One year.

Just a small slice in the pie of life.

Fifty-two weeks.

Broken down, each bit of apple.

Three hundred and sixty-five days.

Crumbs. Hardly worth the bother, dusted off the table onto the floor.

I have to laugh at my own analogy. Is that how I see my life? Something to be consumed by others, or left as scraps for the ants? Or has it just been crummy? I wish I knew.

I've been trying to come to grips with this...loss? Or was I found? Well, found for them, but still lost for me. They say I was gone for a year.

Ascended, whatever that means. I don't know what it means other than it's why I can't remember any part of my life. Shit. If I could just remember any of it, just one day, I don't think it would be so bad.

Was it some sort of brain injury? Illness? Was it some sort of punishment for something? Did I ask too many questions? I think I heard Jim, Jack, say that. Before he said he really thought it was for trying to kill that Anubis person, anyway. I don't like the idea that I'd be a killer, though. I think I like the too many questions theory better; so far it seems to suit me.

It all seems so surreal. The Stargate, aliens, higher beings. Yet I seem to be at the center of it all. Somehow I know this, yet, I don't know why.

I wish I could remember! Even just one day, one of those three hundred and sixty-five. Just one crumb...

"Daniel. You're trying too hard," Jack says as he enters the room.

I look up, lifting my head from my hands to look around. I've been sitting in this room, surrounded by "my" stuff. My bed, my clothes, my artifacts, my picture of a beautiful woman that I know, but yet at the same time, don't. Another picture of me with Jim, dammit, Jack, Sam and Teal'c.

"Why am I having such a hard time remembering you, Jack?"

He shrugs his shoulders easily, but it's not hard to see the hurt he tries to hide. "Come on; dinner time. I'll walk you to the Commissary," he says.

I guess I am a bit hungry. And I have no idea where the Commissary is, so I nod my head and get up.

"They've got your favorites tonight, Daniel," Jack says as we walk down the hall.

It's a familiar feeling to be walking with Jack, but that's it. I still don't know who this man is, or where we are, let alone who I am.

"Steak and potatoes and good ol' apple pie for dessert."

"Crumbs," I mutter to myself.

"Crumbcake? No, apple pie," Jack responds.

I just nod my head.

"You'll get it all back, Danny," he said then, stopping us with a hand on my arm. "If I have to track down Oma Desala myself to do it, I will. God Danny," he said, dropping his hand only to sag against the wall. "How long have you spent searching for the Ancients? For that "meaning of life" stuff? And then, for one year, fifty-two weeks, three hundred and sixty-five days, you were living it. You had all the knowledge you'd sought at your fingertips. Only to be dropped naked in the middle of some planet without any knowledge because you tried to do the right thing."

"Pretty crummy," we both said, then.

And I looked into his eyes then, and suddenly I had a crumb in my hand.

"You let me stay at your house," I blurted out.

"After you came back from Abydos," he added, nodding his head. And before I could ask, or even question why I wanted to ask, he added, "And you can stay with me again."

"Thanks, Jack."

"Now come on, let's get going before all the pie is gone," he says, getting us moving down the hall again. "That apple is the best, you know. Won't be a crumb left on our plates if we get a piece."

No, Jack, there won't. I need those crumbs. I need every little bit of that pie back. I want to know who I am. Who you are. What you mean to me. I have a feeling you're a very big piece of my pie.