Author: Amberfly.
Title: The Boy who Cried Wolf. 01/
Warnings: None, Kidfic.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Part 1: A diminutive Daniel is languishing in Stargate Commands infirmary. Alas, he is bored witless, and thinks up several interesting ways to amuse himself.
With the resilience of the very young, Daniel recovered quickly. Lying in the infirmary, bored witless, he figured if they wouldn't allow him to translate texts, or help date the artifacts brought back from P3X-974, then they couldn't complain if he found other, more interesting ways to pass the time of day…Or night… or, if he felt like it, the wee dark hours of the morning.
Smugly complacent, with his pillow balanced on the balls of his feet, he juggled it expertly in the air soccer style, all the while plotting and planning, thinking, and dreaming. Occasionally, a moment of hilarity would start to bubble and the boyish comedian would bow and take centre stage.
The nursing staff, always busy, would hurry past, look at each other, and groan, rolling their eyes at the rumpled, empty bed. Dropping unread charts on beds, uncurling stethoscopes from necks, they would bend down, search in cupboards, and peer ever hopeful, under low benches. Resigned to the inevitable, they would look over at the phone, and nodding at each other, would send for one of the small prankster's team.
Jack nearly always came, and Daniel knew it. Taking the one phone call his staff knew to put through, the colonel would sigh quietly, and apologize to whoever had just lost his attention. Shrugging, he canceled meetings, or rearranged his briefing. Daniel was his only priority.
Walking in casually, the roll of his shoulder giving away nothing, Jack nodded at the toe tapping staff. Tilting his head casually at Janet, he muttered under his breath, "For crying out loud, he's four feet tall, how can you keep on losing him?" Sighing, he would cast an experienced eye over the infirmary, holding his hand up for quiet; listening carefully for the expected Daniel giggle.
With his dad's sixth sense, he always seemed to know exactly where Daniel hid, and shaking his head at the predictably of small boys, he'd stand directly in front of him. Pressing a finger against his lips, and pointing to the cupboard, he bent down, figuring it was a definite Daniel bolthole. Winking, his face full of humor, he loudly told the nurses that Daniel had him completely stumped. "Oh, hell, beats me, guess I'll just have to call in the marines. Get me Major Warren on the phone."
Thrilled to hear Jack's familiar growl, the littlest archeologist clamped a hand over his mouth, stifling a gasp, the anticipation of SG3 being deployed making him giddy. Unable to sit still, he eventually gave himself away with his infectious giggling and fidgeting.
Plucking him out of his latest hidey-hole, Jack yanked up his pajama top, tickling his skinny ribs as punishment. Screaming with joy, Daniel wriggled and squirmed, laughing hysterically, until red in the face, he gagged and wheezed.
An indulgent smile twitching at her lips, Janet stepped in, deftly putting a stop to the little boy's torment. Clicking her fingers, and taking Danny, she laughingly scolded the pair of them, and shaking her head, handed the colonel the asthma meds.
Watching Daniel suck at his inhaler, his feelings confused by his transformation, O'Neill waved the curious staff away, sat, and patiently waited. Gently rubbing wider and wider circles on Danny's back, Jack watched as the little clown slowly disappeared.
Hiccoughing, and looking hopefully into his friend's kind face, Danny would try to drag out this time for as long as possible. Smiling, and shyly ducking his head, saying sweetly, "Sorry, Jack. Did I get you out of some dumb ole meeting? Cos, its better being here with me isn't it? Don't forget, we hafta to finish Tresure Island, not your version though, Jack, the proper version. Giggling at Jack's insistence that pirates and ice hockey managers were clones, he patted the bed, and silently willed him to sit down.
His brown eyes crinkling with amusement, O'Neill knew he should have Daniel's skinny little ass for this latest breech, but looking at the freckled face, anxiously chewing his lip, Jack said softly, `Ya sure you betcha."
Taking the book thrust at him, Jack opened it, and started to read, crossing his long legs, and wrapping his arm around the boy's shoulders. Content at last Daniel rested against his friend's chest, and listened to the pirate story, peppered with disparaging comments about mangers, with wide-eyed rapture.
The trouble began when boredom overtook the littlest archeologist, and no one was available to keep him company. Daniel, a restless soul, got up to some god-awful mischief. Knowing it was easier to let O'Neill deal with him, the staff had given up conferring with Janet, and trigger happy, pressed the speed dial to Jack's phone.
Sighing with disbelief, he demanded, `What, Captain, again? He's done it again? Who is this kid, Hell-boy?" and hanging up the phone with a satisfying bang, he scratched his head, and wondered what exactly happened to his polite, considerate, best friend. Arriving at the infirmary, wild eyed and drumming a pen against his fingertips, Jack zeroed in on his target sitting cross-legged on his bed. Seeing the innocent, who me? look plastered all over Daniels freckled face, he snorted in exasperation. "Hear that tapping, Daniel? That's the villagers building gallows."
Captain Greisen, snorted through her nose, and handed him a wad of soggy notes stained with chocolate milk. Baring her teeth in a caricature of a smile, she said, "Sir, these will need to be re-done, for the third time. Maybe you could persuade Daniel not to come into the nurse's station when we are not there. Possibly, sir, even if we are there."
Nodding, and waving his hand in a vague manner, he tried to charm the captain by favoring her with his famous engaging smile. Seeing her stony face glare back at him, he sucked his lip in, and decided that discretion was the better part of valor after all. Dismissing her, he promised that Nurse Jackson would hand over his thermometer… for good.
Sitting down next to him, Jack half closed his eyes, and caught his breath, counting mentally to ten. Opening them slowly, he considered how to word his lecture sensitively but firmly, so Daniel understood it. Patiently, and using his calmest fathers voice, he went over all his expectations. Finishing with, "I know you can do this, Daniel," Mr. Positive prayed the little boy got his pep talk.
Standing up, and stretching, he rapped Daniel's bent head lightly with his knuckle, and said, "Well? What have you got to say to Nurse Grieson?" Lifting his chin with a finger, Jack added, "My patience, Florence Nightingale, is close to expiring." Frowning, he added, "Me and my lamp may not be quite so obliging next visit."
Bobbing his head up and down contritely, Danny mumbled, "Thorry" and wrung his hands with regret. Captain Grieson cocked her head to the side, and shaking her head, said, "This had better be the last time I need to rewrite notes. We are a busy infirmary, young man, and people need to rely on us." Nodding to O'Neill, she turned on her heal and walked briskly away glad her day was done.
Embarrassed by his good deed being unappreciated, he tearfully tried to explain that he just wanted to file them into friendlies and hostiles, for the sake of Stargate Command security. Hands outstretched, his little face puzzled, he swore he didn't mean to bump the glass of milk over. "What a waste of chocolate milk, Jack."
Pointing to the staff listening intently, Jack whispered, "Daniel, the gallows are all but built. Do I have to ban the chocolate milk? Do I have to handcuff you to this bed? All of these scenarios are possible and at this particular moment in time, highly likely."
Blinking, scarlet faced by the stern talking too, Daniel slumped under his covers, sighing dramatically at the injustice of it all. Pulling the sheet over his head, he mumbled, "notmyfriendanymore." Patting the muttering, outraged, little lump in the bed, Jack said kindly," Fair enough, but you're always mine, okay?"
Before the day was over Danny was his own dignified, airy self again, a little subdued perhaps, a little more anxious to please, a shade more subtle in the game of his life. Promising the world, he peevishly scanned the room wondering who finked on him this time. Glowering at his usual round of suspects, he muttered," Of course you realize, my friends, this… means… war."
With the single mindedness of a general reviewing a battle plan, Daniel meticulously screened the enemy. Choosing his allies and hostiles carefully, he thumbed through his growing dossier on a daily basis. He used a basic color coding system, blue (his favorite color) for friends, and pink, (a color he considered, way sissy) for his foes. For anyone he wasn't sure about, or magnanimously, decided to grant a second chance too, was given green. Lime green. A color he considered almost a tough soldier color (like Jack) and a sissy girlie color, exactly like the generals grand daughters. He felt you had to be harsh to be kind, firm to be fair… an equal opportunity dictator.
Incognito, wearing `Ronald McDonald sunglasses, `Where's Wally' scarf, and fluffy penguin print pajamas, Doctor Jackson, skulked, and slunk. Holding his breath, he flattened himself against walls, diving in and around corners, all the time noting the strengths, and weaknesses of any suspect infirmary personnel. His tatty memo book clutched firmly, he laboriously wrote down times and dates, anything to help his hopeless cause.
The harassed infirmary staff who constantly tripped over him, collectively wondered how Doctor Jackson's little nephew could be so different to him, could be such a little terror. The Daniel they knew and loved was so considerate, so dignified, but his cousin's kid… The sooner Doctor Jackson got back and took Danny home, the better!
Doctor Daniel Jackson, SG1's renowned scholar unfortunately ran foul of a race of alien priests, and ended up temporarily altered.
His physical change was obvious; he was now tiny, but occasionally, to his intense frustration, he seemed intellectually shrunk as well.
Reading the same line on a begged for manuscript, his eyes flickered over to his new Tonka truck, and he felt his mind traitorously wander. The new, shiny red pickup truck, parked sedately on his table, on top of another must have manuscript, looked so very lonely. His fingertips magically walking over, he pushed aside the now unwanted manuscripts. Lying on his belly, he ran the truck up and down his bed covers, all thoughts of doing any research on nanocytes forgotten.
On a routine mission to P3X:544, he had tangoed where angels feared to waltz, and ended up…just a tad less than four feet tall and lucky to be five years old. He had most of his adult personality but as the days wore on, the child's mischievous free sprit manifested itself in bold and sometimes, entertaining ways.
Daniel was puzzled by this phenomenon and didn't really understand why. From his sketchy memories, he had been a quiet, well-behaved child. However, he decided to go with the flow. Clumsily pushing his sunglasses back up his nose, he tucked the notebook into his pajamas pocket and patted it gleefully. Harrumphing, he stomped off to his bed, flung himself under the bedcovers, vowing to drive Stargate Command or Jack… crazy…
Every time a specially targeted nurse or doctor tiptoed past him, praying he was napping, he would pry open an eye, and with an impish grin, refuse their piteous demands that he go back to sleep. With an imperious wave of his hand, he swallowed his yawns, and waggled his eyebrows. Smirking and shaking his head at their departing backs, he muttered, "Ko, Ma kan, ka nay."
In an attempt to persuade Jack and the general into allowing him access to tablets from Cimmeria, Daniel decreed he would now only communicate in… Unas.
This plan, admirable as it may have seemed, needed a little fine-tuning. This ridiculous idea ended up causing him considerable angst as no one had any idea what he wanted. The spoken language was very limited, and to Daniel's chagrin, chocolate milk didn't seem to appear in Unas conversation very often. Realizing the obvious limitations, he decided to use their written language, which tragically also didn't include chocolate milk. Unas were not big fans, apparently.
Trying to decipher the mostly made-up Stone Age hieroglyphics in Daniel's notebook, Jack, returning it with a shake of his head, muttered, "What in the hell is wrong with you, Daniel? Can't you just speak like a normal kid? Wincing, he added a little sheepishly, "Okay, bad example." With hands on hips, and foot tapping with exasperation, he raked his memory for much-needed paternal patience. "God, I know I left it somewhere, maybe it's in my golf bag."
Throwing his hands into the air and looking at Teal'c's amused face, Jack patted his shoulder, and walking away, said, "Tag, you're it."
Escaping to his quiet office and slumping into his chair, a headache jump-starting his brain, Jack cringed when reading another emailed complaint from the infirmary. The staff was officially over the loud guttural growls coming from Daniel's bed; and requested Jack do something about it.
After meaningful discussions with the kindly general, followed by a bag full of forbidden candy bars, Daniel reverted to the language of the Tau'ri. Subject to… "cho'ee 'che." Eyeing Jack coolly, he translated for the benefit of any non-Unas speaking personnel, as …"negotiation."
Knuckling the little Chaka wannabe on his blonde head, Jack looked at the candy and cleared his throat with a subtle, "ah-em-m."
Clearing his throat even louder, Daniel, casually inched towards the chocolate stash saying," Wok Tah." (Marked for death)
While understanding his transformation, he refused to acknowledge the small body's limitations. With a hot and bothered look on his face, he pooh-poohed any idea that he should rest. "Ka Nok," he said smugly. I survived mosquito bites first time around and I will survive them again.
The reason Doctor Jackson was a guest of Stargate Commands infirmary, driving its people crazy, was perfectly innocent. Someone had suggested he take a weekend break.
Walking into Daniel's messy office and seeing him slumped on his stool, his face ashen with exhaustion; Jack knew he had to act. Folding his arms, and watching the boy yawn and knuckle his eyes, he said, "That's enough, Daniel, you're coming home with me."
Deciding to risk the little archeologist's wrath, he strode in, lifting him off his stool amid a storm of protests. Swinging him onto his hip, and with a finger raised in the air, he said, "Ah, nobody talks back to a colonel, kiddo, trust me on this."
Ignoring the boy's spluttered cry of, "Huh? Oh, please, since when, Jack? I have always talked back to you, it practically mandatory," he shut down the laptop, dimmed the light, and told the pouting boy that they both could use some fresh air.
Jack's resolve never wavered once he made his decision and ignoring the arm folded child, he obtained the necessary clearances.
Wanting to stay home and work, Daniel stomped up and down the corridors of the mountain, his little hand held tightly, insisting loudly that he liked pale." I'm half Dutch, Jack, we are a pale race."
Signed out, and carried through the car park, still noisily protesting, Daniel blew his cheeks out and wriggled determinedly." This is not happening," he yelled," I will wake up and Doctor Broca will not be here trying to manhandle me into a damn booster seat."
Jack sighed quietly, and placing him carefully onto the ground, he muttered under his breath. "That's right Dorothy it's all a dream."
Stamping his feet, Daniel uncharacteristically built himself into a rage and collapsed onto the asphalt, refusing to budge. "I am not going fishing, I have never gone fishing, and for your information, Jack O'Neill, I don't intend to start. Now, take-me-back- or- else." Rolling onto his hands and knees, he started to crawl back towards the checkout, determined to get back into Cheyenne complex.
Standing in front Daniel, and grinning as the boy turned Mac-truck barged into his legs, Jack leaned down scooping him up. Taping his nose, and bouncing him onto his feet, he said," Hey, be careful, buddy, you're only a little Mac and you might get run over.
Grabbing Daniel's balled fist, he walked him towards his pick-up truck, adding thoughtfully, "We need to stop by the mall for some stuff. I think I might need some Band-Aids."
Swinging him into the borrowed car seat, and holding his knees, stilling the kicking legs, he looked at Daniel's quizzical expression, and brushing damp bangs from his forehead, he said calmly," Let me explain."
Fitting the seat belt snug across his chest, Jack gently told the story about how one afternoon, Sarah had been so tired of Charlie's whining; she had placed a Band-Aid across his mouth. "Course, Danny, he was only about three at the time." Raising an eyebrow and making a point of checking the first aid box, he casually waited for a reply.
Daniel gulped, and blinked rapidly, trying to absorb the subtle threat. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he twisted the bottom of his t-shirt, and sighed very quietly. With a trembling smile, he said, "Okay, I get it, Jack, no more tantrums." Huffing, and wriggling in his car seat, reluctant to give up his sulking, he added snidely," You do realize however, when I get big again, I would return the favor?"
A smile flickered across Jack's face. "Oh," he said, "are you threatening me now? Is there no crime you won't commit, Doctor Jackson? Give me a moment; I'm sure I can remember some more stories about Charlie." Laughing and giving his head a quick shake, Jack backed the truck out, grinning at the reflection of how unsure the little boy now appeared.
Coerced into visiting the local mall to buy summer clothes, Danny labored under bags stuffed full of shorts, sandals, t-shirts and baseball caps. Every time he complained, another item mysteriously appeared complete with shopping bag.
Muttering under his breath, mindful of the Band-Aids in the shopping bag, he carefully pointed out Jack had a list, so his should also be considered. Hands on hips, glasses tumbling down his nose, he dragged out a scrunched piece of paper from his jeans pocket.
It didn't take Jack very long to read it. It had far fewer things scribbled on it. Actually, there was only one item.
Jack looked at the list and half shutting his eyes, he sighed," Oh, please. This may be a little tricky to buy, Daniel. How about I just ignore it completely? "
Daniel Jackson, Doctor of anthropology, archeology, and part time Unas, insisted on purchasing a bony necklace to prevent any possible Goa'uld invading his neck.
Refusing to wear his new khaki shorts, the small archeologist retreated under his bed, vowing to emerge next year. This is a perfectly normal reaction he insisted; "Just throw me a coffee and some Oreos."
Wriggling back from Jack's outstretched hands, he said, "I'm an anthropologist, among other things, so I adapt easily to different environments. Go, fish, commune with nature, knock yourself out. Ka Nok."
When rung by a hopeful, holiday spirited O'Neill, Teal'c, and Carter gasped. Muttering incoherently and with phones held in trembling hands, they stammered lame sounding excuses. Employing politeness that only a Jaffa and a desperate woman can pull off, they thanked the colonel for the invitation, and slapping their hands on their foreheads, remembered things of inter-galactic importance.
To Daniel's bewilderment, Jack hadn't been keen on his sabbatical suggestion.
Pretending he had given up trying to make Daniel crawl out from under his bed, he said loudly, "Oh, well, that's it then. Once Doctor Jackson makes up his mind, then nothing, not even a latte and an Oreo can change it." Leaving the bribe on the side table, Jack turned, and left the door slightly ajar.
Hearing the muffled squeak and struggling not to laugh aloud, Jack waited a couple of minutes and then finally, caught the little boy by the ankle just as he disappeared back under the bed. He dragged him out, and while dusting the seat of his new khaki pants with vigor, ignoring the squawks of outrage, he said, "Who are you? Billy goat gruff? Jesus, Daniel, get in the damn truck."
Citing several child protection acts, he brought out the new car seat and installing it, winced, as the entire neighborhood watched the small boy lie prostrate in the middle of his driveway, minus his new shorts and t-shirt. He did however; keep his socks, cap, and runners on.
Grumbling, and waving to Mrs. Brown, the only neighbor who didn't think he was a weirdo, Jack smiled through gritted teeth, and re- dressed the un-cooperative free spirit. Dusting the seat of the boy's pants, again, this time a little more intentionally, Jack waved his finger in the air and sighed, "Ah, this is turning out to be a bad day."
Both quiet, deep in their own thoughts, they headed down the highway… to hell… for a pleasant weekend.
The weekend away started badly and ended abysmally.
Firstly, Danny tumbled into the water; he had a life jacket on, so he bobbed around, wet, unhappy, and very loud. Jack reaching out to steady him, had asked him to sit down in the boat a dozen times, and he figured this was natural justice. Daniel had wanted to call the water police and have him arrested. Fortunately, the cell was out of range.
Next, the cantankerous little boy informed Jack that he loathed, hated, and detested fish, with a passion. Sticking his fingers down his throat and making gagging noises, he declared he would only eat chicken. Nodding his head, and snapping the potato peeler in two, Jack bundled the boy into the pick-up, and drove sixty miles, to the overpriced market run by a Neanderthal called Jobe.
Determined to bond with his little friend, Jack swallowed his irritation, and politely enquired how he would like his chicken cooked. Chatting about how his mom used to fry chicken, the boy, busily unpicking the pocket of his detested shorts, listened, and nodded, a distant memory merrily percolating in his busy little brain.
Clicking his fingers, he breathlessly demanded Jack's attention. Sitting in the backseat and listening to him reminisce, Danny remembered something of great importance. Lurching forward in his car seat, he tapped Jack on his shoulder and said, "Oh, yeah, I `member, now! I love fish, it's chicken I hate."
Shaking his head, incredulous at the boy's happy revelation, he thought, of course you do. Looking in the rear view mirror at his small passengers bright face, he said with forced cheeriness," Really, Daniel? Well, isn't that special." Sighing, and throwing the chicken in the freezer, he spent the afternoon untangling his fishing lines, and removing fishhooks from his fingers.
Finally, Daniel's fair skin burned very easily, but naturally, he hated the generic sunscreen Jack bought, and every time he tried to smear it on Daniel's face, the little boy would duck, and run away. Exclaiming hotly, safe from behind a chair, "It's toxic, cheap, and I'm sooo not wearing it."
Throwing the cheap cream into the trash, Jack threw his hands up in the air, watching the fleet footed child slam the back door, and run outside. Searching the room for the keys, it was back on the road to Jobe's lair. "Serves me right, I forgot he's the Gucci kid." Once in the shop, Jack, patting his jacket pocket, and slapping his forehead with his hand, remembered he had left his wallet on the bench… at the cabin… sixty miles, that-a- away.
Later that night, Jack made cocoa, and pulled up the screen in Daniel's bedroom to keep out the mosquitoes. Tickling the boy until he begged for mercy, he dared to kiss his forehead goodnight, and smiling, felt the little boy's arms hug his neck. Feeling lighthearted and daddy hearted, he huffed, thinking how strange life could be, and wandered ridiculously happily, off to bed.
Daniel had surprised himself with the spontaneous hug, and lying on his pillow, hands behind his head, also wondered how strange life could be. Smiling in the dark, he remembered the look on Jack's face when he found he didn't have his wallet. Watching him cross his eyes, Danny had giggled at his lame attempt to sell him to the hideous, buck-toothed, Jobe, for bait. "Hey, buddy, it's a good swap, he's got two great knees."
Jobe had blinked in confusion, his bland face …bland, and Jack, winking at Daniel, struggled manfully not to laugh.
Suddenly, he sucked in his breath and sat bolt upright. Grinning widely, he felt that five-year-old child's excitement bubble up. With the heart of a zoologist, he bounced out of bed, took down the screen, and placed a morsel of fish on the windowsill, for the little lizard he'd befriended earlier that afternoon.
Unfortunately, the mosquitoes flew off the pond like the plague. Smelling the morsel of stinky fish, a black rat living in the woodpile, ran in, lightening fast, through the open window. Pink eyes gleaming in the dark, long tail twitching, it picked up the food its front paws and tore it to bits.
Waiting for the little drop tail lizard, Daniel fell asleep, and woke when he heard scuttling. Turning on his night lamp, excited by the thought of his lizard friend, he saw the glinting eyes of the rat, and screamed in fright. He tore out of his room and ran directly into Jack, who, unfortunately hearing the scream, was also was on the move.
Bouncing directly into Jack's bony knees, Daniel cried in pain as his little nose cracked and bled everywhere. Jack, groaning, his dodgy knee complaining, apologized to the stunned little boy, hunkering down to see the damage. Daniel couldn't talk clearly through his tears, and with blood streaming down onto his pajama top, his eyes widened with shock. Seeing the pale face bead with sweat, Jack scooped Daniel up into his arms and gently tried to touch his nose. Making soothing noises, he jumped in disgust as the rat skittered past, into the kitchen.
Overall, the mosquitoes, the rat and the creepy crawlies, did them both a favor.
Too exhausted to fish after spending half the night chasing a fat bellied rat through the house, followed in hot pursuit by a terrified, crying Daniel, Jack finally chased the squatter back outside.
Looking at the red-eyed boy with horror, he knew that Janet would not be pleased with the shabby condition of Doctor Jackson.
The destroyed khaki shorts were the least of his problems. He gently touched the swollen nose and lost count of the mosquito bites covering Daniel. Picking the upset child up, he liberally painted Daniel with ancient calamine lotion, wrapped ice in a towel for his nose and fat lip. Sighing, raising his eyes to the heavens, he asked, "Why, me? "and drove home.
The drive back was not harmonious.
Jack drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and repeated his mantras, "Don't scratch, Danny. Leave your nose alone, kiddo. Don't pick at the scab on your lip, its there for a purpose."
Feeling utterly miserable, Danny scratched his three and half million mosquito bites, and wailing, "Buth they i-t-c-h. My noseth hurth, and I want my lizarth."
The bites drove him crazy and he constantly scratched at them. His leg became infected and consequently, a sad little Daniel needed to be admitted to the mountains infirmary. Janet was insistent that she keep him under observation, unsure of how his physiology would react to the different antibiotics.
Daniel wouldn't have a bar of it. He just wanted to go home and slip under his bed. "Whaa…what? Why? Just take time of work, Jack." Jabbing at the colonel's face, his finger practically up his nose, he desperately said, "He will look after me, Janet; he hasn't finished trying to kill me yet."
Daniel's infection gave him a high temperature and miserable, he became very clingy, refusing to climb down from Jack's safe lap. Gently prying him off, and explaining that being on base was the next best thing, Daniel glared, and butted his head against Jack's shoulder. "No, think of another solution, I'm not staying here."
No one could think of one, and so admitting Daniel seemed to be, at the time, the logical solution. Janet, sympathizing with Daniel and irritated with the colonel had welcomed her young, battered little friend, warmly.
Jack winced, he still wasn't quite so sure about this idea.
Sam winced, and thought, "This is going to be a challenge."
Teal'c winced, and bought more candles for his kel-no-reem.
The general winced, and enquired, "This isn't going to be a problem is it Jack?"
Shaking his head and looking a little shifty, O'Neill chewed his thumb, and replied with an elegant shrug of his shoulder, "No, sir, why would it? He's really just a little kid, sir."
Daniel calmed himself down and listened to his friends stammer and stutter, all trying to convince themselves that he would be fine, trapped in an infirmary with little to occupy his mind. All thought of him working was squashed instantly by O'Neill, "You're here to recuperate, buster, and that's an order."
Daniel narrowed his eyes and polishing the nails of one hand against the palm of the other, smiled thinly. He couldn't help yawning widely, and aggravated by his constant tiredness, he put his arms up to be carried. He felt terrible and his leg ached, but tomorrow he vowed, just as Scarlet O'Hara said, would be another day.
Leaning his head into Jack's shoulder, he whispered, "if you think I'm taking this lying down, O'Neill, you're nuts."
Half closing his eyes at the whispered threat, Jack said with as much cheeriness as he could muster without sounding like an over grown boy scout, "Well, that went well, Daniel will be no-ooo trouble. Yep, gonna be easy…ish."
He wanted to think well about the little archeologist, but the cabin debacle re-played in his mind. Deciding to run with the infirmary idea, rationalizing that he could at least keep an eye on him, he arched an eyebrow warily.
While Rhett Butler slept peacefully, Colonel Scarlet O'Hara went looking for his ecru cap with mauve ribbons.
TBC…