety or mortality. Chronically incapable of taking an order without questioning it, and even then unlikely to follow it if he doesn't agree with it. Somehow in a way still innocent, untouched by all of the terrible things they've seen. It was infuriating, exhausting…inspiring, endearing. All in turns. And somehow, in the whole mix, it made Henry's viewpoint more believable, his story a more logical counterpoint.

Throw in all of the times Dr. Jackson has chosen to intentionally defy, misinterpret, ignore, or miss the point of orders and instructions given in the field, and…assumptions got made. Even though if there's one thing Daniel doesn't do, it's lie.

When Daniel had looked him in the face and said he didn't do it, that's all Jack should have needed.

"You're not going to like it."

"Go ahead and tell me anyway," Daniel says gently, which feels… backward. But even if he doesn't know why his best friend is thawing, he's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Hopefully, telling him the truth doesn't ruin it.

"I read Henry's report, and I took it completely at face value. I didn't think I had any reason to question it. Honestly, it sounded like the kind of thing you would do, if the circumstances were right." Jack kind of wishes he had a beer, or even a soda - to keep his hands busy if nothing else. "So I believed him. And then when you denied it, I got frustrated. "

"You got mad." Daniel counters, his voice flat. "And then you hit me."

"Daniel," he breathes, feeling his heart catch. "Danny, no."

"That's, um, that's how it felt today," the linguist murmurs; blue eyes flicker towards him and then away.

"Daniel, I wasn't mad today. I wasn't," he says firmly as the other man shoots him a dubious look. "I wasn't happy with what you'd done - with what I thought you'd done - but I wasn't mad. I promise you, Danny, that I have never and will never punish you when I'm angry."

He doesn't, particularly, want to be halfway across the room anymore. Painfully aware of Daniel's eyes on him, uncertain and evaluating, he stands up and moves over to the couch, sitting down just on the outside of Daniel's nest of blankets.

"Do you believe me, Danny?"

"I want to," he responds, voice low. "But I trusted you with, you know, this…and…," Jack swallows hard. He remembers the heartache it took to get them to this place, thinks about the trust Daniel had placed in him to handle the corporal punishment policy for him, and wishes maybe there was someone to kick his ass for messing it up. "Jack, it really hurt when you didn't listen to me. I think it…it hurt more than the, the spanking. Not that that didn't hurt."

"Danny," he starts again, slow but certain, a promise etched in stone.. "I'm sorry. I'm going to make mistakes - I'm human, as much as the rookies always claim I'm not. But I can promise you it won't be this mistake, not ever again."

He watches as, before his eyes, Daniel's expression softens and the tension drains from him. After a minute, Daniel nods. "Okay, Jack."

The relief washes over him, followed by another wave of guilt as he watches his friend shift uncomfortably from one position to the next. When Daniel looks up again, there's a familiar pout on his face. "I know I said you not listening to me hurt more than…you know…but my butt really hurts too."

Jack raises his eyebrows, looking back steadily.

"You could stand to be less good at it. Seriously, Jack, it still really hurts. There's no way I can sit still through a briefing tomorrow morning," Daniel's pout deepens, "and I didn't even deserve it!"

"Keep that in mind the next time you do think about doing something you shouldn't," Jack says, trying to keep a straight face; but when Daniel's jaw drops with unfeigned outrage, he can't help but chuckle. "Kidding, I'm kidding."

Pretty certain that he can do so now without risking either losing a hand or causing any more trauma, Jack reaches out and ruffles Daniel's hair. "Sorry, Spacemonkey. I know that this time, you don't deserve to be sore. How about I apply some arnica gel or lotion for you? And I'll get you another ice pack."

He stands up and takes the very much warm ice pack to the kitchen to swap it for a new one, and then goes into Daniel's bathroom to look at what he has for a bruise or cooling gel. He finds a tube of something he thinks will work and heads back into the living room, where Daniel's face crinkles into a frown.

"You're not actually going to rub that on my butt, are you?"

"Why not?" Jack looks at the cream in his hand.

"Well because…you'd have to…it's my…" Daniel sputters.

"It's not like I haven't seen it before," Jack rolls his eyes. "I'm the one who caused the damage, after all, and not for the first time." He sits back down and pats his lap. "C'mon, over. Lotion and then ice."

Daniel slowly gets up and then lowers himself over Jack's knees. Jack can feel the tension in the other man's body, the stiffness in every muscle, but he just puts a reassuring hand on his friends back and starts to rub, long soothing strokes, and he can feel the tension start to ease.

"Okay Danny," he murmurs. "Gonna take these down so I can see." He gently slides Daniel's sweatpants down to his knees, ignoring the way it makes Daniel hiss and squirm, and then he makes a joke to try and lighten the mood. "You know, if you wanted a massage there are a lot of easier ways to get one."

He casts a critical eye over Daniel's bottom. He was thorough; it's still a solid pink, with six well-spaced darker splotches from the ruler that probably have very minor bruising underneath. Jack has no doubt whatsoever that it still stings, and that sitting on it is might uncomfortable…but he wasnt that severe, thank everything that is holy.

Daniel's face goes red and he buries it in the blankets, but he doesn't tense up or pull away. "Jack," he whines the complaint without lifting his head. Jack ignores the whine in favor of massaging another couple of muscles in Daniel's back and shoulders.

Jack squeezes out a dollop of lotion and begins to gently apply it to Daniel's reddened skin, holding him in place as he yelps and squirms at the first cold touch before settling. As he works, he can't help but admire the view. "You know Daniel, you do have kind of a pretty butt," he says with a chuckle. "You probably don't have to get spanked to get someone's hands on it."

Daniel cranes his head around to peer curiously back at him. "Are you flirting with me, Jack?"

He has to take a moment to think about it, and his hands don't falter in their job as he quietly says. "Not right now, I'm not. Timing would be pretty shit. But the answer could be different on a different day."

The doorbell rings then, saving him from any more inquisition. He maneuvers out from under Daniel's bulk, replacing his soothing hands with the new ice pack wrapped in a thin cloth. "I'll get that and bring it in here. Hopefully it's your dinner. You up for sharing?"

He doesn't get a response - Daniel is out like a light before he can even walk away.

That's alright - pizza will keep in the fridge.