Thanks to RPonda for beta'ing for me!
Feedback most welcomed! whodunitck@yahoo.com
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To Face the Flying Monkeys by whodunit
Author's Notes: Thanks to RPonda for beta'ing for me! Feedback most welcomed! whodunitck@yahoo.com It’s another rule I have. Just like every kid should have a dog, every kid should see the circus. So when the Big Show came to Colorado Springs, I bought tickets for myself, Teal’c, Carter, and the squirt, AKA Dr. Daniel Jackson. Even the adult Daniel hadn’t seen a circus before, and now that my favorite archeologist is pint-size—thanks to a disastrous mission on PX 1489—I’m determined that his second childhood be a vast improvement on his first. And that’s why we’re all leaving the SGC in a heavily armored Suburban. Actually, the reason we’re in this armor-plated truck has to do with something that happened AFTER the circus tickets arrived. General Hammond heard from the NID. It seemed they’d found out about our miniature genius and had made plans to get their mitts on him. Over my dead body, is what I told the General. His too, he answered back. Hammond got the president involved, which pretty much ended the NID’s chance at Daniel through any legal means. But we all knew they’d try something, and kidnapping was at the top of my list of concerns. Which means that for the past three weeks, young Daniel has been under heavy guard. I came very close to canceling the whole circus adventure, but the little guy was so excited I had to think twice. And since he’d have all of SG-1, and Sergeant Hank Quinlin, his personal gorilla—I mean, bodyguard—sitting right on the other side of him, what could go wrong? We park the car and join the mob of people pouring into the arena. I’ve got an iron grip on Daniel who’s doing his best to wiggle away from me. “You’re treating me like a baby. I’m thirty-eight years old,” he says. “And you’re also six. I don’t want you wandering off.” I have to smile at this. Daniel at any age is prone to wandering. “How could I possibly wander anywhere with Hank the Hulk two inches from my side?” He sneers up at his bodyguard, which is rude, but I let it go. Hank says, “We can make that one inch. I’ve got a pair of cuffs…” “Thug,” Daniel says. “Misfit,” Hank answers, giving him a little nudge. Hank’s gotten real attached to the little guy and I know he’ll do everything he needs to do to keep him safe. Hank is a six foot four, two hundred fifty pound hunk of granite. And the best security officer we have. We find our seats, which are as close to ringside as I could get. Daniel’s in the middle, of course, with Carter and Teal’c on the ends of our little section. Daniel’s bouncing up and down in his seat like a ping-pong ball and I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have let Carter give him that chocolate bar on the way in. When the pre-show clowns begin their act, he turns into a mass of giggles. Teal’c, Carter, and I are laughing, too, but mostly because of the sound of Daniel’s unbridled joy. He’s just the greatest kid; we all think so. Not that we’re the least bit biased. “You’ve really never been to a circus before?” Carter asks him. He pulls his legs up and under him in his seat for a better view. “No. But I went to a carnival when we lived in Egypt. I remember playing some games with my father and winning a rubber snake. My mother hated it. She had a real phobia about them. Of course, we once found a Saw-Scaled Viper in our tent. It’s one of the small snakes, but did you know it’s killed more people than any other reptile?” He rattles this off in his six-year- old voice while his tiny hand twists the bottom of his SpongeBob tee-shirt. The hourly contradictions in this little fellow are staggering. He cranes his neck to see around the teenager ready for the NBA who’s taken a seat in front of him. I pat my lap, inviting him over. I notice thirty-eight year old Daniel rolling his eyes but the six-year-old version crawls over for a better view of the show. He’s leaning against me now, fitting nicely under my chin, as we watch the “Flying Fortuno Brothers” do a high-wire act involving a giant tricycle and a monkey. “Animal abuse,” Daniel whispers. “I think he’s having fun.” “I’m talking about his clothes. Poor thing’s dressed in a tutu.” I laugh, my breath wafting through his blond hair. I try not to enjoy this too much. Having this kid in my arms. Remembering how incredible it felt to be a father. I mean, I know I’m not Daniel’s father. I’m his best friend. But it’s only been four months since the Aldonians got their hands on Daniel, and we came so damn close to losing him—I’ll take him in any form I can have him. And right now that’s the six-year- old version, complete with mind and memories of the thiry-eight year old I knew—I mean, know—so well. The mission to Aldonia was a screw up from the get-go. The SG-7 team had already done reconnaissance and concluded that while Aldonia had three major naquada mines, there was no possibility of a trade agreement. The Aldonians refused to establish relationships with other worlds, and, in fact, threatened bodily harm should any other SG team choose to visit. But when the powers-that-be realized how much naquada was buried in Aldonia, they couldn’t take “no” for an answer. So they sent the premiere team with its star negotiator, Dr. Daniel Jackson. When the Aldonians knew what Earth had to offer—by way of food, technology, and heck, even weaponry—surely they’d give us the naquada. At least, that was the view of the wealthy suits who pull all the strings in Washington. Wrong. Dead wrong, as it turned out. Daniel talked his way through Aldonian security and even got them to let him meet with the Aldonian High Council, which surprised me. Yeah, I know Daniel could find a way to get along with Attila the Hun himself but you didn’t meet the Aldonian folks. Adolf Hitler was warm compared to these guys. So I was plenty nervous when the council insisted that Daniel come alone. “Tell them I’m your assistant,” I said. “I’ll even keep my sidearm hidden.” “It won’t work. They’re suspicious enough already. Just wait here by the gate. I’ll try to be back in a few hours.” A few hours went by with no sign of him. After hour three, SG-1 decided to go fetch him. No naquada deposit was worth what this was doing to our nerves. We entered the council chamber, a huge brown monster of a place, to find most of the members long gone. Vardech, the council chairman, approached us at the door. He was thin and long- limbed like a spider, with a wrinkled head that sat atop a twelve inch neck. He cocked it to the side as he spoke. “You are not welcome here.” “Well that’s just fine. I’ll collect my archeologist and we’ll be on our way.” “We told your other group not to return. We do not wish to deal with outsiders. But your Dr. Jackson refused to listen.” There was an iciness to his tone that chilled my bone marrow. “Where is Dr. Jackson?” I said, tightening my grip on my gun. “We do not tolerate fools here. When one doesn’t do as they are told, they must be taught. They must be seasoned. Re-schooled, as you might say. This is what we have done with Dr. Jackson, and will do to anyone else who comes here.” “What? Where is he? What have you done to him!” I stepped closer, peering up into his black, soulless eyes. My hand was just about to go for his throat when a noise behind us caught our attention. “Please!” A woman ran to Vardech and grabbed his sleeve. “They must take him right away. He needs their medicine. The Reversing Machine finished but he is not responding as he should.” Vardech paled at this. I wanted to disembowel the both of them. “Take us to him!” Carter demanded. “Come.” The woman hurried out the back chamber door. We followed, Carter right at her heels, Teal’c stomping along with the outrage of a thousand Jaffa. I had the competing emotions of fury and terror, so I was barely holding it together myself. She stopped at a closed door, took a deep breath, and unlocked it. We stepped into what looked like a laboratory, with sterile white walls and silver equipment. Two Aldonians stood in front of a stainless steel table. And on that table was a boy. He was a tiny thing, with blond hair and white, almost translucent skin, tucked under a sheet. “This is your Dr. Jackson,” Valdech said. “That’s not Daniel,” I said, the words barely a whisper. “The reversal machine regressed him to the age in which he should learn the lesson we needed to teach him. We think this was six of your earth years.” “Six?” Carter took a step forward, reached out, and touched the forehead of the child. “You turned Daniel into a six year old?” “Yes,” the woman said. “The device age regresses the person into the developmental age that’s been entered into its settings. The subject only loses consciousness for a few seconds. But this subject hasn’t awakened, and his respiratory readings are quite—disturbing.” She gave a frantic look to Vardech, who merely shook his head. “I suppose creatures from your planet have some unexpected variation in neural and respiratory function. We did not mean for this to happen.” He spoke this casually, like he was saying “the chicken was over cooked.” I lunged forward and grabbed his pencil-like neck. “Daniel is not a subject. And he’s not a creature. He’s a human, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn him back into the man who came here four hours ago!” Vardech reached his hand around my wrist and squeezed with enough pressure to crack bone. “You will release me,” he said. I wasn’t going to but Teal’c pulled me away. “This is not helping Danieljackson. If what they say is true, we must get him to the care of Dr. Fraiser immediately.” “Not like this!” I bellowed. “Turn him back to the way he was!” “This cannot be done. We have no way to change what the reversal device transforms. You should take him away immediately, if he is to live.” Carter, who’d been holding the child’s hand, turned back to me. “His breathing is very shallow, sir. And his pulse is far too slow. We have to get him out of here.” “Damn it.” I pulled out of Teal’c’s arms and approached the table. He looked so small and pale. So impossibly young. I cupped his cheek in my hand and said, “We’ll fix this, Daniel, I promise.” With that, I lifted the boy and carried him back through the Stargate. *** The emcee announces Ronaldo the Magnificent, “The Tamer Of Wild Beasts.” Daniel bounces forward, nearly launching himself off my lap when the big cats and their trainer step into the ring. A Siberian tiger leaps through a flaming ring and Daniel gasps and points. “Did you see that? He’s gotta weigh a thousand pounds.” “He’s a beauty, alright.” I smile at the enthusiasm from my young linguist, who squeals when a leopard and lion join the tiger. Charlie had always liked the big cats, too, and I have a bittersweet moment of remembering. The boy in my lap leans back again and my arms go around him, giving him a little squeeze. “Having fun? “We should get a cat,” he says. “Right. A lion or a tiger?” “I’m thinking domestic shorthair.” He pivots in my lap. “Sam, don’t you think I should have a cat?” “Absolutely.” “Hey! Commanding officer here,” I say. “Teal’c?” Daniel asks. “I find the feline species of your planet to be most calming.” “We’re not taking votes,” I say. “Hank? Don’t you think I should get a cat?” “A dog would be better. Or maybe an iguana. My kid has one of those.” Daniel ponders this. “What’s its name?” “Todd.” “Todd the iguana.” Daniel gives this some thought as his tiny fingers play with the sleeve of my jacket. “A lizard?” While the idea is a bit repellant, it occurs to me that a Todd creature wouldn’t erupt Daniel’s allergies. His lungs are much better than when we first came back but he’s still prone to allergy attacks that can trigger his asthma. I’ve had a couple of heart attacks over that. “Nah. A cat’s better,” he says. “We’ll see,” I answer. “Here comes your girlfriend.” He gives me this shit-eating grin and points at the red-haired woman who’s just stepped into the ring. “Girlfriend?” Carter’s smirking at me. “No. Not a girlfriend. I haven’t even met the woman. I haven’t even seen her, really.” I’m stammering now which Daniel finds hilarious. “I just saw her in the commercials,” I say, not knowing when to stop. “I thought her act looked interesting.” “He thought she was hot,” Daniel adds. “Care to walk home, Daniel?” I ask. He grins up at me and I see both Daniels, the adorable squirt and my smartass best friend. Like I said, a walking talking contradiction. “I need to pee,” Daniel says. “I’ll take him,” Hank answers. “No, I can go,” I say, reaching for Daniel’s hand. He doesn’t offer it to me. “Jack, you’ve wanted to see the redheaded lady all week. Stay and watch her act. Hank and I will be right back.” I start to argue but I see the “you’re over-protecting me” lecture in Daniel’s eyes. Besides, I trust Hank. I have no doubt he’d do anything necessary to keep our squirt safe. I reached in my pocket. “So get me a hotdog while you’re out there. One for you, too.” After Teal’c and Carter put in their orders, poor Hank probably regrets volunteering for this Daniel duty. But being a good sport, he smiles, takes our money, and reaches for Daniel’s hand. The redhead doing the acrobats only gets half of my attention. I’m not comfortable with Daniel away from me in a public setting, and I have to stop myself from trailing the two of them into the bathroom stall. Hank’s there, I tell myself. He couldn’t be safer. I estimate that it will take ten, maybe fifteen minutes for the restroom stop and to get the food, and my eye is on my watch. When minute sixteen comes, I get a little nervous. Minute eighteen, I turn to Carter. “It’s been too long.” I stand, my pulse quickening. Several worse case scenarios flood my mind as I start to make my way over to the aisle. Midway, I freeze. Hank’s there, at the end of my row. Alone. He’s got a nasty gash on his head but worse is the expression on his face. It tells me Daniel’s gone. They have him. All stops. There’s me, and there’s the absence of Daniel, nothing else. I don’t know that I’m at the circus, in a crowd. I don’t know that my teammates have sprung into action, calling Hammond, locking down the building, starting the search that will involve every security/police person in the city. All I know is Daniel’s gone. And I feel a hole in my heart I haven’t felt in five years. Since Charlie died. “Sir, let’s go to the security office,” Carter says, nudging me. I let her guide me to a small room under the third tier of seats. Teal’c is in an animated conversation with the chief of arena security and three off-duty cops who work for him. While the lockdown had been immediate, there was no sign of my kid. I have to get a grip, I tell myself. I have a job to do, and that is to find Daniel. I have to ignore the voice that’s screaming in my head that he’s gone, forever gone. Like Charlie. When Hank comes into focus again, I lunge for him. “What the hell happened? You were supposed to be watching him!” Teal’c grabs me. “This is not helping, O’Neill.” And I know that. But right now, I’m not capable of rational thought or action. Carter says, “Listen to me, Sir. Sergeant Quinlin accompanied Daniel to the Men’s room. A few seconds later, three men entered. They’d put a ‘Restroom Closed’ sign on the door so that no one else would enter. “When the two attacked Sergeant Quinlin, it was very clear to him that they were professional. They subdued him with some form of central nervous system depressant, probably chloroform.” “And Danny?” Hank answered. “The other man got him. Used the same drug on him, I think, because he was fighting like a gladiator then went limp. The last thing I saw was them carrying him out.” “They restrained Sergeant Quinlin, but despite his drugged condition, he managed to free himself. We estimate the kidnappers had been gone for about twelve minutes before Sergeant Quinlin returned to us.” “Twelve minutes.” An eternity. Plenty of time to pack Daniel in a car and drive away before any security forces had been alerted. I glance at my watch. It’s been a good thirty-five minutes now. Daniel may well be in another county. Or—if they used an airplane—another state. “We’ve issued an Amber Alert, Sir. You know what that means. Law enforcement throughout the country will be on the look out for Daniel.” I nod. They’re doing their best; I know that. But it’s that giant absence of Daniel that I can’t get around. What if they hurt him? What if he has an asthma attack? What if I don’t get to him in time? *** Daniel Jackson awakens to find himself in some kind of small metal room. He feels cold, and the woolen blanket draped over him smells like mildew. He blinks, wishing his head didn’t feel like it was stuck in a vice. He tries to move, but his body is sluggish. The room is moving, he realizes. It’s a van. Standard military, one of the high security ones. NID, he guesses. The van bumps over something and Daniel is tossed against the hard metal wall. “Ouch,” he says. “Sounds like our friend is waking up.” The voice coming from the driver’s seat is a deep baritone and completely unfamiliar to Daniel. “Should have given him more of that stuff,” says the other voice. “What? You afraid of a six-year-old brat?” “I’ve heard enough about him to be cautious.” The man turns around to stare at Daniel, who notices his dark, oily hair and bushy eyebrows that almost meet each other over his nose. He doesn’t know this man. He decides to be six. He might even try to trick these jerks into thinking they’d gotten the wrong kid. It was worth a shot. “Where’s my dad?” he asks. “Your dad? You mean O’Neill?” The driver laughs. “No, my dad. He took me to go potty and Mommy and Sally waited at the seats. Where is he?” “Can it, Dr. Jackson. We had you under surveillance the minute you left the SGC. So forget the poor little boy act. We know who you are.” So much for that ruse. He leans back against the van wall, gathering the blanket up to his chin. He wonders where they are taking him. Area fifty-one, maybe. Or not, if they were being clever. Jack was going to be some kind of pissed. *** When we got the miniaturized Daniel back through the Stargate, it began the second longest week of my life. Daniel nearly died twice, and a pediatric pulmonary specialist from Ft. Bragg was flown in to work on the lung problems. It seemed that the reversal contraption had left Daniel’s lungs inflamed and slightly underdeveloped for his age. It took a few days for the specialist to find the right combination of cortisteroids and inhalants to get the little guy breathing properly. But once that resolved, he finally regained consciousness. We were all there when Daniel woke up. Me, Teal’c, Carter, Janet, even General Hammond. We were so worried about brain damage we all just stared down at him, wondering if he could talk, or if his adult self was completely gone now. So when Daniel fixed his blue eyes on me and said, in his six-year-old voice, “You look like shit, Jack,” I scooped him up and just about hugged the life out of him. But then it hit him. He stared at his own hand, the much smaller version, for the longest time. “They did it. I can’t believe they did this to me.” “We know, Daniel,” Carter said, looking like she wanted to cry.<P>“Janet, can you fix this?” His gaze pleaded with her, but all she could do is shake her head. “I don’t know how. I’m so sorry.” Tears filled his eyes and he looked away from us. “But you’re healthy, Daniel,” Janet added. “You’ve had some trouble with your lungs but that’s much better.” “I’m not healthy. How could you even say that!” Daniel bellowed. “I’m shrunk!” The rage surprised us. The adult Daniel kept those kinds of emotions in check, but this was the kid version with all the fury and terror any six- year- old might feel. Carter tried to touch his shoulder and he jerked away, burying his face in his tiny hands and bawling like a kid. Which he was. A terrified, lost little boy. I had to do something. I motioned the others out of the room and sat down on the bed. Gently, I took his hands. “I know this is freaking you out. It freaked us out, too. But what matters is that you are still you. Smaller, yes. Younger, yes. But you. And we’re so glad to have you back; we’ll make do with this version. Until we get this sorted out.” He shook his head. “You don’t understand. I can’t--- do this again.” “Do what?” “Go through it all. Have my childhood all over. I just… can’t.” He dropped his head, avoiding my gaze. “Hey.” I softened my voice like I used to do with Charlie. “You aren’t going to repeat your childhood, I promise. Your childhood would have fit nicely in a Dickens novel. But until we get this thing fixed—and we will, Daniel, I promise—you get to have a second childhood. A better one.” “How? I won’t get to keep my own place, not like this. I can’t drive. I can’t work. I can’t do anything!” I tried to imagine how hard this was for him. I could see he was starting to panic now, his breath coming in as shallow huffs, getting faster and faster. “Easy, Daniel,” I said, trying not to sound alarmed. “What’s going to happen to me?” He kept escalating, and when his eyes widened in absolute terror, I panicked myself. “Janet!” I screamed. She was there in a flash, grabbing the oxygen mask and securing it over Daniel’s mouth. “Slow breaths, in and out. You can do it.” He obeyed. His eyes fixed on me, so I nodded and smiled like I wasn’t about to jump out of my skin and said, “That’s good, Daniel.” “You’re having an asthma attack,” Janet said. “Have you had this before?” He nodded. When he’d settled down and she could remove the mask, he stammered, “When I first came to the US. I had it for a few years.” “Then you know what to expect. And you grew out of it the last time, so we can expect the same thing this go round.” She gave him a smile. “Call me if they are any changes.” When she left us, I sat back on the bed. “What’s going to happen to me, Jack?” I couldn’t stand how sad he sounded. So I scooted over, lifted him into my lap and held him. “You’re going to grow up. And I’m going to be with you the whole way, Daniel. You and me. And Carter and Teal’c. We can handle anything, right?” He nodded, the tears coming again. I pulled him closer and let him cry himself to sleep. *** There’s no reason to stay at the arena. The crime scene turned up nada, which I expected, because these were professionals. All we know is my kid’s long gone by now. We head back to the SGC where a worried Janet greets us in the briefing room. “Does he have his inhaler?” Janet asks me once we’re back at SGC. “Of course he does. But he only has a few doses left in that one. We were only going to be gone for a couple of hours.” “Well, he’s smart. He’ll know to conserve the medicine and only use it if he has to.” “That’s if they didn’t take it from him!” I bellow. She gives me a sad little smile and actually pats my hand before she leaves. God, I must look like quite the basket case, which I am, by the way. If only. My mind is filled with if onlys. If only I’d gone with Hank and Daniel, instead of staying to watch the redhead. If only we hadn’t come to the circus at all. If only I’d kept the inhaler with less medicine in it, and given Daniel the other one, even if he is prone to losing them. I’ve let him down. I promised I’d keep him safe and happy and now--- Now I don’t know where he is. Or even if he’s still—No. Can’t go there. Can’t. I have to do something. Carter and Teal’c keep checking on me, but nobody’s made any progress. They’re no closer to finding him then they were five hours ago and I’ve aged a hundred years in that time. I’m in the briefing room, drinking my sixth cup of coffee and feeling helpless and mad enough to dismember every NID agent in the galaxy. General Hammond comes into the room and motions us all to the table. News. Please let it be good news. “We’ve been in touch with the NID. They are denying any involvement in the kidnapping.” “Big shock there,” I say wryly. “This time, I tend to believe them. Because they think they know who has Dr. Jackson.” He turns to the door just as a man enters. He’s short and squat with bulldog jowls and introduces himself as Major Montgomery. “Please tell SG-1 what you told me,” General Hammond says to him. “We’ve received a ransom demand for Dr. Jackson,” Montgomery says. “What?” “It surprised us, too. But we believe we know who is responsible. We’ve been after two rogue agents who disappeared from our ranks six months ago after they were caught transmitting classified information to Russian intelligence. Names are Ed Jernigan and Harold Pinelli. The last surveillance we had on them was a month ago, here in Colorado Springs.” “What about the third guy?” “Don’t have a lead on him. Sorry.” “You mentioned a ransom demand. How much?” I’m ready to hold up a bank if I need to. Montgomery and Hammond share wary looks. Hammond nods. “The NID has twelve kilos of naquada. They want it. We guess they plan to sell it on the black market. Plenty of countries would be very interested.” “The NID has naquada?” Carter’s voice rises in alarm. “Just for experimental purposes,” Montgomery says. “Naquada is a highly unstable substance. If not stored properly—” Carter’s about to combust, I can tell. “We’re quite are of that, Major. Which is part of the reason we cannot meet this ransom demand.” “Well we have to do something!” I say, louder than I needed to. “And we will,” the general says. “Maybe we can give them another substance that’s close enough to Naquada. They may be fooled.” “That won’t work. They stole a spectroscope from our lab. They’ll be able to tell if it isn’t real.” “Then we give them some of ours,” I say. “When we get Daniel back, we get them into custody before they have time to send away the stuff.” “That’s too risky, Colonel,” Hammond says. “The substance is entirely too dangerous.” I know that, rationally. But I’m far from rational now that my kid is in the hands of those monsters. “We have to do something. We can’t—” I don’t finish that sentence. “You’re right, Colonel. So give me some options, people. Because young Dr. Jackson is counting on us.” My hand reaches into my pocket for the inhaler. Hold on, Danny. Just hold on. *** Daniel keeps thinking about Jack. He can just picture him pacing through the halls of the SGC and cursing. “Dammit Daniel,” he’d say. This makes Daniel smile. Jack is so many things. The best friend he ever had. The most annoying commanding officer. And lately, this new role. Caretaker. Father? It was all so complicated now. The adult Daniel still needed his best friend. But the six year old version needed the other. Needed a caretaker. Needed a Dad. And Jack did his best to be all those things. Daniel remembered those first few weeks after his transformation. How angry and terrified and confused he’d been, and how Jack stayed by his side through all of it. Had he ever even thanked Jack? For letting him scream and throw toys and kick furniture? For holding him when he cried but never mentioning it later because it was so embarrassing? For taking Daniel into his home as a permanent resident, totally disrupting his own life to meet the needs of a pain in the ass kid? Daniel closes his eyes, squeezing out the tears. He should have told Jack thanks. He should have said a lot of things. So he’d better find a way out of here soon, because he has some things to discuss with Jack. The door opens and one of the guys comes in, wearing a ski mask. He’s tall and thick, like a weight lifter. He holds a tray. “I brought you dinner.” “I’m not hungry.” “Suit yourself. No sweat off my nose if you starve to death.” He plops the tray on the floor beside Daniel, spilling some milk. Daniel makes no move, simply stares up at the man. “You can just forget any plans of escaping, Jackson. This place is a fortress.” “Where is this fortress? It doesn’t look like Area 51.” The guy shakes his head. “It’s not. And that’s all you need to know.” “It doesn’t matter. They will find me.” Daniel looks at him again and smiles. “What’s so amusing, you little prick?” Daniel keeps staring. “Oh, I’m just imagining what you’re going to look like after Teal’c gets his hands on you. It won’t be pretty. Might even traumatize a little boy like me.” “Shut the fuck up.” “But Teal’c would be much easier on you than Jack. Either way, though, you won’t survive. Not unless you help me get out of here.” The man took a step closer, kicked the tray, and then stormed out of the room. Daniel smiled. *** “What did you find out?” I ask Carter, who’s clicking away on her computer. “I hacked into the NID personnel files but there wasn’t a whole lot there. I have the last home addresses for Jernigan and Pinelli, but they’ve cleared out. I have next of kin, which might be useful.” “Do we know where they came from?” “Pinelli’s file has been wiped, but the Jernigan record had some history. Originally from Minnesota, college here in Colorado. Separated, wife’s name was Cindy. She’s a pharmacist working in Pueblo.” She hands me print-out, looking discouraged, but I think she’s given me more than she realizes. I thank her and make my way to the elevator. A few minutes later I’m topside, alone in a small shaded smoking area. There are things in my past that nobody knows about. Nothing I’m proud of, mind you—even if it was in service to my country. And there are alliances I made then that kept me alive, even if it was with some of the shadiest people alive on our planet. And a few owed me favors. I pull out my cell phone and dialed a number I haven’t used in six years but still know by rote. “O’Neill? I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you,” the voice says. “Well you are. And I’m calling in my marker.” *** Daniel wakes up terrified. He’d scream if he could, but he doesn’t have enough air in his lungs to make a sound. He can’t even breathe, not really, and the panic he’s feeling doesn’t help. The inhaler. He has to use it before he gets dizzy. He finds it in his pocket and presses his lips to it before pushing down on the release. He gulps in the medicine, closing his eyes and silently counting to fifty. At last, he can feel the air moving again. It was the nightmare that triggered it. He hadn’t dreamed about the Parkers in years and wondered what had caused it. Maybe one of his captors reminded him of Mr. Parker, and the six weeks he lived in hell after his parents died. Mr. Parker was a real son of a bitch, just like these two were. That was probably why. Mr. Parker was the Hannibal Lector of foster parents. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but out of the three kids placed there, two ended up in the emergency room after a tough night with Mr. P. Daniel moved there right after his parents died. It was a small two-story house and two other foster kids lived there, Adam and his sister Michele. The first day he arrived, they warned him not to get Mr. P. mad. “He’ll lock you up if you do.” It had never occurred to Daniel to be frightened of adults, so he didn’t really take their advice seriously. Besides, it was all so new to him—living in America. Being alone. So he kept mostly to himself, trying to absorb this new reality. This new role as an orphan. Two months into his placement, Adam made a big mistake. He tracked mud through the house on a day when Mr. Parker had been drinking. He was a big bear of a man and when he grabbed Adam’s arm, he twisted it so hard it broke. Since Daniel didn’t have better sense, he tried to protect Adam, which got him knocked against a wall with enough force to give him a concussion. When he got out of the hospital, they sent him to another home, and he never saw Adam or Michele again. He didn’t see the Parkers either, except in nightmares like the one he just had. Daniel never told Jack about the Parkers. He’d mentioned them to Sam once, but she started asking some uncomfortable questions and he moved quickly to change the subject. Jack was right about his Dickensonian childhood, but he didn’t want sympathy, especially from his team. Daniel fingers the inhaler. Only one dose left, but that’s okay. Because SG-1 is looking for him, and they’ll find him, too. But just in case, maybe he can help—if he can find a way out of here. He glances over at the heavy steal door. It wasn’t going to be easy. *** When Charlie was seven, I took him to see The Wizard of Oz. It was in a renovated art deco style theater, with a big red curtain that opened when the film began. Charlie loved it. He loved Dorothy and the Munchkins. The Lion, Scarecrow and Tinman. He thought Glinda, the good witch, looked like the teacher he had in first grade. But he wasn’t so wild about the flying monkeys. Something about how they swooped around the screen and sneered into the camera terrified him. Of course, being the tough kid he was, he didn’t want to admit it, so he just sort of sat there, eyes wide as pie plates, hands keeping a white-knuckled grip on the arms of the chair. I leaned over and pulled him just a little closer to me. The kid leapt from his chair and into my lap so fast I almost laughed. Good thing I didn’t, though. Flying monkeys were serious business. Over the next weeks, Charlie talked a lot about the monkeys, needing reassurance that they didn’t really exist, couldn’t fly off the screen. Didn’t live under his bed. And it was through this questioning that he came to believe he was safe. It was how he got control of the flying monkeys so they couldn’t harm him. Daniel has different flying monkeys, and many he won’t discuss with me. I’ve glimpsed a few. Like the time we were at Janet’s and Cassie had on a movie, The Color Purple. There was a scene where a young girl was being beaten. Daniel quietly left the room and I found him sitting on the floor in Janet’s guest room. “Hey, Buddy. What’s going on?” I asked, dropping down beside him. His head was resting on his knees and he didn’t answer, so I laid my hand on his back. He jerked away like I’d hit him, and I saw tears glistening in his eyes. “Easy, buddy.” “Sorry. I didn’t… Sorry.” He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “It’s okay.” Carefully, I touched him again and he didn’t flinch this time. He let me run my hand up and down his back, feeling the tiny knobs of his spine and the push of each stuttered breath. But he wouldn’t talk. I didn’t press him, just sat there with him as he worked through it. Yeah, part of me wanted to pry but Daniel could be a very private person. I knew he’d been through hell the first time he was a kid. I didn’t need the details. After a few minutes, he looked up at me. “Thanks, Jack.” “Don’t mention it.” And we didn’t. Charlie needed to talk through his flying monkeys. Daniel just needed someone there when they came too close. *** Carter and Teal’c seem very encouraged the FBI have found Cindy Jernigan, the wife of one of the kidnappers. Seems she’s the one who gave him the chloroform. But she’s denying any knowledge of the deed and I don’t expect her to turn. Even separated spouses can be annoyingly loyal. I keep checking my voice mail, hoping for a message. And at seven p.m. on day two, it arrives. “We’ve got a lead,” the voice says when I return the call. “Tell me.” “You were right about Pinelli. There’s nothing about him in the Defense Department database, and that got me curious. Turns out, he used to be in Special Forces. Did a tour in North Korea and went missing for some two years. He was being held prisoner in a camp south of Hyesan. He and another agent escaped, made their way to South Korea.” “Who was the other prisoner?” “Always one step ahead of me, ain’t ya, O’Neill? Name’s John Hawkins. Took a while for me get a trace on him but I did. Seems Hawkins made a friend back in North Korea, an arms dealer named Cha Tae Hyun. His latest contact with Hyun was just last week. Hawkins told him he could get his hands on a weapon more powerful than a nuke. Hyun said he wanted to know more before he struck a deal.” “You’ve been in touch with Hyun?” “Need to know, O’Neill. Need to know.” “You got an address?” “Hawkins lives in Pueblo now. Owns one of them rental storage facilities. I figure that might be a good place to hide a kid.” I agree. “Call me when you get close to town. I’ll have an address for you.” *** Daniel’s getting scared. He hates feeling that way, having those six-year-old emotions, like now, like this raw terror. The men keeping him are arguing outside his door, their voices loud and vulgar. He recognizes the larger man’s voice, noting how he slurs his words, and wonders if they are all drinking. Like Mr. Parker used to drink. The door opens and the giant man enters, hanging on to the doorknob and swaying just a little. He isn’t wearing a ski mask this time. Daniel squints up, memorizing the face, the beak-like nose, the dark, close-set eyes. The silver threads in his unkempt goatee. “Whaz that in your hand?” the man bellows. Daniel has forgotten to put the inhaler back in his pocket. Stupid, he thinks. So stupid. “My… medicine.” “Let me see!” He reaches down and snatches it, eyeing it with dull disdain. “Whah you use it for?” “Asthma. I just need it sometimes,” he stammers, not wanting the medicine to seem too important. “I should sheck it out, make sure you’re not lyin’ to me.” “Suit yourself,” Daniel says, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. The man tosses it in the air and catches it. Despite the alcohol, his reflexes are good. Daniel looks away, praying he doesn’t miss and break the dispenser. Behind the man, the door is open. He can see a small office with two desks and a window. Beside the window is another door, with keys dangling from a deadbolt lock. If he has any chance of escape, it is through that door. He just needs to figure out when. And how. The man tosses the medicine back to Daniel. “You may need this. Then again, you may not.” He gives Daniel a wide, sardonic grin before leaving him once more. Daniel holds the medicine against his chest. He doesn’t like being a kid, being at the hands of these giants. He feels so completely alone and it reminds him of what it had been like after his parents died. He tries to remember he’s not that boy, exactly. He isn’t alone, really. He has Jack, and Jack will find him. Jack will never give up until he has Daniel back. Daniel knows this, even in his six-year-old self. But he wishes Jack would hurry. Because he’s cold and scared and honestly, not feeling so good. *** “Carter? I need you and Teal’c to meet me at my car.” “Sir?” She sounds confused. “We’re waiting for Mrs. Jernigan. Some Federal Agents are bringing her into Cheyenne Mountain. She may have more information—” “Carter, I can’t make it an order. But I can tell you Mrs. Jernigan isn’t going to be much help.” “But Sir, she’s all we’ve got.” I can hear fatigue and ragged fear in her voice. “No she’s not,” I rush to say. “Meet me and I’ll explain.” “We’re on our way.” I’m thinking the two of them must have run the whole distance because just a few minutes later they come loping up like two eager puppies. “What took you so long?” “You have news of Danieljackson?” Teal’c slides into my passenger seat while Carter climbs in back. “I may. I’ll tell you what I know, but listen kids—this stays between us. I don’t want the NID screwing this up. If we have a chance to get Daniel back, it should be SG-1 who does it.” “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Sir.” *** Daniel sees what may be his chance. The man has brought more food for him, and as he carries the tray, he leaves the door open just a little. Daniel sees the office is empty, his other two captors gone. The man leaves the tray on the floor once again and departs, closing the door behind him. He will return in ten or fifteen minutes and Daniel must be ready. He eyes the food carefully, deciding his best course of action. This may be the only chance he gets. And he knows Jack’s counting on him. *** During the drive to Pueblo I tell them what I’ve learned, leaving out certain details, like how I met the man who has become my source. They know better than to ask. We’re about fifteen minutes from town when my cell rings. “Meet me at the rest stop at mile marker eight,” he says. “I should be there in a few minutes.” “I’m counting on that.” We find the rest area and I’m relieved to see only a few cars there. I park at the end of the lot and tell my team to wait in the car. He’s standing beside a picnic table, smoking a cigar. The years haven’t been kind to him, which is understandable given the life he lives. I can see a roadmap of wrinkles on his face, dark pouches under his watery eyes. The hand holding the cigar still wears the ring. “So?” I say. “Hawkins and Pinelli made contact with Hyun again. Said they needed a little more time before they can deliver the goods. Hyun wasn’t happy.” I nod, feeling something clinch in my gut. “This turns up the heat a bit,” he tells me. “You need to move fast.” Like he needs to tell me this. “You got the address of the rental place?” He hands me a slip of paper. “We’ve had it under surveillance since oh-eight hundred. Place is quiet as a cemetery.” I don’t appreciate his choice of words. “Any other leads as to where he might be?” He points to the note I have in my hand. “I think that’s it, but if it don’t pan out, you know how to find me.” And I do. I nod and head back to my team. *** Daniel has his ear pressed to the door and hears footsteps approaching the door. He glances back at his handy work. The peanut butter and jelly are smeared across the floor. The milk is in a puddle. If this works like he hopes it will, his captor will have a difficult time keeping his balance. And if that buys him a few seconds, maybe he can make his escape. Daniel plasters himself behind the door as it opens. “Where are you, you little shit?” The man hurries into the room and when his foot steps in the jelly, it slides awkwardly to the left, and soon his whole body tumbles down. Daniel leaps over him and bolts out of the room. He runs through the office, stands on tiptoes to turn the deadbolt lock, and jerks open the office door. The day is gray and gloomy but a welcome change from his shadowy prison. He keeps moving, cursing at how each step is so small with these six year old feet. He sees he’s in some kind of storage complex, with rows and rows of long buildings. He can’t get his bearings, and doesn’t know which way is out but he keeps moving. There’s yelling behind him. The big man’s voice first and then and an answer from someone else, which means the others are back. Great. He makes it to the end of the building to find a giant fence surrounding the whole area. Okay, he tells himself. Follow the fence. It should lead him to the gate. He’s getting tired, the air burning in his lungs now, but he keeps running. He passes row after row of storage units, keeping the fence on his left, and finally sees an opening. Just another fifty yards. He can make it. He has to. *** Hawkins’ rental facility is on the south side of town and rush hour traffic is unforgiving even in a place as small as Pueblo. My heart races as I inch along the freeway. Finally, I can’t take it any more and I swerve into the emergency lane, flip on my flashers, and squeal past the endless line of nearly stalled commuters. If a cop decides to pull me over, he’s gonna have quite a chase on his hand. So of course now it decides to rain. Clouds have been low and bulging all day but they pick this moment to open up. A car just a head of us decides to angle out of his lane, nearly hitting us as he careens ahead. Idiot. He must be flooring it because his car takes a nasty skid, spinning completely around so he can hit us dead on. “Hold on,” I yell. I’m off the shoulder now, thumping over grass and rocks but I get around him. I see an exit and decide to take a different route south. I’ve got a kid who needs me. *** Daniel hears a vehicle revving its engine just as he scoots outside the gate. There’s a gravel road beyond but only a few hundred yards ahead he can see a highway. He just needs to make it that far. But he’s so tired, and the air in his lungs feels like fire. It starts to rain and the moisture feels good as he keeps pumping forward, wondering how it is that the road looks farther and farther away with each step. There’s more yelling behind him and he hears the crunch of gravel as the van pulls out of the gate. He glances to the side, wondering if he could hide in the woods but he knows he’ll never make it without them seeing. So he presses on, the highway just ahead, and prays someone will stop for a sweat-drenched, terrified boy. He makes it to the stop sign. He hears the van squealing to a stop and the doors opening. He steps on the shoulder of the road and screams, waving his arms frantically, but the only car he sees is too far in the distance. “I got him!” The big man yells, and then there are arms around Daniel, and he’s kicking and biting as hard as he can. “Stop it, you little shit!” the man yells. And then a hand presses over Daniel’s mouth. And he can’t breathe. And his body goes limp. *** We find the rental storage place just south of town but I’m dismayed when I see how large it is. Well over a hundred units, and any of them could house Daniel. I’m ready to park so we can start our search when I spot a large gray van pulling in from the back gate. “O’Neill!” Teal’c says, and I know he senses what I do. That van has our kid. I stomp the accelerator and as I do, the van takes a wide arc and heads back out the gate. I gain on him quickly, but I can’t nudge him or pull him over without risking Daniel. Carter’s on her cell calling for reinforcements. The van is pushing sixty, which is too dangerous in this rain. I don’t tailgate him, because I don’t want him going any faster but he does anyway. Carter’s back on her cell and tells us that the highway department is putting up a roadblock a few miles ahead. Good. If the idiot can keep the van on the road until then, we may be okay. He doesn’t make it that far. He hits a puddle and goes into a skid, and I hear myself yell as I slam on the brakes. The van slides off the highway, over the shoulder, and down an embankment. It crashes into some bushes but stays upright. We scramble out of my truck in time to see two men clambering out of the van and trying to run for the woods. Teal’c takes out one with his staff weapon. Carter nails the other with her sidearm. I don’t think either are dead but I wish they were. I run to the van and jerk the door open. It’s dark in the back and at first I don’t see him. And then I do. “No.” I freeze. He’s there. He’s pale as paste, except the bluish tint to his lips. He’s so still. “God. No.” It’s Charlie all over again. It’s my son lying in a hospital bed after they turn off the machines. I fall back, my knees threatening to give way. Carter pushes past me. “Daniel?” she says, her hands probing his little body, but I know what she’s going to find and I’m not ready. I can’t be ready for this. Not again. “Sir!” she yells. “I’ve got a pulse. Teal’c, the EMT’s should be coming, make sure they see us.” I blink, trying to take in what she said, but not believing. Not really. “Sir!” she’s screaming at me now. “I think they drugged him. But his breathing is very shallow. Help me get him out of here.” I’m terrified but I’m trying. I reach my hands under his knees and his back, gently lifting him and carrying him outside. Carter grabs a blanket and tucks it around him as I just stand there holding his tiny body and trying to believe he’s still alive. The ambulance arrives and two EMT’s approach. I don’t want to let them take him. “O’Neill.” Teal’c’s voice cuts through. I let him relieve me of my tiny burden. And I watch as they load Daniel into the ambulance. *** Daniel awakens. He’s not in his own bed, he realizes, and has a flash of panic he may be back with the men. But no, this isn’t a dark place. It’s a very bright place, and the bed is nice and comfortable. A hospital. Not the SGC infirmary, though. He sees two people sitting by the window. Sam’s reading a magazine. Hank the Hulk, who’s sporting a big bandaid on his forehead, is talking quietly on his cell. Daniel blinks and shifts under the sheets. “Hey! Look who’s awake!” Sam comes over, all smiles and sunshine, and kisses him on the forehead. “How are you feeling?” “Okay.” It’s a lie. He feels raw, like his lungs have been pulled out of his body and then put back. And his throat feels raw. Sam’s lifts a glass and puts the straw close to his lips. The water is the best thing he’s ever tasted. He glances around the room again and suddenly panics. “Where’s Jack?” “Easy. He was here until just a while ago. He’s fine. Teal’c’s fine. And you’re going to be fine.” Daniel looks over at Hank. “You okay?” Hank comes over and squeezes his hand. “I’m okay. Especially now that you’re back. Sorry I didn’t—” “Didn’t stop three heavily armed goons by yourself?” “And not because he didn’t try,” Carter says. “He got three busted ribs and eight stitches for his trouble.” “How did I get here?” Daniel asks. Sam tells him how they found the rental place soon after the kidnappers drugged him again and shoved him in the van. “You were in a wreck. But you just got some bruises from that.” “Then why am I here?” “They used too much chloroform on you. Your lungs were already inflamed, so the drug triggered an asthmatic response. But we got to you in time and the EMT’s gave you some oxygen.” “How long do I have to stay here?” “We’ll find out when the doctor checks you out.” The door opens and Hank leaps over, handgun at the ready. He holsters it as Teal’c steps inside. “Danieljackson! It is good to see you awake.” Something’s not right, Daniel decides. It’s the absence of Jack. They aren’t telling him something. “Teal’c? Why isn’t he here?” Teal’c comes closer, giving Daniel one of his rare smiles. “O’Neill had not rested since you were taken from us. Now that you are no longer in danger, I believe he is finally getting some much needed sleep.” Okay. He guesses that makes sense. “How long? I mean, since the circus?” “The circus was last Saturday. We got you Monday evening. Today is Wednesday,” Sam says. “You had a touch of pneumonia, but you’re doing much better now.” That explains the embers still glowing in his lungs. He’s feeling tired, like a swimmer who’s treaded water too long and needs to find his way to shore. That’s what probably happened to Jack, too. So he’ll be here soon, Daniel decides. Then everything will be okay. *** I am a miserable son of a bitch, I decide, nursing my third beer. But hey, at least I’ve stopped shaking. The phone rings and I dread answering. I’m relieved when it’s General Hammond. “Jack? I’m surprised to find you home.” “Just stopping in for a change of clothes, Sir.” The lie comes too easy. “I have some news you might find interesting. Jernigan’s in custody, of course, but he isn’t talking. So once Pirelli came out of surgery, Sgt. Quinlin was able to convince him that helping us find Hawkins was in his own best interest. Federal Agents were able to arrest Hawkins before he boarded a plane for Korea. So we have every reason to believe the danger to Dr. Jackson is over.” “That’s good, Sir.” And it is. Real good, in fact. So why do I still have this utter terror surging through me? “How’s he doing?” Hammond’s voice softens, the way it always does when he’s talking about the squirt. “He’s responding well to the IV antibiotics, according to the pediatrician.” “That’s wonderful news. I know how worried you’ve been.” I have nothing to say to that. Worried is a drop in the bucket. I’m drowning in the pool. I take another gulp of beer. “You’ll call if you or Daniel need anything?” “Yes, Sir.” I hang up the phone and pace into the den for the thousandth time. I go to the mantle, to the pictures of my family. My “family”. There’s the one of the team, here for my birthday. Daniel’s big in this one, and he’s toasting me with a margarita. One drink later and he was snoring on my sofa. Then there’s the photo of Teal’c and Carter, each holding a hand of the smaller Daniel, who’s lifted up his feet so they can swing him. And the last one, my favorite, the one Carter took when I wasn’t looking. It’s me and Daniel out on the deck. We’re in the hammock, Daniel snug against my side and giggling as he points to a picture in the book I’m holding. Not exactly Curious George, though. It’s a collection of old FAR SIDE cartoons that he finds hysterical. I lift the picture and trace my finger around his smiling face. God, how I love this kid. And how scared I am right now. I haven’t felt this kind of fear in so long. My eyes drift down the mantle to another picture. Of another boy. The one I’ve already lost. I don’t need a shrink to know why I’m completely flipping out right now. It was seeing Daniel in that van, looking—well—like Charlie did the last time. I can’t get that image out of my mind. And even though I know Daniel’s not dead, I still feel this tremendous loss. Or maybe it’s dread. If I get too close, they go away. What do you think of that, Mr. Freud? I’m so scared of losing my kid I can’t bring myself to go near him. He needs me—not a doubt in my mind about that—but here I sit with my beer and my pictures. Just goes to show you that I really shouldn’t have a kid, should I? Look what happens when I do. *** The meal cart wakes Daniel from a troubled sleep. A tray is put before him and he blinks, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. “Welcome back,” Sam says, lifting the metal cover off the food. “Chicken. Potatoes. Oh look—Jell-O!” He eyes the food, then his friend. “Where is Jack?” he asks. “Still not back yet.” There is something in her voice this time, a thread of tension. “Sam? I’m not a kid. He’s my best friend.” She lifts a fork and starts playing with the potatoes. “Eat first.” He takes the utensil from her and forces down a few bites of chicken while she busies herself opening his milk. He drinks a few swallows, then pushes the tray away. “Tell me.” “I don’t know exactly what’s going on with him, Daniel. This has been hard for all of us, but especially him. From the moment you went missing he’s been, I don’t know, different. Not saying much. Pacing like a caged cat.” “I’m sorry,” he says, feeling guilty for what he put his friends through. She places her hand on the side of his face. “Don’t you apologize. You did everything you could. We’re just so relieved that you’re okay. And you’re going to stay that way. We got the last kidnapper. You see, Hank even went home. You’re safe now, Daniel.” He watches as he pulls the tray back and plays with his potatoes some more. “What?” he says. “What what?” “What aren’t you telling me?” She drops the fork, but still avoids eye contact. “When we found you in the van—you were pretty out of it. The drugs had given you an asthma attack—we’re just lucky we didn’t lose you. You were in pretty rough shape.” “I don’t remember any of that.” “I won’t be forgetting any time soon.” She looks up at him. “The colonel thought you were dead. You were so pale, barely breathing. He just stood there, staring, with this haunted look on his face.” She pauses, swallowing. “Oh no,” he says, starting to realize. “He looked so lost, Daniel. I’ve never seen him like that. It broke my heart.” Her voice hitches a little and she clears her throat. “I have to talk to him. Sam, take me to him.” He tries to crawl out of bed but she’s on him in a flash. “No you don’t! You stay put, young man.” She smoothes the blanket around him. “I think he just needs a little time, Daniel. This has been traumatic for him. And you know how private he is. Just let him work through it, then he’ll be bounding through your door like the colonel we all know and love.” He nods, but he doesn’t believe it, because he knows. Better than anyone, he knows how terrible losing Charlie had been for Jack. Anything that triggered those memories would take more than time to get over. He had to find a way to see his friend. “You need anything?” Sam asks. “Yeah. I could use something to read, if you don’t mind. Is there a gift store or something?” She smiles. “Sure. I’ll try to get down there before they close. But you need to finish eating, okay?” He nods. “I’ll try to save the Jell-O for you.” As soon as Sam leaves, he slips out of bed. He knows how to remove an IV, but it still hurts, and he grabs a tissue to blot up the trickle of blood. Next order of business: clothes. He makes his way over to the small bureau. “Yes!” he says, as he discovers his jeans, tee shirt and sneakers. He’s quick to dress, despite a few waves of dizziness. “Just go slow,” he tells himself. Now was certainly not the time to keel over. He slips into the hall and finds the elevator. A few minutes later, he’s flagging down a cab and heading to the home of one Colonel Jack O’Neill. *** “O’Neill here,” I say when my phone rings for the third time. Whoever is calling isn’t getting the hint. “Sorry sir, but we have a problem.” “What?” I don’t mean to snap but my nerves are beyond frayed right now. “It’s Daniel, sir. He’s disappeared.” Knees turn to jelly. My butt hits the chair. I’ve left my kid alone and now— “Sir? Sir!” She’s barking into the phone and somehow, that gets my attention. “He was worried about you. I think he may be trying to get over to your house.” I try to stand and somehow get the legs working because I hear a noise outside. I glance out my window to see a baby blue taxi pulling into my drive. My little munchkin climbs out of the back seat. “Carter? Relax. He’s here.” “Thank God, Sir.” No kidding. I make it to the front door before he does and he says to me, “I need twenty bucks to pay the driver.” I fish out the money, which he gives to the man, and hold the door open as he comes inside. I stop to consider the miracle of this. Daniel is walking into our home. No longer missing. Alive, with all his arms and legs, looking pale but moving like a normal little boy. Daniel is home. So of course I say, “What the hell are you doing? Do you know how worried Carter was? How scared we were?” “I have an idea.” He takes my hand and tugs me to the sofa, and I revel in the feel of his tiny fingers encircling mine. “So I see what you’ve been doing,” he says, pointing at my empty bottles. “Yeah.” I wipe my face, feeling—lots of things. Embarrassment. Utter relief. And terror. Daniel sits down, scooting close to me and keeping a grip on my hand. “I just had to see you,” he says. “I know it was wrong to sneak out like that but I had to.” I nod, listening. Looking at his little hand, which hasn’t released mine. “I couldn’t figure out why you weren’t at the hospital and it scared me and then I did figure it out.” Daniel’s words pour out now, and I watch as his eyes moisten. “Sam told me that when you found me you thought I was dead.” I blink, and it all comes back. Opening the van door. Not seeing him and then—seeing him and it was Charlie and he was dead and my universe ends there, in that place, in that moment. Daniel’s hand tightens and I hear him speaking but I can’t make out his words because of where I am now. So he moves. Daniel comes up on his knees, bringing his face close to mind, stroking my cheek with his hand. “Jack? It’s okay. We’re okay.” He says. “I’m alive. I’m well. I’m home now.” My eyes squinch shut. He keeps touching my skin, and I realize he’s wiping away my tears. “Not like Charlie,” he says, almost like a chant. “I’m here. I’m alive. We’re okay.” My arms reach for him. I pull him close, rest my chin against his hair, breathe in the scent of him, the miracle that he is here. My best friend. And my kid. Alive and well and in my arms. And I’m never going to let him go. *** I squeeze his hand as we inch our way up in the long line. He doesn’t see Carter and Teal’c ahead of us, along with Hank, Siler and all of SG-7. My little bit of insurance, just in case. “You’re sure you’re up to this?” I ask him. “Yep,” he says. “You don’t have a thing to prove, you know,” I say. “Yes I do.” These words hit me in the solar plexus. I stoop down so that we’re eye to eye. “Daniel. You went through something horrible the last time we were here. Hell, I’m about to have a panic attack from remembering. Maybe we should just do something else.” “Nope.” I put my hands on his shoulders, trying to get a read on him. This is the last night the circus is in town but I really don’t care and I can’t stand the thought of this hurting him. “Don’t do this if you aren’t ready.” He stares at me for a long time. Finally, he answers. “I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t want to be scared of this arena or circuses or men’s restrooms because of what those goons did to me. So maybe it’s like falling off the horse. Best to get back on it.” “But not if you were injured in the fall,” I say. I see how tough he’s trying to be, the firm resolve in the angle of his chin. But his eyes betray him, and he looks away. “Daniel,” I whisper. “You are the bravest person I know, at any age. You don’t have to do this right now.” “Now’s the best time. Because you’re with me.” He pulls on my hand as the line moves just a little. I scoop him up and hold him close. Daniel knows how to handle his flying monkeys. And somehow, I think he’s going to teach me how to face my own. | |
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