The Domino Effect by Cleo the Muse
Rating: All Ages
Genre: General, Humor
Warnings: Danny-whumping... and he spends most of the story in nothign but his boxer shorts.
Episodes: Season seven, pre-"Chimera".
Synopsis: Originally started for the DFR "Home Alone" challenge, but finished for the AO "Home Injury" contest. Black cats, Friday the Thirteenth, and Daniel.
Status: Complete as of June 2, 2002.

The Domino Effect

"There is a certain perfection in accident which we never consciously attain."
-- Henry David Thoreau

"I blame it on Miss Finicky."

Jack O'Neill tried to smother his smile. "The cat?"

"Yep," the younger man replied, looking miserable and embarrassed. "Mrs. Walker in 415 said she'd gotten out of the apartment but hadn't seen her in days."

"And you blame the cat for your... predicament?"

Daniel crossed his arms defiantly--or, rather, crossed his left arm. His right one was already strapped across his chest to allow the dislocated shoulder to heal properly. "If she hadn't crossed in front of me, I wouldn't have fallen down the stairs."

The colonel raised a questioning eyebrow. "So you have a thing against black cats now, do you? And Friday the Thirteenth?" Daniel glared at him, so he coughed and changed the subject. "Wanna look into getting a house this time?"

"Is that an 'I told you so'?"

"Just sayin'."

The archaeologist threw his head back against the pillows of his hospital bed and heaved a martyred sigh. "Fine, Jack, but since I'll be an invalid for a while, house-hunting's going to have to wait. But all my--"

"Don't worry about your stuff, Daniel. Reynolds and the rest of SG-3 are coming by to help pack you up and move everything to storage. Again. The landlord's had all the windows and doors open on the upper floors all last night and today, so we should be good to go back inside the building." He grinned impishly. "The ladies from the party in 301 send their wishes."

Daniel groaned and covered his face with his good arm. "Funny."

Jack had had to pry the story out of the cops, the fire department, the hospital staff, and the neighbors, but he wanted to hear what had really happened straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak. Daniel's fickle luck had landed him in trouble again,but saved his whole apartment building from going up in flames. Of course, the fire department hadn't arrived fast enough to keep black smoke from filling the upper floors, but no one--except Daniel--was hurt.

"Spill. I want details."

"Um... didn't the cops tell you already?"

"They told me how they found you, but no one said anything about how you got where you were." He leaned back in the surprisingly comfortable hospital chair--wondering briefly if he could get Frasier to order a few of these for the infirmary back on base--and waited.

Perhaps sensing that the colonel would give him no rest until he gave his account of events, Daniel began to speak.

Friday's mission was supposed to have lasted all weekend, but was cut short when the natives protested the presence of a larval Goa'uld. SG-1 had tried to explain that Teal'c didn't even have a symbiote anymore, so then the sticking point had become the fact that a Jaffa without a Goa'uld symbiote was apparently sacrilegious. They meant it, too, emphasizing their position with little sticking points flying in the team's direction as they made all haste for the 'Gate.

A short but exhilirating run for their lives later, SG-1 made it back to the SGC safe and sound. After their very brief briefing with the general, they headed for the locker rooms, only to discover that a pipe had burst and left about six inches of water all over the floor before the main was shut off. Wading in to retrieve their personal effects and nodding at a wet-looking Siler's apologies, the team agreed to shower and change at their own places--the colonel volunteering the services of his guest bathroom for Teal'c--then head on over to Jack's for a celebratory team get-together.

The apartment complex in which Daniel now lived was a stately older building that had been retro-fitted with central air conditioning only a few years back, but the system was unfortunately quite unreliable. Friday, to his dismay, was one such day, so the first thing he did after entering the sweltering apartment was open the bedroom window to allow the early fall breeze to circulate freely.

He had just finished dumping his soiled BDUs in a plastic sack to take back to base when a flash of motion outside caught his eye. Walking over to the open window, self-consciously aware that he was wearing only his boxers, he peered out onto the fire escape landing, feeling certain the shape he'd seen was not that of a bird.

Sure enough, the neighbor's black cat--appropriately named Miss Finicky--was sitting on the fire escape, swishing her tail. Sweet but elderly Mrs. Walker, the cat's owner, had asked Daniel to keep an eye out for her errant kitty ever since the feline escaped the apartment while Mrs. Walker was carrying in groceries. He'd agreed, of course, since Mr. Walker had passed away shortly before he moved into the building, leaving Miss Finicky the lonely woman's only constant companion.

"Here, kitty kitty!" he offered, reaching out the window and waggling his fingers at the cat. As was typical of her nature, Miss Finicky feigned disinterest and resumed grooming her paws. She couldn't have been more than a foot away and still had her collar on, so Daniel made the quick decision to stretch out and grab her, praying all the while that the tricky window wouldn't suddenly decide to slam down while his back was beneath it.

As if thinking this was a game, Miss Finicky bounced in the air and pranced sideways, tail swishing. This, unfortunately, put her about another foot away. Grumbling, he lifted a leg over the window sill, stepping out onto the fire escape while leaving the other one inside the bedroom. His fingers had just encountered fur when the unmistakeable sound of the sliding window startled him, and he instinctively yanked his left leg out of danger.

The window slammed down with a bang. It was one of the "burglar proof" types, too, so he had no way to open it from this side, leaving him stranded on the fire escape in his boxer shorts while a cat laughed at him.

Actually, the cat seemed to have a plan. She ran down to the end, then leapt through another open window, one which Daniel recognized as belonging on the landing of the stairwell. Sighing, he walked down to the end of the fire escape and glared through the window at the cat, who was swishing her tail innocently at the top of the stairs.

Crawling through, he sighed when the cat bounded down the hall ahead of him, still refusing to be caught. He turned down the hall himself, heading back for his apartment. So he could take his intended shower then catch the playful feline.

The door was locked. Groaning at his terrible luck, Daniel thumped his forehead against the door, then turned his head to glare at the cat. "This is your fault, you know."

She blinked yellow eyes at him, innocently.

He had three options, now. He could see if the building's superintendent down on the second floor was in tonight or find a neighbor who was actually home on a Friday night and use their phone to call a locksmith. Option three was to call Jack and have him to bring his key, but considering his current state of undress, he'd never hear the last of it.

All the apartments in this building were small, either single-bedroom "studios" or two bedrooms. Neither size was conducive to family living, which was why most of the building's occupants were young and single. Jack, in fact, had extolled this particular virtue of the location, while grumbling about Daniel renting again when he could easily afford to buy a house.

As it seemed no one on this floor was home tonight--Mrs. Walker having flown to Maine for two weeks to visit her grandchildren--he grudgingly moved down the hall to the stairs.

Suddenly the smell of smoke wafted to his nostrils. Just as he was beginning to frown in confusion, a black cloud of smoke began to roll under the closed door of 408. He quickly pounded on that door to see if anyone was inside, then raced back to the stairwell to pull the fire alarm.

Miss Finicky, sensing another game, ran with him, twisting between his legs and tripping him. Daniel flailed, trying to catch the rail of the stairwell as he slammed into it, his momentum carrying him over the edge and onto the stairs below. He landed with a sharp flash of pain and yelled before he could stop himself, rolling down the uneven surface to the third floor landing. His right leg and arm were on fire.

"Omigawd!" exclaimed a voice, and he looked up to see not one, not two, but three young women staring down at him. "Are you okay?"

"No," he gritted, trying to sit up. "Call the fire department."

"An ambulance," corrected one of the women.

"That too," he swallowed, "but there's a fire in 408."

"And that's it?" Jack asked.

"That's it. What more do you want?" Daniel griped. "I broke my leg and dislocated my shoulder. Never caught the damn cat, either."

Jack shook his head. "I told you they were all little demons. The girls from 301 were impressed by you, though. I can't tell if it was because you saved everyone from the fire or wound up on their doorstep in your boxer shorts..."

Daniel moaned and covered his face again.

It was no surprise that the colonel was hardly finished. "Just remember to watch out for walking under ladders... spilling salt... breaking mirrors... knocking on wood..."

No, he was never going to hear the end of this.

Author's Notes:
Yes, I am slowly picking my way through my backlog of bunnies...