“I know you do.  I’m sorry we can’t leave yet; there are things I have to finish before we can go home.  But I’ll go down with you now to see Doc Janet, okay?  If you want, I’ll go work in your office and you can lie down on the sofa in there.”

“I just want to go home.  Please?” 

He’s near tears, I can hear it in his voice.  Hammond and I exchange concerned looks.

“Daniel?”  The General leans in to pat his back. “What happened, son?” 

“Nothing,” he responds quickly and with all the veracity of Pinocchio.

Which immediately alerts me the General’s on to something.

“Hey, Sport?  We can’t help if you won’t tell us what happened.”

“Nothing happened.  I just want to go home.”

“What’s on your desk that’s so pressing, Jack?” 

I shrug in frustration.  “The usual, sir - reports, requisitions - reports.” 

As 2IC of the Mountain a lot of paperwork crosses my desk.  Aside from that, we can’t shut down base operations every time Daniel doesn’t feel well. 

“We’ll manage.  I’ll get Carter or Teal’c.”

“I don’t want Sam or Teal’c.  I want you, and I want to go home.”

When I try to make him sit up, he refuses, burrowing further under my chin and the small arms fold over between us in that old self-hug. 

“All right, then, let’s go see Doc Janet.”

“No, I don’t want to go back to the infirmary.  I just want to go home.”

Hammond and I exchange another involuntary glance. 

“Is Hershey in trouble again?” I ask, fishing for anything that will give me a clue as to what’s happened.

“No, why would Hershey be in trouble?”

“Are you in trouble with Dr. Fraiser?” the General inquires. 

“No.  We didn’t do anything wrong.” 

There’s a slight inflection of panic though, so even if they aren’t in trouble, something happened down there that’s frightened Daniel and he doesn’t want to go back. 

Hammond picks up on it too. 

“Why don’t you take your paper work to Dr. Jackson’s office, Colonel, and let Daniel lie down in there.”  His look telegraphs he’ll get to the bottom of this with Fraiser if at all possible. 

This is one time I have no qualms about taking advantage of Daniel’s current cluelessness.  We’ve tried to be sensitive to the issue of making choices for him without his consent.  Sometimes though, like now, we need to put aside the fact this is really a 39-year-old Daniel and deal with him like any other seven-year-old. 

“Good idea, General.  Permission to relocate to Dr. Jackson’s office?”

“Make it so, Colonel,” Hammond says with a smile.
 
I tip a salute, do an about face and head for the door with my baby Goa’uld trying to burrow into my neck.  It wouldn’t surprise me if when they do an autopsy on me someday, they find bits of Daniel twined around my brain stem. 

A detour to my office provides me with several hours of stimulating employment.  Without ever putting Daniel down, I gather up what I need, and head for his lab. 

“Thanks, Airman, I’ll let you know when you’re needed again.”

Despite the fact I’m the Colonel, Daniel has the bigger office.  He also gets paid more than I do because he’s a civilian consultant and for some reason the government perpetuates the free market notion that brains are worth more than brawn.  Of course, if that were entirely true, Carter should be making big bucks too, but because the Air Force paid for her to fine tune the precision machine that is her brain, they don’t have any qualms about using it to their own ends. 

I dump the paper work on the desk next to his computer and go to the closet to pull out a blanket and pillow. 

“Want some juice, Sport?” 

He shakes his head, but I take some out anyway. 

The priceless artifacts that used to live in this closet have been crated and put in storage.  It now houses juice boxes and finger paints, coloring books and chocolate-covered graham crackers, crayons and Hershey kisses, markers, puzzles, a deck of cards, several History Channel DVDs, and a few computer games. 

He doesn’t let go when I try to put him down on the sofa. 

“Daniel?”  I sit down with a sigh, and try to shift him, but he’s having none of that either.  “I need you to tell me what’s up, Sport.”  There’s no response, except a tightening of his knees when I try again to peel him off my chest.  “Five minutes and then I’m going to put you down.” 

I shove the pillow to the end of the sofa and wrap the blanket around him.  Instead of shrugging it off as I half expect, he pulls it over his head so he’s tucked inside like a little mummy. 

For the next five minutes we rock and I rub his back.  He’s a little less tense when the five minutes are up and it looks like another five minutes may put him to sleep, so I continue to rock. 

For a change, I’m right.  The stiffness slowly leaches out of the small body and he doesn’t wake as I ease him down on the sofa, tucking the blanket around him and the pillow under his head.  I make sure to lay him on his side so the minute he opens his eyes he’ll see me, four feet away at his desk. 

Hershey sticks his nose over the edge of the sofa, snuffles the sleeping kid once, and slumps back down on the floor.

“Sir?”  Doc Fraiser asks quietly, startling me. 

I’m really getting bad lately, I didn’t hear her come in.  “Hey.  Thanks for coming down here, Doc.”  I get up so she can sit down.

“No problem.  What’s up?  The General said Daniel flatly refused to come to the infirmary?”  Janet takes my place and leans forward to draw the blanket down a little.  “He and Hershey stopped by to visit Major Warren a little while ago.  What happened in between?”

“I don’t know, but I’m beginning to worry there’s something seriously wrong, Doc.  Could that rock have affected his immune system?”

“His white count has been fine every time I’ve drawn blood.  His body isn’t acting like it’s throwing off any kind of infection.”

“Okay, so the rock is gone, he can’t do any more hocus pocus with it, and he told me earlier the replacement rock I let Carter give him this morning doesn’t work.  So why’s he running a fever again?  Do I need to shut down this dog and pony show all together?”

“Oh,” Fraiser sighs, “I’d hate for you to do that, sir.  Laughter really is good medicine, and, I swear, one or two of my patients have walked out of the infirmary after one of their shows.  Plus Daniel and Hershey get such enjoyment out of it.  I would recommend that only as a last resort, Colonel.”

I pull the desk chair around and straddle it, crossing my arms over the back.  “I thought when we got rid of that thing, this would go away.”

“It’s only been a couple of days, Colonel.  Has his appetite improved any?”

“Not particularly.”  

Big or little, doesn’t matter, it’s always been difficult to get food into him.  Eating has never been a priority for Daniel Jackson; he’d much rather be playing or working. 

Janet strokes a hand through Daniel’s hair, cupping the back of his head in her palm as she rubs her thumb repeatedly over his temple.  “Hey, sweetie.  I’m sorry to wake you, especially since you just went to sleep, but I need to take some blood and I don’t want to stick you while you’re sleeping.  Okay if I take your arm?”  She matches actions to words, sliding his arm out from under the blanket.

“’m okay,” he says, giving her a sleepy smile.  “I just want to go home.”

“Hmmmm,” she moves the hand at his temple to his forehead.  “You feel pretty warm to me, Sport.”

“No, I’m fine.  I don’t feel bad, but I am tired, and I want to go home.”

“If you’re just tired you can go back to sleep right there.  I’ve still got a lot of paperwork I need to get through today.”

“Can’t you take it home?  I really want to go home, Jack.”

“Maybe you should come back to the infirmary with me and leave the Colonel in peace to finish his paperwork.  I bet he’d get done a lot faster if he wasn’t worrying about you.”

“I’m fine,” Daniel insists, pushing Fraiser’s hand away in order to sit up.  “Come here, Hershey,” he pats the sofa and the dog hops up obligingly.  Daniel wraps an arm around him.

“Do you want some aspirin for that non-existent headache?”  Abandoning the full frontal attack, Fraiser tries to sneak in under the radar.

Daniel’s having none of it.  “Does aspirin make you feel not tired?” he wants to know.

“No,” Fraiser wrinkles her nose at him.  “But if you’re really that tired, I could go see if I have some vitamins that might give you a little pep.”

“I don’t want vitamins, I want to go home. Why can’t we go home?” 

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go home.  You’re running a fever again, Daniel.  I’d really like you to come back to the infirmary with me.”

The first tear wells, plumping up like a dew drop on a pine needle, before slipping down the long lashes to plop on the smooth, rose-colored cheek. 

I close my eyes against his tears and grit my own teeth as the small jaw hardens. 

“Please, Jack?  I’ll go straight to bed, I promise.  I won’t bother you at all, for anything.  Please, I promise I’ll be good and you can do your work.  Please can’t we go home?”

I have to open my eyes to look at Fraiser who’s calling the shots here. 

Daniel stiffens and pulls back as she tries to put a comforting arm around him. 

“Sweetie, it’s not up to Jack.  He has no say in the matter.”

“Yes, he does.  Jack’s two eye cee of the Mountain.  He’s a colonel, too, and you’re only a major.  You have to do what he tells you.” 

Hershey noses Daniel’s ear.

“It doesn’t work that way when someone’s sick, Daniel.  Not even General Hammond can let someone leave the base if I tell him no,” Janet says very gently.

“But I don’t work here anymore.”

The rising panic is evident to both of us, but Fraiser’s obviously as baffled by this as Hammond and I.  I’m pretty certain the General’s right though, something’s happened that’s frightened him at a level I’m not sure he’s capable of communicating in this incarnation. 

I push off the chair, step over it and in two strides, scoop Daniel up off the sofa.  “Hey, buddy, Janet just wants to help you feel better.”

“I need my rock.”

“The rock, hmm?”

“The rock Teal’c gave me.”

“The rock’s gone, Daniel.” 

“I’m not sick,” he says again, scrunching himself up like a little isopod.  “I’m just tired.  I have to go home and find the rock.”

“Daniel, you know the rock’s gone.  It’s not at home.”  I jiggle him lightly and he responds with a grimace.  “What?”

“Nothing.”  And in defeat, “how long before we can go home?”

“Well, if you let me take you down to the infirmary where Doc Janet can run a few more tests and if you’ll take whatever she gives you to bring the fever down, she might still let us go home tonight.  But I’m pretty sure that’s only going to happen if you cooperate.”

“I’m not going to the infirmary,” he says through clenched teeth.  “I won’t go,” he repeats, sliding out of my loosened hold to clamber back up on the sofa.  He snatches up the blanket, crawls up where he can lay down with his head on the pillow. and disappears underneath the covering.  Hershey crawls up under the blanket as well and we watch Daniel turn on his side so he can put his arms around the dog. 

Fraiser tilts her head toward the hallway; lacking anything constructive to do or say, I follow her out without a word. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, sir.  He’s definitely running a fever this time, this is no mild temperature.  I’ll have the lab run these as quickly as possible and call you back.”

“Right.  Guess I’ll be in here doing paperwork in the meantime.”

Even in steel-toed combat boots, kicking the wall savagely hurts, but at least it temporarily deflects some of my anger.  What the hell was I thinking, bringing alien artifacts home to my kid?

*           *           *

“I don’t get it, he’s tired and running a fever, but there’s nothing wrong?” 

All right, I know I’m a little paranoid, but nothing’s adding up right.  In the world of science, two and two always add up to four.  At least they used to, before I started this job.

On the other end of the phone, Fraiser sighs.  “I don’t understand it either, sir.  I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Something’s got to give, Doc.  And I don’t want it to be Daniel.”

“I understand, Colonel, and I agree one hundred percent, but I’m at a dead end.  I think we need to consider admitting him at the base hospital and calling in a pediatric specialist, sir.  I can’t imagine it’s anything serious, but given the history here, I’d prefer to err on the side of caution.”

I don’t want to go there, don’t even want to think about the stress and trauma of that kind of medical work-up on a seven-year-old. 

“Jack . . .”

I’m only Jack when it’s friend to friend, no longer C.M.O. to superior officer, so I know I’m in trouble.

“I think it might be wise to give him back the rock.”

“The rock is history, Doc.”

“Have you asked the General what he did with it?”

“No, and I’m not going to.  That damn rock started this whole thing.  As far as I’m concerned, it’s been destroyed.”

“Daniel swears it wasn’t harmful to him, sir.”

Because it’s not her fault and I know she’s doing everything she can, I keep my voice as even as possible.  “Uh huh, Daniel – in any incarnation – thinks he’s the Man of Steel.  He never believes anything will hurt him.” 

On the other end of the line, Fraiser sighs.  “I know,” she agrees.  “But we’re running out of options and he’s so insistent about that rock.  I’m beginning to worry he might be right, sir.”

We’re back to sir, which means she’d like to push it, but won’t.

“I’ll talk to Hammond.”  I sigh as well and scowl at the dog poking his head out from under the blanket. 

“I’d be happy to ask him about it, Colonel.”

“It’s not about who’s going to talk to him.”

“I know, I just thought maybe I could take that burden off you, one less thing you’d have to deal with right now, sir.”

“Thanks.”  Have I mentioned lately how much I appreciate my people?  “But I’ll talk to him.  So, it’s okay to take Daniel home, then?”

“Yes, sir, I believe so.  In the meantime, I’d like permission to pursue the option of setting up a complete work-up, just in case we can’t get to the bottom of this.  I’d rather have it in place and not need it, then have to scramble in an emergency situation.”

“Right, I’ll clear it with Hammond as well.”

“Sir,” Fraiser hesitates, “it could be nothing.”

She doesn’t believe that any more than I do.  This is Daniel we’re talking about.  Why would the universe change its Daniel-policy now?  That’d be about like the SGC suddenly saying, “Oh, let’s go visiting other planets just to absorb their knowledge and culture.”

“I’ll call the General.”

“Don’t hesitate to ca . . . sorry, emergency, sir.”

“I’ll keep you posted,” I tell the dial tone blaring in my ear. 

Hershey disappears back under the blanket as I dial Hammond’s extension. 

“Don’t wake him up yet, I’m not quite ready to go.  Harriman, I need to speak to the General.” 

“He just left for the infirmary, sir.”

“What’s happening in the infirmary?”

First Fraiser, now Hammond?

“At a guess, the crisis with Major Warren has reached a turning point.  But I don’t know that for sure, sir.”

“Right.  Thanks, Sergeant.”  I hang up the phone again. 
 
I’ve known Steve Warren since the first Abydos mission and he’s been SG-3’s CO since Makepeace went dark side on us.  He was seriously injured when his team was ambushed and cut off from the Gate, then had to wait for the standard check-in before we knew to send reinforcements.

Fraiser and Warner both said it was a miracle he survived the trip home.  

Steve’s a friend as well as a colleague.  SG-3 has been together nearly as long as SG-1. 

“This is O’Neill, page Airman Wright back to Dr. Jackson’s office.  Thanks.”

By the time I get there, it’s over. 

Fraiser is standing in the hall with General Hammond, she looks up and just shakes her head as I round the corner. 

“Crap.”  I pause, then nod toward the infirmary.  “May I?”

“Of course, sir.”

SG-3 is still gathered around, but they make room for me at the head of the bed.

I wonder briefly, when my time comes, if I’ll look as peaceful.  “It was an honor to serve with him,” I murmur.  “He was an extraordinary soldier.” 

There are various softly spoken acknowledgements and with a final salute, I leave them to their grief, knowing from experience, I’m an intruder right now. 

“Sir?”  Hammond is still standing in the corridor, but Fraiser’s gone.  “I know now’s probably not a good time, but the doc thinks maybe we should give Daniel back the rock.”

“I had Siler take it to the incinerator.”  Hammond turns with me and we head back to the elevator.  “Why?”

“It’s possible taking away the rock has done more harm than good.”

“Colonel?” 

The elevator opens and we board.

“I don’t believe that’s the case, sir, but I thought I’d better know what my options are ahead of time.  Anyway, Fraiser ran some more tests and says they all came back negative, so I’m going to take Daniel home.  Oh, I also gave her permission to set up a pediatric consult in case we need to pursue this further.”

“Of course, whatever it takes.  I’ll make sure any clearances are issued immediately.”

Did I just mention how much I appreciate this family?  “Thank you for putting up with us, sir.”

Hammond chuckles.  “My pleasure, Colonel.  You do whatever you have to do; I’ll take care of the clean-up.”

“You already own my soul, sir.”

“Dr. Jackson’s is worth quite a bit, too, Jack.”  The elevator doors open and the General sticks his foot in the door to keep it open as I exit.  “In the meantime, take our boy home.” 

“Yes, sir.”

I’m still rearranging puzzle pieces as I head down the hall toward Daniel’s office.  I don’t think Daniel’s nasty little friends from the totem had an opportunity to move into the rock . . . oh, god. 

Surely if they’d moved into him there would be other signs – like glowing eyes or something?  Thankfully, that scenario doesn’t feel right either.  It’s not the answer, though it’s there, like a word on the tip of your tongue, or a corner-of-the-eye-glimpse of some esoteric fact that if I could just get my hands on it could fit all the pieces of this puzzle together.

Screw it, we’re going home.  If that makes me inconsistent, too bad.

As I’m stuffing paperwork into one of adult Daniel’s old backpacks, little Daniel bolts up suddenly and careens off the sofa, stumbling into the counter before I can snatch him up.  

“Jack!”

“Right here, I’ve got you.”  I grab his flaying hands and cuddle him close.  “What’s the matter? What happened?”

“Jack!  Hershey?  Jack!”
 
“Daniel!  I’ve got you.  Come on, it’s just a dream, wake up!” 

“Jack?”  The wide, unseeing eyes snap into focus and he swings his head around wildly until he gaze falls on Hershey and he drops his head back against my chest.

“You awake now?”

He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon and the heart under my hand is racing equally fast. 

“Not a dream?”  Both small hands clutch at my face as his head smacks my chin.

“Oww.  No, I’m not a dream.  It’s me, Daniel.”

“I wouldn’t need the rock if I was big.  He knows what to do.”

“Who?  Who knows what to do?  About what?”

“Daniel.”

“About what, Sport?  Daniel knows what to do about what?” 

“Daniel could have done it.”

“Done what?”

“Major Warren.  He would have . . . fixed him . . .” He blinks at me as though only just recognizing who I am. 

“Fixed Warren?”  Color me clueless.  “Are you talking about the adult you?  How could he have fixed Major Warren?”

Between one heartbeat and the next he’s sobbing.  “I couldn’t . . . it didn’t work.  I tried, but it didn’t work.”

“What didn’t work?”  Patience has never been a virtue I possess in vast quantities and this last two weeks has really gotten under my skin.  I know my voice is shading to irritated, and I make an effort to infuse calm into it when I try again.  “What didn’t work, Sport?”

Here it is again.  I can see the fuzzy outlines of the answer but I can’t make them come into focus.

“Nothing,” he hitches, shaking his head as he buries his face in my neck.  “I want to go home.  Can we go now?” 

“Doc Janet said it’s okay, so we’re going home.”

“Home?  We’re going home?”  He sighs.  “Right now?” 

“Yes, right now.”

“Good.  Can we stop by the market?”

“Why?”

“I just want to stop.”  He presses a hand to his temple with an adult sigh.  “My head hurts, Jack.  Can we just go?”

“Daniel -”

“I don’t want to talk about it.  Please, let’s go.” 

This is one of the nicer side effects of this downsizing; at least he can no longer walk out of the mountain without telling anyone where he’s going, leaving me frantically trying to trace his Family Circus path to make sure he’s all right.

“Fine, we’re going.  How about you get down so I can get the rest of my stuff together and you can find yours?”

“I don’t want to get down and I don’t have anything to get.”

“You’re not taking any of the stuff home you brought this morning?”

“No.  Let’s go.”

“I’m not making a trip back here tonight when you find out you’ve left something you have to have behind.  It will have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Daniel parrots.  “You always tell me it won’t kill me if I forget something.  And anyway, I’m not forgetting.  I’m just not taking anything with me tonight.”

Unarguable logic.  Until we hit bedtime tonight and he realizes he left behind a book he can’t live without.

“You’re sure?”  I’ll be the first to admit I’m a sap when it comes to this incarnation of Daniel.  But I am not coming back. 

“I’m sure.  Aren’t you ready to go yet?

“This would be much easier and I’d be ready to go a lot faster if I could put you down.”

In answer he tucks himself up as small as possible and huddles against me.

I shift him around and finish stuffing things into the backpack one-handed before fishing for my card key.  Daniel gets moved to the other hip because he’s covering the breast pocket I keep it in.

“Hershey, grab Daniel’s backpack, please.  Just in case he decides he needs it before morning.”

Obligingly, the dog noses the backpack until he can get a decent grip on it and follows me to the door. 

“Airman, you have the con.”

“Yes, sir.  I have the con, sir.”  The kid salutes with a grin.

“I want any unusual activity reported to security and General Hammond immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Poor kid.  He’s likely in for the most boring eight hours of his life.  But I’m not taking any chances.

“I’m not sure how I’m going to get changed with you hanging on me like a little space monkey,” I tell Daniel as we head for the locker room.

“Don’t change.”

There’s always that option.  Mr. and Mrs. H know I’m military and it’s not like we’re going anywhere else.

We reverse directions and head for the surface.

“It’s cold,” Daniel mumbles, burrowing under my fatigue shirt.

It’s maybe 50 degrees, though admittedly for Daniel, that’s cold, and I rearrange him so I can shield him from the breeze.  “Better?” 

He grunts.

I put the kid in the car, and buckle him into his seatbelt while the dog does his circling the truck thing.  A small hand grabs my wrist as I straighten.

“Promise me if I fall asleep again you’ll stop at the market and wake me up.”

Hershey jumps in and up on the back seat next to Daniel.

“Uh, that would be a no.  If you’re asleep we’re going straight home and we can go back tomorrow.”

The look he gives me is less than pleasant and he sits up determinedly.

“Hershey,” I hear him tell the dog, “you have to make sure I’m awake so we can make Jack stop,” as I close the door and head around the front of the truck.

He sits on the passenger side for two reasons – he digs his feet into the back of the seat for leverage when he wants to see out the window, and I can keep a better eye on him when he’s not directly behind me.

As we don’t live that far from the base and the market isn’t that far from our house, it’s less than a ten minute drive, even going the speed limit. 

“I’m awake,” Daniel carols from the back seat as I pull up at the light before the corner where we have to turn to go to the store.

If I were a really good parent, I’d probably take him home and put him straight to bed, none of this giving in to these whims of fancy on his part.  However, I never claimed to be a really good parent, and I make the turn into the street and then into the miniscule parking lot.

“You don’t have to come in, I just need to see Mamma H for a few minutes, it won’t take me long.”

“I thought . . .”

He’s out of his seatbelt and out of the truck before I get the engine switched off.  The dog and the kid are through the open front doors like a bat out of Hades.

“. . . you wanted something here.”

It’s been a few weeks, but we haven’t been back since Mrs. H gave me the soup.  Not only do I need to thank her and tell her it worked miracles, we could use a few things, so I grab a market basket as I follow the con artists at a more leisurely pace.

Mr. H, with Hershey sitting patiently at his feet, is ringing me up as a chattering Mrs. H and Daniel burst through the curtains at the back of the store.

Mrs. H’s gnarled hands are fluttering wildly as a spate of Armenian streams from her. 

I can’t tell if she’s excited or agitated, but the old man grins at me and says in broken English, “Dis chil’, she loves . . .” he flutters his own hands indicating hugely, then pats his wife’s arm soothingly, nodding vigorously.  “Yes, yes, yes.  Good!”  He beams on Daniel, who for the moment also looks very animated and Armenian pours out of him as well.

Mrs. H grabs him by the ears and plants a smacking kiss on each check in traditional European manner, then hugs him tight and flutters her hands though his hair, all the while  jabbering madly. 

“You ready, Sport?”

“Yes,” he responds happily, throwing his arms around her ample middle.  “I love you too, Mamma H.  May you always be happy and healthy.” 

She bobs her head, nodding as though she understands, apple cheeks scrunched up in a grin that lights up her whole face. 

“Arvouhr,” she says to me, patting Daniel’s shoulder.  “He is much sweeting.  Arvouhr.”

He shrugs, blushing as she continues to fuss over him.  “She’s just saying I’m a sweetheart – I think – loosely translated anyway.”

“Well, come on, sweetheart, let’s get home.”

“Jaaack.”  He rolls his eyes at me.  “I want to carry something.”

“Here.” I hand over the bag of eggs.  “Careful, or we’ll be eating toast for breakfast and nothing else.”

The Hagopian’s follow us out of the store to watch as we situate ourselves in the truck.  They’re still standing arm-in-arm, as we pull into traffic, waving in my rear view mirror.

Daniel’s asleep before we turn back out onto the highway. 

The groceries wait while the dog and I head into the house to tuck the kid in.  He’s cool as a cucumber as I bend over to kiss his forehead and he wakes enough to wrap his arms around my neck and pull me down. 

“I love you, Jack,” he murmurs before letting go.

Hershey, who I guarantee is thinking about his evening walk, hops up on the foot of the bed, circles a few times and plops down with a sigh. 

“I love you too, Sport.”  I pull the covers up over his shoulder as he turns on his side and drop another kiss on his hair. 

“Tell me a story.”

“A story?”

“Tell me a story about when you were growing up.”

There are groceries in the truck, paperwork I brought home calling my name – loudly – and an easy chair in the living room sending out its own siren call.

What am I going to do for entertainment when he gets big again?  I doubt he’ll let me drag him home and put him to bed so I can tell him stories.

“Slide over so I can sit down.”

Daniel scooches over accommodatingly.

“You want to hear a growing up story, huh?”

“Uhm hmm, but I want you to lie down and cuddle while you tell the story.”

“Daniel, that means I have to take my shoes off and I still have to go back out to the truck and get groceries and all the rest of the stuff we brought home.  How about if I rub your back?”

“How about if you go get all the stuff and then come back and lie down with me.”

The internal debate lasts about two seconds.  On a sigh, I push off the bed.  “All right, but if you’re asleep when I come back, I’m not waking you up.”

I’m so relived we’re back to normal, I’d probably stand on my head if he asked me to.  So yeah, I’ll hurry the groceries into the house and dump them on the counter so I’m back before he falls asleep. 

“I’m awake,” he announces, as I lean over to check on him ten minutes later.

“Okay.”  I toe off my boots and lie down on the bed next to him. 

Daniel crawls out from under the covers, and huffs and puffs as he wriggles and squiggles until he’s situated himself so he’s pressed against me from knees to arm pit, with his head lying on my shoulder.  Yeah, I kind of doubt adult Daniel is going to do this and I’m going to miss it.

Hershey, still at the foot of the bed, raises his head to watch these proceedings interestedly.  By the time Daniel has made his nest and is comfortable, the dog has snuck up the bed so he’s lying pressed against the kid on the other side.  He grins at me over Daniel’s shoulder and lays his head on the kid’s arm, cocking an ear as though ready for a story as well.

“We’re ready,” Daniel says, rubbing his cheek against my shirt.  “Tell us about the mini state.”

“Mini state?  You mean Minnesota?” 

They wait patiently, both pairs of eyes trained on me.

“A growing up story, hmmm.  Okay, but let me think a minute.”

They’re both quiet, gazing up at me as if I’m some combination of Mark Twain and Garrison Keeler.   And that reminds me of a story.

“When I was a little older than you are now –“

“How much older?”

“Oh, two or three years.”

”Nine or ten?”

“Yeah, around there.  A bunch of us boys used to camp out on the weekends in the woods at the back of the old north forty.  We’d set up camp as soon as our chores were done Friday afternoon, catch a couple fish in the pond we’d eat for supper . . .”

“You could do that –“  Daniel makes gutting motions with one fisted hand against his open palm, “you know, digging out things and cleaning the fish and all?  Did you have to hit them with a rock to kill them?”

“Is there some reason you need the gory details?”

“Never mind.  So you ate fish you caught and cooked over a fire?”

“Yep, over a fire.  My –“

“You were allowed to have a fire in the woods?”

“I learned to respect fire after I burned myself so badly in the barbeque, and yes, we were allowed to have a fire in the woods, as long as we put it out before we went to sleep, or left the area.”

“Oh.  Okay.”

“Anyway, there were four of us –“ Huh, I hadn’t thought of that in a long time.  “We were pretty inseparable growing up; our mom’s used to say they each had four sons.  Where one was, you usually found the other three.”

“Four’s a good number,” Daniel grins.  “Always someone to watch your six.”

“Yep, you’re right.  Four’s a good number.”

“What were their names?”

As if it were 1967 again, the names roll off my tongue without a thought.  “Tad, Dave, and Ronny.”  It’s been years since they’ve crossed my mind.  “So, anyway, this particular Saturday afternoon, we pooled our allowances and rode into town for supplies for the evening.” 

“What kind of supplies?”

“Oh, the usual, hot dogs and buns, a couple six packs of Pepsi, we were all in loooooove with Linda Ronstadt –“

“You were in love, Jack?  Who’s Linda Ronstadt?”

“A singer, she was singing with the Stone Poneys that year.  They did a commercial for Pepsi and Ronny’s Dad happened to work for Pepsi, so we got to see her live in concert.  And, yes, I was madly in love.  Anyway, where was I?”

“Riding your bikes into town for supplies.”

“Oh, yeah.  So, we loaded our bike racks with boxes of Pepsi and hot dogs and marshmallows and Hershey bars – yes, Hershey, Daniel named you after a chocolate bar – and graham crackers –“

“Ummm, s’mores.  But Hershey isn’t named for the chocolate bar, I named him Hershey ‘cause he liked Hershey kisses so much.”

“Yes, I remember.  Same thing, just different shapes.  And if you keep interrupting, my little marshmallow, I won’t have time to finish the story.”  I poke him lightly in the belly and he curls around my hand, laughing. 

“So, you got your supplies and rode back to camp?”

“Yes, and we built a relatively large fire, which we weren’t supposed to do, but boys will be boys, and were taking turns making up fantasies about Linda Ronstadt –“

“Not Mary Steenburger, huh?”

“Mary Steenburgen – n, not er, Steenburgen - was only thirteen at the time, she didn’t cross my horizon until she was twenty-five when I saw her in Time After Time.”

“Do you still love Linda Ronstadt like you love Mary Steenburger?”

“Brat.  Do you want me to finish the story or not?”

“Enquiring minds want to know, Jack?” he whines at me, scrunching up his face as he tries not to grin.

“Do enquiring minds want to know the rest of the story?”

Hershey woofs, which I assume means proceed, and Daniel puts an arm around the dog.  “Large fire, fantasias?”

He knows Disney’s Fantasia, I doubt he’s much into fantasies yet.

“Yeah, so, we’re laying around the fire, stuffing ourselves on s’mores and hot dogs and guzzling down Pepsi when all of the sudden, the sky over the woods lights up like Main Street on the 4th of July.” 

“Like fireworks,” Daniel asks?

“No, just very bright, and just the patch of sky over the woods.  We thought at first it was a helicopter with search lights, but there wasn’t any sound like chopper blades, though the tops of the trees were blowing as if in a huge wind.  And then it started to move, so we all got up and ran after it, to see if the light made it all the way to the ground.  When it came to a standstill again, we tried to measure the space on the ground the light covered by counting steps, but trees kept getting in the way and we’d have to go around, or the light would move again before we got all the way across the circle.  It appeared to make a circle, but on the ground, there was really no way to tell.  It hovered over the woods for about twenty minutes, and then a beam of even brighter light shot down, like a laser tag, only a bright turquoise instead of red.  We watched that beam make a criss cross path through the trees until it started coming our way and then we hauled ass back to the camp and threw ourselves in the tent, pulled down all the side flaps, closed the flaps on the front, zipped the front door and huddled inside our sleeping bags until the wind died down another twenty minutes or so later.  Tad was all for getting on our bikes and going home, but none of the rest of us wanted to leave the tent and Tad wouldn’t go alone, so we inched our sleeping bags together in the middle of the tent and eventually slept like a pile of puppies.”

“What was it?”  Daniel, eyes wide in the dim glow of the night light, pulls back to look up at me.

“When we told our folks about it the next day - we broke camp and went home early the next morning - they all claimed they hadn’t seen or heard a thing and told us we shouldn’t be making up tall tales.  At ten, we were positive it had been a spaceship, though we never did decide what it was they were looking for.  By sixteen, even though we still talked about it occasionally among the four of us, we figured it must have been some kind of experimental aircraft.  What better place to test something like that then the wilds of Minnesota.”

“But?” the kid prompts, scoring a chuckle from me.

“Why do you think there’s a but?

“Ummm,”  Daniel taps a fingernail against his teeth.  “Now that you work for Stargate Command, you think it might have been that Asgard we met up with last year?”

“You remember that?”

“Lucky?  Lukie?”

“Loki.”

“Now I remember, the Norse god of mischief!”  Daniel pulls back again.  “And there’s a little you!” he exclaims, then frowns.  “But you’re big too.  There were two of you?  At the same time?”

“He was a clone, remember?”

The downy eyebrows draw together in a frown.  “We found him fishing, me and Sam and Teal’c.  You were gone.  Loki got in trouble for trying to mess with you.  Thor punished him.”

“Mmmmhmmm.  See, rules again.  Even the Asgard have ‘em.”

“Thor made Loki fix the little you, too, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think we could ask Thor to clone me?  So when I get big again, you can still have me?”

Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.  Thor owes me; he’d do it too, no questions asked.  No ethical problems on their end, since it’s how their race survives.

“I don’t know if I could handle a big and a little Daniel at the same time.”

“How ‘bout two me’s at the same time?”

“Definitely not.  Now, close your eyes my little Asgard wannabe, and go to sleep.”

“I’m not really sleepy, just tired.  Hershey wants to go for a walk, will you take him?”

“And leave you here alone?  I don’t think so.  I will let him out though.”

“Teal’c would come and take him for a walk.”

“I’m sure he would, but tonight Hershey’s going to have to settle for going out in the yard.  I’ll let him stay out for awhile.  I have things I have to go do, Sport.  You want a book or something before I go?”

“Don’t go.”

“Daniel, I have a lot of work I still need to get through.  I can’t stay here very long.” 

“Just until I fall asleep.”

This is another one of the things I’ll miss when he’s big again, the ability to figure out what it is he needs from us without having to drag it out of him piece by piece. 

It’s taken this Fountain of Youth experience to make me understand how little Daniel, in either incarnation, asks of us. 

So, no matter how loudly that stack of papers is calling my name, tonight it will wait until my Littlest Ancient is fast asleep, hopefully wandering among sweet dreams.

“Slide down a little,” I tell him, pulling the covers up over both he and the dog.

He wriggles down so his head is on the pillow.  I lean back against the wall, cup the small blonde head in one hand, and begin to rub a thumb over his temple, occasionally smoothing my whole hand through his hair. 

“Jack?” he asks sleepily.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think it was Loki?  Or maybe some other Asgard ship you saw that night in the woods?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe.  Next time I catch up with Thor, remind me to ask him if he was cruising the backwoods of Minnesota in August of 1967.”

“’kay.  That was a good story.”

I chuckle again.  “It will be even better if I do figure out it was the Asgards.  Go to sleep, kiddo.  I love you.”

“Love you too,” he mumbles, already more asleep than awake. 

It isn’t very long before he’s out like a light, but I stay another half hour, just sitting with him, watching him sleep. 

He’s more relaxed tonight then I’ve seen him in several weeks; actually since before we left on the Rezula mission.

I’ve been trying, since he shared the ‘my skin feels too small to hold me’ bit, to think this through.  We have no idea when or how any resizing will happen, but I’m beginning to think he may be more in control of it than he realizes.  And, I think, when it does happen, it will happen far too quickly for any of us to do anything more than react.  So I want a plan in place ahead of time. 

I’m sure Fraiser will want us on base for the initial phase at least.  I need to talk to her about a space we can set aside to accommodate this.  A place we can have set up ahead of time.  A space that will house all of us comfortably, but still give Daniel some privacy if he needs or wants it.  I need to talk to Hammond about being able to drop everything and come home if we’re off-world, about time off afterwards, about space to decompress, for all of us.  I understand we don’t have a lot of choice, much of this we’ll have to play by ear, but anything I can put in place now to make this less harrowing, less traumatic will be one less hurdle we have to jump when the time comes. 

When I do finally get up to go finish the work I brought home, I’ve got the outline of plan to put in place.  Over the next few days I’ll bring Carter and Teal’c up to speed on what I’m thinking and get their input as well.  As the doc pointed out back during our appendicitis crisis, their insights into this incarnation of Daniel should be taken into consideration too.

While I know we’ll handle anything thrown at us, it’s a relief to realize we can plan for some of this at least.
                                                                                 
I’m deep in the middle of supply requisitions when the house phone rings.  I check the caller ID and punch the button to answer it, wondering why in the world the Hagopian’s would be calling me at home and how the hell they got this number, particularly since it’s unlisted.

“Hello?”

“Colonel O’Neill?  You won’t know who I am, but you know my parents.  Please, I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have a son named Daniel?”

“Parents?  The Hagopian’s are your parents?”

“Yes, yes, the owners of the little market at the corner of –”

“Uh, yeah, Broadmore and 6th.”  I check my pockets for my wallet, and then my wallet for my credit card and driver’s license.

Nothing missing.

“Right, right.  Then I have reached the correct Jonathan O’Neill?  You have a son named Daniel?”

“Why?  And how the hell did you get this number?”  I pull the phone away from my ear to frown at it.

Dead silence for the space of six seconds and then a low murmur of Armenian, followed by a spate of chattering in the background.

“Uhm . . . my mother wants to talk to you.” 

He doesn’t answer the how part and there’s another six seconds of dead air.

“Mrs. H?  Did we leave something this afternoon?”

“She wants me to translate for her, sir.”

My mind is furiously clicking back through the ten minutes we spent in the store this afternoon.  Did Daniel leave his backpack?  Did Hershey leave a deposit of some kind?

A breathless voice in my ear begins with, “’l-o?  Col-o-nel?” followed by a spate of rapid fire Armenian of which I understand nothing but the name Daniel interspersed throughout the monologue, ending with, “ya?”

Part 5

~*~

SG1 Stories | Little Daniel Stories | Little Daniel List | Fades to Black: Stargate Videos by Darcy | Links