A/N: Hey folks! I've got at least one more part planned for this story, but I'm not sure when I'll have time to write it, as I'm moving tomorrow and starting med school soon. Enjoy!
Daniel Jackson, age 14, ward of the State of New York, refused to have his hair cut. His foster mother, Deb Miller, who believed children should be clean and well-groomed at all times, was at the end of her rope. She considered herself a patient woman, but had no idea what to do with the lanky boy who refused to talk to her and resolutely folded his hands over his too-long hair whenever she came near him with scissors.
Once, she had managed to take an inch off a lock in the back while he was distracted with one of those large books he was so fond of. He had immediately turned and looked at her with a stricken expression as though she had kicked a puppy.
Well, she thought, at least he kept it clean. His foster sister, five-year-old Greta, was terrified of the bathtub and screamed bloody murder whenever it was time for her bath. Strangely enough, Daniel was the only person in the house who could calm her after these tantrums. A few times, Deb had come downstairs at night to find Daniel and Greta at the kitchen sink, Daniel carefully pouring cups of warm water over Greta's head as she laughed at the sensation and chatted about her friends at school. Daniel just smiled gently and nodded at appropriate moments. When her makeshift shower was over, he wrapped her in a warm towel and carried her upstairs to bed.
Deb had had Daniel for eight months and Greta for five when she received word that he was to be moved to another placement and she would receive another girl closer in age to Greta and Dennis, who was ten. The day before Daniel would be picked up, he came into the kitchen while she was doing dishes and handed her a note. He was obviously uncomfortable, looking away from her with his arms wrapped around himself in a posture she had come to detest.
The contents of the note left her speechless: he was asking her to cut his hair. He wanted to make a good impression on the next family and thought he might have a slightly better reception if his hair were shorter. Mind you, he didn't want it cut too short; his father had had long hair and his mother had liked boys to have long hair.
As Deb digested this information she was struck by how little she knew this boy, even after eight months, and by this expression of trust. She pulled him into a hug and told him how much she would miss him. She did not hear anything about him after he left her care and he gradually receded from her memory.