By Enola Jones


John Entwistle loved the atmosphere and 'feel' of a bar. Though he couldn't drink anything stronger than an occasional glass of red wine without having side-effects – due to his powers – he still enjoyed the atmosphere.

Wherever they played, usually one of the others could find John in a bar after a concert.

Tonight, Keith found John sitting at a table, talking with a bespectacled man who looked absolutely devastated.

“This is Daniel,” John introduced. “Daniel Jackson. He lost his wife a few days ago. I'm keepin' him company till his ride gets here.”

Keith nodded and slid in to sit beside John. He ordered “Whatever he's drinking,” pointing at John. A few moments later, he was sipping Coca-Cola and listening to a clearly drunk Daniel ramble on about Egyptian gods and deserts and two suns and losing his beloved wife.

A man with greying hair and laughing brown eyes walked up to the table. “Hello, boys.”

Daniel looked at him. “Hey, Jack.”

“Are you his ride home?” John asked.

“I am. Are you his protector tonight?”

John grinned, hearing both the affectionate tease and the definite worry in his voice. “I seem to be. Well, thanks for the talk, Daniel. I am sorry about your wife.”

“Yeah, me too.” Daniel knocked back the rest of his scotch.

John stood and leaned in to whisper in Jack's ear. “He's had more than a few too many. He's goin' on about Egyptian gods and rings of water.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, sounds like he's just about wasted. We'll take care of him from here.”

John clapped him on the shoulder and he and Keith left the bar.

Jack watched them go. “Danny, you gotta be more careful.” He got the drunk scientist out to the car, and glanced upward to see a man made out of fire and one leaving a trail of water lifting into the sky.

Mentally tracing their trajectory, and realising they had taken off behind the bar – Jack's eyes went huge.

“Well,” he breathed, realising just who'd been taking care of Daniel. “Ain't that a kick in the head....”


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