Stargate SG1 and its characters are property of Stargate (II) productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money was exchanged. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations and story are property of the author. This story may not be posted anywhere else without the consent of the author.
Teal'c's views of Mr. Scott Parker do not necessarily reflect those of the author, and while Jack's love of hockey mirrors my own, I have found that the Maple Leafs of Toronto are superior warriors, not the Avalanche of Colorado. xD

Notes: I have no idea why I decided to write this -- I was watching a game the other night right after I had popped in my Season 6 DVDs, and wondered how poor SG-1 fared when Jack dragged them off to a hockey game.
Now, as for the game in the story, Colorado DID play Minnesota on February 23rd of 2001, but I'm not sure where it was played. :P
Again, this story is completely unbeta'd, so throw the tomatoes at me for mistakes!

Samantha Carter, Major in the US Air Force, co-savior of planet Earth at least five times, deadly with a P-90 and cool as a cucumber in Antarctica under pressure, peeked out between the curtains of her living room window at the vehicle looming at the curb just outside her home, high beams set on Solar Eclipse. Every light in her house was off, her car was parked down the street, but it seemed her pursuer wouldn't give up so easily.

Sam watched as a tall figure slipped from the vehicle and stalked up front walk to the porch. Sam cringed, holding her breath and letting the curtain fall as slowly as possible back into place, her heart hammering in her throat. 'Why me?' she wailed in her mind. 'Why tonight?'

The front porch creaked as 180+ pounds of obsessed human being reached the summit, and three quick steps had the man at her door.

Sam jumped despite herself when three rapid beatings on her front door assailed her ears in the former silence of the snowy Colorado evening. Then, the voice she'd been dreading since the rumors started flying that afternoon rang out, disrupting the February gloom.

"Carter! Come on, damnit! Time's a-wasting!"

Sam pressed her back to the wall, allowing herself to slump against it and bang the back of her head against the painted gyprock.

It was Friday, February 23rd.

Nearly 6pm.

Colonel Jack O'Neill, 2IC of Stargate Command, CO of SG-1, stood on her front porch, no doubt scowling up a storm at the locked door in front of him.

It was Hockey Night in Denver.

**

// "So, what are your plans for the weekend?"

Sam winced as Janet applied disinfectant to the small gash on her upper back, a souvenir from a particularly tense mission earlier in the day. "Ah, I dunno - I'll probably just relax, catch up on a few things I should get done before my place starts looking like Old Mother Hubbard's ... nothing exciting."

"Well," Janet said as she applied a butterfly bandage and motioned for Sam to lower her tee, "you may want to avoid Colonel O'Neill for the next day or so."

"Why's that?"

"Hm, he just seemed a bit ... happy when he came in for his post-mission checkup earlier."

Alarm bells immediately started going off in Sam's head. "About what?" she asked warily.

Janet snickered. "Apparently he has four excellent tickets to the hockey game in Denver tonight."

Sam groaned. "Oh, God no ..." she wailed. "Do Daniel and Teal'c ..."

"Ooooh, yes," Janet said smugly. "Apparently you're the only one who hasn't been told. Be careful!" she said lightly as Sam slipped off the gurney and did a fair covert-ops escape from the infirmary. //

**

"Carter, open the door! I swear to God, I'll call mountain security!"

Clenching her two hands into fists that desperately wanted to smash through the pane of glass not two feet from her face, Sam finally trudged as slowly as possible to the front door and opened it, a resigned expression on her face.

O'Neill stood on the front porch, the top of his black toque already covered in a light dusting of snow, a broad grin on his face that faltered a bit when he took in Sam's appearance. "You're not ready," he ground out in dismay.

"Uh, no," was the quick-witted response. "I was actually just getting ready to get some sleep, sir. Long day."

Jack quirked an eyebrow at her. "Sleep," he repeated dubiously. "At 6 o'clock. On a Friday." He pushed his way inside, opened up the hall closet and pulled out the first coat he found. "Here; we're gonna be late as it is! You wanna walk twenty miles to the Pepsi Center, or do you actually want me to get a decent parking spot?"

He looked so forlorn that Sam had her coat on before she even realized it. Jack beamed. "Nice! C'mon, Danny and Teal'c are already waiting!"

Sam reluctantly pulled on her shoes, grabbed her house key and wallet, and followed her CO and escort for the evening out to his F-150. As she tailed him, she could make out the outline of Daniel in the back seat, plastered against the window. As she drew nearer, she made out what the archaeologist was doing -- gesturing her back frantically, mouthing 'Run while you still can!'. O'Neill whipped a snowball at the younger man's window with a scowl, rounded the truck, and hopped in. Sam followed suit at a considerably more sedate pace, sliding into the passenger side and closing the door with a condemning thump.

"Nice try," was murmured in her ear as Daniel apparently leaned forward, straining against his seatbelt to speak with her without being overheard by Jack. Teal'c sat behind O'Neill, looking as though he were in a deep state of Kel-no-reem, but Sam seriously believed he was trying to become one with the metal frame of the vehicle.

"Here we go, kids! It's hockey night tonight!" O'Neill chirped, putting the truck in drive and whistling 'The Hockey Song'.

It was going to be a very long night.

**

Daniel wondered if he could seriously press charges for this.

Sure, Jack had told him quite gleefully after the mission to P8X-736 that he had procured four tickets to the Colorado/Minnesota game in Denver that night, but when Daniel had insisted he had translations to complete and reports to file, he had figured that Jack would take the hint and invite someone else. Instead, at precisely 5:00 that evening, Jack appeared in Daniel's office and virtually kidnapped the younger man, babbling on about this being some kind of 'game of the season'.

As he was jostled in the seemingly endless lineup of rabid Avs fans striving to get in to seats that would surely be stolen by rival fans, even if their tickets clearly stated where they were to sit, Daniel took the opportunity to compare their behavior with that of the Moche people of Ancient Peru. Throw in a few human sacrifices, and they'd be all set.

Daniel hated hockey. He never was a sports buff, and the only reason he even suffered through the games Jack forced them to watch was standing right beside him.

Jack stood at his side, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. The past year or so had seemed strained between the two friends, and Daniel had worried that he and Jack weren't even friends any longer. Nights like this, when Jack rounded up the whole team and dragged them out for pizza, a game, or just a team night at his place, gave Daniel a warm feeling that seemed sadly absent the past 10 months or so. Times like this, Jack could let go of the recent happenings at the mountain, and the four could just enjoy life and each other's company.

Feeling the tips of his ears burn with embarrassment, Daniel admitted to himself that he wouldn't complain about sitting through a million hockey games, as long as the feeling of family he'd become so accustomed to over the past five years would remain.

*

Just as the warm-up was starting, SG-1 finally managed to navigate the snail's-pace line of fans and find their seats. Daniel had to admit that Jack did get good seats - only 6 rows back from the glass, directly across from the players' benches. The younger man cast a curious glance around the Pepsi Center, a bit overwhelmed at the number of people crammed into the arena, the noise that everyone seemed to be making, the smell of various concessions that were already being purchased and eaten all around the foursome, and the scattered shouts of the players over the pulsing warmup music as they passed, shot and just screwed around with the pucks that had been dispensed by the equipment managers. Jack was on Daniel's right, Sam on his left, with Teal'c to the left of her. The older man leaned forward in his seat slightly, eyes narrowed as he tracked the movements of a few of the players on the Avs.

"Sakic looks great tonight," he commented to Daniel. "He's been on a hot streak the past few games -- already burned past the points he had last year -- already up to 100 or so. Only had 81 at the end of the playoffs last year."

Daniel nodded cluelessly, not really caring or understanding what the hell Jack was talking about. He watched a player with the name 'Tanguay' emblazoned on his back flip a backhand over the shoulder of the goalie currently being warmed up - 'Roy'. He nodded and made the right noises as Jack continued babbling on about this player and that player, and who was injured and what had happened to them, reading the dizzying array of names flashing by in front of him - Aebischer, Podein, Bourque, Reid, Messier, Gusarov, Prpic ... Daniel blinked and shook his head to clear his vision. Sam sighed beside him, and he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was slumped in her seat, eyes half-shut, wincing occasionally as the bass of the warmup music rattled the entire building. Teal'c was watching a burly man navigating the row in front of them, searching for his seat, a boy of about ten years trailing in his wake, eyes riveted to his heroes lapping their end of the ice.

"Hey." Jack nudged him with an elbow, garnering Daniel's attention. "Want anything? I'm heading up to the canteen."

"Sure," Daniel said, standing, happy to be able to move around a bit to keep himself from falling asleep. "I'll come with you." He nudged Sam in turn, repeating the question and getting a negative grunt in response. Teal'c wanted a pretzel, only deciding after Jack informed him to the Jaffa's disgust that donuts weren't usual hockey fare - unless you were Canadian stopping at Tim Horton's on the way to the rink.

*

"Come on, Daniel; it's not that hard to decide, is it?"

Daniel was standing at the head of the line of one of the canteens, carefully reading the list of snacks and prices - $2.50 for a bag of chips? Unbelievable. "Hurry," Jack urged impatiently. "There's practically an entire country behind us, and the game's gonna be starting soon."

Daniel glanced at Jack. "I...never mind; I'll just get a bottle of water or something."

"Daniel, for cryin' out loud," Jack muttered, and turned to the vendor. "He'll get a footlong dog, large Pepsi, an order of nachos - cheese on the side -- oh, and one of those jumbo Twix bars."

"You got it. That's $10.50."

Daniel gaped at Jack as his friend handed over a ten and a five, urging the vendor to keep the change. The greasy-looking teen grinned triumphantly and placed Daniel's junk in a cardboard tray. "Daniel, it's not going to bite you; pick it up - let's go!"

Daniel grabbed his stuff and hurried after Jack, bumping into a few people as he tried to navigate between bodies. "Jack, I'm never gonna eat all this -- and that was way too expensive. I swear, I'll pay you ba--"

"Daniel." Jack's tone stopped him dead. It held none of the irritation or 'Dammit, Daniel' frustration it usually did, but only a warmth and weary sadness. "Look. I know things haven't exactly been running smoothly lately ... think of this as the start of a peace offering, okay? A lot of shit's gone down over the past year, and I'd like to think that this ..." he winced in embarrassment at sounding so sappy in such a public place, "friendship we've got can still be salvaged. So just take the damn snacks and enjoy them. All right?"

Feeling a burning in the back of his eyes, Daniel could only nod. Jack offered him a little smile and a quick ruffle of his hair before jerking his head in the direction of their seats. "Besides," he said lightly, "if you don't eat all that stuff, I will."

A smile that Daniel was positive looked giddy spread across his face, and there was a lightness to his step he hadn't felt in far too long. Maybe the car crash that had been the past year could be smoothed over - that aching fear that Jack wouldn't want to smooth it over was finally fading, and Daniel was in much better spirits as he followed his friend back to the other two of their cohorts.

*

"Damn it!" Jack muttered as Colorado extended their lead to 3, leaping ahead of Minnesota 3-0 in the middle of the second period.

"What are you talking about?" Daniel asked, baffled. "I thought you were cheering for Colorado!"

"I am!" Jack retorted. "But I do have a certain loyalty to Minnesota to maintain, and I'd really rather them not get their asses kicked!"

"So you'd rather them play to a nice fair draw?" Daniel asked innocently. "Nice handshake, tea party to top it all off?"

"Shut up," Jack growled without any real menace, and swiped the remaining half of Daniel's Twix bar out of the younger man's hand, earning a dismayed yelp and a glare from behind round lenses as he stuffed the chocolate into his mouth with a grin.

"O'Neill," Teal'c intoned from two seats away from Daniel, "this Parker does not seem to be an honorable warrior." The tall right winger was being led to the box yet again.

"What do you mean, Teal'c?" Sam asked, no real interest in her voice, but wanting to be involved any way she could without joining the diehard fans behind the bench with their entire bodies painted in Colorado colors, waving jerseys in the air and shouting chants and taunts with obviously rehearsed precision.

"This is the third time ScottParker has molested WesWalz in the confrontation," Teal'c said, drowned out slightly by the announcer reporting the penalty - two minutes for obstruction hooking. "He is unworthy to play with the ColoradoAvalanche."

The burly man with the kid, who had ended up sitting directly in front of Teal'c, turned around with a glower. "Listen buddy," he snarled, "you've obviously never been to a game before, so why don't you just keep your thoughts to yourself?"

"I am merely stating the truth," Teal'c said serenely. "ScottParker is dishonorable; he is not an asset to the National Hockey League."

The big man in front of Teal'c scoffed in disgust and turned around to face the game. O'Neill leaned over Daniel to catch his attention. "Listen T; maybe you'd better not pass judgement over Parker or any of the other guys ... fans can get a little ... touchy when you insult their favorite players."

The guy in front of Teal'c stood, standing at an angle to glare at Jack, who met the gaze calmly and remained seated. Daniel and Sam cast wary glances between the two men as the fans behind them squawked angrily at the rather large obstruction placed in their eyeline.

"Jack, maybe we should ..." Daniel trailed off at the slight shake of Jack's head.

"It's fine, Daniel. Listen pal," he said to the mountain standing a few seats over, "it's only one person's opinion, and it's just a game. Why don't you sit down before you embarrass yourself and your kid?"

"You smug bas--" The guy was cut off instantly as Teal'c's hand suddenly reached out, grabbed the front of his collar and turned him to face one irate Jaffa.

"I believe O'Neill is correct. It is unhealthy to take such a sport so seriously, and even more unhealthy to resort to violence against my companions or myself."

The man's eyes narrowed. "Is that a threat, bud?"

Teal'c smiled slightly. "Indeed it is not ... merely a warning."

Everyone around the two men gasped as Teal'c's hand suddenly shot out past the other man's head. The pissed off fan squeezed his eyes shot in anticipation of a blow, but only the slap of something on skin was heard beyond his ear. Teal's released his collar, pushed him back into his seat, and turned to Jack. "O'Neill, I believe the Avalanche are attempting to do this man harm."

He held the puck in his open hand.

Jack snorted with laughter. "No, Teal'c, that just happens sometimes. You can keep that."

Teal'c eyed the puck with disdain. "Why would I wish to do that?" He cast a critical gaze over the ice surface. "Who was it that shot this projectile?"

"It was him, Teal'c," Daniel piped up eagerly, pointing at number 21, Forsberg.

"Daniel ..." Jack warned, but the warning died as suddenly Teal'c threw the black rubberized disk back over the glass ... and picked Forsberg, who was just entering the Avalanche zone, chasing down one Minnesota forward closing in on goal, between the shoulder blades and pitched him forward into one of his own teammates. A roar went up from the crowd around Teal'c - not of approval, but of the seriously pissed variety - as Minnesota scored on the play and did their victory lap to the tune of the fans bellowing at the referee, demanding the goal be called back, and bellowing at Teal'c and SG-1 for their stupid interference. The guy in front of Teal'c stood in a rage, turned, and hauled off and punched Teal'c in the gut. The Jaffa hardly flinched, but returned the blow, sending the man sprawling to his knees in his seat, gasping for air.

Everything happened in a rush after that. Security arrived in SG-1's section to 'escort' Teal'c from the building, and brought the rest of SG-1 with them on the testimony of several fans that they had all been involved in the incident. Daniel and Sam couldn't honestly say they were disappointed, and Jack's initial mopiness in the truck on the way back to Colorado Springs quickly evaporated as the foursome laughingly recalled the incident.

"Do you think Forsberg was hurt?" Daniel asked worriedly, turning in his seat to face the Jaffa. "I mean, Teal'c, you pretty much killed a professional athlete."

"Don't worry about it, Danny-boy," Jack said, grinning while keeping his eyes on the road. "They have all that gear on for a reason, and Teal'c's definitely not the first guy to get pissed at nearly being decapitated by a rogue puck. He'll be fine."

Jack seemed to remember something then, and reached across the seat to open the dash. "But," he said cheekily, "we do have these!"

The envelope was dropped in Daniel's lap, and the younger man opened it and pulled out the contents.

Four tickets.

Colorado Avalanche at Minnesota Wild.

March 18th.

It would be a long night.

But, Daniel mused, listening to the banter of his teammates, light conversation interspersed with peals of laughter, it would be well worth it.

**end
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