Warnings: kidfic/LD - Jack has a potty mouth in this one.

Notes: Takes place right after Full Circle.

Much thanks to my beta's Rponda & Jen!

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I don't think we can count on Daniel for anything anymore

Jack turned up the radio, trying to blot out Sam's words, but they kept echoing in his mind as he drove past familiar streets on his way home.

/The day I can't count on Daniel is the day I retire./

Stopped at a red light, he replayed the last conversation SG1 had with Skaara.

What of Daniel Jackson?

I have not seen Daniel.

Do you know if he's ok?

I do not know. One named Oma did this.

/Fuck. If Skaara doesn't know how Daniel is… Fuck. He's fine. I know he is. Oma wouldn't let anything happen to Daniel. Not after all the trouble she went through to get him all glowy./

He closed his eyes and rested his head against the steering wheel. He couldn't stop remembering.

I can't do anything about that, you know.

I don't care. Do something or we walk. Right now.

Remember that fine line we were talking about?

Cross it!

He lifted his head and his heart constricted as he pounded the steering wheel with his fist.

/Fuck. He's fine. He has to be./

A honking horn brought him out of his reverie and he stepped on the gas, driving through the intersection as he started to consider retirement.

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With a sigh, he stepped into the house, placed his keys on the side table by the door, and hung up his jacket. He made his way to the kitchen and he searched through one of the cupboards until he found an old bottle of Jack Daniels that Ferretti had bought for him. It was to celebrate the fact that Daniel had survived against all odds back when he thought he'd left him behind to die on Apophis' ship,.

He kept the bottle and drank from it only a few times since. Good times, like when they got Daniel back from the Unas and after they saved him from Machello's inventions, both times.

He had considered polishing it off when Daniel had left them to join Oma, but he held out hope that somehow, someday, Daniel would come back. When he saw Daniel in Baal's prison, he knew he had been right in not finishing off the bottle. After he recovered, he had vowed to share it with Daniel the day he decided he got tired of being a supreme being and came back home. But tonight, after everything that had happened with Anubis, tonight Jack was afraid there was just no point in waiting.

I don't think we can count on Daniel for anything anymore.

With the bottle and in hand, he made his way outside and climbed to the roof of his house. It had been a long time since he had gone up to look at the stars and today he just needed to feel a bit closer to what was out there. He wanted to remember what they were fighting for and that all the pain and sacrifices they made was worth while.

Once he had settled himself in the chair he lifted the bottle in a toast.

"Here's to you, Daniel. Don't wait too long to let me know you're, y'know, ok. I'm counting on it, Daniel. There's plenty of good memories inside this bottle and I just need one more. Don't let me down."

As the evening progressed, the neighborhood got quiet and clouds started moving in from the east followed by a cool, stiff breeze.

/Looks like we're in for a hard blow, tonight./

Jack finished off the last of the bottle and carefully made his way down the ladder and into the house. Feeling the buzz from the alcohol, he stripped as he walked to his bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes on the floor and lay down on the bed wearing only his boxers and one sock.

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It did storm that night, lighting crashed in the distance as thunder caused the windows in the house to shake. Jack woke slowly, a sick feeling in his gut and he opened his eyes to look around the dark room. Flashes of light from the window illuminated the walls and Jack sat up slowly.

/Missing something. I'm missing something. Something's wrong./

He stood up quickly and walked out to the living room, running a hand through his short hair, finding it odd he felt very awake, very sober, and very nervous.

/Something's definitely wrong./

A sound at his back door got his attention and he quickly ran into the kitchen and grabbed the gun out of a drawer then peered out the back window.

A bright flash of light lit the entire backyard and he jumped a step back, stunned that lighting hit so close to his house.

"Damn…that's one hell of a storm."

He shook his head at his overreaction and moved to put the gun back, when a niggling at the back of his head made him look out his back window again. He saw movement and clutched his gun tighter in his hand. He opened his back door and the wind slammed it against the side of the house.

"Who's there!" he called out, squinting as he tried to see into his yard. The rain fell in sheets and the wind blew so hard the rain fell sideways.

He stared into the darkness and was about to come back inside when lighting flashed again and he saw it. A boy, lying on his side in an almost fetal position, and not wearing a stitch of clothing.

"Christ!"

He ran outside and slipped in the mud, kneeling next to the boy's still body and felt for a pulse.

"What the hell? Are you ok?"

He didn't wait for an answer as he scooped the child up and all but ran back into the house. As he reached the kitchen, the door slammed shut behind him but he paid it no mind as he made his way quickly to the living room and deposited the child onto his sofa. He realized he still had the gun in his hand and he quickly set it on a high shelf and then raided the linen closet. He returned with a stack of towels and began to wrap the child up, rubbing his arms and legs as he did so.

The boy remained unresponsive but his eyes were squeezed tightly shut and he breathed in short little pants. Jack could see that his lips had a slight blue tinge to them and he wondered how long he was outside in the cold rain.

"It's ok. You're safe now. You're going to be ok," he crooned as he frantically rubbed the towel over his body, trying to get him warm.

As Jack rubbed him down, he checked for injuries and prayed that he wouldn't actually find anything. Prayed that this was maybe somebody's idea of a practical joke gone wrong and this kid's parents were close by and he'd have to call 911 soon because the kid might be suffering from hypothermia. He found the boy was whole, skin unmarred by so much as a bruise, and Jack decided this was a practical joke gone badly.

After a few minutes of Jack rubbing the dry towels over the boy's body, he finally began to shiver and his lower lip trembled as his teeth chattered.

"I'm going to get something for you to wear," he said softly as he piled the dry blankets atop the boy. He quickly returned with two thick blankets, a sweatshirt and a pair of socks. He slipped the shirt over the boy's thin shoulders and rolled up the sleeves. He put socks on his feet and pulled them up to his knees and then wrapped him up in the warm blankets. As he bundled up the boy, he thought he was no older than 5, maybe 6 years old.

/You're too young for a practical joke./

He ran into the kitchen, quickly warmed up some milk in the microwave, and kept an eye out to make sure the boy didn't tumble onto the floor. He could feel anger stirring inside as he thought of several scenarios that would bring a naked child into his yard in the middle of a storm in the middle of the night and all of them left him with an urge to kill the adult responsible. He stirred the milk to make sure there weren't any hotspots and walked back over to the sofa, making himself calm down because he didn't want to frighten the child.

"Hey fella, wake up. I've got some milk for you," he said softly and tapped his cheek with a finger, noting he had regained some color in his face.

The boy's eyes slowly opened and he blinked a few times and took in his surroundings. Jack watched as the boy's gaze skittered across the room until he finally looked up and met his eyes. Jack's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the child, taking in that small face framed by dirty blonde hair and eyes a familiar shade of cerulean.

The child nervously licked his lips, gaze shifting to look at the glass of milk Jack offered him and he slowly snaked out a hand from underneath the blanket and reached for the glass. He took several deep swallows and blinked, leaving behind a milk moustache.

"What's your name?" Jack asked gently, reaching out a hand to wipe his upper lip.

"I don't know. Am I in trouble?" the boy asked in a very soft voice, lower lip trembling slightly. Jack ruffled his hair and pushed the bangs away from his forehead. He took the boy's chin lightly in his hand and turned his face this way and that so he could get a good look, then lifted his hand to softly caress his cheek.

"No sweetheart, you're not in trouble. Don't you worry. Now, go ahead and finish your milk," he said as he helped tilt the glass back up to the boy's lips.

Jack looked at the phone in his hand and he debated with himself momentarily. He should call 911 but something…something was wrong here. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when the storm first woke him up was gone, replaced now by a strange calm. He remembered the strange flash with no accompanying thunder right before he saw the boy. Decision made, he dialed a number.

"It's O'Neill. I've got a code 3. Yes, my residence. No, no…I'm bringing him in. Tell Fraiser. We'll be there in 30 minutes."

Jack turned his attention to the boy as he took the empty glass from his hand.

"Everything's going to be just fine, I promise. Can you tell me what you do remember?"

The boy slowly shook his head as he burrowed deeper into the blankets, trembling. Jack was pretty sure the shakes were due more to shock now than a reaction to the cold.

"You don't have to be scared. My name is Jack and I'm going to get you some help."

Jack quickly got up and retrieved his jacket. He stepped into his shoes and pulled the keys from the table and paused as he stared at the child.

"Oma, you better know what you're doing," Jack whispered under his breath.

He walked back to the sofa and offered the boy a smile.

"Ready to go, fella?"

The boy looked up at Jack and bobbed his head, his hair flopping down over his eyes. Jack bent down and scooped him up, still wrapped in the blankets. As he straightened, the weight of the trembling boy in his arms brought back memories he thought long buried. He brought the boy close to his chest and lowered his chin so it rested atop the boys head. Dirty blonde hair tickled his nose as he took a deep breath and held it.

He knew that Fraiser's tests were the only way to prove beyond a doubt that the boy in his arms was Daniel, but his heart already knew. He let his breath out slowly as he walked outside. The rain had stopped, the clouds had moved away and bright pinpoints of starlight greeted them as they stepped outside.

He nuzzled the top of Daniel's head as he settled him into the backseat of the car and strapped him into the seat. So what if Daniel didn't remember who he was or that he was now in a little kid's body? None of that mattered because he was sure all of that could be fixed.

Jack got into the driver's seat and started the car and a silly grin tugged at his lips. Daniel was back and that's all that mattered.

/Thanks for not letting me down, my friend./

-tbc (?)