"I'm hungry."

"As soon as you're done with your physical, I'll take you out for breakfast."

"I'm hungry now." Daniel was well aware that he was being pissy and pigheaded, but the last thing he felt like doing was going to the SGC for tests. Fasting tests.

His father took a deep breath, fortifying his patience.

"I don't want your empathy." Daniel held his stomach.

"I wasn't giving you any," his dad said, turning onto Norad Road, which led up the mountain. "I was praying for patience or the absence of witnesses so I could kill you."

"Not funny," Daniel grumbled.

"I'm serious."

"I can feel the love."

"Snot."

His dad parked the car, turned it off, and the two of them sat staring through the front windshield.

"I'm so cooked, Dad. I don't want any more blood work, MRIs, psychological assessments, questions, stares, unanswerable questions—"

"I know, Icky."

"You know," he insisted sarcastically, "but you're still making me do this. I want to be like most kids my age. Physicals once a year—"

"Never gonna happen. Especially now that you're getting double teamed by Fraiser and Lam with a side order of Carter."

"Please?" Daniel pleaded.

"No. I'm not writing a note, excusing you... I'm too chicken to bear the wrath of the docs. Besides, it'll be over before you know it."

"More?" Daniel demanded, glaring at Janet as she drew another vial of blood.

With a practice born of years of experience, she undid the tourniquet, labeled the vial, cleaned up the mess and stood, even before Daniel could spit forth another gripe.

"I'm all done playing vampire, Daniel."

He picked up the cotton ball covering the pinprick and snorted. "Still bleeding."

She patted his knee with a laugh. "You'll survive."

"How's our patient?" Doctor Carolyn Lam walked over next to Janet and helped herself to Daniel's chart.

"You mean victim." Daniel didn't even raise his eyes. God, he hated being discussed as if he were an invisible idiot.

"We're not the Marquis de Sade, Daniel." Janet's voice was soft, apologetic, almost an exact replica of his dad's from this morning.

He looked up, but refused to answer her smile with one of his. "From where I'm sitting, you're doing a damn good imitation of torturing me."

Carolyn laughed. "A bit dramatic, Daniel?"

"No," he replied indignantly. "You stuck me with a gazillion needles and—"

"A gazillion?" Janet glanced at the other doctor and winked. "Over-exaggerating?"

"Oh, just a bit," Carolyn answered, closing the chart and placing it on the bed next to Daniel.

Daniel jumped when the klaxons sounded, followed by the intercom. "Med team to the Gateroom."

"Go ahead," Carolyn said to Janet. "I'll finish up with Daniel."

Daniel hated MRIs. He especially hated how cold the procedure room was and the fact that the thin scrubs offered no protection from the chill.

"Ow." He tried to jerk his arm away from Carolyn's steadfast grip. "What's that for?" Hadn't he been stuck with enough needles?

"Contrast," she said. "This way we can check out all the nooks and crannies of that brain of yours as opposed to just the nooks."

"Let's just get this over with." Daniel stood, nearly falling on his ass when the wheelchair scooted out from under him.

"Hold it," Carolyn admonished. "Let me set the brakes before you hurt yourself and need a doctor."

"You know," Daniel said as he got up onto the MRI table, "you and Janet should take your show on the road."

"Lie down." Gently she pushed on his chest. Doctor Lam was basically a blur. Hell, this whole room was a blur without his glasses. He blinked again. Then one more time. Strange as it might seem, the room appeared to be getting blurrier.

"Carolyn?" Panicked, he tried to sit up.

"Shush," came a soft voice in his ear. "Relax. It'll be over before you know it."

"Dad?" His dad had said the same thing. Was his dad here? Now? Daniel yawned as the table slid into the cavernous mouth of the MRI. He'd ask him later; right now, closing his eyes seemed like a better idea.

"He's awake, look. The kid's eyes are open."

"Doesn't make a difference. He won't remember anything."

He knew that voice.

"Are you sure?"

And that voice? Not as familiar, but it was there, somewhere in his memories. Daniel tried to turn his head, but no body parts appeared to be responding to his commands. Strange dream.

"Why are you suddenly getting cold feet about this? It was your idea."

"Not cold feet, just cautious."

Someone was circling where Daniel lay and he tried to bring them into focus, blinking a few times. A smaller person came to stand next to the tall, blurry man.

"I'm not comfortable with this technology."

"I truly don't care if you're comfortable with the technology or not, Doctor."

"I can't make promises that the device will work."

"I don't want promises. I want data. And information."

"You'll have your data. Whether he'll produce anything that's worth this, is another matter altogether." The words were spat out at the tall man. "Two weeks worth of stolen data."

Daniel tried to move. He was so cold. They needed to know he was cold. Cold wasn't right. Not this type of bone-chilling cold that permeated every cell of his body and froze him in place.

"Two weeks? That doesn't seem like enough—"

"That's all the time you're going to get. We've discussed that. Any more and we're putting his life in danger. And I don't know about you, but I don't want a late night visit from Colonel O'Neill or any of SG-1. Personally, I don't have that much of a death wish nor can I hide behind Washington constituents to save my life."

There was a pause, mumbling. Words that Daniel couldn't make out and as hard as it was, even around the numbing cold, he felt himself drift. He roused only when a precise set of footsteps approached.

"Enough. I have to begin otherwise I'm going to be missed. Or he's going to be missed."

Ow. Ow. Ow. Daniel's eyes flew open.

"He felt that. Look. Don't you tell me—"

"With all due respect, Senator, please be quiet. Yes, he feels this but he won't have a single memory of what happened."

"Are you sure?"

There was a heavy sigh that tickled Daniel's neck.

"You asked that previously, and I'll give you the same answer I gave you before. Yes. He'll remember nothing. The filament is fitted under the skin and the entrance wound will be closed up with this."

An uncomfortable buzzing sound filled Daniel's head, then lowered in pitch until it disappeared. A soft, familiar touch wiped a drop of moisture from the corner of Daniel's eye.

"I'm sorry, honey."

"I'll be in contact with you." The voice sounded further away.

"You get two weeks. Not a second more. Oh, Senator?"

"Yes, Doctor." The voice was filled to overflowing with annoyance.

"Don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out."

Daniel smothered a yawn behind his hand. "All your fault," he complained to his father. Pushing up his glasses, he scrubbed at his tired eyes.

"I don't remember forcing you to stay up last night." He jabbed Daniel's plate with his fork. "Eat your breakfast so you're coherent enough to go to school."

The pancakes smelled delicious and his stomach growled, trying to prod him to pick up his fork and take a bite, but he couldn't get past the gnawing headache.

"The headache will go away if you eat." His dad leaned over and cut a triangle of pancake. "Open up the hanger."

Daniel grabbed the hand with the fork. "Dad, please."

"What? I'm embarrassing you?"

"Dad," Daniel hissed, glancing over his shoulder.

"Now, if I really wanted to embarrass you, I'd make a noise like this... Vrrmmmmm, to go along with the hanger... and the airplane pancakes."

"Please," Daniel begged. "I'll eat the pancakes. I promise, just please—"

"Jeez, you used to love that." His dad released the fork to Daniel, leaned back in the booth, and smiled evilly.

Daniel pulled the plate closer and wrapped an arm around it while he ate, protecting his food and himself from his father's warped sense of humor.

"Icky..."

Daniel stopped from getting out of the truck and turned toward his father. "Yeah?"

"Headache gone?"

Daniel nodded. "Feels better."

"That's not exactly what I asked you."

"I'm. Fine. Dad. Honest."

"I'll try and talk to the docs about—"

"No, it's okay. I understand." Daniel sighed. "I really do... It's just—"

"Annoying?"

"I was going to say a pain in the ass."

"Watch the language, Mister."

"I'm not a kid."

"I know. If you were a kid, you would've let me play plane and airplane hanger at the diner."

"On that note, I'm outta here. See you tonight."

Daniel made a volcano out of his mashed potatoes, then looked expectantly at his father.

"You know, Carter has taught you the vilest eating habits." He poured the gravy onto the potatoes and it slid into the crater that Daniel had created.

Daniel dropped a spoonful of corn into the gravy then sat back to survey his handiwork. "This dinner is a thing of beauty."

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're a strange child?"

He cut off a piece of meatloaf then dragged it through the mashed potatoes, upsetting the volcano, the gravy lava spilling out and across his plate. "I'm not strange," he said through a mouthful of food.

The headache slowly niggled its way back and by the time Daniel was sopping up the last puddle of gravy with a slice of fresh bread, the lights were too bright in the kitchen and his stomach began protesting the meal. He didn't even realize he was rubbing his temple until his dad held his hand in place.

"Headache?"

"Yeah. Think I'm just tired." He glanced towards the pile of pots in the sink.

"That's why we have a dishwasher. Go shower. Go study. Go do homework. Do not talk on the phone or use the computer for anything other than work. Which means no IMing Dria, et al."

"Yes, Colonel." Daniel gave his dad a sloppy salute before leaving the kitchen.

Daniel felt a million times better after the shower and he stretched out on the bed with a modicum of guilt, but his bed was far more appealing than loading the dishwasher. He opened his laptop, refused to open his AIM and set to work studying, lasting all of two minutes before opening his chat window. Thankfully, no one was around so he went back to studying, this time falling asleep before he'd answered a single Global History question.

Lunch tray in hand, he stood surveying the noisy cafeteria. He smiled as a madly waving Alexandria caught his attention. He dropped the tray on the table then sat across from her.

"Oh, you got the meatball hero." She separated her sandwich, the melted cheese forming a bridge between the two halves. "I got grilled cheese."

"Wanna share?" The grilled cheese looked a damn sight more appealing than the heavily sauced meatballs.

"Okay."

Daniel tucked into the grilled cheese, regretting that this hadn't been his lunch choice.

"Sorry I didn't call you last night." She picked a meatball out of the sandwich and popped it into her mouth. "I kinda got read the riot act. No phone. No computer. Yadda yadda yadda. You'd think I was failing instead of being in all the enriched classes and in the top five percent of the class."

"Been there. Done that. Got the same riot act read to me." He reached towards Alexandria's plate to snag a fry only to have his hand slapped.

"Next time, just give me your money and I'll buy your lunch, since my tray always seems to hold such fascination."

"Does that mean you won't share any fries with me?"

"No," she said, dropping a handful of fries on Daniel's plate, "...it just means that you're a pain in the ass."

The headache began anew sometime around gym. Luck of the draw would pit him, Alexandria, Cassie, Dominic and Corey in the same class as Tony and two of his cronies. Nothing was said, Tony wasn't that stupid, it was just the tension and by the time the bell rang, the pain in his head was like a vice grip.

"Go home, take two Tylenol, forget the riot act and call me tonight," Alexandria instructed. She planted a light kiss on his cheek before running off to catch her bus. Daniel trudged along the row of buses, looking for his. A gentle tap on his shoulder and he jumped and spun around, fists raised.

"Whoa." Sam raised her own hands. "I surrender."

"Sorry." Embarrassed, he dropped his arms. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Do I want to know who you were expecting with that wonderful greeting?"

A sudden thought occurred to Daniel. "My dad?"

"Colonel O'Neill?"

"Yes." Suddenly, Daniel couldn't breathe. "Is he—"

"Fine. He's fine. Honest."

"Without sounding rude... Why are you here?"

"He's going to be late. I thought that maybe you and I could go to dinner?"

Daniel must've dozed off in the front seat of Sam's car, because he had absolutely no memory of her driving from the school to her house.

"Hey," she said softly, gently shaking his shoulder. "Awake?"

He blinked at the afternoon's brightness. "Yeah. Up." He stretched, then smiled.

"Care to let me in on the secret?"

"Nothing." Except the headache was gone and for the first time in a few days, he really felt good.

"Hope you don't mind, I have to do a few things before dinner tonight."

"Nah. It's okay." Daniel patted the backpack resting between his knees. "I have more than enough to do to keep me busy."

"Hungry?"

Daniel checked the clock on Sam's computer and then looked up. "Wow. Umm... I didn't realize it was that late."

"So does that mean you're hungry?"

"Yeah, I am."

"What'll it be? Pizza. Greek. Chinese..."

"Steak?" Daniel asked tentatively. "Potatoes?"

Sam got a dreamy look in her face. "Medium rib eye... Dressed potato."

"O'Malley's?"

Sam licked her lips. "You took the words right out of my mouth."

"Sam," Daniel asked as he shoved his work back into his backpack, "can we take the motorcycle?"

She hesitated just for a moment, but it was long enough for Daniel to catch on. "Please?"

"Your father, my commanding officer, will kill me."

"Not if he doesn't—"

"No secrets, remember?"

"Well, does not saying anything constitute lying?"

"Always the diplomat, Daniel. Always. You'll have a great future at the SGC."

Daniel threw back his head, allowing the rush of wind to wash over him. Damn. Screw a car, this was what he wanted. This freedom. He allowed memories of his adult self to surface and he smiled as he recalled soloing on Sam's motorcycle. He tightened his hold around her waist and dropped his head on the back of her leather jacket. Through his adult eyes, the open road stretched before him and he shifted and weaved this powerful bike through traffic. He laughed, burying it against her back, recalling the shock and surprise on her face when he had returned whole and hearty from his expedition. She'd been surprised at his level of expertise.

They pulled into the gravel parking lot of O'Malley's. Daniel got off the bike before Sam, his enthusiasm barely containable.

She took off her helmet and shook out her hair. "What?"

"I remember," he said, practically dancing around the bike, pulling his helmet off. "I remember riding it. Shifting. You were surprised. Stunned. I. Can. Do. This."

"Don't even go there, Daniel," she warned with a wag of her finger, her somber expression deflating his happiness.

"Fine." He stomped up the stairs, not even waiting for Sam before stepping inside.

"I'm sorry." She reached out and plucked at the menu Daniel was hiding behind.

"They're not all good, you know. The memories. So when I find something—"

"Oh God, Daniel, I'm so very sorry."

He shrugged. "Sometimes it's just nice to be able—" Daniel looked around; the restaurant wasn't the place for this conversation. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad."

"Let me talk to your dad, okay? I'm not making any promises. No streets or anything, but maybe we can work something out."

"Thanks, Sam."

Sam's smile was wickedly evil. "Remember how to play pool?"

Daniel nodded.

"Come on, let's have some fun."

"He's just a kid." The pool cue guy balked at her suggestion.

Daniel kept silent, letting Sam do the talking.

"Afraid he's going to beat you?"

Daniel remembered that sometimes the trouble SG-1 got into wasn't all his fault.

"You're on."

"Best outta five?" The larger of the men in the group threw another five on the table.

Sam went to reach for it.

"Sam," Daniel whispered, checking the clock over the bar. "It's getting late."

"Sorry, guys." Sam gathered up their winnings, leaving the last five on the table. "I have to get Daniel home before his curfew." She tucked the money into her pocket. "Let it be a lesson to you. Never judge a book by its cover."

"Why not?" Exasperated, Daniel doggedly followed his dad from the kitchen and into his bedroom. He nearly bumped into him when his dad turned suddenly just inside the room.

"Let me repeat myself, for the last time. You are thirteen years old, and I am not teaching you how to drive until you are old enough to get a learner's permit. So I don't want to hear one more word about this subject for another three years. Got me?"

"But Alexandria's dad is teaching her and she's only fifteen—"

"You're thirteen."

"Soon to be fourteen and I already know how to drive. I remember—"

"Knowing how to drive and having the experience and maturity to drive are two different things."

"So let me have the experience. I can't get any when you drive me everywhere—"

"You're thirteen," his dad repeated.

"So you mean I'm not mature enough." Daniel's head began to pound; the vague headache he'd woken up with was stirring along with his anger.

"To be honest, no, you're not."

"Oh, gee, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Daniel, you may be mature for a thirteen year old, but we're talking about your life and the lives of everyone else out there while you're behind the wheel. And let's face it. Some of your decisions recently were not necessarily the most mature."

Daniel clamped his teeth together. His dad was right about that, but the situation had been different. "It's not the same thing."

"No, but the fact remains that you're still thirteen."

"But Corey and Christian and Nate and Li are taking driver's ed—"

"Daniel. Not. One. More. Word."

"It's not fair," Daniel mumbled as he went back to the kitchen. He tossed his half-eaten breakfast into the garbage, grabbed his schoolbag and went outside to sulk while he waited for his father. Resting his head on the ivy-covered cement wall, he closed his eyes and wondered if he could accompany Corey and talk his father into teaching him at the same time.

He heard the front door close behind him but didn't move until his father walked past him. He got up slowly, feeling tired, as if the argument had sucked all the energy out of him. Still sulking, he got into the Avalanche, avoiding looking at his father as he searched for his iPod in one of the pockets of his backpack.

Reaching up to stick the ear buds into his ears, his father placed a hand on his arm, stopping the motion. "I have to go on a mission today."

A surge of remembered excitement accompanied a horrible sense of anxiety at his dad's words. His father hadn't been offworld since Daniel's trip through the Stargate this spring and now that he had all of his older self's memories, Daniel knew exactly how dangerous those missions were. He fought back the envy and the worry.

"Through the...?" Daniel made a quick, circular motion with his finger.

"Yeah. It'll only be for a few hours but there's a good chance I might be delayed coming back until later tonight. If that happens, I want you to go to your grandma's, like we discussed. She should be home by the time school's out." His dad started the engine and began backing out of the driveway. "Leave a message with her when you get home and you and she can make plans if I end up being late, okay?"

"Yeah." Daniel slouched as far into the seat as his seatbelt would allow him and wished he were going along with his dad. The nightmares he'd experienced when his memories had started coming back had faded and while he still had bad dreams occasionally, he could remember how much his other, adult self had enjoyed going through the Stargate and meeting all those new people and cultures. It wasn't fair.

Life sucked sometimes.

The last exam had been a struggle. It'd been strangely chilly in the classroom, enough to make Daniel uncomfortable and antsy, tempting him to rush through the test so he could leave early. He'd learned his lesson, though, and forced himself to read through the questions a second time, just in case he'd missed something.

It was with relief that he handed the paper in and headed for the school bus. He joined his friends, staying on the sidelines of their conversation.

"We're going to be really roughing it," Corey bragged. "Mom got us these really great lined sleeping bags and you're all warm and toasty in 'em." He leered at Lena and waggled his eyebrows. "Be even toastier if I were sharing it with someone."

Lena rolled her eyes and pushed Corey away. "In your dreams, hotshot. I wouldn't share a blanket with you, let alone sleep in a tent." She shuddered delicately, then glared at her brother Li, who was grinning at her. "What are you laughing at? There are bugs and wild animals in the woods."

"Nah, we've seen rabbits and skunks but never anything bigger."

"No, she's right. There are wolves and bears," Nat added. "You have to put your food up out of reach so they can't get to it, and far from where you're sleeping."

"I know that. That's why I said we never saw any." Corey winked and turned to Daniel. "So, what are you doing this wonderful Memorial weekend?"

"Not going camping, that's for sure." Daniel shrugged away the draggy feeling and was glad that his dad hadn't made any plans. "I need to study for the physics exam on Tuesday."

"Be glad you're not a girl." Lena sighed as she took out a tube of lip gloss and applied it to her lips, talking while swiping the applicator back and forth. "Alexandria's mom's taking her on that dumb school retreat to that spa." She smacked her now glossy lips together. "I don't know how those two would want to spend time together. I mean, isn't it bad enough you live with your mother? Who'd want to go away on vacation with her?"

"I dunno. It's always kinda nice to do things alone with my dad." Daniel suddenly had a hankering for spending some time with his dad, out in the countryside. Cassie was doing that mom and daughter thing also, and suddenly he was jealous. His dad was off with Sam and Teal'c, having adventures, and here he was, looking forward to a long weekend with nothing but studying on his agenda. Maybe he could talk his dad into going hiking on Sunday or Monday.

"Yeah," Nate said. "Dad and I go to the movies sometimes 'cause mom doesn't wanna come. We always have fun. Dad lets me eat what I want without nagging me about ruining my supper."

On the bus ride home, Daniel listened to his friends, feeling too sluggish to join in except for a comment here and there. He got up reluctantly when his stop was next, waved to his friends and walked the two blocks home. He contemplated eating something but his stomach felt funny and he wasn't hungry. Unlocking the door, he kicked off his shoes in the hallway, dropped his schoolbag in the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Snapple Iced Tea from the fridge, and sprawled on his bed.

He opened the Snapple, brought it to his mouth and just the smell of it turned his stomach. With a sigh, he put the bottle down and wrapped himself in his comforter, trying to chase the chill away. He'd think about supper when his dad got home; right now, he'd just be lazy for a little while. He'd just gotten comfortable when he remembered he hadn't called his grandma. With a sigh, he got off the bed, retrieved his backpack and fished his phone from it.

After ten rings, he hung up and decided to go downstairs and watch a movie. He looked through their DVD selection half-heartedly, decided on a Kung Fu-type movie and settled on the couch, getting up a moment later to snag a blanket from the closet and made himself comfortable.

The phone pulled him out of what felt like a very deep sleep. He staggered off the couch, his head pounding heavily and nearly tripped over the blanket. Stumbling up the stairs, his sock-clad feet slid awkwardly on the wood floor as he hurried to the kitchen.

He grabbed the cell. "Hello?" he said breathlessly.

"Daniel?"

The voice at the other end was familiar, and his groggy brain fought to recognize it. And the moment he did, his heart fled into his throat. "Walter?"

"Hold please for General Hammond."

His mouth was suddenly dry and spitless as his heart pounded so fast, he could hardly take a full breath. "Walter, is my dad okay?"

"Daniel."

"General? Please, what happened to my dad?"

"Your father is fine, son. I promise, the whole team is fine."

The relief was so intense that Daniel's knees suddenly felt weak and he had to grab onto the counter to stay upright. He fought the rising nausea by swallowing hard.

"SG-1 ran into a slight problem and they'll be delayed returning home tonight."

"You spoke to him?"

"Yes, Daniel, I did." There was a touch of amusement in his voice. "He asked me to remind you to call your grandmother."

"I did," Daniel replied vaguely, trying to imagine what sort of problem might have prevented his dad from coming home. Jaffa was right up there at the top of his list, followed by everything from alien creatures to angry inhabitants.

"So everything's under control?"

"Huh?" Suddenly it occurred to him that his dad wouldn't be home tonight and that he needed to get in touch with his grandmother. "Yes, sir, everything's fine. When will my dad be coming home?" His voice wavered and he hated himself for that weakness.

"With any luck, sometime tomorrow. Unfortunately he's not in a position to call very often so I may not have any news for you until he actually arrives. But if anything comes up, I'll make sure to leave orders for someone to contact you."

"Thank you, sir." He hated General Hammond's vague explanation. He just wished that he could be told exactly what was going on and how much danger his dad and the others were in. He hung up the phone with images of danger and injuries and torture coming to the fore. Suddenly he hated knowing everything. Hated knowing the danger his father could be in. Hated that he couldn't be there to help them and hated that he was a kid. Once upon a time he'd killed a god. He'd met aliens, spoken to them, traded with them, married one, and today he couldn't even go out and drive a fucking car.

"NO!" he screamed, pulling his arm back in anger and frustration to throw the phone across the room. Anticipating the satisfactory crash and tinkle of broken pieces scattering across the kitchen floor, his stomach contracted in such a way that he aborted the throw and was running for the bathroom. He slid across the ceramic tiles, banging his knee painfully against the sink as he sank to his knees, dry heaving loudly.

After several false attempts to throw up, he sat back on the floor, thankful he hadn't eaten or drunk anything. He passed his hands over his face, rubbing away sweat and feeling the heat against his fingers. He sat there for a few minutes, waiting for his stomach to settle and then scrabbled on the floor for his cell phone.

He speed-dialed his grandmother's number again. When there was no answer, he called her cell, rubbing his free hand against his arm, trying to chase away the goose bumps.

"Mhuirnin."

"Hi, Grandma." He walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. His clothes still felt sweat-damp and he was cold despite the sunshine shining into the room.

"I'm glad you called. I was just about to phone your dad to tell him I'm going to be stuck here for at least two days. My damn car broke down and they can't get a replacement piece in for a few days."

"You're still in Mesa Verde?"

"Yep. Just so you know, the hotel Gwen and I are staying in has no cell reception so I'll have to give you the phone number."

Daniel hurriedly lunged for a pencil and dutifully wrote the number down.

"Is your dad there? Can I talk to him?"

"Um... no, Grandma, that's why I was calling." He tossed the paper and pencil onto the coffee table and sat back on the sofa, bringing his sock-clad feet up onto the sofa so he could curl up and conserve heat.

"He's working late?"

"Yeah. Sorta. I was supposed to come and stay with you but seeing you're not home..."

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. I can try and rent a car, maybe I can be home in a couple of hours—"

"No, no, I've got it covered." Daniel knew the chance he was taking by lying. "I can call Corey's mom and go stay there until Dad comes home."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. It'll be great. Corey got this new game he was telling me about so..."

"Okay. I'll call tomorrow and check up on you."

"Okay."

"Love you."

"I love you, too, Grandma."

He hung up and rubbed the back of his aching neck. He tried to think of what to do. He knew he wasn't allowed to stay home alone overnight. But everyone was going away this weekend.

Corey. Maybe he could go camping with the Maddisons, if they hadn't left yet. He didn't have his dad's permission to go camping but he was sure his dad would prefer that to the alternative of staying home alone. He grabbed his cell again and speed-dialed his friend, only to get his voicemail. He tried the main number, and got their answering machine.

He tried Cassie's cell next. Except she and Janet were already on their way and he spent the next fifteen minutes listening to every spa service and feature she was going to try. By the time he hung up with Cassie, he was shivering. He got up to check the central air, but it wasn't turned on.

There was no use calling Alexandria. He'd try Li, but he knew the family was going away to visit his aunt and he'd never been close enough to Nathan's family for a sleepover.

He'd exhausted his list of friends and family. He contemplated calling General Hammond, wondering if he could stay at the base, but wasn't sure how he could get there. Maybe he could take a cab. He trudged up the stairs to his bedroom and raided his piggybank.

One minute later, he sat there, staring at the woeful collection of coins and the two one dollar bills that were all that remained after his previous raiding of his piggybank last weekend in order to buy the latest CD of his favorite group. Not enough money for a cab ride to the mall, let alone Cheyenne Mountain.

With a grumbled curse, he grabbed the small handful of coins and dropped them haphazardly on his bureau, not patient enough at the moment to feed them back into his bank.

His last option was to call General Hammond and ask for a lift to the mountain, but if he did that, the general would know he'd lied to him because he'd given him the impression he was with his grandmother.

Okay, so his options were limited, and it looked like he was spending the evening here, at home, by himself. And he could do this; he had the memories of having lived alone, he just needed to remember them.

First off, he needed to prove to his dad that he'd done all he could. So he found some paper and wrote a list of who he'd called and why they were unavailable, who he'd thought of calling and why he hadn't.

Then he wrote that he'd thought of going to Cheyenne Mountain but didn't have enough cash for a cab. He added next to that notation that if he'd had a car and a driver's licence, the problem would have been solved then and there because he'd simply have driven himself back to the SGC.

Next he needed to show he was responsible. He went through the house, locking the front door and checking the windows. He emptied the dishwasher, took out the garbage and made notations of all his chores on the paper.

By now it was past suppertime. His brain said he should eat but his stomach didn't feel up to it. He opened the fridge and stared inside for several minutes. The thought of eating cold pizza, for once, churned his stomach, ditto leftover casserole and Chinese takeout, although the fried rice sounded almost half-appealing.

Next he opened the pantry and looked over his options. Finally he decided on canned soup and crackers. He took out a can and just as he put the can opener to the lid, decided that he'd rather have the fried rice. He put the can away, took the container of rice out and grabbed a spoon.

Sixty seconds later he was downstairs again, sitting on the couch, and trying to find the spot in the movie where he'd fallen asleep.

He managed only a few mouthfuls of cold rice before the shivering began in earnest. With a disgruntled sigh, he put the container down onto the coffee table and huddled under the blanket. "Shoulda had the soup, after all."

Halfway through the movie, he suddenly felt so awful that he needed to lie down. His whole body hurt, his head felt too big and heavy for his neck and he didn't seem to be able to get comfortable. The couch wasn't half as appealing as his bed, so he shut the TV and DVD off and still wrapped in the blanket, trudged upstairs, shutting the lights off behind him.

With the blanket dragging behind him like a cape, Daniel detoured to the bathroom and grabbed the bottle of Tylenol, shook out two and put his mouth to the faucet as he ran the cold water. He drank directly from the tap, intending to drink his fill but the chill of the water hit him and he began shivering again.

He changed into his pajamas quickly, the air of his bedroom causing goose bumps to spread on his naked skin. He hurriedly slid into bed, tossing the blanket on top of the comforter for good measure, and curled up into a tight little ball to try and minimize the trembling.

It was too early to go to sleep. Maybe, he could just warm up first then retrieve the DVD and finish watching the movie on his laptop, but right now he'd lost interest and going back downstairs felt like too much trouble. He could always read or study, but he'd had trouble concentrating on the movie, reading was even less appealing. He could play computer games but sitting up would be too uncomfortable.

He leaned over the side of the bed, found his pants, dug into his pockets, and pulled out his iPod. With shaking hands, he shoved in his ear buds, tossed the pants off the bed and burrowed under the blankets. Music was mindless. Even under the darkness of the blanket, he found the playlist he wanted and closed his eyes.

He shifted position. Changed the playlist and shifted again. The songs played on and he drifted, his body becoming one with the mattress. Too heavy to even move, no matter how much he ached.

Hunched over in a self-hug, with his knees drawn up to his chest, totally hidden by the quilt, Daniel fell asleep.

"Dad?" Daniel shot up in bed, ripped out his ear buds and flung his iPod the length of the bed. "Are you home?" He tossed back the blankets and stood, holding onto the dresser when the floor tilted dangerously. "I'm in here."

There was no one anywhere in the house, a shaky house check proved that. The alarm was still set, the windows and doors all locked and alarmed. Hell, even the outside motion detector floodlights in the back yard were still off. Nothing. Just his overactive imagination. He dragged himself back to bed, hugging the wall. With eyes half-closed, he fell back into bed without even trying to find his iPod.

The damage was done, though, and Daniel remained creeped out, lying on his back, listening to nothing but silence. His self-deprecating deep sigh set off a spasm of coughing, the urge of which hadn't even been a tickle in his throat seconds before.

"Great." The one word seemed extraordinarily loud. Daniel flipped over, punched the pillow and dropped face down into it. He forced his burning eyes to close and stay closed. What he couldn't stop was the parade of horror movie ghouls and disemboweled teenagers marching in his brain.

Daniel settled in on the living room couch. His bedroom had been too stifling, was the excuse he'd used to rationalizing moving to the living room. His laptop was open, set up on the coffee table right at eye level. The movie Cars was playing with sparkling clarity and Daniel tucked his comforter around his body, stretched out, stuck his pillow under his head and watched. And watched some more. Then some more. Just before the closing credits, Daniel fell into a restless sleep.

He dreamed horrible disjointed dreams and woke just before dawn. Drained and tired, but feeling a touch more human, Daniel dragged himself to the bathroom. He peed, washed his hands, then spent the better part of ten minutes dry heaving into the toilet. So much for feeling a touch more human.

Once in his bedroom, he changed out of pajamas into sweats, socks and for good measure, and because he couldn't believe how cold he was, his hoody. He made tea and toast, moving around the kitchen sluggishly. He tried to reproduce the tea his grandma would make and ended up with a poor and overly sweetened copy. The only thing Daniel used it for was to wash down two slices of toast.

Threw in a load of laundry, Daniel added to his list, leaving out that he had to wipe up a cupful of laundry detergent that had dropped on the floor or that tee shirts were getting washed with towels. It was the thought that counted; he was being responsible, proudly showing his father that being home alone with a cold wouldn't deter him.

Responsibility. Daniel needed to study and he tore himself away from the mesmerizing spin of the washing machine to head back upstairs. Since half his bed was already in the living room and dragging his backpack over to the couch took less energy than the amount of energy he would expend bringing his pillow, backpack, blanket, and himself back into his room, he settled on the couch with his books.

Twenty minutes later, his books were an untidy pile on the floor while Daniel was curled up on the couch under a mound of blankets, miserable, his head pounding while he lay there with absolutely no energy to do much of anything. "I'll just close my eyes for a little while,," he promised himself.

From far away he heard the washing machine spin to a stop, and knew he should get up and put the clothes in the dryer. That thought was on his mind as he drifted off to sleep, and was still there when he woke up.

The day had become gloomy while the clouds outside thickened and darkened, throwing the living room into dreariness. The air, even inside the house, promised rain soon. He cast a longing glance at the fireplace as he stood and dragged himself down to the basement to put the clothes in the dryer. Lack of wood prevented him from lighting a fire, plus the promise he'd given his father to never use the fireplace if he wasn't home.

Climbing back up the stairs left him weak in the knees and seeing stars as his head pounded in time with his pulse.

"This is ridiculous." With one finger, he rubbed at the spot behind his left ear where the pain seemed worse as he grabbed a bottle of Tylenol from his bathroom's medicine cabinet and shook the last two remaining pills into his palm. "Oh, great." If he didn't shake this cold soon, he'd have to go out into the coming rain and get some more.

He swallowed the pills with a small sip of water, waiting as that bit of liquid coursed down his throat and into his stomach. There was a moment of defiance from his stomach, but his willpower finally prevailed and he left the bathroom confident that he wouldn't be running back there, at least for a few minutes.

Wandering the house aimlessly, he stepped into the kitchen to look outside, and was shocked when a glance at the clock showed he'd slept for nearly four hours. It was past lunchtime, but he felt no inkling of hunger. Even the thought of food turned his stomach.

He stared out at the laden clouds, wishing for sunshine so he could sit outside and soak up the sun's rays. Even as he watched, large splats darkened the wood of the back deck. The raindrops fell slowly at first, then erupted into a sheet of water that splashed loudly on the wooden slats.

As it was already mid-afternoon, maybe his dad would be coming home soon. Feeling stupid for feeling so lonely, he reached for the house phone, intending to call the SGC, then remembered General Hammond's words – essentially Don't call us, we'll call you. But he must have an idea now when his dad would be coming home. Today? Tonight? Tomorrow? He began to dial the main number, then cut the call before it could go through.

"Stupid. Stupid." He knew better than that. If he spoke to General Hammond, he'd want to speak to his grandma, and then he might suspect he was alone. He was just about to put the phone back on the cradle when it rang loudly in his hands. The sound startled him and he fumbled and almost dropped the phone.

"Hello."

"Hi, Daniel."

"Walter." His heart skipped a beat and he leaned dizzily against the counter.

"I just wanted to let you know that we heard from your dad a little while ago and he still doesn't know how long it'll be before he can make it back home."

Daniel understood the subtext, even with his pounding heart making it hard to focus. Most likely cut off from the 'gate but within radio transmission whenever the SGC dialed the planet. "Okay, thanks for letting me know."

"They'll be fine, Daniel," Walter said in a low voice.

"I know," Daniel answered equally as softly before he hung up. He tried his grandmother but got her voice mail. He left a quick message, telling her he missed her, and made his way back to the couch. A sense of obligation made him pick up a textbook; the inability to focus made him put it back down. He tossed his glasses to the side and huddled beneath the comforter, lying on his back while he stared out the window, watching the rain cascade down the glass. The blurry motion was hypnotic and before he knew it, his eyes were closing.

"Dad?" he said quickly into the phone, not even checking to see who was calling.

"Oh, nice to see that you're missing me."

"Alexandria." He wiped his sleep-crusted eyes with a knuckle; even that small motion hurt the muscles in his arm. "Where are you—"

"At the spa, silly. You should see this place! It's amazing. I had this really stinky seaweed wrap where you're wrapped up like a mummy and you can't move and then I soaked in a hot tub with this wonderful bath oil which I'm begging mom to buy for me but she said we already spent too much money here and then I had a sugar scrub and mom had this shower where they spray all these showerheads on your body at once and..." She stopped a moment, taking a deep breath.

"So I guess you're enjoying yourself?" Great, glad one of us is, he thought, fighting to keep the loneliness out of his voice. He squinted into the dark, wondering what time it was.

"Oh yeah. And Cassie and I were sitting in the lounge earlier and these ladies came up and brought us tea and cookies, just like you see in the movies. I'm having another massage tomorrow and having a pedicure and a flower soak. And I saw Monica, you know, Monica Taylor? Would you believe she was having a cellulite wrap and treatment? Like the girl is so thin, and she's worried about cellulite?"

"Really?" He forced himself to sit up, ignoring his pounding head and reached for his glasses as Alexandria continued her monologue.

"And they have these little slippers you can wear, and bathrobes. Everyone's walking around in robes. It's so cool."

Daniel sat forward with his head in his free hand, massaging his temple and scalp. He burped, and felt bile rise into his mouth, which he swallowed down quickly, leaving a burning sensation in the back of his throat. "That's... weird."

"I know! But you don't feel weird because everyone else is just like you. But we got dressed up for supper. That was kinda fun. Cassie's mom is so funny. Oh, I have to go. We're going to the movies. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Great," Daniel said, but Alexandria had already hung up and he was talking to the dial tone. He checked the time on his phone and sighed. It was after seven; the storm outside made it feel like it was later. As he tucked the phone into the pocket of his hoody, lightning lit the room up for a second.

He stood and wavered a moment as his body adjusted to being upright. He hurt everywhere, even his skin. Shuffling carefully in the dark, he made his way to the back of the house, turning lights on as he went, until he entered his dad's bathroom. He'd intended on looking for Tylenol or Advil but he spotted the thermometer in the medicine chest.

Fingering the plastic implement a moment, he figured he might as well see if he really was truly sick. It hit him as odd as he stuck the thing into his mouth that no matter how irritating it was when his dad or grandma wanted to take his temperature, it was always an act of caring. Now, alone in the house, he missed having someone doting on him. He stood there, one hand holding the thermometer while the other hung onto the sink for balance, listening to the thunder rumble outside, until it beeped.

He stared at the numbers in surprise - 102.7. He blinked, and looked again, but the figures didn't change.

No wonder he felt so lousy. He really was sick. And now that he could see he had a fever, he felt worse than before.

A quick search of the medicine cabinet came up empty. A more careful search of both bathrooms and kitchen cabinets came up short of anything he could take for his fever. There was nowhere else to look except... maybe his dad had some in the first aid kit.

He began rummaging through his dad's closet, looking for the kit. His neck was stiff and felt like it wouldn't hold his head up for much longer. Desperate for something to ease the fever, he shoved things to the side until he finally spotted the white box sitting on the top shelf, right in front of him in plain sight.

He was just reaching for it when the lights went out with a spectacular crash of thunder. "Oh, damn it." He reached again blindly and pulled the case out. He fingered the contents, unable to tell what he was touching. "Of all the stupid timing. Now I need to get a damned flashlight."

The bedroom was pitch-dark, except for the frequent lightning flashes. With the box under his arm, he'd made it to the door when a voice stopped him cold. He couldn't make out the words, but it wasn't his dad's voice, and it was coming from the living room.

"Shit, shit, shit." He stood there, frozen, when he realized there was an intruder in his home.

For a moment his mind went blank, then he realized he needed to get some help. Instinct had him hitting the speed-dial for his dad's cell, but the moment he hit send he remembered his dad wasn't even on Earth.

The voice was getting closer, footsteps coming down the hallway as the beam of a flashlight bounced off the wall. Slowly Daniel backed up out of sight, trying to think of what to do. He hit 911, but even as the phone rang at the other end, the intruder's voice was nearly at the door so he cut the connection. He shrank down behind the bed, his whole body shaking from both fear and fever.

"I don't care what favors you have to pull, just get the power back on in here. I can't see a bloody thing."

The flashlight played over his head and Daniel hugged the edge of the bed. The man was talking softly, giving Daniel the impression he was trying not to be overheard, and most likely talking into a radio.

"No, the kid doesn't know I'm here. There's signs he was sleeping, he's probably just holed up in the dark, waiting for the lights to come back on." The voice moved on, heading towards his bedroom.

If he could hear the intruder talking on the radio, then the intruder would most certainly hear him talking on the phone. Daniel knew he had to call for help; he just had to do it from somewhere else.

For a moment his mind went blank, then his adult memories kicked in. He had learned how to load and shoot a gun. His dad had made sure he would never make the mistake Charlie had. And he had shot a gun, had injured and killed people in self-defense as an adult. He knew he had the balls to do it; he just needed to get to the gun.

On hands and knees, he crept towards the closet. He'd seen the gun case in his search for the first aid kit. Slowly, he began feeling through the contents of the closet.

Luck was with him; he found the case within seconds. That had been the easy part. Now he needed the key, and ammunition.

He stood quickly and groped for the large cloth bag hanging behind his dad's dress uniform. He pulled the bag off the hook, reached inside and took out a magazine clip. Then he got down and on hands and knees once again, he crept to his dad's bureau and reached for the sock drawer. He pulled it open slowly and felt around, searching for the key which he knew was in the far right corner. He got it, shut the drawer and crawled back to his hiding place behind the bed. He realized he couldn't hear anything and he listened, trying to figure out where the intruder was. Maybe he could try calling the police now...

He fingered his phone but a familiar creak in the hallway stopped him. That piece of wood always creaked whenever someone stepped on it. The guy was right outside Daniel's bedroom.

With badly shaking fingers, Daniel stuck the phone back into the hoody's pocket and fumbled the key into the lock, opening the gun case. He touched the cold metal and pulled it out as the footsteps got closer. He thought he'd feel safer with the gun in his hand, but the memories in his head told him that he'd just made himself more of a target.

The sudden thought of having to shoot someone sickened him and coupled with his already existing nausea, he gagged.

He heard the footsteps come rushing into the room and he tried to shove the magazine into the weapon even as he spewed bile. He felt a hand grip his shoulder and try to pull him upright.

"Got him," the man said triumphantly.

Daniel coughed once, still doubled over and struggling with the gun. And once again, acting instinctively on the memories in his head, he let go of the gun just long enough to grab the leg next to him and gave a sharp jerk, throwing his assailant off balance. He rolled sideways and grabbed the gun, finally getting the magazine in.

Lightning illuminated the room and the man's face. He was staring intently at the gun now aimed directly for his forehead.

"Who the fuck are you?" Daniel screamed over the ensuing thunder. His head was pounding so hard that his vision was greying on the sides, and he was trembling so badly the gun kept wavering off target even with his two-handed hold on it.

"Put the gun down, Daniel." The man's gaze crept past the gun and stared hard at Daniel.

"You broke into my house."

"Put the gun down before you hurt someone."

"I'm calling the police." Holding the gun in his right hand, he reached for the phone with his left. His heart was beating wildly and his legs kept threatening to give out on him, and he just knew that the intruder would make a move the second he took his eyes off him. Trying to dial from memory, he began punching in the numbers.

Everything happened so fast. The man moved forward and Daniel pulled the trigger. Except nothing happened. For a split second, he stood there, until the impossible happened. Again.

Just like when Tony attacked him at the mall, Daniel moved without thinking. He threw himself sideways and kicked savagely with the sole of his foot. He felt a satisfying crunch even as the blow jarred his leg right into his hip and then the man screamed in pain as he fell heavily to the ground.

Daniel wasted no time. On legs that could barely support him, he ran, slamming his shoulder painfully into the wall as he lost his balance and stumbled forward. His mind was racing and he didn't know what to do. He couldn't hide inside the house, the intruder had been talking to someone else and he'd be found within minutes. He had to get outside and call for help.

He ran downstairs to the basement, heading for the garage. He slapped the automatic door opener with the palm of his hand, then swore when he realized it wouldn't work without power. He grabbed his bike, taking only a second to put the gun into his hoody pocket, along with his cell phone, and waited for a clap of thunder, hoping it would mask the sound of him manually opening and closing the garage door.

Peddling furiously into the storm, he gasped at the chill of the rain as he pulled out of the driveway and down the street.

It was difficult to breathe. The wind tossed the rain at him in waves, each one so cold against his fevered skin that it took his breath away. He kept looking back anxiously, shoving his sodden hair out of his eyes constantly, but nobody ran out of the house and no car started up. Still he turned on the first street, and then turned again, and again, until he was able to pull into an alleyway near a small strip mall.

He dug his phone out with fingers that felt numb and frozen and dialed his dad's cell. "Dad!" he screamed above the roar of the pounding rain. "Someone's in the house." His teeth were chattering so hard, he was having trouble forming words and the wind kept tearing the breath from him. "I got away but I don't know if they came after me. I don't know what to do. I don't know where to go. I'm alone. Grandma's stuck in Mesa Verde. Dad! I don't know what to do!" He leaned against the meager shelter of the building and waited, then finally disconnected. He started to dial 911 again, but knew that it was all too possible that his attacker hadn't been an ordinary robber. Actually all the memories deep in his brain were telling him that this had to do with the SGC.

And so again, he disconnected the call and began dialing the SGC's main number, only to stop and plaster himself against the wall as well as he could, considering he was still sitting on his bike, when a car very slowly cruised past on the street.

He needed to get out of here, and he needed to go now. He walked his bike to the corner of the building, watched nervously as the car turned right, counted to ten, and took off. Riding like a maniac, he tore through the streets, glancing down the avenue the car had taken as he flew by and seeing only taillights.

He was twenty minutes from Sam's house; he could go there and call the SGC from the safety of her home.

Unfortunately the adrenaline that had given him the strength to bring down an adult and run out of the house into a storm was wearing off. He was shaky, barely having the strength to pedal, forcing him to begin coasting to conserve his strength. His bare feet hurt against the pedals and he kept changing the angle to ease the discomfort. Harsh tremors coursed through him, making it difficult to steer in a straight line even when the rain eased into a normal downpour. Twenty minutes became thirty when he finally pulled up into Sam's street.

He stopped next to a tree and watched the street. Thankfully, her part of town hadn't been affected by the blackout and lights were on in every house, even Sam's. But he knew no one was home. She used timers to give the appearance that she was.

Sheet lightning lit the sky beyond the houses, but barely illuminated the streets. Slowly he kicked off and pedaled to her house. He was tired, very tired, but the aches and pains of fever had eased. He just wished his headache would get better as he pulled into her driveway.

He looked around furtively but couldn't tell if anyone was watching. Quickly he punched in the security numbers to her automatic door opener, and ducked inside the moment the garage door was high enough. He was about to shut the door when he had an idea.

He hitched his sweat pants up as he walked around her motorcycle, his bare, wet feet picking up grit from the cement floor. He could call the SGC and ask for help, and then wait here for hours before someone came for him. He had tons of memories of having to wait for the military to get things done. Which meant he'd have to sit here in wet clothes until they came for him Or, he could go to the SGC and tell them what had happened, get something from the infirmary for his headache and get something dry to wear. And he wouldn't be alone there. Plus, at this point, his attacker must be long gone so time was no longer of the essence.

Decision made, he hurriedly entered Sam's house, grabbed the spare keys to the motorcycle and a helmet, and climbed on. He had a second of doubt, knowing his dad would probably kill him for this, but his desire to be with people he trusted overrode his caution and he put the key in the ignition.

A minute later, he was slowly driving down the city streets, heading for Norad Road. He knew better than to try and take the highway. The bike didn't handle as easily as his memories led him to believe but still he managed to keep it running despite his lack of practice with the clutch, and he was careful of the slick streets. There wasn't much traffic on the road, for which he was very thankful.

His clothes were soaked, and the current of air kept him at a constant shiver. The bike's headlight and those of oncoming traffic, and streetlights, began to make his headache worse and his eyes water. Quickly the pain began to creep down his neck and into his shoulders, and his attempts at handling the bike weren't helping. By the time he came up to the turnoff for Norad Road, he was in so much pain, he was on the verge of crying.

"Almost there," he mumbled to himself in a litany as he took the turn a little too wide and the bike nearly swerved off the road. He righted it with difficulty, nearly choking the motor, then gassed it and began heading up the final leg of the journey towards Cheyenne Mountain.

He began to relax, easing off on the motorcycle, careful on the winding road. He'd made it. Not only had he escaped his attacker, but he'd driven Sam's bike by himself. He couldn't wait to tell Corey and Alexandria and Cassie, even if his dad grounded him for the summer.

Despite his headache and exhaustion, he felt smug, so when headlights flooded him from behind, he turned around, surprised to see an SUV quickly bearing down on him. His reactions were slow, so by the time he began to accelerate, the SUV was almost on top of him. Half-blinded by the strength of the headlights, Daniel could barely see the road. He felt the front tire leave the asphalt just as an electric jolt struck him. And then he was flying.

"C'mon, hurry up, Doc. We're right out in the open here."

Daniel tried to open his eyes as a voice came out of a tunnel, but they felt glued shut.

"I know. I need more light." The voice was that of a woman and it sounded familiar. He couldn't place her, but he somehow knew he should recognize who it was.

Then a bright light shone in his face, sending shards of agony through his closed eyelids. He moaned in pain even as hands were shoved under his shoulders and he was turned onto his side and thankfully away from the painful glare. But his body was limp, he couldn't move.

"Be careful. He could be injured." The voice sounded angry.

"Just get that thing out of him." Then the light was back, and fingers were pressing against the back of his scalp, near his ear, where his headaches seemed to emanate from. "And take care of the residual bugs. We don't want anything traced back to us."

He felt a sharp pain and realized that someone had cut into his scalp. He tried to buck but he couldn't move.

"Jesus, is it supposed to bleed that much?"

"It's a head wound. They bleed a lot due to the rich blood supply which—"

The woman did something that caused Daniel's head to literally erupt in pain. The bright lights behind his closed eyelids turned red as all sounds faded. Then slowly the pain eased as his hearing came back. He heard footsteps on the asphalt, car doors slam shut, and a vehicle drive off, the headlights flooding over him and then fading.

It felt like an eternity later, but he managed to open his eyes. All he could see was the glistening asphalt right before him, illuminated by the headlight of the downed motorcycle lying on its side. He managed to slowly sit up, feeling scrapes and bruises along his right arm, ribs and leg. There was no sign of the SUV, or anyone else, for that matter. He could see the highway in the distance as blurs, which he presumed to be headlights, zoomed by.

He put a hand to the spot that the woman had touched, and winced as his fingers came back warm and wet with blood. The killer headache was gone, but there was a pressure in his head and neck that was making it hard to think.

Somehow he got to his feet, wavered and teetered dangerously, having to take a couple of steps sideways before he got his balance. He looked at the bike and realized there was no way he was going to get it upright. He could walk, couldn't he? The SGC couldn't be that far away now. He looked around for his glasses, found them a few feet from the bike and put them on. The world focused slightly but things remained oddly fuzzy around the edges.

He turned his back on the highway and started walking, soon leaving the headlight's illumination. Thanks to the overcast sky, he was walking blind within seconds, forced to stop and turn around. He looked around dazedly, wondering what to do. He was so tired, hurting so badly, his bare feet already stinging from the asphalt, that he was tempted to just sit by the bike and wait for someone to drive by, even if it was his attackers. It took everything for him not to cry.

Then he remembered how close he was to the SGC. Maybe he could call them, ask if someone could come and get him. He reached inside his hoody's pocket for his cell phone, but felt nothing but the gun.

He looked around on the ground, searching for his phone. He spotted it just beyond the circle of light from the motorcycle and he trudged over to it. He bent down to pick it up, and suddenly found himself sitting on his ass, his teeth jarring painfully together.

Feeling oddly light-headed, he turned his phone on, but nothing happened. He shook it and stared at it in confusion. It should work; all he had to do was press this button. He'd done it hundreds of times. He stabbed his finger at the button again and again, but the phone wouldn't turn on.

"Daddy," he sobbed as he brought his arms around his chest, bent over at the waist. A breeze suddenly blew across the road, sending him shivering in his sodden and torn sweats. Sitting here would accomplish nothing, so he got to his feet again and began walking.

This time it wasn't so dark, he could still see the road before him. He kept walking, heading towards the base, towards sanctuary, towards friends, towards his dad, when the sudden deafening sound of a siren blasted for a couple of seconds directly in front of him shook him from his daze.

"Are you hurt, son?" A man stepped out of a police car and was coming towards Daniel. He stopped walking and watched him curiously. Police were good, right? He was safe. "What's your name?"

Name? He had a name, didn't he? Daniel, yeah, that was it. He licked his lips and told the officer what his name was.

"Were you riding that bike?" A second cop stepped out of the police cruiser. "How old are you, Daniel?"

"Forty," he answered without hesitation.

"Ah. Been drinking, have you?" the second cop asked.

"He doesn't smell of booze, Brian," the first cop said, stepping into Daniel's personal space. "Might be stoned, though." He took Daniel by the arm and pulled him to the right. Daniel stumbled behind, nearly falling against the officer when he stopped. "I want you to walk this line, just like in the movies. Toe to toe, like this." The officer began walking along the white line in the middle of the road, putting one foot close in front of the other.

"Now, your turn."

Daniel looked at the policeman, not sure why he wanted him to walk when there was a perfectly good police cruiser parked right behind him. "I need my dad."

"Oh, don't you worry. Your dad's going to hear all about this." He gave Daniel a nod. "Now, start walking."

Daniel took one step, then another, and found himself sitting on the asphalt once again. This time the cop was kneeling next to him while the other one was talking into a radio.

"Why the hell didn't you tell us you were hurt?" The cop, who was now a fuzzy blur, ran his hands across Daniel's body, causing him to wince and pull back when he pressed against a sore spot.

"Ow." He pushed the hands away, holding his own hands protectively across his stomach.

"Easy." The cop pulled his hands away and then froze.

"What the hell?" The cop fumbled at his hoody, and then the next thing Daniel knew, he was flat on the ground on his stomach and his arms pulled cruelly behind his back. "You're under arrest for driving under the influence, concealing a weapon, and attempting to pull a weapon on a police officer."

Jack sat, head bowed, elbows balanced on the table, trying to massage the kinks out of his neck, put there by the stress and strain of the past thirty-six hours. He shifted restlessly, feeling aches and pains in his hips and back that hadn't been there several years back. Carter was tapping incessantly on a laptop while sipping coffee, while Teal'c sat there unmoving, making both him and Carter look impatient and antsy. The other members of the offworld team were all trying to hold back their impatience while Hammond finished something in his office.

Well, maybe he felt antsy because he was. He hadn't slept except for quick catnaps, never knowing what the enemy was up to. The two times they'd tried to circle around to take the Stargate had ended up with SG-1 and SG-5 having to fall back and play the waiting game again.

Finally Hammond came out of his office and Jack straightened to a more presentable position. He went to stand, as did Carter, but Hammond waved them down.

"I know you're tired. Let's make this short, if possible."

"Thank you, sir." He held back a sigh of relief. "There's really not much more to tell from the intel we gave you through the radio, sir. There were ten of them, all with superior strategic positions, and they wouldn't let us get near the Stargate for nearly a day and a half. Then all of a sudden, not long after the last time you contacted us, the enemy fell back and went through the 'gate, abandoning it."

"Did you get a look at the 'gate address?"

"We did not. The DHD was not apparent from our position." Teal'c turned to look at Carter. "However, Major Carter did detect something odd."

"Odd?" Hammond's attention was now focused on Carter, and Jack hoped she was going to give him the concise version.

"While making a routine scan, I accidentally discovered a second transmission piggybacked on the radio waves from the SGC. I managed to record two of these, but they're encrypted. It may take me a while to crack the code."

"What about the power source the UAV detected?"

"It was gone by the time we got there, sir," Colonel Pierce said, anger tingeing his voice. "Sort of sounds like it was a trap to me."

"Yes, it does. But to what purpose?"

"Hopefully the encrypted message will shed some light, sir."

"Then make that your priority, Major. I think you've all earned some time off. Go home, and enjoy—"

"General Hammond, sir?" Walter, who'd been standing on the sidelines while Hammond dismissed them, approached quickly. He glanced at Jack and motioned for him to wait. "The main switchboard just received a call from the local police department." Walter turned to Jack. "It's Daniel, sir, they've arrested him."

"I could have driven," Jack grumbled as Teal'c slowed the Avalanche as they approached a yellow light. His foot itched to ram it down on top of Teal'c's and force the vehicle through the traffic light. He ignored Carter's looks in his direction and tried to rein in his anxiety.

"Ordinarily, yes." Teal'c turned to give Jack an assessing look, then pointedly stared at Jack's foot, which he was tapping impatiently on the floorboards. "But you are exhausted, worried and impatient, a combination which would more than likely endanger all our lives were you to have driven us to Memorial Hospital."

"I can't believe Daniel stole a car and was caught DUI. I thought we'd settled this matter and he wasn't having flashbacks anymore. Plus, he gave his word about not taking drugs." Jack took his cell phone again and tried calling his mother, only to get her voice mail. Where the hell was she, and why hadn't she called yet? She had to be at the hospital with Daniel.

Which reminded him; rushing hell bent out of the mountain, he hadn't had a chance to check his own messages.

"And there's the matter of pulling a gun on a police officer."

Jack ground his teeth together, telling himself it wasn't his gun that Daniel had stolen. These actions weren't those of his son. Even after their argument over Daniel learning to drive, he still trusted Daniel to not go behind his back and do what he'd forbidden him to do. Yes, Daniel had had problems earlier this year but there had been good reasons for them. But this whole situation reeked of those damned flashbacks again.

He saw he had a message from Daniel, and he went stiff with shock as he listened to his son's panicked voice. "Dad! Someone's in the house. I got away but I don't know if they came after me. I don't know what to do. I don't know where to go. I'm alone. Grandma's stuck in Mesa Verde. Dad! I don't know what to do!"

"Jesus Christ." He quickly dialed the SGC and demanded a security team to report to his house.

"Colonel, what's going on?" Carter demanded.

"Daniel left me a message, less than two hours ago. He said there was someone in the house. He was supposed to stay with my mother but he said she's stuck in Mesa Verde. He spent the damn night alone in the house!"

"That would explain the gun, sir. Maybe he took it off the robber and—"

"And pulled it on a cop? Something's not right, Carter. Lam and Fraiser were positive Daniel's memories were no longer a problem. Is there any chance they were wrong and that he's having flashbacks again?"

Carter hesitated. "It is possible. But I'm sure Carolyn or Janet would have seen signs. Didn't he just have a physical?"

"Yeah. Which he came through with flying colors but..." Jack wanted to smack himself upside the head. "He's been having headaches. Mood swings. Fatigue. I thought it was just stress from studying for his finals but... Damn it."

It wasn't lost on him that the Avalanche had sped up, and that this time, Teal'c ran the yellow light. They were almost at the hospital now. Jack spent the last minutes calling the SGC again and asking Walter to try and track down his mother in Mesa Verde to see if she had any information regarding Daniel.

The moment Teal'c screeched to a halt, Jack was out the truck and running through the Emergency doors. He held himself in check, trying not to yell at the harried clerk who eventually told him that Daniel was in cubicle four. He half ran, half walked through Emergency, until he saw his son, lying on his side on a gurney.

"Daniel."

"Dad?" Daniel's head popped up.

In a split second, Jack saw confusion in Daniel's dirty and tear-stained face. Blood had dripped and dried down the side of his neck and stained his hoody, which was opened, half on and half off his shoulders. His sweatpants were torn, and his feet were bare. Excited, his son attempted to throw himself off the gurney, only to come to a sudden halt as the handcuffs kept him anchored.

"Get these off," Daniel croaked as he tugged at the metal.

"What the hell?" Jack was brought up short when a uniformed officer stepped between him and Daniel.

"May we see some ID, sir?"

Jack pointed over the person blocking him from getting to Daniel. "I'm his father."

"I'm Officer DeLuca. We were under the impression that you were out of town."

"I was, but..." The officer refused to move. "Damn it." Jack dug into his pocket and pulled out his military ID, flashing it in the officer's face. "Look, whatever the problem is, it was a misunderstanding. Daniel's a good kid..."

The constant rattling of the handcuffs was tearing at Jack's soul. "You can do whatever you want with my ID. Run it through Motor Vehicles or whatever you need to do, just get the handcuffs off my son."

DeLuca flipped the ID closed and passed it back to Jack. "Mr. O'Neill..."

"Colonel. Colonel O'Neill."

"I'm sorry. Colonel O'Neill. Injured or not, your son is under arrest and—"

"Dad, please." Daniel stood there, one hand tethered to the gurney, the other one reaching out for Jack. His eyes were red and glassy from crying, but even as Jack looked at his son, he could see no sign of inebriation. Only pure and total terror. A sight he had prayed never to see again.

"Then let me go to him. Please."

The officer stepped back and Jack hurriedly took Daniel in his arms. The control Daniel had obviously been trying to hold onto disintegrated as he began sobbing uncontrollably the moment Jack touched him.

Except... He felt it immediately the moment Daniel plastered his face against his neck. It took him only a second to confirm the fever by slipping his hand under the damp hoody, touching the small of Daniel's back.

"Has a doctor seen him?" Jack barked at DeLuca.

"Yeah, earlier. Said he had some bruises and a cut behind his ear that needed a stitch or two."

"He's got a fever."

"The doctor said your son was fine—"

"Hey!" Jack bellowed. "Can I have some help in here?" He tried to get Daniel to sit back on the gurney, but Daniel was having none of it. His free hand was wrapped around Jack's neck while the other one was still fighting the handcuffs and he had one leg wrapped behind Jack's, trying to stay as much in physical contact as possible with him.

"Colonel O'Neill, I can assure you, your son had a minor mishap with a motorcycle but he wasn't hurt other than some scrapes and bruises and that cut—"

"He's fuckin' burning up," he snapped at the cop as Daniel fought for breath as his sobs continued unabated. "I need a doctor here, now!

"Icky, I need you to calm down." Jack shifted his weight, forcing Daniel to step backwards so there was less pressure on his cuffed hand. "I need you to tell me what happened. Can you do that?" he said as he lowered his mouth close to Daniel's ear. He cupped his fingers around Daniel's head. "Come on, it's okay. You're safe now. You have to tell me what happened so I can get to the bottom of this."

Jack pulled away and glared at the nurse who stopped in the cubicle's entrance and looked at him with an exasperated expression.

"My son has a temperature of at least 103," Jack said, forcing himself to speak slowly and calmly. "He needs a doctor and he needs one right now."

The look of exasperation disappeared, replaced by one of concern. Even as she stepped into the cubicle, Daniel's breathing suddenly changed.

"Da– Da– Da– Da–" The stuttering was accompanied by short, jerky breaths. His hold on Jack loosened suddenly as he went limp. He fell into Jack's arms and Jack struggled to get him back onto the gurney, not quite managing it until the nurse helped him.

"I'll get a doctor—" She was one step away from the gurney when Daniel stiffened and began seizing. "I need help in here," she cried as she tried to turn Daniel onto his side. Jack helped her, holding Daniel in position as he bucked and jerked. Suddenly the cubicle was crowded. Two more people in scrubs rushed into the room, as well as another police officer.

One of the newcomers pulled a drawer open and removed a syringe, only to stop and swear as she looked Daniel over. "Damnit, there's no IV started."

"He didn't need one when he was admitted," the nurse said as she continued to hold onto Daniel.

Then the jerks began to lessen, turning into twitches, and with a sigh, Daniel went still.

"Get that IV in, STAT," the doctor barked as she pushed Jack aside, helping to ease Daniel onto his back. "Damn, he's burning up. Get me some vitals here, people." The crotch area of Daniel's sweats was noticeably darker in color.

Jack stepped back, then jerked in surprise as someone put a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to see Carter and Teal'c standing right behind him.

"I called the SGC. Carolyn's on her way."

Jack nodded dumbly, watching as a doctor and two nurses checked Daniel out.

"BP is 180 over 114. Temperature is 104.2. Febrile seizure?" the nurse asked while the other nurse plunged a needle into the back of Daniel's wrist and set up an IV.

"It's possible but not likely." The doctor turned to Jack. "Your son was involved in a motorcycle accident, right?"

"Motorcycle?" Carter squeaked.

DeLuca spoke up. "Yes, that's right."

"Was there head trauma?" The doctor flashed her penlight into Daniel's eyes as she peeled his eyelids back, one after the other.

"Only a small cut to the back of his head," the nurse supplied.

"Pupils are normal and reactive." The doctor turned Daniel's head to the side and slowly palpated the area around it. "I don't feel anything, not even a bump. But I want an X-ray, just in case."

"Another doctor already checked the kid out," the other officer supplied. "He said he was fine, and he only needed the stitches. We were waiting for someone to sew the kid up before taking him back to the precinct."

"Was he complaining of any pain?" The doctor glanced first towards Jack, then the officers.

"No. But he was uncooperative when we arrested him, and we suspected he was DUI."

"Have tox screens been ordered?"

"Yes, doctor."

"Then there's nothing to do, but wait. I can give him some anti-seizure medication to make sure this doesn't happen again, but until we know what caused the seizure, my hands are tied." She nodded at the cops. "He's not going anywhere tonight so..." She made a small waving motion with her hand. "May as well pull up a seat," she said to Jack as she walked out of the cubicle.

Jack did exactly that – grabbed a chair and pulled it next to Daniel's bed. He took Daniel's hand, the one hanging loosely from the handcuff, and gently rubbed the abused skin around the metal.

"I'm sure he knows you're here." The nurse's voice was sympathetic.

Jack nodded absently as he turned to DeLuca. "You got registration on the bike Daniel stole?"

The other cop nodded and pulled out a small pad of paper from a pocket. "A Samantha Carter."

"Shit, that's me." Carter's expletive was softly uttered. She turned to Jack. "Daniel stole my bike?"

"Can you uncuff him now?"

DeLuca hesitated, but after a moment he came forward and undid the manacle.

"Thanks. Can you tell me where you found him?"

"Sure. On Norad Road, just a few feet away from the bike he lost control of. He was walking away from the scene. We stopped to see if he was okay, and he wouldn't cooperate when we tried to get him to pass a sobriety test. That's when he pulled a gun on us."

"And let me guess. The gun's registered in my name."

The two cops shared a surprised look. Obviously they hadn't gotten that information yet. Still Jack had no doubt the gun was his.

"Look, officers. As you know, I was out of town, and due to some unforeseen circumstances, I believe my son ended up spending the night alone. I got a voicemail from him stating someone broke into my house—" He held up a hand when he saw alarm on the officers' faces. "Military security is on the case now."

"Would you mind if we heard this message, Colonel?"

Jack pondered Daniel's words. There was nothing in his message that would breach security so he fished his cell out of his jacket pocket, pulled up the message and handed the phone to DeLuca. He watched as the man listened, then handed the phone back.

"We can remand your son into your custody, sir, but you'll have to remain in town."

"Not going anywhere."

"I'll have someone bring you the paperwork..."

Jack nodded, turning his attention back to Daniel. He waited till the cops left before speaking again. "Carter, I want you and Teal'c to find out who or what Daniel was running from."

"But Colonel—"

"You can't do anything for him here. But you can get to the bottom of this. Something made Daniel desperate enough to steal my gun and your bike, and head to the SGC. Maybe it's all in his head, but maybe it's the real deal. Find out what happened to my son."

It wasn't more than ten minutes after Daniel had been transferred to a private room, soundly sleeping, that he sat up, screaming for Jack. Before Jack could reach for him, Daniel scurried off the bed and promptly slid to the floor in a crumpled heap. He took the IV down with him, the pole nearly smacking him in the face as it bounced against the bed.

He reached down to help Daniel up and got an elbow in the ribs for his efforts.

"Daniel! Will you stop that?"

"Daddy?" Daniel squinted at him and frowned as Jack leaned over him. Then his eyes sparkled as recognition hit him. "Dad!" He shuddered as he threw himself at Jack.

"Where the heck were you going, taking off like that?"

Jack held him a moment before righting the metal pole and untangling the IV tubing. He placed his hands under Daniel's armpits and hauled him up onto his feet. Daniel's knees didn't seem quite able to lock and he just about collapsed back onto the bed.

"I'm c-cold." His teeth started chattering as Jack rearranged the blankets over him.

"Yeah, I'm not surprised. You've got a pretty high fever."

Daniel grabbed the edge of the blankets and pulled them up to his chin. He shifted uncomfortably, shoving one hospital issue sock-clad foot under his calf. "You came back?"

"Of course I did." The heat of Daniel's forehead was uncomfortably warm against Jack's lips. "I'm sorry I was gone for so long." He straightened and pushed a lock of hair from Daniel's face. "So, mind telling me what's been going on?"

"I'm sick?"

"Oh, you got that right."

"Hot." Daniel impatiently tried to push away the blankets he'd been huddling under.

Jack yanked the blankets aside as Daniel rolled onto his back, face red and sweaty. "So mind telling me how long you've been feeling sick?"

Daniel shrugged and looked around the room. "Is Grandma home?"

"Not yet. Wanna tell me who stayed with you last night?"

Daniel turned onto his side, his arm flopping heavily as he reached for Jack's hand. "Is Sam home?" The scrapes and bruises on his arm from the accident were clearly evident, as were the bruises from the handcuff.

"Yeah. Well, sorta. She's working tonight. About Carter. Can you tell me why you took her bike?"

"Sam's working?"

"Yeah, she's looking into something for me. How long were you feeling sick? Did you wake up with a fever?"

"Yeah." Daniel began coughing and turned onto his side, one hand reaching for the blankets. He shivered as he cleared his throat and Jack pulled the blankets up again. He closed his eyes, and Jack allowed him to rest, deciding to question him once Carter got back to him.

"Well, Colonel, Daniel's preliminary blood work came out clean of drugs but—"

Daniel jerked and sat up as Lam entered the room. "Oh, hey there." She smiled at Daniel. "Good to see you're awake."

"Stay away from me." Daniel began to slowly move towards the opposite side of the bed.

"It's okay, it's just Doctor Lam." Jack grabbed Daniel's leg, trying to keep him anchored.

"No. Tell her to stay away. Make her go away." Daniel tried to kick free of Jack's hold and pull away, but between the blankets and Jack's grip, he wasn't going anywhere.

"I've got some Motrin for your fever, Daniel," Lam said, speaking calmly and softly. "He may be a little confused from the fever, sir," she said even more softly as she slowly approached the bed.

"No! Get away from me. Dad, please. Dad, don't let her hurt me." Daniel abandoned his attempts to escape, latching onto Jack instead, crying into Jack's tee shirt.

"Doc..." This was so déjà vu. There was no way he was letting go of Daniel and he wrapped his arms around his son's trembling body. "Daniel, it's okay, nobody's going to hurt you."

"I'll go, sir. Give him the Motrin. Hopefully the combination of Advil and Motrin will finally break his fever." She leaned closer to Daniel as she placed the small paper cup containing the medication near the bed. "It's all for the best, Daniel. Don't worry, I'll take care of everything."

She gave Jack a tight, apologetic smile and motioned towards the hallway with her head before leaving the room. He stood there a moment, thinking Daniel would settle back down but when Daniel didn't show any signs of letting go, Jack sat on the edge of the bed, slowly rocking him back and forth until he showed signs of relaxing.

"Wanna lie down now?"

Daniel nodded and curled up on the bed, one hand still holding on to Jack's thigh. Remembering the pills, he made sure Daniel took them, then slowly stroked Daniel's forehead, watching as his eyes closed and he fell into a restless sleep.

Jack stepped into the hallway and looked around for Lam. He spotted her standing at the nurses' station.

"He's sleeping," he said as he joined her. "Sorry about earlier. I think he may be experiencing flashbacks."

Lam blinked at him and shook her head thoughtfully. "I don't think that's it at all, Colonel. I was coming to tell you that Daniel's blood tests show some sort of anomaly. We think it's a virus. Actually," she said, lowering her voice and walking away from two nurses going through charts, said, "I know it's a virus. I need to have a sample sent back to the SGC and have it tested. I'm pretty sure I've seen it before. I've asked that Janet be called back, seeing she's our resident expert on rare and exotic diseases."

The subtext was clear; whatever Daniel had, it wasn't Earth-related. He was about to question her further when his cell phone rang. He checked the number before turning it off, then motioned towards the exit, excusing himself. He hurried outside, and dialed the SGC.

"Carter."

"You called?"

"Yes, sir. How's Daniel?"

"Feverish. Not really with it. I can't get any answers out of him. Lam said she thought it was some sort of virus."

"Really? Maybe someone should call Janet—"

"Lam's already got that covered."

"Oh. Good. Teal'c and I didn't find much of anything at the crash site, sir. Daniel's cell was on the shoulder, and the flares the police put up. But," she said, her voice rising slightly, "the security footage of that area of the road is very interesting."

"Footage?"

"Daniel was not only forced off the road, but he was zatted."

"What?"

"The video feed is very grainy, but the electrical discharge of the zat is unmistakeable. Two men and a woman got out of the SUV, the woman did something to Daniel, and they left, leaving him there."

"What the fuck did she do to him?" Jack's hands tightened on the phone and he began to pace angrily, looking for something to kick.

"I can't tell, but I think that injury he has behind his ear isn't from the accident, sir. You should get Carolyn to check it out. And there's more. Daniel appeared disoriented. He got up and tried to walk away from the accident, presumably to get help, and that's when he met up with the cops."

"Can you see who these people were?"

"No, the images are too grainy. I'm going to try and enhance the video, but it may take a few hours."

"Fine. Let me know the moment you find out who did this." Because Jack was planning on personally taking these people out.

"Of course, sir. And I got the report from the SFs who went to your house. There's no sign of breaking and entering. The deadlock was engaged from the inside, and the alarm wasn't tripped but the power had apparently been off for about thirty minutes."

"Are you thinking the same thing I'm thinking?"

"If you're thinking someone beamed into your house, yeah, I am."

"From where? A ship?"

"We've got Norad checking but if it's cloaked..."

"Yeah, aren't they always?" Jack slowed his pacing, running a hand through his hair. "Is there anything else?"

"No, sir. I'll get started on the video enhancement immediately."

"Carter... Thanks."

"Give Daniel a hug for me."

"I will."

Jack pocketed his phone and looked up at the night sky, breathing deeply as he tried to find a reason why someone would go after Daniel. The only explanation he could come up with was that they wanted to study Daniel – maybe they expected coercing a thirteen year old would be easy. But if they caught up to Daniel just one and a half miles from Cheyenne Mountain, it sure looked like Daniel had pretty much outwitted them. He couldn't help but smile with pride at his son as he bounded back up the stairs, into the hospital.

He strode into Daniel's room, expecting to see him sleeping. What he didn't expect was Daniel dressed, leaning against the far wall, holding his bunched up hoody against his wrist, staunching the flow of blood from the disconnected IV.

"Where're you going?"

"Home." He straightened, moving with what seemed to be discomfort.

"Did you forget a small detail? Two, actually, if you want to be technical about it?"

Daniel frowned at him before peeking at his arm. "I can sleep just as well at home." He pressed the material against his arm again when a few drops of blood seeped out of the pinprick, the motion causing him to sway slightly.

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong. Technically, you're under arrest. If you leave here, you're going straight to jail."

"But the cops..." Daniel looked around the room as if expecting to see the two policemen jump out at him.

"The police agreed to leave you here overnight because, if it hasn't quite sunk in yet, you're sick."

"I've had fevers before."

"Yup. Which is why I want you to get back into bed, please."

"But I have to go."

"You don't have to go anywhere, Daniel, but back to bed."

"Dad, you don't understand." The hoody dropped out of Daniel's hands, as if forgotten. He stepped on the abandoned sweatshirt as he approached Jack. "I have a physics exam today and I have to finish my essay for Spanish class and—"

"Daniel, it's okay. I'll talk to your teachers and tell them you're sick." Jack took Daniel's arm and tried to steer him back to the bed, worried about his disorientation. "They'll give you a delay, so don't worry about school."

"But I have to study. I didn't get a chance to stu—"

Jack saw it coming. Saw Daniel's face go even paler and grabbed for him as his eyes rolled back. He eased Daniel onto the floor, the heat of fever registering through his clothes, then hurriedly stuck his head out the door. "Can I have some help in here?" he yelled. He waited a few seconds until he saw a nurse hurrying towards him before running back to Daniel. Between the two of them, they got Daniel back on the bed.

"What happened here?" The nurse gave the discarded hospital gown and disconnected IV a suspicious look.

"He was disoriented. I left the room for about ten minutes and he tried to leave." At her direction, Jack began pulling Daniel's sweatpants off while she took his pressure and temperature. "Is he okay?"

"His fever's still raging so it's no surprise he was disoriented." Together they got Daniel's top off and his gown back on. By the time the nurse had replaced his IV, Daniel was beginning to stir. Jack pulled the covers back up and he forced a smile when Daniel opened his eyes and looked at him. There was obviously no more obsession with studying; Daniel mumbled something, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

Jack hated sitting around, not doing anything. He wanted to be out there, going after whoever had done this to Daniel. He wanted to have a hand in the research, or at least be sitting at the SGC in the midst of the activities. He hated sitting miles away, getting everything second or third hand.

"O'Neill. How is DanielJackson?"

"He's not doing so great, T. His fever's not going down even with all the stuff they've been plying him with. At least he's been sleeping on and off for the past couple of hours." He waited until Teal'c circled the bed and sat down on the other side. "Is there any news?"

"DoctorFraiser has arrived and is currently overseeing the testing of the blood sample DoctorLam sent. MajorCarter is experiencing difficulties in sharpening and magnifying the video images; she hopes to have some success by morning."

"So there's no lead in who's behind this."

"There are several possibilities—"

"Yeah, but we've made sure from the start that the NID got their forty-eight hours with him not long after he got shrunk. And they got all the info about Daniel's memories and they didn't even ask to question him. So, we can rule them out."

"The Tollan and the Tok'ra constantly inquire about DanielJackson."

"Yeah, well, let them do their tests on one of their own shrunken." Jack rearranged the blankets when Daniel shifted restlessly.

"You should know GeneralHammond is attempting to acquire authority over DanielJackson's incarceration and remove him to the SGC. Until we discover who was behind this attack, he believes DanielJackson would be safer amongst our own. He is currently awaiting confirmation from the President's office. I believe a military ambulance will be here shortly."

"Did Lam say he was up to traveling?"

"She did confirm to GeneralHammond that the transportation would not harm him."

"Well, Danny, looks like you'll be moving beds pretty soon."

"You can ride in the ambulance if you'd like, Colonel." Lam visually checked everything, then gave a nod of approval that Daniel was good to go.

"T, you brought the Avalanche?"

"I shall follow the ambulance to Cheyenne Mountain."

"Jonathan, there you are. How's Daniel—"

"Mom. You're back."

Rose stopped in the doorway of the hospital room, staring at the gurney next to the bed. "I came straight here." She pushed past the nurse and went to Daniel, raising a shaking hand to his face. "Oh." She looked at Jack in surprise. "He's so hot."

"We're taking him back to Cheyenne Mountain, Ma."

"Why? What's wrong with him that you can't treat him here?"

"Nothing that dire-sounding, Mrs. O'Neill." Lam moved next to Jack's mom and put a hand on her arm. "We just feel it's safer to move him. He's suffering from a rare virus so we're better off handling a quarantine situation—"

"Oh, please. Don't give me that bullshit." Rose turned on Lam, glaring at her. "I'm not stupid. If Daniel were contagious, you wouldn't have all these people in the room without taking some sort of precaution." She waved at the nurse, the two Air Force medics, Jack, Teal'c and Lam before turning her glare on Jack. "This is one of those things I can't ask about, isn't it?"

"It is a virus, mom. And while he's not contagious, Doctor Lam feels it's easier to treat him at our medical facility."

"Why didn't he tell me he was sick?" Her hands gripped the metal bars, her knuckles showing white.

"Mom, you couldn't have known."

"He told me he was staying with Steve and Gina."

"Weren't they going out of town?"

"Was that this weekend? Damn it, Jonathan—"

"Gramma?" Daniel turned his head and squinted at her through bloodshot eyes. "Are you angry at me?"

"Mhuirnin." His mom's hand didn't shake this time as she cupped Daniel's cheek. "Why didn't you tell me you were alone? I'd have rented a car and come home."

"It would have cost you money, Gramma. I did call Steve and Gina." Daniel turned his head weakly towards Jack. "They'd left already. And Janet. I called and they were on their way and I didn't want them to have to turn back because of me. I wanted to take a cab to the SGC but I didn't have enough money to pay for it. I tried, Dad." A lone tear escaped and slid down his cheek. "I really did try."

Jack let his mom do the comforting until Daniel fell asleep again. Rose sighed heavily before she bent over and kissed Daniel's cheek. "Take care of him," she said to Lam.

"We will." Lam nodded to the medics and they wheeled Daniel out. Jack took a moment to take his mom in his arms and hug her tightly. "I'll call you if there's any change."

"You do that." She pulled a tissue from a pocket and blew her nose. "Go on, I'm sure you're going to want to ride with him."

Jack obeyed, walking to the door then pausing and looking back. His mom had her back to him, dabbing at her eyes. "Mom..."

"I love you, too, Jack."

Fraiser and Carter were both waiting for them outside the Isolation Room. Fraiser gave Jack a quick smile as she joined the bevy of medical personnel congregating around Daniel while Carter and Jack went up the stairs to the Observation Chamber.

"How is he?" Carter's gaze was fixed on Daniel as he was transferred to the bed that took center stage in the room. She pulled a chair out and sat, leaning her elbows on the counter before her.

"Feverish. Disoriented. Restless." Jack stood, he, himself, too restless to sit.

There was an awkward silence until Carter spoke again. "We may have a handle on the virus. Janet found similarities between it and the ones produced by the armbands the Tok'ra found and convinced us to try a few years ago."

"Oy, please." Jack forced the joviality. "That was definitely not one of our finest hours." It worked, because Carter smiled.

"I still can't believe McKay got beat up at O'Malley's even with the advantage the armbands gave him."

Jack couldn't help but smirk. "Like I said, not one of our finest hours." He pushed those memories aside. "So the virus is similar?"

"Preliminary tests are encouraging. And if they are similar, Janet may be able to use the antibodies produced by that virus and create a cure for Daniel."

"So there's a cure?"

"There's a cure?"

Jack spun around in surprise at his mother's voice. "Mom!" Rose stood there, looking nervous, her handbag clutched in her hands like a lifeline. Teal'c and General Hammond entered the room behind her and Carter leaped to her feet.

"Rose, what are you doing here?"

"I took upon myself to ensure RoseO'Neill's safety. GeneralHammond agreed perhaps it would be best she remain at the SGC for the time being."

"My mother's in danger?" Jack shifted his attention to Hammond.

"Jonathan, stop fussing." Rose took a wary step further into the room, trying to get a look at the activity below, past the glass.

"We don't know that for sure, Colonel. But Teal'c had some pretty convincing arguments and I agreed that it was best to err on the side of caution."

"Arguments? You keeping something from me, T?"

"I am not. The thought only occurred to me once you had left the hospital."

"And?" Jack made a rolling motion, encouraging Teal'c to say more.

"That it may not have been a coincidence that SG-1 was kept from returning home at the exact time RoseO'Neill's car broke down and she was also unable to return home, leaving DanielJackson at the mercy of his attackers."

"You mean that someone deliberately made sure that Daniel was alone this weekend?" Rose turned to Teal'c, and her face was pale in the room's strong lights. "Someone planned to hurt him?"

"We did think the circumstances of our delay in returning home to be a little suspicious." Carter put a hand on Rose's shoulder and urged her to sit. "Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat or drink?" She turned to Hammond. "I'm assuming Rose has clearance to the commissary?"

"I'm fine, Sam," Rose said quickly.

"Of course," Hammond replied. "There will be a security guard with you at all times, Mrs. O'Neill. Just a precaution."

"Call me Rose."

Jack hid a grin at the old, comfortable, inside joke between Hammond and his mom.

"Only when you call me George." He waved at the guard standing by the door. "The guard will accompany you to the commissary if you wish to eat, a VIP room should you want to get some rest, or the infirmary. You understand that the rest of the base is out of bounds?"

"Of course, General Hammond. I very much appreciate you allowing me stay here to be with my grandson. I'll stay out of your hair." She glanced at the top of his head and grinned.

Hammond's eyes twinkled a moment before he lowered his head to look at his watch. "If you'll excuse me, I'm expecting a call in a few minutes."

"You're sure you don't want anything? I've got to go check on something but it won't take more than ten or fifteen minutes." Carter gave Jack a knowing look. "I can bring you back a cup of tea. Sir, would you like some coffee?"

"Yeah, coffee'd be great. Mom?"

"Okay, tea would be nice, Sam. Thank you."

Jack took his mom's arm once Sam left and pointed to the chair Carter had just vacated. He sat next to her and stared at Daniel. Fraiser and Lam had him connected to a bunch of machines, one of which was a monitor of sorts which was showing some squiggles moving around in some sort of liquid. Virus, he figured, then mentally congratulated himself when a second monitor popped on and showed a similar video.

"What are they doing?"

"They think Daniel's been infected by a very rare virus. They're trying to see if it comes up with a match."

"Oh." His mom clutched her purse, which was resting on her knees. Her knuckles were white. "Do you really think someone tried to hurt Daniel on purpose? That this was all planned?"

"Mom..." He wanted to lie, to tell her that no, nobody wanted to hurt his little boy, but he couldn't. "It's a possibility," he finally admitted. "But he's safe here. And we'll find whoever did this. Carter's working on something that may give us a lead."

"So... this is where you work." His mom waved at the cement wall around them. "Somehow it's not quite how I pictured it."

"What'd you expect?

"I don't know." She turned back to look through the glass. "Something not quite as depressing."

Jack looked at the bare cement walls, floor and ceiling. He was so used the utilitarian look of the place that he never really thought about it anymore. "It's not that bad."

"And you used to bring Daniel here. It just doesn't seem right."

"He loved coming here. Loves... coming here," he corrected quickly. "He and Cassie, they don't care if the walls are made of cement or gold. They think it's neat and—" He broke off when Fraiser looked up towards them and waved them down.

He escorted his mom into the room and they stood halfway inside while Fraiser updated them.

"He's still running a high fever, and he's pretty weak and disoriented. The joint and muscle pain's pretty bad; the Tylenol and Motrin mix aren't doing much for the fever and headache but at least his fever hasn't spiked in the past few hours."

"Carter said you found a virus..."

"Yes. And while it's similar to the Tok—other virus we came across, it's not similar enough to create a cure. Either it's the same virus but it mutated too many times, or it's simply similar in makeup."

"So, no cure?"

"I'm sorry, Colonel. Carolyn's growing some cultures but I'm asking you not to get your hopes up. Concentrate instead on the fact that Daniel's strong and one hell of a fighter."

They pulled up chairs next to the bed, watching Daniel toss and turn while Teal'c took a stand at the foot of Daniel's bed.

"Teal'c told me you got pulled out of a mother/daughter weekend with Cassie. I'm so sorry about that, Janet."

"Don't worry about it, Rose." She patted his mom's shoulder. "To be honest, I was just about pampered out. One can only get wrapped and soaked and massaged for so long before the body begins to shrivel."

"What about Cassie?" His mom paused as Daniel coughed and whimpered, then shifted restlessly, pushing at the blankets before lying still. "Is she still at the spa?" Rose leaned closer and stroked stringy hair back from his temple.

"Yes. She'll be coming home with Dria and her mom."

Daniel opened his eyes a moment to look at Rose, mumbled something that sounded like "Gramma," and thrust his hand towards her. She took his hand in her free one and began humming softly, like she did when Daniel had been younger and hadn't wanted to go to sleep. She'd always managed to make him fall asleep without a fuss, whereas with Jack, he remembered years of putting Daniel to bed, only to have him get up and go find him minutes later, wanting to cuddle with him on the couch or in his bed. How many times had he carried a slumbering, drooling kid back to his bed? His throat clenched as Daniel seemed to fall into an easier sleep.

"Colonel." Carter rushed into the room, her face red and slightly breathless. "I need you and Teal'c to come with me." She flashed Rose a quick, apologetic smile. "Sorry, Rose." She gave Lam and Fraiser an odd look before turning back to Jack.

"We shouldn't be long, Mom." Jack got up and gave his mom a quick peck on the cheek.

Carter waited till they were out of earshot and began speaking, her words almost tumbling out of her mouth while she explained what she'd done with the security footage. Jack let her ramble on, she was obviously running on adrenaline and listening to her talk was oddly soothing. Like something normal in his life at the moment.

"So while the images still aren't that clear," she concluded as they entered her lab, "I thought you should have a look at them and tell me what you think." She immediately went to her laptop and after hitting a few keys, the security footage showed up on the screen.

A motorcycle was weaving all over the road, its headlights the only thing illuminating the picture. Then an SUV came up behind it, approaching so fast that for a moment Jack thought it was going to run Daniel down.

Daniel tried to get out of its way but a hand popped out of the passenger side window and an electrical pulse jumped from the weapon the hand was holding, to Daniel. The motorcycle went down, as well as Daniel, who rolled several times before coming to a stop, totally limp.

The SUV stopped and three persons stepped out. One of them, a slim woman the stature of Lam hurried to Daniel, and with her back to the camera, seemed to be doing something to Daniel's head or face. A few seconds later, she stood, and turned. Carter took that moment to freeze the frame and a few more keystrokes zoomed the photo, exposing a very familiar face. One that currently held Daniel's life in her hands. Literally.

Jack ran for the phone and barked an order. "Get me Security."

Furious, Jack pounded up the steps to Hammond's office, Carter and Teal'c trailing behind. Hammond's aide motioned them to go on in; obviously security had done his bidding and had called the General and given him a head's up.

"Sir, we know who did this to Daniel. Carter's got the proof from the enhancement of the security footage." Jack stood inside the doorway, half-waiting for Hammond to get up and come to the briefing room, where Carter was setting up the audio visuals for him.

"Jack, we have to talk—"

"Yes, sir. I've already arrested Doctor Lam. I want to question her and get the names of the two goons who were with her."

"Allow me the privilege of obtaining this information from her, GeneralHammond."

"Fine. We can both question her. And once we beat the truth out of her as to why she did this to Daniel, we can go after the others—"

"There's no need to beat the truth out of me, Colonel."

Jack spun around, flabbergasted to see Lam standing in the doorway. With no restraints, and no sign of the SFs who'd been sent to arrest her.

"General?" Jack demanded even as Teal'c took a menacing step towards her.

A quickly raised hand from Hammond stopped Teal'c in his tracks and Jack could see the tension evident in the Jaffa's body from holding back. "I'm sorry, Jack. I've rescinded your order for Doctor Lam's arrest."

"You did what? Why? She did this to Daniel. Carter's got it on tape."

"Yes, sir, I did. And I'm very sorry it all had to go this far, but I had no choice," Lam said.

"You had no choice in making my son sick? What the hell did you even do to him?"

He didn't miss the look exchanged between herself and Hammond. Hers was wary, Hammond's was resigned.

"I only just found out about this less than an hour ago, Jack." Hammond sighed. He stood and motioned to the briefing room, where Carter was standing motionless, listening to their interchange.

It wasn't lost on Jack that all of SG-1 sat side by side, while Lam sat opposite them, as if facing an execution squad. And that was how Jack felt at the moment. Judge, jury and executioner. His years of experience and service told him he should wait and listen, while his heart and instincts wanted to reach out and strangle the woman. He found himself shaking, unable to even look at her. Instead he watched Carter's hands, which were resting on the table before her, her fingers squeezing one another so hard that her knuckles were white.

Hammond had been talking with his aide, who along with a technician's help, was setting up some sort of conference call through the internet. Jack glanced up at the screen and was surprised to see the Presidential logo pop up.

"You'll have all your answers in a minute, Jack. First, though, I want you to watch this. It's feeding live to the White House and seeing how it involved Daniel, the President has kindly allowed us to view it also."

The logo disappeared and Jack saw a video feed, which were obviously security cameras from an exterior parking lot. A sedan pulled up in front of some cement stairs, and a man left the building and walked towards the car. Suddenly the man was swarmed by several others who had been innocuously on the outskirts. The man turned around, and his face was visible to the camera as his hands were pulled behind him and his wrists handcuffed.

Kinsey.

Senator Robert Kinsey. Major pain in the mikta, asshole and all around not so nice guy. And just one small step away from the Vice-Presidency.

And he was being arrested? If somehow Daniel's wellbeing hadn't been involved in any of this, Jack would now be on the table and dancing a jig.

They all watched the video until Kinsey was dragged into a car and forced into the back seat. Then the link disconnected, and the screen went dark.

"We've always known that Major Kinsey was opposed to the Stargate program. We suspect he not only supported the NID's offshoot branch which excelled at stealing alien technology until we finally shut them down two years ago, but actually backed them. There have recently been rumors about rogue teams starting up again, so the President sent some operatives to infiltrate the teams. Only one made it in." He turned to look at Lam.

Jack stared at Lam, who turned to face him and met his glare head on.

"Kinsey wanted to know about the device that turned Daniel into a boy," Lam said as she continued holding Jack's gaze. "At first we thought he wanted to see how it works. We thought he was interested in seeing if it could make him younger, not as young as Daniel, but maybe give him back fifteen or twenty years."

"Is that possible?" Carter leaned forward, her hands flat on the table.

"In theory, I guess it is. Some of his people have been studying the data Janet and I gleaned from Daniel over the years. The supposition is, would anyone exposed to it be turned into a young child, or would they be regressed only a certain number of years? Would someone who was older than Daniel be turned into a teen, and would the hormones coursing through their young bodies be enough to leave them their memories?

"But other than stealing a ship and flying to that planet and trying it on a bunch of test subjects, Kinsey decided they'd study the one part of Daniel that nobody had tried before. His brain."

The anger within Jack hadn't faded; it was just slowly being deflected away from Lam and towards Kinsey.

"Senator Kinsey somehow got hold of an alien device which recorded not only brainwaves, but every chemical and electrical process for a set amount of time. He'd taken recordings from several test subjects, planning on using them as a control when he got Daniel's readings. I had no choice, Colonel. I had to do it or blow my cover."

"You stuck some alien device into Daniel?"

"The cut behind his ear," Carter gasped.

"Yes. The device infects the subject with the virus, which is what keeps the device in constant record mode. The virus dies off after twenty days, and the device stops recording."

"But you removed the device from DanielJackson. Was that not the reason for deliberately keeping SG-1 from returning to Earth? In order to gain access to DanielJackson in the privacy of his home?"

"In a small percentage of the test subjects—"

"How many did Kinsey test?" Jack snapped.

"Three hundred and fifty-four."

"Shit." Jack finally looked away from Lam, his fury towards Kinsey stealing his breath away. He forced himself to relax and when he looked back, Lam was still watching him. He nodded at her to continue.

"A small percentage of the test subjects fell sick from the virus. In those cases, if the device wasn't removed before a set number of days, the subjects died."

"And as Daniel's been complaining of headaches and tiredness..."

"He would have died if we hadn't acted when we did."

"By zatting him while he was on a moving motorcycle!" The rage was back, and this time Lam flinched as Jack pounded the table with his fist.

"Believe me, sir. At the time, I was positive they were going to allow Daniel to get to the mountain and let me take it out the same way I put it in."

"And that would be..."

"During the MRI. I sedated him just long enough to insert the device. I would have taken it out and nobody would have been the wiser. But one of the hotshots I was with decided he didn't like how Daniel got the upper hand over him at your house, and ordered him to be taken down then and there."

"Was that not an incriminating move?"

"No, Teal'c. Because I was supposed to give Daniel something that would have canceled out the virus."

"You mean Daniel's sick because you didn't stop the virus?"

"Yes, sir. But once the device is removed, the virus will die off. This way, you had proof as to what had been done to him, and I have the proof of who did it."

Twenty-four hours later and contrary to Lam's words of wisdom, this virus showed no sign of abating; then again, neither did Jack's anger towards Lam and the President. Hell, there was even a little spill-over of pissiness for Hammond.

At the moment, Jack trusted no one except his team, his mother and Fraiser, who looked like she'd been pole-axed.

Daniel murmured and stretched and Jack waited, poised at the edge of his chair, but Daniel coughed, turned his head away from his father and continued sleeping, the multitude of monitors never even missing a beep.

Jack slid back into the chair with a huff of impatience and a side order of worry. His ass was tired. His eyes were gritty. He probably needed a shower and he wanted, very badly, to take his frustration out on someone or something.

Thankfully, his mother had listened to him without too much protest and had gone with Carter to collect some clothes and toiletries back at her house. Jack had pulled Carter aside, and asked her to take her time returning with his mom, even if it meant dragging the poor woman to a diner and feeding her something besides commissary fare. Teal'c had been here less than twenty minutes ago and had stood over Daniel's bedside, an expression on his face Jack had not seen since the early days of SG-1. And now? Jack was pretty damn positive the Jaffa was pounding the shit outta some punching bag down in the gym. Lucky. The only way Jack had been able to redirect his frustration was to bark at the personnel attending to Daniel.

"Colonel."

Jack glared at the white coat blocking his view of Daniel and was just about to make sure said person was well aware of his annoyance.

"Before you say anything, sir, I'd think twice about the words coming out of your mouth."

"Doc."

Fraiser mirrored his weary smile.

"Sorry," he said, with a wave of his hand towards the monitors. "It's just that—"

"I know, but please tread a little more carefully with the medical personnel. At the moment, Nurse Harper is cowering in the med room."

Jack cringed. "Oops?"

"Yeah, oops." Fraiser shook her head, and a precarious strand of hair tucked behind her ear broke free. With a distracted brush of her hand, she stuck it back where it came from.

"Daniel's not getting better."

Quickly, Fraiser glanced over her shoulder then back at Jack. "His white cell count has stopped climbing."

"Oh, wow," Jack said with a sarcastic twang.

"Look, it's something. And right now..."

"I know. Something is better than nothing. I just wish it were a little more something and a lot less nothing."

"I don't understand why you're being so stubborn."

"Me? I practically had to have Carter drag you out of here just so you'd get something to eat."

"And I'm just returning the favor." She grinned wickedly and motioned for someone to enter the room.

Jack stood then threw up his hands. "Teal'c? Awww, jeez, Mom, that's playing dirty."

Quickly, his mother jumped into his chair. "Honey, you learned it from the best. Now, go. Enjoy your personal escort."

Jack snarled at his mother.

"You don't scare me, Jonathan."

"Nor I." Teal'c stepped into Jack's personal space.

"Great. Thanks." Jack leaned over and kissed his mom's cheek. "Now don't you and Daniel talk about me while I'm gone."

"Promise. I won't tell him about the time you got caught playing doctor with—"

"Mom!"

"Please do not tell DanielJackson this story—"

"Thanks, T. You're a good buddy."

"I have not finished my sentence, O'Neill. I did not want the story conveyed until I had returned to hear RoseO'Neill weave this tale. I did not know you were a doctor."

Jack hated to admit it, but he felt almost human after a shower and something to eat.

"Where do you think you're going, Teal'c?" Jack stopped short as his friend attempted to corral him away from the elevator.

"I do believe you would benefit from sleeping in a horizontal position as opposed to sitting in the chair by DanielJackson's bedside."

"Ummm... Not going to happen."

"I have promised RoseO'Neill that I would put you to bed."

"How about a compromise? Let me check on Daniel one more time and then—"

"You will rest. I will not break a promise to—"

"Yeah. Yeah. I know."

His mother sat, her chair pushed up to Daniel's bedside and she was reading in a hushed voice from an opened book nestled in her lap. Daniel's face was turned towards her, but other than that, there wasn't any indication that her words were penetrating his fevered state.

Jack waited until she turned the page before interrupting. "Any change?"

She closed the book, marking the place with her finger. "None."

"He appears to be listening." Jack glanced over his shoulder. "Do you think you can call off the babysitter now?"

"Did you eat?"

Jack nodded.

"I can smell that you showered."

"Thanks." Jack tried to ignore the un-Jaffa-like snort from Teal'c.

"Did you sleep?"

"He did not," Teal'c answered before Jack could lie.

"Nope, sorry, babysitter is still on duty." She opened the book then grabbed Jack's hand. "Look, I have it covered here. Janet's on duty. She's already been in here twice. You look like crap, and right now, I need you. There's not enough of me to worry about the two of you. Please, for me?"

Jack deflated. Only his mother could make him feel guilty because he didn't take a nap.

He managed a two-hour nap, refusing to admit, even to himself, how much better he actually felt. He stopped by the commissary and picked up a cup of coffee for himself and a tea for his mom.

"His fever's down," his mom crowed, even before Jack got close to the bed.

"Really?" His face broke into a huge grin. "Damn. See? I go to sleep and miss all the action."

"It's only by a half a degree, but Janet thinks that's a great sign."

Jack schooled his features, trying to rein in his disappointment. "That's great." He handed the tea to his mom, placed his coffee on the bedside table, then leaned over the side rails. "Good work, Icky."

Daniel shifted, then slowly opened his eyes. His tongue darted out, licking his lips and it took two tries for him to work up enough saliva to speak. "Dad." The word was more of a sigh of sound than an actually formed word.

"Right here."

"Thirsty."

Jack did a quick assessment. No water pitcher. He slid his hand up the mattress and rang the call bell. Repeatedly. "Gonna just check what's the daily special on Fraiser's menu."

Daniel nodded then his eyes slid shut.

He touched his son's face, trying not to cringe at the heat still pouring off him and rang the call bell again. "Hey, don't go to sleep on me and your grandma, we're going to get a complex."

"Gramma's here?" Slowly, Daniel opened his eyes.

"Mhuirnin..."

"Thirsty, Gra—"

"I know." She glared at Jack.

He held the call bell up in response and rang it one more time for good measure. "I don't think this is working." Jack thrust the call bell at the nurse who'd entered and who ignored him and focused her attention on Daniel.

"I'm sorry, there was an emergency..." She stopped herself and smiled sweetly at Rose. "It's under control now. Doctor Fraiser will be here in a moment."

"Sorry," Jack muttered, embarrassed. For right now, here was his whole existence. Isolation Room B. He'd forgotten that anything existed outside of these four walls, the monitors' readings, his child in this bed, and his smouldering anger. "Daniel's thirsty."

"Well, hello, Daniel." The nurse quickly scanned the monitors. "Good to see you awake. How about some ice chips?"

Daniel managed a spoonful of ice chips before falling asleep. Jack left his mother with him and went in search of Fraiser. He found her in her office, immersed in a stack of files. He felt guilty that he didn't at least have a cup of coffee as a peace offering. "I'm sorry," he said, sitting in the chair opposite her desk without waiting for an invitation.

She looked up, her face a mask of confusion. "Why are you sorry?"

"Well, I sorta got carried away with the call bell—" He cleared his throat. "You had an emergency. I forgot that—"

"Life goes on? You're a parent and your child is very sick."

The knot in Jack's stomach tightened. "That's still no excuse, I'm—"

"Right now, you're a parent. It's okay, sir. You're where you need to be. Where Daniel needs you to be."

"But I should be able to focus on—which SG team came back and needed your attention?"

"SG-9. They'd been caught in a landslide. Bumps, bruises, a concussion and a broken bone or two... But they'll be fine."

Jack exhaled loudly.

"I heard Daniel was awake."

"Yeah, for all of five minutes," Jack replied petulantly.

"Which is five minutes more than yesterday."

"I'm impatient on a good day, Doc, you know that."

She closed the chart she'd been reading. "I know that, sir. I know this is hard for you. For your mother and everyone involved, myself included."

"Lam." Fraiser's boss. Her friend. Daniel's betrayer, no matter what anyone said.

"A discussion for another time," she replied harshly.

"Over a bottle of wine?"

She snorted and was able to give Jack a slight smile. "I was thinking a bottle of whiskey."

"My treat."

"It's a date."

Fraiser was right. As the days passed, Daniel was able to stay awake for longer periods of time. Twenty minutes here. Fifteen there