Warning: Thanks for the Memories is a Little Daniel story that deals with many things, one of them being how Jack manages to come to terms with his past relationship with a now aware, six year old Daniel. A Daniel who now lives in his life and his spare bedroom. It is a story of love, family and discovery. Yes, it's slash, but in words regarding their life before, not in actions. There isn't, I do not believe, any ewww factors in this, none of my betas or alphas would have permitted it. I wanted to try/attempt to handle this in true Jack (and Daniel) fashion.

“Happiness often sneaks through a door you didn't know you left open.” –John Barrymore

Manips by JoaG
Illustrations by Wilma

Jack groaned, trying to force the beeping alarm clock back into his dream, but it refused to go along quietly, instead, cutting through his subconscious with a blaring wake-up call. Growling, he slapped at the offending object and after two clumsy tries, finally succeeded in putting the clock out of its misery.

"Daniel," Jack hissed, "time to get up."

Daniel mumbled something under his breath and with eyes closed, he slid out of bed and shuffled out of the bedroom.

Once upon time, Jack hadn't needed an alarm clock, his internal, ticking, military alarm clock had always done its job, until about three months ago, when all of Daniel's intelligence, wit and charm had been bent and folded to fit into the mind and body of a six-year-old child; a bespectacled, smaller than average, tow-headed six-year-old child.

Daniel held himself together during the day. He was the epitome of decorum. Doctor Daniel Jackson. Still possessing the ability to think circles around the majority of SGC personnel, both military and civilian, even if he did come up to their kneecaps, attended briefings sitting on two huge Budge reference books, or had to throw in the occasional nap to make it through the day. Big or small, he was still Doctor Daniel Jackson, possessor of three Ph.D.s and speaker of over twenty languages.

It was during the night; the so aptly named bewitching hours when Daniel clashed with the six-year-old housing his emotions. In the beginning, Jack had been overwhelmed and stunned at the intensity of emotions buried in this pint-sized person and had spent many a sleepless night, mindlessly rocking Daniel, until tears were reduced to hiccupping hitches of breath and the two of them fell into an exhausted sleep. Some nights were better than others, but even so Jack would lie in bed, awake in the dark, just listening and waiting. Other nights, like last night, an intense nightmare would draw Daniel to seek comfort and he would come into Jack's room, crawl into bed and fall asleep. There was an invisible line down the center of the bed, sort of like the invisible line dividing Jack's day into two parts. Daniel's friend by day. Daniel's parent by night.

He did the shit, shower and shave routine and pounded on Daniel's bedroom door on his way to the kitchen. "If you don't move your ass, we're not going to have time to hit the Coffee Shack on the way to the mountain."

"Give me a sec."

"Your second's up."

"Ha. Ha." Daniel flung the door open. "I'm ready. See?" He held out his arms for inspection.

Jack's gaze drifted over Daniel, into the bedroom. "You didn't make your bed."

Daniel snorted. "You made yours?"

"I don't have to," Jack replied haughtily.

"I thought military men were all anal neat freaks."

"I think outside the box, in case you haven't noticed. I'm different from the average military mind set." Jack smoothed down his tee shirt, proudly patting his chest so the chain to his dog tags rattled.

"You're living with the man who used to be your lover who is now a six-year-old." Daniel pushed up his glasses and stared innocently up at Jack. "Honestly, you're so far out of the box that—"

Jack shook his head. "You're incorrigible. I have enough ewww thoughts of my own when I think about—"

Daniel shuddered. "Don't think about it. I mean you're—" He pointed to Jack. "And I'm a mere babe in the woods."

"If you say the world 'old', Daniel, I'm going to carry you into the SGC. Over my shoulder…or… or… or… better yet, cuddle you like a baby."

"You wouldn't. Would you? Pick me up?" Daniel backed away from Jack. "I mean, not with those knees."

"Is that an 'old' crack?" Jack gave off an evil cackle, making claw-like gestures with his hands, seeking out Daniel, playing ignorant to the murderous looks from the miniaturized one.

"Sometimes I wonder who's six, Jack, do you know that?" Daniel ducked under Jack's outstretched left arm. "Let's go, I want my coffee."

The backseat of the Avalanche resembled a traveling office. Bless Siler and Carter for stepping in and adding a few extraordinary things like a lap tray attached to the back of the passenger seat similar to the ones used by airlines. There was a cup holder built right into the tray, just right for a child's morning cup of coffee. The two had thought of everything, except for one important item.

"Daniel." At the red light, Jack tapped the rear view mirror. "I can see you."

He pushed his glasses up with the eraser end of the pencil. "Huh?"

"Don't go all innocent on me. You tossed that paper onto the floor."

"Paper?" Daniel leaned over far enough that the booster seat appeared in danger of tipping.

"Sit up!"

"Light's green."

"Just so you know, one of your chores is to clean the truck this weekend."

Daniel snorted. "Does that mean you're going to give me an allowance, too?"

"No, you make more than I do. I'm thinking it's about time you paid room and board." Jack made a left onto the road leading to the mountain.

Jack caught the wide-eyed blink and Daniel's hidden-behind-an-allergy-swipe of his nose in his trusty rear view mirror. Jack had done it, moved the conversation from kidding to crossing the line in less than sixty seconds. "Ooops." Embarrassed, Jack flashed a smile into the rear view mirror. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it must've sounded."

"It sounded pretty shitty, if you must know."

Jack sighed, wishing for the thousandth time Daniel would just talk to him and he wondered if his occasional snide remarks were more of the Freudian slip than innocent faux pas. Was he possibly goading Daniel? Hoping the nighttime emotions would make a daytime appearance so Daniel could finally face what had happened to him instead of just accepting it, as he accepted all the other obstacles Fate had placed in his life's path. Leaving the 'gate as an adult and returning in the body of a kid had to be one of the top three suckiest things that had happened to Daniel, coming in right behind his orphan and widower status.

In the beginning, Jack had been busy dealing with his own sense of loss and deprivation, and gladly accepted the fact Daniel quietly made adjustment concessions, which allowed him to privately grieve for what had been and what he had lost. By the time Jack had come up for air, Daniel was living in his house and had locked and thrown away the key to his mental anguish.

"Jack, you missed the turn off into the parking lot. Do you want me to drive?"

Jack snarled good-naturedly and did a U-turn.

"You know memory is the first to go." Daniel began to stuff his paperwork into his oversized backpack.

"You know everyone under that mountain thinks you're a pain in the ass."

"An ass?" A burst of giggles poured forth. "Oh, Jack," he mimicked in an annoyingly singsong voice. "They take one look at this cherubic face and the only word that comes to mind is 'sweet'." Daniel was still giggling when Jack pulled into his assigned parking space and turned off the motor.

The laughter had stopped by the time Jack opened the rear passenger door. He grabbed the backpack on Daniel's lap and slid it onto the asphalt, pointedly ignoring Daniel's cavernous yawn in his left ear as he leaned over to unbuckle the seat belt. Missing hours of sleep were hard enough on an adult, but the havoc they played on Daniel's system had been the reason, on more than one occasion, for Fraiser to threaten Jack. Something about a little kid with dark circles and a wan, washed-out complexion kind of irked the doc.

"Fraiser's gonna make you take a nap today." Jack stepped to the side, allowing Daniel to slip out of the truck on his own.

"I have a full schedule today. Meetings—" He checked his watch, shaking his head. "I'm already going to be late to the first one." Daniel looped his hand around his backpack and began to drag it along.

Jack forcibly zipped his mouth shut, biting back comments that had to do with White Rabbit, scurrying, and Alice in Wonderland and instead, scooped up the backpack. In four strides, Daniel was left in his wake. Jack turned and began to walk backwards. "Come on, slow poke. Meetings, etc. Remember, you have a full schedule?" He checked his own watch and t'sked, shaking his head. "Memory is the first to go, you know that, Daniel?"

Daniel was reaching for his backpack even before Jack dropped it onto the floor. "I need--"

"You need to remember to eat lunch. Take a nap—"

"You need to stop treating me like I'm a child, Jack."

He bent down and cocked his finger towards Daniel. "In case you haven't noticed," Jack whispered, "you are a child."

Daniel grabbed two files from the backpack. "I'm a child in stature only. Up here," Daniel tapped his temple with the corner of the folders, "where it counts. I'm still me. I'm still thirty-nine."

"Colonel."

"We're fine." Jack had adapted Daniel's trademark "fine" when anyone asked how the two of them were managing and with Fraiser, he never even waited for her to ask, the word just sort of rolled off his tongue. He looked up from the paperwork on his desk and offered her a smile and a chair.

She didn't fall for the sentiment behind the smile, but she accepted the chair. "Sir."

"Somethin' on your mind, Doc?" He leaned back in the chair, taking comfort in the familiar squeak of the need-to-be-oiled springs.

"Explain fine."

He placed the back of his hand across his forehead. "No fever. No cough." Jack stretched his arms and legs. "No injuries. And unless some calamity has befallen Daniel since I dropped him off in his office this morning, he's pretty much okay also." He sighed. The chair gave a loud squeak of complaint as Jack shifted his weight. "Under the circumstances, I'm thinkin' fine is an acceptable word."

Standing, she gave him a true smile. "I'm trusting you, sir, to let me know when you lose the fine."

"You'll be the first to know. Promise."

"Colonel?" She had gotten as far as the door.

"Yes?"

"Please make sure Daniel takes a nap today."

Jack snorted. "Daniel's thirty-nine years old, short of slipping the guy a mickey, I'm not really sure how to get him to close his eyes."

Daniel was ready to admit defeat. He needed a nap. He rubbed his eyes, trying to ignore the couch's siren song and forced his attention back to the monitor. The meeting had gone on longer than expected, which had set Daniel's well-planned day on its ass, and the translation he had promised SG-8 by early afternoon was going to be late.

Clearing his throat, Daniel sat up straighter, took a swig from his water bottle, then tried again, managing to keep his attention glued to the first two lines, working on the word formation and making good progress until he came across the last two words of the third sentence, which in his bleary-eyed state, translated as street crossing, which even in the context of the paragraph, made no sense. Sighing, he tried again. And again. He kept one eye on the sentence and the other on the clock in the bottom right- hand side of his computer screen. Cross... maybe it wasn't cross, maybe it was—

"Please tell me you ate lunch?"

Daniel was kneeling on the chair, going nose to nose with the monitor, head tilted, trying to formulate the word combination from a different angle. "I ate lunch."

"You did?" Jack moved a few folders aside, searching for food scraps.

Daniel cocked his head to the left. "No, I didn't."

"Then why did you say you did?"

"Because you said, and I quote, 'please tell me you ate lunch', so I'm telling you I ate lunch." Daniel fought the two hands on his shoulders pulling him back to an upright position. "Hey."

"Stop that, you're making yourself cross eyed."

He ripped his glasses off and scrubbed at his face, mumbling behind his hands.

"What did you say?" Now, a gentle touch tugged his hands away from his face.

"I said go away. Please go away. I need to finish this translation. The meeting ran long. I haven't had time to eat lunch, pee or... or... He clamped his lips together, horrified that he had almost admitted to Jack how tired he was and that he needed a nap.

"Can't help with the peeing or the translation, but I can get you some lunch if you want."

Lunch would mean peace and quiet while Jack went off to the commissary. "Lunch would be good. Turkey on rye with mayo and a bag of chips. Or maybe macaroni and cheese? Or lasagna? If you get me the lasagna, just get me the roll, not garlic bread... and tea... I'd like iced tea. Three sugars..."

Daniel had proudly controlled his emotions when Sha're had died and when he'd handed Shifu to Oma to raise. So could someone please explain why the sight of a sorry, sad looking turkey on white bread with lettuce and no mayo on the plate in front of him was causing his eyesight to blur through a watery curtain of tears?

"I'll admit, it's pretty sad looking." Jack rotated the plate, flicking at a wilted piece of lettuce sticking out of the bread.

Daniel nodded, unable to trust his voice. He was pissed. Angry at Jack for failing. Angry at himself for even getting angry at Jack. It was bad enough Jack bore witness to Daniel's tears. There was no way in hell he wanted to shed a tear here at the SGC. Not under the fluorescent lights, with the security cameras as front row center voyeurs when he fell apart over a stupid turkey sandwich.

Plate and all, Jack tossed the turkey sandwich into the garbage and slapped a Cadbury chocolate bar in front of Daniel, his hand pinning it to the opened book. "I'll let you have dessert first, but you just gotta promise not to rat me out to Fraiser."

"Promise," Daniel mouthed.

"I'm going to work some colonel magic and get you something you can consider to be a lunch, instead of—" Jack gazed at the garbage then cupped his hand over his mouth, blowing out a comical rendition of taps.

"Thank you, Jack."

"No problem, buddy. Just remember the promise you made to me regarding Fraiser and eat it slowly."

Daniel's fingers caressed the wrapper. It was taking the utmost restraint, refraining from ripping the covering off and stuffing the entire thing in his mouth. "I'll destroy the evidence."

"You mean like tear it to shreds, right? 'Cause I'm getting a visual of you eating the bar, and setting fire to the wrapper, the alarms going off and the whole SGC becoming engulfed in flames all because I gave you a chocolate bar to make up for a disgusting turkey sandwich."

"Shredding, Jack. Promise to shred."

Daniel sucked the melted chocolate off his fingers, then swiped his tongue along the inside of the wrapper just to make sure he hadn't missed an iota of creamy goodness. As promised, he ripped the wrapper into unrecognizable pieces, then watched with a heavy heart as they fluttered into the garbage pail. He failed miserably when he tried to turn his attention back to the translation. Instead of satiating him, the chocolate had fiercely awoken not only his hunger, but his thirst as well. The iced tea Jack had brought with the pathetic sandwich beckoned, but prolonging the taste of chocolate in his mouth for as long as he could was even more tempting. Shifting in the chair, Daniel pressed the heel of his hand into his stomach to quell the growling. "Quiet," he ordered, pulling a reference book closer.

Making a notation, he plodded forward, latching onto a paragraph where the translation flowed. He was making excellent headway, lost in the visuals and the success of connecting ancient words into coherent thoughts.

"Doctor Jackson?"

If he ignored the intrusion, maybe it would go away.

"Doctor Jackson?" Awkward throat clearing now followed his name.

"Yes?" Rude as it was, Daniel refused to look up. It had taken him enough time to enter into his linguistic mindset, there was no way he wanted to be distracted, determined to prove he could multi-task no matter what his size.

"Colonel O'Neill is in a meeting with General Hammond and he asked that I deliver this to you."

Exasperated, Daniel tore his gaze away from his work and looked up at the airman, who appeared more than uncomfortable standing in his office with a grease-stained, white paper bag in his outstretched hands.

"Is that my lunch?"

"Yes... um... sir." The man flashed Daniel a smile and searched for a place to deposit his delivery.

"I'll take it." Daniel kneeled on the stool and stretched out his hands, sniffing appreciatively at the smell of garlic.

"Lasagna. Colonel O'Neill wanted you to know it's from Amice's to make up for the—I believe it was a turkey sandwich?"

The translation was forgotten three minutes after the airman left, two minutes after Daniel opened the bag and a second after he pulled out a wad of cheese and shoved it in his mouth. Jack tried for balanced meals, when and if the two of them arrived home at a reasonable hour. Fresh fruit, veggies and chocolate milk now filled Jack's fridge, but as much as they tried, more often than not, both he and Jack fell into the fast food trap or bowls of cereal for dinner. But this. Amice's white seafood lasagna was a decadence missing from Daniel's diet. He ate slowly, alternating between his fingers and the fork.

Jack was elated. He really shouldn't be, he should be upset, and he tried to wipe the smile off his face, but it was stubborn and refused to leave. Offworld. SG-1 was going offworld. Okay, he admitted with a sinking feeling, SG-1 sans one archeologist was going offworld. A diplomatic mission that mere months ago would have bored him shitless, but now, after being Earthbound since Daniel's "honey I shrunk the archeologist" adventure, Jack was chomping at the bit for even the most mundane mission.

With a bounce in his step, he entered Daniel's office, surprised to find it empty and dark. He backtracked and turned on the overhead lights. "Hello, what's this?" Jack's smile broadened at a portion of lasagna sitting atop an opened book. "Don't mind if I do."

Daniel came back in just as Jack was licking the paper plate clean.

"Hey! I was saving that."

Guiltily, Jack dropped the plate into the garbage pail, stuffing it down and out of sight. "You left it out in the open. There was no note, nothing. So I figured..."

"You figured wrong." He glanced longingly at the garbage, then tossed two folders on his desk. "I hadn't realized I need to hide my lunch when I leave my office."

"At least you got lunch," Jack groused. "I was in a meeting with Hammond... Can I finish your iced tea?"

"It's warm, but help yourself, because you're just going to drink it anyway."

Jack finished the remaining tea in one gulp, his face crinkling in confusion when Daniel checked his watch. "Got a date?"

"No, got a meeting with Lee to go over his findings—"

"Ohhhhh, sounds truly interesting, Daniel, but I need to..." Jack waved towards the door. "I'll see ya around eighteen hundred hours. Be ready." He wagged a warning finger at him.

Five fuckin' minutes from the house. Five minutes. He couldn't help but growl in frustration as Daniel power napped in the back seat. Great. A five-minute snooze would prolong bedtime until the wee hours of the morning. "Daniel," he hissed. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he stuck his other hand between the seats and attempted to prod Daniel to wakefulness. "Wake up!"

Daniel groaned, whined and tugged his legs from Jack's reach. "Stop."

Jack pulled his arm back and maneuvered into the driveway, accelerating so the Avalanche thumped over the apron then stopped short in the hopes of jolting Daniel awake. And it did, jolt him into awareness, though not in the manner in which Jack had hoped. Daniel screamed, instantly awake, fighting against the confines of the booster, struggling to undo the seat belt even before Jack had the truck in park.

"A minute," Jack begged, Daniel's feet angrily kicking the passenger seat with enough force that the seat bounced forward.

"Out. Now." Daniel managed to unlatch the belt and was crawling across the seat just as Jack flung open the rear door. He reached in, grabbed Daniel by the shirt and dragged him, all kicking arms and legs, out of the truck.

"Why?" he sniffed pathetically into Jack's neck.

"I don't know, sport." Jack rested Daniel's ass on the hood of the truck while Daniel leaned his upper body against Jack. "Sometimes life sucks."

Daniel yawned and sniffed again. "And sometimes six-year-old kids need a nap."

"And sometimes six-year-old is stubborner than a thirty-nine year old." Jack rubbed his back. "Nightmare?"

Daniel shrugged. "Daymare. Obviously, I don't need nighttime to be terrified. And just so you know, stubborner's not a word."

"Neither is daymare, but if the shoe fits, wear it."

"It hurt when they made me young."

Jack's hand stopped, then started up again. Kind of like his heart. Daniel had never spoken about the transformation process, insisted he didn't remember and hadn't a clue why he'd been the one chosen. "I'm sorry, we didn't know. Fraiser never found anything and you never said—"

"That's okay," Daniel admitted sleepily. "I don't always know." A small, lethargic hand came up to tap on his temple. "Don't... remember either. Sleep..."

This yawn was deeper, and Jack felt incredibly guilty. "Sleepy?"

"Yeah," Daniel replied breathlessly. "Sleep makes me remember." He shuddered in Jack's arms. "Hate sleeping."

"Yeah, I noticed that sleeping isn't in your top ten." Jack waited for Daniel to answer. "Hey, I'm thinking maybe it's time to have Fraiser take another look at you."

Wide-eyed, Daniel gazed at Jack with an expression filled with the need and want only a child can have.

"It's okay... Fraiser will make it better—" Stupid. Stupid. Stupid, O'Neill. He should have zipped his lips, been a silent partner on this trip down Daniel's memory lane. Because with his words, he saw Daniel draw the shutters.

"No!" Daniel pushed away from Jack, sitting up straighter, glaring at him. "I'm fine. Janet gave me a perfect bill of health. It's just been a long day." He slithered from Jack's grasp, sliding off the hood of the truck, dropping down to the driveway before Jack could stop him. "I'm okay," he reassured Jack when he landed on all fours.

Daniel fiddled with his grilled cheese sandwich, biting each half into smile shapes before pushing the plate away. "The lasagna was filling." He threw his napkin over the plate. "Excuse me, I have work to do."

"Clean up first."

Blinking Daniel studied him. "I always do. You don't need to remind me. I'm small, Jack, I'm not a kid."

"If it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck..."

Jack was positive whatever Daniel mumbled under his breath when he rushed past him wasn't along the lines of 'happy birthday'. He sat back in the chair with a groan. What the fuck was up with him anyway? Mr. I-want-nothing-to-do-with-anything-emotional was going for the gold medal in the category of Daniel-goading.

Courteously, he knocked on the closed bedroom door, but he didn't wait for an answer before barging in. "Would it help if I apologized?"

"I don't know what you want from me." Daniel kept his eyes glued to the monitor, the light casting a strange shadow across his face.

Leaning against the work desk, Jack crossed his arms over his chest. "Honestly, you want to know?"

Daniel nodded, tearing his gaze away from whatever had been captivating his attention and turned in the swivel chair to face Jack.

Jack fingered a silly, childlike cup on the top shelf then shoved his hands into his pocket at Daniel's silently mouthed warning of 'put it down'. "I want you to get mad."

Daniel's snort was a cross between a sob and a sound of utter disbelief. "I can't get mad. I can't afford to lose control."

"Why?" Jack insisted. "You're human. You can get mad. Angry. Upset. No one will think the less of you."

This time there was no ignoring the self-depreciating snort. "Look at me, Jack." He patted his chest. "Last time I looked, there was less of me. And as much as people pretend to respect me, this is all they see. And it sucks. And it hurts. And most times I just want to throw in the towel and have a temper tantrum. Or yell. Or stick out my tongue. Tell you I hate you. Do you have any idea how hard this all is for me? And all that I've lost?"

"Daniel, I—" Jack felt about four inches tall and prayed Thor would choose this exact moment to beam him up.

"I miss you, Jack." Daniel reached towards Jack then seemed to catch sight of the size of his hand, and it fell into his lap. Daniel dropped his head with a painful thunk onto Jack's shoulder. His sigh tickled the underneath of Jack's chin. "Maybe I should go and stay somewhere else. My being this size has got to be—difficult for you, too."

Initially, when Daniel had been downsized, he had, without thought, stepped forth and figuratively slung Daniel over his shoulder to take him home. Within a week, Jack had seriously wondered what had been his state of mind when he'd made that decision, but to hear Daniel say what he'd thought, hurt. "We do our best work watching each other's sixes... we're a team." He squeezed Daniel's shoulder. "We'll get through this."

"We'll get through this." Jack's parting words echoed in Daniel's mind. Jack was into long term planning, and Daniel, well, he was into just getting through each day keeping his emotions in check. He was paralyzed with fear over the thought of staying this size and reliving his life, and he refused to even go down that road.

He took off his glasses, tossed them onto the table and scrubbed at his eyes. He was tired, but sleep had become the demon, images taunting him in his dreams, hanging on until he reached full awareness, then disappearing. Janet had said PTSD, Mackenzie had agreed. Jack, Sam and Teal'c had remained conspicuously silent. For once in his life, Daniel was afraid to rock the boat. Terrified if he pushed the issue the messages his dreams were trying to convey, his hours at the SGC would be cut back and a padded room would be his next address.

Today had been different, though. Instead of making those placating shushing noises and rubbing his back to quell his fears, today, Jack had listened. Today, Daniel had remembered more than bits and pieces after he'd awoken. There had been images as well as the fear. Napping in the backseat, he'd recalled pain and sympathy that had nothing to do with Jack, and everything to do with the inhabitants of the planet.

He had no time for this. Daniel stuck his glasses back onto his face and returned to the project at hand. He was concentrating so intently on the information contained in the folder before him and the information displayed on his monitor, he didn't even realize he was frustratingly chewing his way through a number two pencil. He jumped when his computer announced incoming mail, looked at the gnarled pencil in his hand, then tossed it away in disgust.

Saving and closing his document, Daniel switched over to his email, more than ready to take a break. Smiling at the email addy, he opened the email quickly, his smile broadening at Rose's words. She missed him. Hoped he was doing well and that it was only his work that was keeping him so busy and not something more sinister. It was wordy and chatty, a façade over her worry.

Three months ago, he and Jack had come up with the ruse that Daniel was indefinitely out of the country and would only be corresponding with her through email, while Jack could maintain telephone contact with his mother. Daniel hated it. Hated not being able to talk to her, hating even more that he was lying to her. He wasn't stupid, he was well aware of the necessity of their subterfuge, but that still didn't make it easy. Except for the 'miss you sentiments', Daniel's email to Rose was mainly filled with lies. "I'm sorry, Rose," he whispered, hitting send.

He opened a single serving orange juice, stuck in the straw, closed the fridge door then leaned against it while drinking.

"You want some cookies?"

Daniel looked up at Jack and shook his head.

Shrugging, Jack stuck his hand in the cookie jar, took out two chocolate chip cookies, kept one and offered the second to Daniel. He took it, hating Jack for knowing him so well, for knowing his no sometimes meant yes. Daniel hated Jack for making subtle changes in his house to accommodate his size. There were individual water bottles, single serving juice packs, cutting down Daniel's need to reach into a high cabinet to get a glass. Coincidentally, a week after Daniel's downsizing, Jack's fridge bit the dust and he purchased one with the freezer on the bottom. Silently, a step stool appeared in both the bathroom and the kitchen and the pole in his closet had become a perfect height. Like Jack wanted Daniel to get angry, Daniel wanted to ask why Jack's adjustment to this smaller, younger Daniel seemed so easy.

"Rose emailed me."

"I know you hate lying."

"I do."

"We—"

"You need to call her."

"I will." Jack stuck his hand back into the cookie jar and pulled out another cookie. "I'll call as soon as I get back."

"Get back?"

Jack's silence was answer enough and Daniel bristled. "Get back from where, Jack?"

Shit. Shit. Shit. He could just hear the words running through Jack's brain, because from the deer in the headlights expression on Jack's face, this was so not how he had wanted to break the news to him.

"SG-1... I mean not all of SG-1," he said with a guilty stammer. "Carter, Teal'c and I are going—"

"I don't care where you're going." Daniel crushed the juice box and tossed it, along with the cookie, into the garbage. "You knew after your meeting with General Hammond today. You knew on the ride home and while we were eating dinner, and correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty damn positive, if you hadn't blurted it out, I'd be finding out about your travel plans only as you were stepping through the 'gate. I'm short, I'm not stupid and I'd appreciate it if we're going to get through this, as you kindly reiterated early, if you could at least respect my intelligence."

Daniel flopped down on the bed. Well, short of kicking and whining, his behavior in the kitchen had been an impressive temper tantrum. Embarrassed, he pulled his pillow over his head and covered his face. He knew Jack would give him space, but the kind of space he desired was his own home with a door he could lock. Autonomy. Daniel was stuck between jealousy and anger knowing that Jack was going offworld, but there was also that little bit of hurt at the excitement in Jack's eyes over a journey that didn't include him.

Jack found the check affixed to the TV in his bedroom. Sticking his finger under the tape, he slowly and carefully detached the check from the screen. "Crap." More of a scribble than a precise handwriting, he had no problem deciphering the amount or the signature. It was the two words printed in the bottom left hand corner on the line next to memo that drew his attention. Rent. Food.

Jack crumpled the check, took a step towards the door, then stopped by the dresser and leaned on it as he carefully unfurled the check. Understanding why Daniel needed to do this was a hell of a lot different than agreeing with why he did it, but he would try. Make a concerted effort. Be supportive. Take a step back and remember the friendship, not that he'd lost a lover. Maybe it was time to finally think about what Daniel had lost in all of this.

Cautiously, Jack opened the bedroom door, smiling at the lump on the bed. Still dressed, Daniel was sleeping. Glasses askew, tee shirt riding uncomfortably up his back, sock-covered feet curled into themselves, a sign that even in sleep, Daniel was cold.

"Come on, sleepy head, let's get you ready for bed." Jack had neither the courage nor the heart to wake a sleeping Daniel and force him into pajamas, so he gently removed his glasses, pulled down the shirt and pulled up the covers. Daniel slid downward, tugging the covers up to his nose.

Keeping one hand on the bed, Jack leaned over Daniel. Then stopped, horrified at what he caught himself doing. He had been going to kiss Daniel. As a father would kiss his child. As he would've kissed Charlie.

Jack wasn't sure if he'd really been sleeping, all he knew was now he was awake, lying on his back. Staring at the ceiling. Listening and categorizing the house's night sounds. Nothing out of the ordinary, but something seemed off.

The door to Daniel's room was still closed and he paused and placed a hand against the wood in thanks. The living room, kitchen, dining room and deck were devoid of anything that should be tingling his senses. He found the reason for his discomfort in the den, bundled under the afghan, shoved into the corner, trying to make himself invisible.

"Bad one?"

The area where Jack calculated Daniel's shoulders should be located raised themselves up then down in a blanket-covered shrug.

"Want to go back to bed?"

There was adamant negative head movement under the blanket.

"Okay, no problem." Jack waited a few moments. "Want me to stay with you?"

Daniel hesitated, then drew the covers down, nodding at Jack.

"I'm going to sit in the recliner." He patted the well-worn leather of the chair. "Right here." He sat and flipped up the chair. "See."

"Okay," Daniel replied softly. "Right there."

"Not going anywhere." Jack sat back on the chair with a sigh of contentment and watched Daniel studying him under hooded lids. "Sleep. I promise I'm not going anywhere."

Daniel was asleep on his back, snoring heavily for a little kid, and Jack made a mental post-it to have Fraiser check his allergy medication. Jack shook his shoulder a number of times before getting any response. "Time to shower."

"You first," Daniel grumbled, turning onto his side, flapping his hand down his body in search of the blanket pooled on the floor.

"Ya got fifteen minutes to sleep while I shower." Jack said. "Make the most of it."

Jack had deposited Daniel in his office, then grabbed the two of them some breakfast. There hadn't been enough time to stop for food, but they weren't truly late, so Jack opted for commissary food. They ate in relative silence, Daniel doing more pushing around the plate than actually eating.

As soon as Daniel's attention became more focused on his computer than the pancakes in front of him, Jack began clearing the desk, throwing away the remains of their breakfast, slowly scraping the plates into the pail in Daniel's office. "I'll be home before—"

"Dinner, I know, you've mentioned that a few hundred times."

"Daniel—"

"Please don't feel badly, Jack. You, Teal'c, and Sam—" His voice caught in his throat and he ducked his head, embarrassed. "SG-1 is too valuable to keep on Earth babysitting me."

"We weren't babysitting. We were—"

"Babysitting..."

"Adjusting, Daniel. We were adjusting."

"Guess I'm still adjusting, otherwise I'd be walking up the ramp with you, huh?" Daniel hopped off his chair and slam dunked his hated, one little container of milk a day, into the garbage. "Sorry, none of this is your fault."

"It's not your fault either." Jack caught a shocked Daniel mid stride and plunked him on top of a pile of books on the work bench. "It sucks not being able to blame someone."

Blue eyes narrowed, growing old with anger and frustration. "Please don't pick me up like this. Not here." He slid down, taking two of the books to the floor with him.

Jack bent down and grabbed Daniel's shoulders just as Daniel was going for the books. "I'll be home for dinner," he said softly. He reached over, adjusted the glasses and smoothed down Daniel's errant cowlick. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too," Daniel said, skittering over to Jack and getting as close to him as possible without crawling into his lap.

"Doc?" Jack walked into her office after knocking lightly on her opened door.

"Sir? Everything okay? Is Daniel..."

Jack waved away her concern. "Fine, everything's fine. Daniel's fine. I'm fine. I'm just a bit..." Jack looked over his shoulder. "Nervous," he whispered. "First time going offworld since Daniel's been..."

"I understand. I'll keep an eye on him."

"It's not even a twenty-four hour mission. So I'll be home before dinner but would you just, you know... keep an eye on—"

"Daniel?"

Red-faced, he gave a sharp nod. "Don't let him know I asked you."

Fraiser made a cross over her heart. "Promise, it'll be our little secret. He'll never need to know."

"I owe you one," Jack said.

Daniel wasn't sure whose decision it was for him to stay in his office and not give SG-1 a send off when they went through the 'gate. Daniel was pretty sure it wasn't his choice, but he didn't remember arguing with Jack. Maybe because he was grateful. He knew he was being left behind, even if it was only for a few hours, and he more than understood the reasoning behind the decision, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

Glancing at his watch, he played the 'what are they doing now?' game until the numbers blurred from allergy-itchy eyes. He took off his glasses and scrubbed at his eyes. As an adult member of SG-1, Janet had perfected the correct combination of antihistamines keeping his allergy attacks to a minimum, now that he was small, she'd had to start all over at the beginning and it sucked. Big time. They either didn't work or they zonked him to the point of lethargy, or worse, falling asleep. He grabbed a wad of tissues from the box Jack always made sure was on his desk and blew his nose, tossing the tissues over the side of the desk into the garbage pail. He pulled the box closer to him, opened the folder on his desk, and went back work.

Sneezing, he reached for the box of tissues. "Damn," he uttered when his hand came up empty.

"It would seem I have impeccable timing."

"Janet." Daniel looked up, smiled, then searched his desk for a stray tissue to wipe his nose. He found one under a stack of papers and wiped his raw nose with the crumpled tissue.

She dug her right hand into the pocket of her lab coat and tossed a tiny packet of tissues onto his desk. "Reinforcements."

"You're a life saver," he mumbled behind the wadded up tissue he still held to his nose to stop the flow.

"Why didn't you come to me and tell me that your allergies were acting up? The Colonel should have mentioned that you weren't feeling well." Daniel bristled and sat up straighter. "Excuse me? These are allergies. I've had them my whole life. I don't need Jack to report to you, I'm more than capable—" To his chagrin, Janet sat on the stool opposite him. "I'm not insinuating you're unable to take care of yourself." "Thank you, I appreciate that," he said snidely. "I need you to understand something, Daniel. What happened to you is beyond my realm of understanding." She folded her hands demurely on a sheath of papers. "And I need to—" She swallowed hard. "Make sure—" He caught a sneeze in the crook of his arm. "That your allergies aren't masking something else." "Trust me. They're allergies, Janet. Speaking from experience, that's all they are." Daniel shuffled papers around on his desk, doing anything to avoid looking at her. "Actually—" This time he captured a sneeze in a hastily grabbed tissue. "Actually, Daniel, this is the SGC. I shouldn't have to remind you that things are not always what they appear to be." "These are allergies," he said indignantly. "And what if they're not?" He threw up his hands in surrender. "Fine. You want me to go to the infirmary..." Daniel jumped down from the chair. "We'll go the infirmary. You can satisfy your curiosity. I can prove I'm right and both of us can get on with our day." "I'm not going to torture you," Janet said. She stood and smoothed down her pristine lab coat. Daniel snorted, snatching the tissues off the workbench, shoving them into his pocket. "Seems like torture to me when I'm on the receiving end of a needle."

He breathed for her. Exhaled. Inhaled. She checked out his throat, ears and eyes while Daniel kept his gaze trained on the infirmary clock. He coughed. Janet wrote in his chart. He sneezed and Janet shook her head, making another notation. Janet clicked her pen shut and stuck it behind her ear. "Did you take an allergy pill today?" This morning seemed like hours ago even though the clock said otherwise. Morning. This morning he had been preoccupied with Jack leaving. "No." "Daniel... to get the correct regimen you need to take the medication." He left the infirmary. Not angrily. He just left and waited by the elevator, fidgeting from leg to leg expectantly, waiting for Janet to be at his heels. Surprisingly, she wasn't and Daniel couldn't help but feel more than a tad victorious.

One minute he was concentrating on the monitor, the next minute he was sucker punched with a blinding headache. Daniel hadn't experienced a headache of this intensity since being downsized. Foolishly, and obviously incorrectly, he'd believed that maybe their absence had been a positive attribute to being six. Wrong. Daniel knew the drill. He saved his work, powered down his computer, slid off the chair and with lids at half mast, he stumbled around the room, flicking off the lights, until his office was bathed in darkness. By rote, he found a bottle of pain killers in his top drawer, and literally forgetting he was shorter and much lighter than the adult version who had last used this medication, he popped a whole instead of a half, dry swallowed it, gagging as it stuck before painfully traveling down his esophagus. Daniel gave a few impressive heaves over the garbage pail before acknowledging what went down was not coming back up no matter how nauseated he felt. Once the undulating floor slowed to a slight wave, he walked in the direction of the couch, holding onto furniture for support. Finding the couch by accident when his knees made painful contact with the frame, he dropped onto the cushions, toed off his shoes, then pulled the afghan around him as he scrunched up, trying to escape the pain.

A deep grumble and a curse roused him, but didn't wake him. At the moment, sleep was a better comfort than the voices surrounding him.

Janet had warned him to wait, that she would turn on the light, but General Hammond had just plowed into the darkened room, taking only a few steps. "Damn it."

"Are you okay, General?"

"Yeah, just caught my funny bone on the edge of the desk."

"Don't move." Cautiously, using the light from the corridor, Janet back up a few steps and flicked on the overhead lights.

General Hammond scanned the room, getting ready to shake his head when the two of them spotted Daniel. His eyes filled with grandfatherly concern and he hesitated. "Waking him up isn't going to change SG-1's situation."

Picking up the opened bottle of meds on the desk, Janet read the label and shook her head. "I'm not sure waking him up at the moment would even be a possibility, sir."

"Doctor?"

"Painkillers." Annoyed at her blinders when it came to Daniel, forgetting what had taken years to learn; the necessity to read between the lines. With Daniel, the obvious was never the obvious. Angrily, she slammed the bottle onto the table. Like a puppy, one never knew what Daniel was going to get into until the mess was made, the garbage spilled, the couch destroyed or the important papers ripped to shreds. "These were probably left over from when he was—" Stepping over stacks of book on the floor, she made her way to the couch and sat, immediately checking out his pulse and respirations. His heartbeat was slow and steady and his breathing, allergy congested. "Daniel?"

"Should I call for a gurney?" The general stood at the head of the couch, his fingers close, but not touching Daniel's head.

Shaking her head, she tapped his cheek. "Give me a second. Daniel?" Janet rubbed her knuckles against his jawline, heartened when he slowly opened his eyes.

"Son." General Hammond's voice was filled with concern.

Lifting his head back, Daniel smiled sleepily at the General, his eyes crossing in the middle before drifting shut.

"Daniel?"

"Mmmm."

"The pills? What about the pills?"

Eyes closed, his brow furrowed. "Pill. One pill. Bad headache. Feels better now. SG-1 home?"

Janet looked up, catching the general's eyes which had saddened imperceptibly. He shook his head, holding his hand up and she nodded, understanding the unspoken message. "It won't be long now." Not exactly the truth, bordering on a lie, stretching the information they did have until it was as tight as a wire. " 'K." Daniel turned on his side, snuggling back into the couch and with the lack of inhibitions that only the very young possess, stuck his feet under Janet's ass. "I'll stay here," Janet volunteered. Hammond took a step towards the door, then hesitated, making his way back towards the couch. Reaching out, she grabbed his hand and squeezed.

"Ahhh. Finally. Head Honcho Guy."

"Silence!" The so-called leader waved an impressive weapon in front of the cage.

Jack's glance slid to his teammates. "Have either of you ever seen a weapon like that before?"

"I have not."

Carter just shook her head, a look of scientific reverence clouding her eyes. "That weapon doesn't match the level of development of this world." She drew a breath. "There's nothing on this planet that would indicate—"

"We've been duped?" Jack said getting directly to the point.

"It would appear so."

"Big time, Colonel."

The leader laughed, brandishing his weapon. "It would appear you are quite taken with this."

Jack shrugged nonchalantly.

"Would you care for an up close and personal introduction?"

"We would not."

"The Jaffa speaks. Welcome, Teal'c," he said, nodding, but when he looked up there was anything but greeting in his narrowed eyes. "And you, Major Carter, cat got your tongue?"

"I'm sorry," Carter responded, "I don't believe we've been properly introduced."

He ignored her question and began to count. "One. Two. Three. Three? Where, may I ask, is Doctor Jackson?"

Thankfully, home. Taking a nap. Eating lunch. As far from this situation as possible. "Doctor Jackson decided to sit this dance out."

"Pity," he said powering up his weapon. "I'm sure he'd find this quite interesting."

Daniel awoke, dry-mouthed, groggy and more than a tad confused when he heard a female voice call his name as opposed to Jack. Infirmary? Injured? The hand on his shoulder was soft, but insistently pulling him from the sleep his body was still craving.

"You need to wake up, Daniel," the voice chided.

Janet. Infirmary. For confirmation, he tried to open glued together eyelids because the bed he was lying on was too soft to be of infirmary quality. Raising lethargic hands, Daniel rubbed away the crud then coughed, which brought it all back with a rush. His office. Allergy attack. Headache. Pill. Uh oh... pain pill. Lifting his hands, he examined them. Small. He was little. Little people shouldn't be taking big people's medication. Janet was going to be pissed if she wasn't already. "Hi," he managed to choke out, ignoring her assisting hand as he struggled to sit up.

"That was pretty stupid."

His addled brain couldn't agree more, though the now-gone blinding headache made his transgression into stupidity more than acceptable. "Headache's gone," he said. Daniel knew that was a lame excuse, but at the moment, beggars certainly weren't choosers.

"We need to talk."

"Look, I'm sorry." He gestured towards the bottle still on his desk. "I forgot. Sometimes I forget. Take the bottle, okay?"

"Daniel..."

"Son."

"General?" Wide-eyed, his glance slid between the two of them. "I took a pain pill and you reported it to the general?" he hissed angrily. "Don't you think that's a bit of overkill?"

"I called him when I saw you were waking up. He... we needed to talk to you."

"Talk to me?" He was slow on the uptake, he knew he was, and he slammed his eyes shut and forced himself to concentrate. He was missing something. He rewound the day, replaying it back at fast speed, trying to shut out the general's approaching footsteps.

Daniel's eyes flew up. He knew. "SG-1. Are they..."

"They're missing."

Daniel squinted at his watch, horrified to realize that he'd slept over six hours. "How long? Why didn't you wake me?"

Janet sat next to him on the couch, sliding her arm along the back, offering comfort without touch. Jack would often do that after a particularly bad mission. But that was a lifetime ago. "It's bad." Drawing his knees up to his chest to protect his heart, Daniel repeated the two words, turning the statement into a question. "It's bad?"

"They've missed two check-ins—"

"Have you tried—"

"The 'gate no longer locks on the coordinates. We manage six chevrons and then nothing. Walter's running a second diagnostic as we speak, but we haven't had this difficulty with any other offworld teams."

Daniel exhaled. "Okay. So their lack of communication could simply be a problem with the 'gate on their end, it doesn't necessarily mean—"

"The general and I thought you should know."

"That's my team." Daniel was taken back not only by her placating voice, but by the hand that slipped off its shelf on the back of the couch and landed on his shoulders. No fair. Janet wasn't playing by the rules, and the general, with that look in his eyes, wasn't playing by the rules either. He didn't need coddling, he needed facts. "I appreciate you telling me." Daniel unfolded his body and got off the couch, grabbing his shoes and slipping his feet into them. "I'm going to go up to the control room." Slowly, he tied his shoes, double knotting them, because tiny fingers weren't as cooperative as adult ones.

Sitting next to Walter, the two of them were sipping mugs of hot chocolate. Both of them, Daniel was sure, would have rather have coffee, but with Janet around, hot chocolate was his beverage of choice, and Walter, being the good guy he was, joined Daniel. He was running through the MALP and UAV readings and the initial reports from SG-3. Friendly people. Untapped minerals. Willing to share. Treaty. Yadda yadda, as Jack would say. No different from a million other worlds.

"I'm sure it's just a 'gate glitch, Dr. Jackson."

Daniel raised his cup in a salute. "I hope so." Putting the cup down on the console, he pulled his knees up to his chest and rested the open folder on them, beginning for the thousandth time, at the beginning.

Somewhere towards the end, Walter refilled their cups with coffee. "Shhh, don't tell anyone."

"Thanks," Daniel replied with an appreciative grin. "Secret is safe with me."

Daniel sneezed, sneezed again and a tissue magically appeared in front of his face in time for him to capture his third sneeze. Nodding a thank you to Walter, he blew his nose and stuffed the tissue up his sleeve for safe keeping. He had tried to ignore the building tickle in his throat and itch of allergies, but they seemed to be catching up. Frustrated, he slammed the folder shut. "I'm going to the infirmary, call me if you—"

"I promise to find you," Walter said.

"Daniel."

"Janet." Daniel sneezed.

"Headache's gone, but your allergies are still bugging you." Janet patted the nearest bed. "Why don't you hop up here and let me take a look."

"You took one look already today, I just need—"

"Humor me."

Hopping up was easier said than done so he pulled the chair over, climbed up on the chair then hopped onto the bed. "See how easy it is to forget I'm small, Janet?"

"You made your point."

Daniel tolerated her examination. "Well?" He waited until she put the stethoscope around her neck before talking. "Diagnosis?"

"Allergies."

"Told ya." Pulling the tissue from his sleeve, he blew his nose. "Told you that the first time I was here today."

"Be right back."

Daniel watched her go, concentrating on nothing but swinging his feet and watching the sheet move with the breeze he created.

"Here you go." Janet handed him a pill and a cup of water.

"Can't I have a blister pack?"

"I'd rather monitor your medication intake, Daniel."

He squared his shoulders and glared at her. "Ahh... it's a trust issue. Alright. I'll admit it, I screwed up with the pain pill, but it was a mistake."

Janet sighed.

Daniel echoed her sigh, his glare melted into defeat and he took the pill and the cup of water.

Janet checked her watch. "We're going to be leaving in a few minutes."

Daniel crumpled the paper cup and tossed it into the trash, Janet's words sinking in as the cup sunk into the garbage. "We're? As in me and you?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I'll get my stuff. I have the key in my backpack—"

"Key to what, Daniel?"

He slipped off the bed, going down was always easier than going up. Daniel straightened, smoothed out his shirt and pants, stamping his feet so his cuffs would fall into place. "Key to my house," he said, giving Janet a quick once over as if that was the stupidest question in the world.

"Do you need to pick up anything from the house? I mean, we can swing by there... oh yeah, I guess you need to get toiletries and pajamas and something for tomorrow—"

"Janet?"

"Yes, Daniel."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, I don't have any of your things at my house."

Daniel blinked at her a few times. "Why do I need things at your house?"

"The general and I discussed—"

"Discussed what? Me?"

"You can't stay at the colonel's house without adult supervision."

"I am an adult."

"Not to the outside world, Daniel. To the neighbors, the people on the block, you would be a child living alone in the house. Child Protective Services would be called before you had a chance to even take off your jacket."

"So, your solution is for me to stay with you."

"It makes the most sense."

Daniel pushed up his glasses, then slowly shook his head. "Not to me, it doesn't."

"I'm not too sure I understand, son."

Daniel sighed. It was embarrassing enough to be sitting across from General Hammond in a chair where his legs didn't reach the ground, but to stutter out his complaint, tripping over words, was mortifying.

"Maybe you need to take a breath and try again. What's this about you're not wanting to go to—"

"I don't want to go to Janet's house." He quickly amended the statement. "It's not like I don't appreciate the offer, but—"

Hammond nodded slowly with a thoughtful tap of his fingers on the desktop.

Daniel could feel himself relax under the general's caring scrutiny. "I'd like to go home."

"That's unacceptable."

"Huh?" Daniel had been positive he'd won the battle.

"Doctor Jackson." Hammond leaned forward, hands folded on his desk. "Daniel. I'm sorry. Your staying alone in a house isn't permissible for reasons you, yourself, are well aware of."

Defeated, he hung his head, staring at shoes, noticing that the lace on the left boot was in danger of becoming undone. "I don't want to stay with Janet." Daniel brought the shoe up to the edge of the chair and concentrated on retying and double knotting the errant shoelace. "Staying with her seems..." He shrugged, unable to find words that wouldn't sound insulting or unappreciative to the general.

"How about a compromise?"

Daniel's head shot up, his attention drawn from his shoe to General Hammond, terrified that the general was going to offer his house in exchange for Janet's. "Compromise?"

"A VIP suite, this way you'll have the ability to maintain your independence." The general paused. "To some degree, you understand."

Daniel mutely nodded.

"I'll make arrangements for an airman to drive you home to pick up some things."

"Thank you, sir." He slid off the chair, and actually made it to the door before being struck by a horrific thought. Abruptly Daniel turned. "Could I possibly ask for the security cameras in the VIP to be disabled?"

Daniel saw the hesitant pause as he mulled over the question. The general chewed on his lips as if he was fighting to keep them closed and not to question Daniel over his request. In the end, he gave a tight nod.

With the airman waiting in the living room, Daniel had no choice but to hurriedly stuff things into a duffle bag. A mindless task. Or rather, a task he was performing mindlessly because if he stopped to think about why he was doing this, he'd come apart at the seams. And while the VIP suite wasn't the optimum solution, Daniel truly appreciated Hammond recognizing his needs and he refused to disappoint him by crying over something he had no control over.

Standing in the middle of his room, a ball of socks in both hands, he contemplated packing both pairs. There was already a pair in the duffle bag, but Daniel felt like he was jinxing Jack, Sam and Teal'c if he packed more than two. Superstition? How could packing three pairs of socks mean they would be gone for three days? Daniel stuffed one pair into the bag then pulled out the third pair of pajamas. Not willing to tempt fate, he stuck the extra pajamas and socks back into his drawer.

The VIP suite was cold, or at least cooler than Daniel was used to and he pulled the blankets up his body, trying to get into a position where he was optimally covered and could still turn the pages of the book he was reading without exposing too much arm to the air.

This six-year-old body was tired, and coupled with the allergy medication he had taken, he was struggling just to read and comprehend. The trusty pen and pad had fallen to the floor a few paragraphs before and he had neither the strength nor the inclination to retrieve them. If he knew his mind would shut down when his body did, Daniel would gladly close the book, the lights, his eyes and go to sleep; but he was afraid. His dreams were hard enough to deal with on a good night, Daniel couldn't even begin to imagine what nightmares awaited now.

Daniel's screams were muffled, buried against the mattress. Burrowed under the blankets, the yells echoed and reverberated in the enclosed cocoon and even after they died down, he lay panting in the blanket's enforced darkness, shaking badly, his whole body was quivering from the tips of his toes to his chattering teeth. Snuffling through a stuffed nose, he wiped his eyes on a pillow already damp with moisture.

"Ridiculous," he hissed, pushing down the blanket and flopping onto his back, daring the shakes and the tears to go back where they'd come from. Funny thing was, Daniel lost the dare and while the shakes lessened a degree, the tears continued.

Okay, he could do this. Logically. Without Jack's presence, there would be no comfort to send his body's reactions to his nightmares back into hiding, but really, he wasn't a kid. He was thirty-nine. An adult. Taking a deep breath, he tried sorting through his memories of the dream. Jack. In an unfamiliar/familiar room, Daniel remembered he'd been yelling Jack's name. Not familiar like the SGC, but eerily familiar, as if Daniel had spent time there. Strangely, he could sense the room's details, but he couldn't physically see the arched doorways or the high ceiling or covered windows. He just knew they were there. And there were others. Not his team. From Daniel's point of view, these others didn't have Daniel's well being in their top ten list. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried for more, struggling in the darkness, pounding the bed in frustration when the only thing that followed was emptiness.

Daniel blinked innocently behind his juice glass when his yawn captured Janet's attention. She shook her head, stopped her forward motion, plopped her breakfast tray down on the table and sat in the chair across from him.

"Sleep well?"

"I slept okay. Not great," he amended. "Okay," Daniel added with a wry smile. "I slept okay. Worry sort of prohibits a good night's rest."

"I understand." With an evil smile, Janet handed Daniel one of the two Styrofoam cups on her tray. "Just don't abuse the privilege."

Daniel sniffed and practically whooped for joy at the illegal coffee. He forced himself to take a sip, not a gulp, and the little bit that went down his throat was heaven. It was sweeter and lighter than what he usually drank, but Daniel surely wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Obtaining coffee for Daniel had been Jack's forte, something he always got a kick out of, as he relied on his special ops training every time he'd snuck the forbidden nectar into Daniel's hands at the SGC.

The extraordinary niceness wasn't confined to just Janet, and returning all the pleasantries from the entire SGC was starting to wear thin. Between the worry, the false smile he stuck on his face the entire day, the sorting through the pile of work on his desk and Janet's allergy medication, Daniel fell into bed that night exhausted, and literally, for the first time, slept without a nightmare.

Problem was, he woke the next day dragging and in an evil temper. His worry was short circuiting all the niceties people were extending. No one saw it. From Siler to Janet to General Hammond, they weren't seeing a pissy Doctor Daniel Jackson, all anyone was picking up on was a child who was out of sorts. Annoyingly, he was placated with forgiving smiles and pats on the head.

"Nothing?" Daniel rolled the chair next to Walter, giving him a brief nod of thanks when he held it in place so Daniel could sit.

Walter glanced over his shoulder. "I was waiting for you before I dialed again," he whispered, pulling Daniel's seat closer.

When the seventh chevron failed to lock, it was the pity on Walter's face that was Daniel's undoing. "Thank you." Daniel jumped down from the chair so fast it scooted across the room, narrowly missing a passing technician. Saying 'thank you' had been hard enough, there was no way Daniel could manage an apology past the lump in his throat.

The inane thought came to him in the elevator and continued while he was sorting through photographs taken by SG-5. He needed more socks. Underwear. Maybe pajamas. Without thought, he picked up the phone and commandeered an airman and a car.

It was easier than he would have thought possible. The driver and car from the motor pool dropped him off at Jack's house.

"I won't be long," he promised the driver.

"I'll wait."

"No, I'll be a while and it's unfair for you to sit outside waiting. I'd feel much better," Daniel turned on a hundred watt angelic smile, "if you'd allow me to call you when I'm done."

The house was too quiet, stuffy, and as Daniel leaned against the closed door, his eyes captured the dust motes drifting in the air and he sneezed. "Crap." The next sneeze was louder than the first and rocked him to his core. Sniffing a suddenly clogged nose, he shook his head at his own weakness and dragged his duffle bag into the bedroom. Leaving the empty duffle bag on the bed, Daniel stood by the side of his bed, contemplating the next course of action.

Daniel felt calmer and closer to Jack in the house than he did at the SGC. There was a pot of coffee brewing, the bills were spread out on the table in front of him and a dust-cleansing breeze was blowing in from the opened kitchen window. The quiet of the house had been cut by the muffled background sound of the washer and dryer and the living room stereo was playing some nondescript preset radio station.

Sadly, Daniel was swelling with pride at his independence. He was well aware that he could function as Daniel Jackson, Ph.D., but he had needed to prove, at least to himself, that even though he was living at the SGC, he was capable of surviving.

The peanut butter sandwich on slightly stale bread was enough to quiet his growling stomach, and he concentrated on paying the bills, a task he'd done before when he'd been taller and older. His name was on Jack's checking and savings account and vice versa and they'd never changed the arrangement. Admittedly, the name on the check no longer resembled his signature, but it was close enough to plead something like a broken arm if anyone questioned the illegible scribble.

Overconfidence was his undoing. That and the fact that recently shortened people are terribly off balance when carrying heavy items up a flight of stairs. Though Daniel huffed and puffed, he had managed to fill the basket with the load of clean towels from the dryer and was struggling to carry them up the stairs. The corner of the large bath towel slipped from the basket, but without a free hand to stick it back in, with each step Daniel took, it slid out further. "Damn." He bounced the basket a few times, trying to readjust its weight. Daniel was so intent on attempting to retain the towel's placement that he wasn't paying attention to how much of the towel was hanging over the side until his foot got tangled in the dangling corner.

Daniel and the basket fell forward with enough force that the plastic basket hit the step in front of him and rebounded, the weight of the towels, coupled with the plastic, hitting him full force in the chest, sending him backwards, down the flight of stairs.

Batting down the towel covering his face, Daniel moved cautiously. His head ached and he wondered how angry Jack would be if he told him he didn't feel well and wanted to stay home today. The nauseated feeling in the pit of his stomach blindsided him and he barely had enough time to sit up before he puked his guts up.

He sat for a few minutes, spitting and coughing into the towel, until all he was left with was a hollow, empty stomach, a pounding headache and a lap full of vomit. "Jack." No way was he going to cry. Feeling lousy was certainly not a reason to cry. "Jack." Maybe Jack was sick also, and that's why he wasn't answering. Maybe Jack needed him. Pushing the vomit-covered towel and plastic basket to the side, Daniel slowly stood, swayed and connected all the dots by the time he had his feet anchored to the ground. "Oh." No, Jack. No anyone, just him and a mountain- sized headache, an empty basket, a pile of now dirty laundry and based on experience, a concussion.

Moving slowly, he dumped the towels back into the basket then dragged it over to the washing machine, dumping the whole load, vomit and all, back into the washer. The ground moved for a moment, and he shut his eyes and held onto the washer for dear life, praying that he wasn't going to lose his stomach lining with this round of nausea.

With eyes at half mast, he climbed the stairs, holding onto the banister for dear life. All thoughts of independence swept away, replaced with feelings of stupidity. At the top of the stairs, Daniel remembered why he'd come home in the first place, and he shuffled like an old man into his bedroom, haphazardly opening drawers and stuffing articles of clothing into the duffle bag.

He gagged twice as he shoved a pair of socks into the bag until he gave in and clamped his hand over his mouth and swallowed bile. He refused to vomit again and steadfastly ignored the enticement of his pillow and bed, and swung the now overstuffed bag over his shoulder, the weight of it offsetting his already precarious balance, and he stumbled to the right, banging against the dresser. Nothing like adding insult to injury. Daniel dragged the heel of his palm along the sore spot.

Daniel picked up the phone and dialed, holding the receiver away from his ear as it rang.

"Infirmary. Fraiser."

"Janet?"

"Daniel?"

He slid down the refrigerator door and sat on the floor. "I fell." God, his head hurt.

"Are you in your office?" There was an edge of controlled panic to her voice.

"At Jack's house." He would not cry. He would not cry. He would not cry. "Could you come get me?" Daniel swallowed back a sob. "Please?"

"How badly are you hurt? I'm going to send an ambulance—"

"No," Daniel screamed, the mere sound of his own voice sending waves pain through his aching head. "I need it to be just you."

Like a bat out of hell, Janet took off, leaving a message with the general's aide and turning over the infirmary to Warner. Neither man had been too happy and Janet was eternally grateful she wasn't in the aide's shoes when he had to tell Hammond where she'd gone. Thankfully, he was on a conference call with Washington and had left orders not to be disturbed. Sometimes Daniel's fortuitous timing surprised even her.

Literally, she was going to kill him. Treat him first, then tear him limb from limb after reading him the riot act. She was too old for this. Being the mom to a teenager was worse than an infirmary full of complaining, whining, military men, but Daniel? Janet snorted. Daniel made Cassie's mood swings and teenage angst seem like a walk in the park.

This whole situation was against her better judgment. She should be riding in the back of an ambulance equipped with medical necessities—oxygen, IVs, a red spinning light on the top so people would get out of their way as they sped-key word sped-to the hospital. She should not be pulling up to the colonel's house with her measly black bag of medical tricks to treat the unknown just because Daniel asked her to. Who was the adult in this situation? The professional? At the moment, as she walked through the unlocked door calling Daniel's name, Janet was pretty damn sure it wasn't her.

She took it as a good sign that she wasn't stepping through puddles of blood by the entrance. "Daniel?" Admittedly, though, it wasn't a good sign that there was no answer when she called his name. Military training to the forefront, quickly Janet assessed the situation.

She found him in the shower, sitting on his ass, hands over his head, knees tucked up against his chest. Naked and so very small and vulnerable, Janet winced at the water's cool temperature when she turned the nozzle to the off position. He was on her in a flash; all wet and slippery arms and legs, sobbing, clutching blindly at her. The weight of his body sent her backwards until her ass hit the countertop.

"I'm here," she soothed, grabbing a towel from the nearby rack and awkwardly attempted to cover Daniel's shivering body. "I need to examine you." Janet drew the towel over his wet hair, noting the nice sized goose egg behind his right ear.

"Ow." He clung to her tighter the moment she hit the bull's eye.

"Yeah, I'm sure that hurt." Janet turned around, so the countertop was under Daniel's ass and slowly she lowered him, prying his arms from around her neck once he was settled. Wrapping the towel around his waist, she then draped it across his lap. "That's better."

He blinked at her, the movement forcing the moisture pooled in his huge eyes to turn into tears and slide down his cheeks. "I threw up," he said softly, his gaze traveling over her shoulder.

Following his line of vision, Janet took in the pile of kid-sized clothes thrown over the hamper. "That was the reason for the shower?"

"I smelled." Bending at the waist, he wiped his nose on the corner of the towel, then dropped his head again her chest with a sigh. "My head hurts."

"I bet." She patted his bare back, then took his shoulders and gently prodded him to sit up straight.

"Questions?"

Janet couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, you know the drill."

"My name is Daniel Jackson. My birthday is July 8th and I'm thirty-nine years old, no matter what people think." He scrubbed at his eyes and continued, "I paid the bills, made myself lunch. Did the laundry and turned on the stereo."

In a move so similar to the grown up Daniel, the child before her dropped his head in defeat. "I fell down the stairs," he whispered softly, his bent head aiding the tears' gravity and they fell onto Janet's hands as she held the towel against his legs.

"And then?"

He touched the spot on his head with the lump, grimacing as his finger made contact. "I hit my head. On the floor. I woke up and vomited on the clean towels I was bringing up the stairs. They're in the wash."

Sticking her hand under his chin, slowly she lifted his face. His eyes were glassy and a tad unfocused, but he seemed to be holding up his end of the conversation, totally unaware that he was crying as he spoke.

"I'm tired."

"I know you are, honey." Drawing the pads of her thumbs under his eyes, she wiped away his tears, her own eyes prickling in sympathy.

"I screwed up."

"You won't get an argument from me."

"I'm going to be confined to base for the rest of my life, even after I get taller."

She reached over, snagging another towel from the rack, wrapping it around his shoulders. "General Hammond's not going be happy."

"I thought I could do this, Janet." Daniel waved his arms around, the towel slipping.

Janet moved it back up, using the edges to wipe his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I want my team home." He hiccupped.

"Daniel—"

"I want Jack, and... and... Sam." Congestion was winning and Daniel was having a problem drawing a deep breath. "I want Teal'c." He shook his head. "I don't want to be alone again."

"I'm here for you."

"No, you're not," Daniel said sadly. "You're not in this house. This is my home. I want to be here. This is where Jack is. Was." The color blanched from his face as he gazed at Janet in horror. "Did something happen to Jack? Why are you here?"

Party time was over. Janet scooped Daniel up and walked out of the bathroom into his bedroom. She sat on the bed, hugging Daniel, towels and all to her chest. "I'm here because you called me," she crooned, slowly rocking back and forth. "You fell, remember?" She could feel his nod against her chest. "SG-1 is offworld."

"Missing. SG-1 is missing." Clinical. His voice was too flat and lacking inflection, though Janet could feel his tears. "My head hurts." Daniel fisted her shirt. "I want to stay home tonight. No base. No infirmary. Here."

While Daniel drowsed on the bed, Janet rummaged through the drawers until she located a pair of child's pajamas. Dressing him was like dressing a limp rag doll and it wasn't until she was buttoning up a too-big pajama shirt that he roused and touched his face.

"Glasses?"

Janet hadn't a clue, but she smiled. "I put them away for safekeeping. I figured with your headache, the last thing you'd want to do is read."

"Smart." Daniel dropped his hands atop her fingers, clumsily trying to assist in buttoning. His movements were sluggish and uncoordinated. He was overtired, emotionally wrung out, concussed... and for the first time, Janet realized as she worked the buttons around Daniel's fingers, Daniel Jackson was six years old.

He allowed her kiss to his forehead, but grimaced when she mentioned giving him something for the headache and nausea. "It's too early to go to sleep."

"You said you were tired." Janet ripped off the blood pressure cuff and stuffed it back into her bag.

"I want my glasses." Daniel leaned over, squinting at the bedside table. "Where'd you put them?"

"No glasses." Janet moved two pillows behind Daniel's head and shoulder, fluffed them, then positioned him so they supported his back. "Wearing your glasses certainly won't help the headache or nausea. I'm going to get you some juice. A Tylenol."

"Two." Daniel held up two fingers, squinting first at them, then at Janet. "This is a two Tylenol headache."

"How about I turn off the light and turn on the—"

"Light. Just turn off the light. Nothing else."

Calling Cassie wasn't a problem. Her daughter hid her joy of having the house all to herself behind her concern for Daniel's well being. The general, on the other hand, required a bit of Southern charm.

"Neither Doctor Jackson's actions nor yours are sitting very well with me at the moment. However, if you feel it is medically within his best interest to stay where he is for the time being, I will bow to your expertise. But by tomorrow morning at oh-nine hundred hours, I expect to see you sitting in the chair across from my desk. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir. Tomorrow." She'd take one hour at a time, Daniel taking precedence over any meeting.

She checked the medicine cabinets, finally locating the Children's Tylenol on the top shelf in the cabinet next to the sink in the kitchen. Loudly, Janet cursed Jack O'Neill as she hauled a chair over to the counter, reached up and snatched the bottle.

For a moment, Janet panicked when Daniel wasn't in his bedroom. "Daniel?" Leaving the juice and the Tylenol on his dresser, she checked the hall bathroom first before trying the colonel's room. "Daniel." This time his name came out on a sigh as she stood in the doorway, shaking her head.

He was sprawled, face down, looking incredibly tiny, smack in the middle of the colonel's king-sized bed, surrounded by pillows.

"Hey." Janet sat, slipped off her shoes, then slid over to Daniel. "More comfortable in here?"

Without opening his eyes, Daniel sniffed the pillow under his head. "Smells like Jack." He stroked the pillow, tears leaking out from under his closed lids. "I miss him."

Janet left Daniel to his tears and went back to his room, not for the Tylenol and juice, but to pull the quilt off his bed and bring it to him. Dropping it over his body, Daniel whimpered in deep appreciation as he curled himself smaller under the covers.

As Daniel slept, Janet called the infirmary, taking reports over the phone. She gave out orders, thankful that it was a quiet evening under the mountain. Searching through the cabinets, she ate a bowl of cereal for dinner, drank a large glass of orange juice and cheated on her diet with a large bakery chocolate chip cookie, practically licking the crumbs off the napkin.

Daniel was right, it was early. Too early to go to sleep, but she went back to the bedroom anyway and crawled onto bed, lying atop the covers, back up against the headboard, one hand on his chest, forever the doctor as she counted his respirations, like insomniacs counted sheep.

"Janet?"

She awoke with a jerk, horrified that she'd fallen asleep at her desk. "Sorry," Janet apologized quickly, holding tightly to the hand patting her arm. "I'm up."

"My head hurts."

"Daniel?" Squinting in the darkness, she remembered as Daniel crawled up her body and settled heavily against her. He wasn't really awake, nor was he sleeping, Daniel seemed to be hovering in between. "Ready for the Tylenol?"

"Why?"

Sleepily snuggling against her, smaller than Cassie had ever been, protectively, Janet reached over and covered Daniel with the quilt. "You fell," she softly whispered.

"Jack's not here."

"No, he's not. I'm here for tonight, okay?"

Daniel's answering sigh let Janet know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it really wasn't okay for Janet to be Jack's stand-in.

"Are you hungry?"

"No." Daniel reached around, grabbed the quilt, and slid off her lap back onto the mattress. "Jack's offworld."

"Yes he is, sweetie."

"Do you know, he couldn't wait to go offworld? To leave me?"

Oh, crap. Janet lay down so she faced Daniel. Don't cry, she prayed. Please. But as always, Daniel refused to listen and a tear flowed from the corner of his eye and over the bridge of his nose.

"Don't cry, honey." When all else failed, honesty was the best policy.

"I don't know what else to do. I hurt. My head hurts."

Janet smoothed back his hair. "I'll give you the Tylenol, that should help."

Smiling sadly, he pushed back her hand. "My heart hurts, do you have something for that? Or in your bag of tricks, is there a cure for making me big again? Or how about wiping my memory so I'll just be a kid, because it hurts too much to remember the before time."

She reached out towards him again, forcing back her surprise as Daniel skirted around her comforting touch.

"No. For once—" Furiously, Daniel swiped at his eyes. "I'd like someone to please grant me the dignity to mourn for what was. For whom I used to be. And if I want to shed some tears and blame it on a concussion or the fact that Jack's missing, as well as the rest of my team, I'm asking that you allow me to. Alone."

The mother in her wanted to argue. Letting him know she was the adult, gather him up into her arms and ad nauseum, force placating 'everything will be fine' noises down his throat. The doctor in her wanted to lord over him, medically treating his physical symptoms, in the hopes his mental anguish would diminish. The friend in her won out, and she gave him a gentle smile. "If you need me—"

Daniel closed his eyes, dismissing Janet.

"You're late."

She squinted at the microwave's clock. Not only was she late for her meeting with General Hammond, but she needed a shower, her clothes were badly wrinkled and she'd stubbed her toe trying to get to the phone before it woke Daniel. "Daniel had a bad night, sir." Leaning against the counter, she rubbed her foot.

"Did you ever consider that maybe Doctor Jackson belonged in the infirmary?"

"Could you hold on a minute?"

"Do I have a choice?" The tone of the general's voice was that of a man who'd come to understand that more often than not, he needed to make concessions. "I'll be right here... waiting."

She tiptoed down the hall, limping slightly, then peeked around the partially closed door. Daniel was fast asleep. Snoring loudly through an allergy and emotionally stuffed nose. Janet had spent the majority of the night standing on this side of the door, listening to quiet murmurings, not always in a language she was familiar with.

"Sir." Janet waited. "Daniel's sleeping. And we—you and I need to talk."

"Hence the meeting set for oh-nine hundred hours."

"This is beyond the reprimands I'm going to garner for leaving the base." Janet felt guilty. Incredibly guilty, as if she was betraying a friend's confidence. "This is about Daniel."

"Is he—"

"Concussed and recovering. My concerns are with his mental wellbeing at the moment."

"Doctor Fraiser, you and Doctor Mackenzie argued, quite eloquently I might add, why Doctor Jackson should be allowed to continue with his work at the SGC. Do I hear of hint of doubt in your voice?"

"If at all possible, General, I would prefer not to discuss this over the phone."

"Thirteen hundred hours, Doctor Fraiser. No later."

For all the times she rued Cassie having her license, this wasn't one of them, and she kissed her daughter lightly on the cheek, then relented and gave her a big thank-you hug for bringing over clean clothes and toiletries.

"Okay, Mom." Cassie stepped back, slipping out from under her mother's arms. "It's only clean clothes. Not the holy grail."

"Smart mouth."

Cassie rolled her eyes. "I'm a teenager, comes with the territory." Her gaze raked over Janet's rumpled form. "Don't take this the wrong way, mom, but you look like—"

"I slept in my clothes?"

"Yeah."

"Daniel had a rough night." Janet sighed. "SG-1's MIA—"

"Oh, no." Cassie's eyes grew misty and she flung herself into Janet's arms. "Tell Daniel I love him."

"I will."

Cassie stepped back, wiping her eyes on the back of her hands, regaining composure. "If you need me—"

"I promise. I'll call. Like I did now." Janet patted Cassie's cheek. "My baby's all grown up."

Embarrassed, Cassie blushed and looked over her shoulder. "Mom, please. I'm not a child."

Janet felt a million times better after a shower and a fresh cup of coffee. She was on her second cup when Daniel walked into the kitchen, dragging, yawning, but looking a bit more together than last night.

He sat. She stood and poured another mug of coffee, liberally adding sugar and enough milk to lighten the drink to a pale shade of beige. "Here you go." Janet set the diluted caffeine in front of Daniel.

"Thank you." Tentatively, he smiled at her.

Popping two slices of bread into the toaster, Janet scowled at him. "Don't think I don't know that the Colonel sneaks you coffee when my back is turned."

"I wasn't thanking you for the coffee," Daniel said. "I was thanking you for allowing me space last night."

Daniel scrambled into the back seat and buckled in.

Janet grimaced. "Promise me you won't tell Colonel O'Neill I drove without you being in a car seat?"

"Booster seat," Daniel corrected. "Car seats are for babies. I promise not to mention it to Jack if you promise not to mention the concussion."

Janet drove in silence, one eye on the rear view mirror, one eye on the road. "You okay, back there?"

"Yeah. Headache's down to a dull roar, I could go for another piece of toast and I'm betting General Hammond's pissed."

"Should I lie or do you want the truth?"

"The truth."

"There are drugs for the headache, you'll have another piece of toast, the general is angry and you're spending the rest of the day where I can keep an eye on you."

"The infirmary?"

"You can have jam on your toast and we'll send out for pizza for lunch."

"Hawaiian?"

Janet hated pineapple and she definitely hated pineapple on her pizza, guess they were going to order more than one pie. "Hawaiian it is."

Thirteen hundred hours on the dot, she knocked on the general's door, bearing a gift.

"Come in."

Janet put the tray on the general's desk. "I hope you haven't had lunch yet, sir."

"Is this a form of bribery, Doctor?"

"No, not at all. Bribery would have involved an ice cold beer. That's just soda, sorry."

"I could have sworn my doctor told me to watch my diet. For some reason, I believe pizza was under the 'don't eat' category." He motioned for her to sit.

"Occasionally, some rules are made to be broken." Unable to meet his eyes, Janet fingered the rivets on the arms of the leather chair. "No word from SG-1, sir?"

"Not as of thirty minutes ago."

"I was wrong. Leaving yesterday. Not bringing Daniel back. Daniel's leaving. From start to finish, everything was against protocol." Janet was nervous, asking General Hammond if she could adopt Cassie type of nervous. "I hope you won't hold my actions against me when I make my next request, and be aware, sir, that Daniel is in the infirmary all tucked in, eating pizza, and he's unaware of what I'm going to ask you."

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Please," he requested, "Just come right out and say it, my pizza's getting cold."

"Daniel went to the colonel's house to prove his independence." The pizza in her stomach lay heavily and she'd wished she'd paid attention to her instincts and taken an antacid before this meeting. "And he failed, miserably."

"And he's in the infirmary because of his failure?"

"Sir, he's in the infirmary, because I wasn't too sure what to do with him."

"Explain." Hammond pushed the pizza to the side, no longer tempted.

"Daniel is both an extremely independent and private man who is having a difficult time dealing with the child in him, who is neither independent nor private. With the colonel's presence, and the presence of SG-1, they gave Daniel the support he needed to maintain his adulthood."

"And without them?"

"I spent the night comforting a child, sir. Not an adult. As much as it was devastating for me to watch, it was a million times more devastating, and if I may share, embarrassing, for Daniel to experience this loss of control. SG-1 is MIA, and at the moment, to some degree, so is Daniel and if SG-1's status changes for the negative, we're going to lose Daniel as well.

There was a flash of fatherly pain in the general's eyes, and Janet examined her skirt, allowing him composure time. "I take it you have a plan?"

"I recommend we contact Rose O'Neill, sir, the colonel's mother." Janet became aware she was leaning forward, and she forced herself to sit back, relax and watch with shock the expression on the general's face. Whatever he'd been expecting, obviously calling in Rose O'Neill hadn't been it. "General?"

"You expect me to sanction Colonel O'Neill's mother coming to baby sit?"

Okay, maybe anger wasn't what she'd be expecting. "Daniel's expertise is an important foundation of the Stargate program, or that his—"

"There is no need for you to inform me of Doctor Jackson's worth to the SGC. To this entire program." He rested his elbows on his desk and leaned forward, staring. "But, you, yourself, just stated that we're dealing with a child."

She had. Though Janet had prepared her approach all day, she realized she'd painted herself into the proverbial corner. "Since he's been downsized, not counting today, Daniel has spent exactly one day in the infirmary, which has been at my insistence. He's had sessions with Doctor Mackenzie, as well as the psychologist who had treated Cassie, and you've seen the videos, read the reports. Daniel has held it together because that's what he needed to do to survive. That's what he's always needed to do, and I'm sorry to say, that's what we expect him to do. And he's done it because SG-1 has been the glue."

Hammond strode down the hall, intently studying the lines under his steps, arms swinging, deep in thought, a man on a mission. The doctor's plan was incomprehensible and he honestly wasn't sure as to why he was even considering it. He stopped by the infirmary entrance, surprised. He'd been concentrating so hard he hadn't even been cognizant of the steps it took for him to arrive at his destination.

Straightening his shoulders, he smoothed down his already perfectly pristine shirt. Fortifying himself with a deep breath, he stepped over the threshold and was quickly directed to a bed in the farthest corner of the room. Daniel was small, and George truly couldn't understand why he'd never noticed it before. Was it because Daniel's intelligence was still intact or could Doctor Fraiser be right, and SG-1, by their own infallible acceptance of Daniel, had clouded his judgment?

Daniel was lying on his side, glasses crooked, a finger marking his spot in the book tucked against his stomach. George shook his head; the book probably weighed more than Daniel did. A yellow legal pad with a chewed up pencil sans eraser was held in place by Daniel's blanket-covered knees. The book, the pencil, the glasses, the legal pad, hell, even the writing on the pad went a long to way convince George that Daniel was still Daniel, but as he stepped closer to the bed, he saw there were the dried tracks of tears marking the young boy's face. It was all the evidence he needed.

Unable to squash his grandfatherly instincts, George pushed back a lock of hair hanging in Daniel's closed eyes. "I'm going to fix this for you, son, the best way I know how." George felt his own eyes burn when Daniel blindly reached out and captured George's large hand in his much smaller left one, and squeezed.

"Excuse me?" Rose blinked at Janet and General Hammond in surprise. Admittedly, she was beside herself with worry, which was possibly the reason she wasn't truly comprehending what either of them were trying to tell her. What had begun as any normal day was now ending with her in another state, standing in the middle of Jack's living room, without Jack and with information regarding Daniel that she was finding impossible to wrap her mind around. Janet was nervous and General Hammond was trying not to be nervous, which Rose believed was just increasing Janet's tenseness. "I think you need to run this by me again. It seems to have lost something in the translation."

Janet looked towards the general, who began speaking after taking a deep breath. "Doctor Jackson, while on a dig, using notes left by his grandfather, discovered that the fountain of youth is not a myth."

"You already told me that, which, if you must know the truth, is akin to telling me nothing. I've also been informed that my son, Sam and Teal'c are missing. So Daniel's been lying to me in the emails he's been sending me from wherever the hell he's really been."

"Yes, Rose." Janet reached out, dropping her hand when Rose stepped backwards. "Daniel's being lying to you."

"I don't think Daniel's alone in this." Rose glared at the two people in front of her. "You're only going to tell me what you want to disclose."

"I'm sorry, but the answer to that question is going to be yes." The general licked his lips. His awkwardness was apparent and he looked towards Janet for help, and finding none, he continued. "I hope that will be enough, because Daniel needs you."

"Is Daniel incapable of making this request?"

"He's a child," Janet stated, averting her eyes.

"Excuse me? A child? Daniel's regressed? I thought that Jack had said Daniel's recovery was permanent."

"No. No." Janet was quick to reassure her. "Daniel's a—child."

"A child? As in someone who is young? Small?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Rose stomped off into the dining room, opened a bottle of whiskey and poured three shot glasses' worth. "Come here," she ordered, waiting until they approached before moving two of the glasses towards them. "Drink. I don't want any crap that you're on duty. I want both you to finish these—" She pulled out of the chairs and sat down. "I'm going to leave my glass on the table and not drink until you're done weaving this tale. Then I'll drink."

They drank simultaneously, but it was the general who told Rose the story. "Daniel was on a dig in South America, using his grandfather's notes as guidance and he discovered the fountain of youth. So, while the essence of Daniel is intact..."

"He's a child?"

"A six-year-old child. Small in stature. Blonde. Blue eyed. With glasses. Physically, he's an adorable little child." Janet ran her finger along the empty rim of her glass. "Mentally, he's Daniel."

While at the mountain in the general's office, Daniel had taken the news about Rose with a nod. There had been no temper tantrum. No outburst. Nothing. Until Janet buckled him in the car and they began the journey to Colonel O'Neill's house.

Janet increased the speed of the windshield wipers. The drizzle had turned into a torrential downpour five minutes after leaving the mountain. She ventured a quick glance into the back seat. The compliant Daniel from the general's office was gone, replaced by an angry Daniel. Arms crossed over his chest, lips pursed, ready to face the enemy. Which at this moment, due to proximity, happened to be her.

"How dare you!" Daniel met her eyes in the mirror and kicked the empty passenger seat. "Calling Rose was not your decision to make."

"Daniel, it was the only decision we could make. The only option open to—"

"He's not dead, is he?" There was a touch of hysteria in Daniel's voice. "Do you know anything more than I do? You brought Rose in here to soften the blow? Tell her face to face—"

Janet managed to keep her eyes on the road, and with one hand on the steering wheel, she stuck her other hand between the two seats and squeezed the closest thing she could find, his shoe. "I'm sure the colonel's fine. Little or not, I personally guarantee we're not going to harbor a secret like that from you."

"But keeping a secret like Rose's arrival is okay?"

"Can you try and see it from our point of view?"

"No." Daniel said, gluing his gaze out the window into the rain. "Not until you see this from my point of view. I'm not a kid–"

"You're behaving just like one."

"You're treating me just like one. Making decisions for me. Taking the decisions out of my hands. No discussion." He placed his hand against the window, opening and closing the fingers. "All I wanted was to be consulted." Lifting his hand, Daniel angrily scrubbed away the impression left behind. "You know what this experience has taught me? Whether I'm six, eight or thirty-nine, it's still degrading to have people believe they know what's best for you."

Janet's stomach sank at Daniel's words. Neither she nor the general equated this with Daniel's first childhood. "We didn't think."

"No, you didn't." Daniel's bark of laughter echoed in the car. "If you think I'm pissed, I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when you told Rose why she was in Colorado."

Rose paced the floor in a room as familiar as her own living room. Janet and the general had left, and Janet would be returning soon with Daniel. Obviously, Janet needed the time alone with him to fill him in on whatever lies they were feeding Rose. And Rose needed the time alone to come to terms with the lies she had been fed. The idea of Daniel being small was the plot of a bad science fiction movie. And Jack. Her Jack. Rose sucked in her lips to stifle the sob, but she couldn't hold back the tears. Hastily, she wiped her eyes. There was no time for that. Grabbing her suitcase, Rose walked down the hall and opened the door to the spare bedroom. Stopping in shock, she dropped her bag on the floor. "Oh, god." It was a child's room, overrun with Daniel's presence. Archeological magazines were in a basket by the small desk. Small chair. Even the bed. While there were no Disney decorations, no cartoon comforter, there was no doubt this was the room a child lived in. The room Daniel lived in.

"Rose?"

The voice was young, and there was no mistaking the tenor and pitch of a child. Slowly, she turned.

Neither Janet nor the general had exaggerated. This child fit their description perfectly. Rose eyed him warily, her gaze raking him over from head to toe. He stood still, chin held high, allowing her inspection.

A little finger pointed to the opened door behind Rose. "This is my room, you're welcome to sleep here, but I thought maybe you'd be more comfortable in Jack's room. The bed's bigger. The bathroom's in there—oh—you know that. Sorry."

Rose didn't budge and remained silent, and while she hated herself for it, the scenario was still so incomprehensible.

His grown up stance faltered, and the large blue eyes behind the glasses filled with moisture. "I understand. This is tough." He cleared his throat. "I'll give you some time to settle in," he said simply before skirting around Janet and heading back towards the living room.

Janet watched the child go then turned to Rose in confusion. "I thought you'd—"

"Welcome him with open arms?" Rose shook her head. "He said he understood." Rose pointed down the hallway. "And if that's truly Daniel, he will understand."

"That's really Daniel."

"You may know that. The general may know that. But what's important is that I need to know that. He has to convince me."

"We thought—I thought..."

"Thought what? That I'd clean up this mess?" Rose was angry and tired. "It's better if you leave."

"Daniel?"

"From what he says, this is his home. He has more right to be here than I do."

"He needs you."

Rose shook her head. "The other Daniel needed me. And I needed him. This child? I think you need me here more than he does."

Janet saw herself out. Rose didn't care. This was wrong. How they got her here was wrong. Telling her this child was Daniel was wrong and expecting her to open her heart to him was wrong.

There was a cup of steaming tea by an empty chair in the kitchen. The teabag was still in the cup, the squeezable honey bear was next to the napkin and spoon, and a nice sized slice of crumb cake was sitting on a plate.

"Would you believe me if I told you I didn't know they'd called you?"

Rose sat, then pulled the sugar bowl towards her.

"I already put two teaspoons in."

"You know how I like my tea?"

The child nodded. "I'm sorry; I microwaved the mug of water and didn't put the kettle on. I'm sorry the cake is store bought and not baked from scratch. I'm sorry the farm stand where you bought that great honey hasn't opened yet. I'm sorry I'm little. I'm sorry Jack's not here. And I'm sorry I lied in all those emails, but telling you Jack was missing—" Daniel stopped, grabbed a napkin and rubbed his eyes. "Telling you Jack was missing would have made it real. So I—"

"You lied, Daniel."

"I lied. I'm sorry and I'll understand if you want to get on a plane and go back home."

Rose was silent and Daniel just sighed deeply, his head bowed.

"I need to unpack." She pushed her chair away from the table, ignoring the sound it made as she hurriedly dragged it away from the table.

There really was no room in the dresser in Jack's room. The drawers were crammed full of Jack's clothes. "Sorry, Jack," Rose apologized as she tried to rearrange things to give herself at least one drawer.

She tried not to pay attention to the sounds from the kitchen. The opening and closing of the fridge door. Water running. Dishwasher opening and closing. A light switch flicking off. Blissful silence. She managed to fold a nightgown, place her robe at the foot of the bed, throw two pairs of socks in the drawer before the crying started. A child's tears. Rose abandoned her task and headed to the kitchen.

The kitchen was dark, lit only by the one light over the stove, but there was enough illumination for her to see what he was doing. Scribbling on the moisture sodden panes of the French doors. Rose squinted and took a step into the kitchen. Not scribbling. Tic tac toe boards. "Oh, Daniel."

He turned in a flash, wiping his eyes. "Rose. I'm sorry. I cleaned up. If you want, I can make you another cup of tea..."

She pointed to the door. "I remember those—"

"Me, too." Daniel looked towards the window, embarrassed. He used the hem of his tee shirt to clean the window. "You always won. The only way I can win is if I play alone."

"You don't need to play alone anymore." Rose bent on creaking knees and opened her arms wide. "I'm here, mhuirnin."

That was all it took and Rose rocked on her heels for a second as Daniel slammed his weight into her, uttering her name as he wound his arms around her neck.

Rose remade the tea, using the kettle this time. Daniel made himself hot chocolate and she watched as he moved with efficient ease around the kitchen. She smiled as he placed the cake box and a handful of napkins on the table.

He caught her watching and ducked his head. "Jack adjusted things for me after he caught me standing on the counter trying to reach something. Something about the next step after grey hair was baldness."

Daniel was reaching for his second piece of cake when Rose grabbed his hand. "How about if I call and order us some food?"

"Cake's not food?"

"Only if it's made from scratch do I consider it a meal replacement."

"Oh, but I don't think you need to order anything. Janet went shopping..."

Rose hadn't really been paying attention, but now she stood and began to forage through the cabinets, the fridge and the freezer, all of which were filled to capacity. "I think shopping would be an understatement."

"Yeah, Janet never does anything halfway." Daniel got up and opened the bread drawer, removing a plastic bag of rolls. "Knowing Janet, there's ham or—"

"Found it."

Daniel pulled out a step stool and he and Rose worked side-by-side making dinner. It was when he reached across the counter and withdrew a knife from the wooden block that Rose stopped him. "Oh, no, you don't." She plucked the knife from his hands. "I don't want to go bald either. Now scoot and set the table."

Rose ate. Daniel picked. She talked. He listened. She smiled. He tried to reciprocate, smiling where he thought he should, nodding in response to conversation.

"I'm going to go take a shower." Daniel cleaned up his place, put away some of the items on the counter and left, leaving a puzzled Rose in his wake.

Damn, as much as he didn't want to admit it, he was overjoyed to see Rose. It had been fun for a while, and then it truly dawned on Daniel that darkness had fallen and with darkness came bedtime and sleep. And sleeping, in Daniel's book, equaled nightmares.

Dealing with a nightmare in the VIP suite minus security cameras was one thing, dealing with nightmares with Jack's mother less than twenty feet away was already setting him on edge, and he wasn't even in pajamas.

Wrapping his dripping body in the large bath towel, he scrunched up into the corner near the toilet with his cell phone and called the SGC. "This is Doctor Jackson, can you put me through to the control room, please."

"Harriman."

"Walter, it's Daniel."

"Doctor Jackson, hold on a minute, okay?"

Daniel heard rustling, then Walter's voice speaking to another person, before he came back on the line. Daniel appreciated that Walter didn't cover up the mouthpiece, like he was hiding something from Daniel.

"Sorry, paperwork. You know how it is."

It seemed funny to be smiling in the bathroom, wrapped in only a towel, but Walter treated him just like he always had, and it made Daniel feel good and normal and not like a little kid. "I don't mind paperwork, it's the triplicates that get me."

"I never press hard enough to go through to the all copies and then it just gets returned for signature."

"Any news?" Using his feet, Daniel began to furl and unfurl the corner of the ugly beige bath rug.

"None, sir."

At least Walter didn't say 'don't call us, we'll call you'. "Thank you," Daniel said, thanking him more for the treatment and respect he'd shown Daniel than for the lack of news.

"I have nightmares," he blurted out to Rose as he cleaned his glasses on his tee shirt. He stuck them back on his face, then pushed his still wet hair off his forehead before it dripped again on his glasses.

Rose looked up from the magazine she was reading, and took in his bare feet. "I snore."

She wasn't getting this. Rose didn't understand. Not that he understood the depth and horror of his dreams either, but he needed to warn her.

"Go put some socks on your feet."

Defeated, Daniel left the room. Rose didn't believe him at all.

This was now bordering on cruel. Rose wouldn't go to sleep without Daniel being in bed first, even if she was nodding off and snoring at the end of the couch. He couldn't really push it anymore and he forced a yawn. "Time for bed, I guess."

Daniel was more than capable of closing up the house, checking the windows and doors, but he knew Rose wouldn't be comfortable with that, so he just sat on the couch while Rose walked around, making sure everything was secure.

Daniel lay in bed reading, forcing himself to concentrate, running his finger along the page, mouthing the printed words. He'd already jerked awake a few times and found it harder and harder to comprehend the words two inches from his nose.

The choice had been made. Daniel knew and as much as he fought against the bindings and pleaded for reasoning, there wasn't going to be any rescue. No one was saving SG-1's collective asses this time. There was a sadness in his captor's eyes, in their expression and a caring to their touch which was in direct contrast to the pain ripping through Daniel's body.

His screams had woken her out of an exhausted sleep, and she caught Daniel in the hallway, trying to escape from whatever demons were chasing him. At first, little fists pummeled her thighs, without enough force to do damage, but still Rose tried to restrain him, calling his name and holding him tightly against her, until he slowed down, stopped and looked up at her, terror in his eyes. "Rose?"

Unable to speak, she nodded, tears springing into her eyes when he lifted his arms to her. This was a child standing before her, and all her residual anger melted away in his need. Mothering instincts kicked in, overriding her touch of arthritis, and she picked him up and carried him far from the monsters in his room.

They sat in the dark living room, huddled in the recliner. Rose held Daniel in her arms, shaking as much as him. She truly wasn't sure if he was awake, eyes still closed, whimpering, but he kept patting her arm as if to check her solidness. "I'm here."

"It hurt," he gasped, pulling himself into a tighter, smaller ball.

"Where? Show me," she gently ordered as her hands began to travel over his body. She earned no moan or complaint from Daniel, all he did was push aside her efforts and snuggle closer.

"Not now. Then. Before." Heavy lids rose, but his half smile was far from reassuring. "Only a dream."

She rested her cheek on his sweaty head. "Only a dream," she repeated. "I should have listened to you."

"Told you so," he slurred. "Sorry. Wake you?"

"No, I was up," Rose lied, not having the heart to tell Daniel otherwise.

He grew heavier in her arms, his breathing deepening as the minutes moved on. Asleep, he was dead weight against her, and Rose didn't trust her ability to maneuver to a standing position without dropping him. So she stayed, flipped the lever on the side of the chair and eyed the afghan on the back of the couch with longing.

Rose awoke with empty arms and the afghan covering her body. She plunked the seat into an upright position, chastising herself for sleeping so deeply that she hadn't even awoken with Daniel. Stiff and sore, she shuffled down the hallway, hand on her lower back, massaging the aches. Next time there was a nightmare, Rose was going to steer Daniel either back to his bed, Jack's bed, or at least the couch, because recliners and elderly mothers don't mix well at all.

The house was bathed in dim light and shadows, dawn was approaching, and while Rose was an early riser, today she was tired, which was why she shoved Daniel gently to the side when she found him the middle of Jack's bed, fast asleep. "You gotta share, mhuirnin."

Daniel just dragged the pillow under his head and plastered himself up against Rose's body in response.

He was already deep in work, sequestered in his room, typing away at his computer when Rose got out of the shower. He'd been out of bed by the time she'd gotten up, and she was again annoyed at herself for sleeping so heavily. "Morning."

Daniel flashed a smile then went right on working, squinting at the monitor.

"Maybe this will help." Rose pushed his glasses down from their perch on his head.

Shoving them up his nose, he absently thanked her, using his finger to skim a line of text in the book to his right.

"I'm going to make breakfast."

"I already ate, thank you." He tapped the edge of his empty cereal bowl with his pencil. "Coco Puffs. I like Coco Puffs."

"I'm glad, but a bowl of that—"

"Two bowls," Daniel said proudly as if two bowls of the sickeningly sweet cereal was better than just one.

"Two bowls," Rose repeated with a sharp shake of her head. "It's certainly not the breakfast of champions, Daniel."

He shrugged away her concern. "It was what I wanted." He used his pencil to mark his spot in the book and then slammed it shut.

"Okay." Rose took the hint, tried not to appear hurt and backed out of the room. Adjustment. This was going to be a horrific adjustment and she was willing to give Daniel some leeway before his ass ended up in the time out chair.

Daniel hated Coco Puffs with a passion. Jack had always gotten a chuckle out of the fact that 'choco boy' couldn't stand something so chocolaty because he loved the stupid cereal. Janet had probably bought it thinking it was Daniel's choice, so this morning when he saw it in the cabinet he decided to give the chocolate stuff a second chance. Two bowls, like he'd told Rose, just to feel a little closer to Jack, but it hadn't worked, he still hated the artificial taste, and even worse, he felt sick to his stomach.

After vomiting for the third time, Daniel was ready to admit defeat and throw in the towel. Obviously, this was more than two bowls of Coco Puffs not agreeing with his sweet tooth. He flushed the toilet, got up on the stool, washed his face, rinsed out his mouth, brushed his teeth and walked right into Rose who was standing outside the bathroom door.

"Something you'd like to share?"

"Hopefully not my germs," Daniel said. He dragged himself back into his room and onto the bed with Rose right on his heels. He'd never admit how wonderfully cool her hand felt against his forehead and cheeks.

"You have a fever."

"I'll be okay. I just need to sleep." Daniel tugged the blanket up over his shoulders, arranged one pillow and stuck his second pillow under his stomach. "I'm fine."

He was annoyed when Rose woke him, because strangely enough, fever and all, Daniel was sleeping without nightmares. She sat at the edge of the bed, doing annoying things, straightening the covers, moving the hair from his forehead—being just like Jack. Or maybe Jack was just like her. Apple-tree sort of thing. "Please stop that," he ordered, pushing her hand away as she went to stroke his cheek. Too Jack-like.

"Janet said there was a stomach virus going around at work."

Daniel groaned. "You called Janet?"

Rose said nothing, she just glared at Daniel. "I'm not the enemy."

He tried to glare back, but he couldn't match the intensity of Rose's scrutiny. "You're fixing my blanket, taking my temperature by touch—" He gazed towards the dresser. "You've brought a nice tray with a glass of apple juice, Tylenol and—" Daniel levered himself on his elbows, peering upwards toward the tray, "toast." Flopping back down, he groaned. "I cannot even fathom drinking juice, eating toast or swallowing a chewable tablet without puking up my guts. I will begrudgingly admit that I am not fine, and I'm annoyed that you woke me to try and ply me with foodstuffs and medication that will make an appearance no more than five minutes after being swallowed."

Rose stood and stole a kiss before he could object. "I'll leave the door open a crack just in case you need me. Go back to sleep. The tray's here in case you change your mind."

Daniel turned away from her. Hating Rose at the moment. Instead of drawing comfort from her Jack-like ministrations, it hurt. Badly. Closing his eyes, he buried his face in the pillow before she could question his tears.

It wasn't bad enough that he woke feverish and dry mouthed, but topping it off with stuffed sinuses because he couldn't keep his emotions in check made him short-tempered and cranky beyond the short-temperedness and crankiness that always went hand in hand with being sick. Daniel sneered at the tray still on the dresser. The toast was cold, the apple juice wasn't and the combination didn't thrill Daniel's stomach at all.

Dragging his body into the kitchen, he rubbed his hands along his forearms. Cold and goose bumpy due to the fever, he wanted something warm for the chills and wet to quench his thirst. But by the time he got into the kitchen, the decision on what to eat or drink was just too much of an effort so he gave up, went into the living room and plopped onto the couch, disgusted.

Rose appeared just minutes into his self-pity party. "Janet called while you were sleeping. General Hammond... and Walter." Rose put a bowl of soup and glass of iced tea on the coffee table.

"Walter!" Daniel sat up straighter. "What did he say?"

"That he dialed the number and there was still no response."

Daniel dropped backwards. "Oh."

"He said he'd try again tomorrow."

"And tomorrow. And tomorrow—" Daniel clamped his mouth shut; loose lips sank ships and spilled military secrets, and instead he reached for the tea. It was cold, very cold, and felt great going down. It was only Rose's warning throat clearing that made him stop gulping it down.

"There's more where that came from." She cocked her head towards the table. "Have some soup." Rose didn't wait for an answer and exchanged the glass for the bowl, sitting at the edge of the couch while he had three spoonfuls.

He waited for her objection, but was pleasantly surprised when she took the barely touched soup and gave him back the tea, which he finished in two more gulps.

Without asking, she got up, took his glass, and went into the kitchen. She came back with two grape Tylenols in one hand and a half glass of iced tea in the other.

Daniel could feel himself drifting, but he was just too damn tired to get up off the couch. Too lazy to vocally thank Rose for the afghan she spread over his body, but coherent enough to thank her with a smile. She smiled back in understanding and sat next to him on the couch, her gentle, cool fingers running through his hair.

Daniel patted the unopened book in her lap and she laughed.

"I left in such a rush that I didn't grab a magazine in the airport. Or one from home." She picked up the book and studied the front cover. "I found this on Jack's bookshelf." Opening the book to the front cover, she adjusted her glasses. "Master and Commander." Rose laughed. "Yeah, right up Jack's alley, I'm thinking." Rose turned the pages, then cleared her throat. "Chapter One. The music-room in the Governor's House at—"

Daniel didn't have the heart to tell Rose that he had hated this book in the Patrick O'Brian series. Actually, he hated all of them. Jack had devoured the majority of the series and had pushed and prodded Daniel to give O'Brian a try. He couldn't get into the author's style of writing and Daniel had never made it past page fifty, much to Jack's chagrin; but having someone read to him seemed to open up the story line in a different light, and Daniel moved closer, focusing on the rise and fall of Rose's voice.

Daniel's eyes began to close around page fifteen, which was a good thing because Rose's voice was giving out about the same time. Mentally marking her spot, she closed the book, leaned forward and placed it on the coffee table. Displaced by Rose's movement, Daniel complained in his sleep, rearranged his body and pulled the afghan up around his shoulders. "Sorry," she whispered, then blotted the beads of sweat on his forehead with the tissue from her pocket. Cooler, she noted, not fever-free but definitely cooler.

He pushed her away, trying to spread out along the couch.

"Don't worry," she said, standing. "I get the hint." Admittedly, she was thirsty and more than a bit hungry. The day had gotten away from her, and this morning's breakfast seemed like a million years ago. She grabbed Daniel's dishes and headed towards the kitchen, her thoughts centering on heating up the rest of the soup.

There was an odor in the air that burned his sinuses. His breath caught in his throat and he fought the bindings, ineffectually attempting to flip his body from side to side, kicking out and cursing as his captors stood silently at the foot of the bed. "Please," he gasped, as the air seemed to become heavier and permeate his every pore, his vulnerability increasing a hundred fold as he lay naked and panting. Daniel kicked out with his feet, the movement accomplishing nothing. So secure in their ability to hold him captive, his torturers never even flinched.

Nausea was building up and erupted, spilling down his chin and his chest before he turned his head to avoid choking on his own vomit. He puked again, bile rising up and overflowing, splattering onto the floor.

The heaviness of the air dissipated and turned suddenly frigid, his breath sending puffs of smoke signals up into the air. His balls retreated upward, searching for body heat, his teeth began to chatter, and the tears and sweat peppering his face froze on their downward flow.

The first prick of pain was swift and caught Daniel by surprise. He paused in his struggle to see if he'd imagined it. But it came again. And again. The frozen air turned to invisible daggers piercing his skin, their penetration deepening and speeding up with every inhalation of air. Daniel screamed, arching his back, trying to extricate himself from the fingers of pain dancing down his spinal cord. Daniel peed himself, but his embarrassment was lost in trying to escape the agony. He jerked his shoulder to the right, then jerked again, bringing his hip and leg into the motion, but there was no escape.

Janet, bless her heart, had bought a bag of the corn muffins from the store in town that Rose loved. A buttered corn muffin would be the perfect accompaniment to a bowl of soup. Lowering the flame under the soup, Rose stepped to the side, sliced a muffin, warmed it in the microwave then cheated on her perpetual diet and slathered butter across the golden yellow insides.

Rose ate the muffin while stirring the soup, the simple act of making sure it didn't stick to the bottom of the pot almost soothing. She was pouring the hot soup from the pot into a bowl on the counter, when the sound of Daniel gagging, then vomiting, interrupted her. "Damn." She dropped the pot on the counter with a thud, narrowly missing the half-filled bowl. She made it to the entranceway of the kitchen, in time to see him vomit one more time, but it was the scream that caused her to stop in her tracks, an inhuman scream of pure anguish and pain as his back arched off the couch and as he twisted his body. Daniel and the afghan toppled sideways off the couch before Rose could reach him.

"Daniel." She dragged the coff