August

"May the wings of the butterfly kiss the sun.
And find your shoulder to light on.
To bring you luck, happiness and riches.
Today, tomorrow and beyond."

An Irish Blessing

I

"He's not a happy camper," Jack told the cat as he roamed his fingers through her gray and brown striped coat, looking for ticks. She started to wriggle in his arm and he hurried on with his inspection before he got scratched. Usually, tick inspections were Daniel's job and of course Daniel never even got close to being scratched.

Jack probed cat's neck, behind the ears, and her belly. She twisted her neck and tried to sink sharp little teeth into Jack's wrist, but he managed to put a thumb under her chin and turn her head the other way.

Maybe it was time to remind Daniel his chores wouldn't do themselves.

A paw shot out and tiny toes curled around Jack's finger, claws digging into his skin.

"Hey! I'm almost done, you little witch," Jack ground out, trying to pull his finger out of cat's grip. He pulled, she clawed. "Fine. If you get eaten by a monster tick, don't come whining to me," he muttered as he let go of her. She released his hand and bolted away. At the end of the deck she sat, gave him an indignant glare and smoothed down her ruffled fur with her tongue.

Jack was by the back door which was actually the front door, but they never used it as a front door. They always used the door by the pond for some reason. The back-front door had a view over the horse's pasture, the shed and the vegetable patch. There were three apple trees, a couple of blueberry bushes, and the well.

Daniel was sitting in the grass, propped up against a fence post, gazing at the tree line.

Unmoving.

Waiting.

Jack sighed inwardly and eyed his tortured finger. Surprisingly there was no blood, only four tiny marks where the little witch had clawed him. Giving the cat a glare for good measure, Jack strolled past her and over to where Daniel was on his watch post.

"Daniel," Jack said quietly, "it's time for dinner."

Daniel shook his head.

"Not eating won't bring her back," he said, knowing he wasn't collecting brownie points or gold stars with that one.

Daniel bit his trembling lip, hard.

Jack sat down next to the boy, his eyes following Daniel's to the trees and the worn path. The path Jack had walked, ran, skipped and dashed on ever since he'd been a snotty little kid. The path that led to the meadows, the strawberry bushes, the best climbing trees, the hidden places to build shelters and Indian tipis, the small river where you could catch small trout... The path Daniel and the horse used to get in and out of the forest, day by day, spring, summer, fall and winter. The path the mare had probably used to leave. The path she would come down when she returned.

Only she'd been gone for almost three months now.

"I'll bring you a sandwich if you promise to eat it," Jack said, knowing he should stand firm and force Daniel out of his balancing act between grief and hope. Should make him do his chores, go to bed, eat regular meals again... Jack shouldn't allow him to sit here day in day out.

Just waiting.

Sooner or later Daniel had to accept the fact that the mare might not come back. That she had gone elsewhere. Or that something had happened to her. Jack knew he had to put an end to this...

Every day he vowed to himself that today was the last day. That he'd make Daniel face the truth. Whatever the truth was. That he'd convince Daniel to go on with life, to stop waiting out here for hours and hours...

And every day Jack was confronted with the sad eyes and the slumped shoulders. Every time he tried to cajole Daniel into eating, reading a book, doing some school work... every time Jack got Daniel to move away from his post it was like watching a robot going through a well known program. And as soon as Daniel had done what was asked of him he'd be back sitting right here.

Waiting.

And as he was waiting he was retreating.

Jack could literally watch Daniel closing back up into himself. And that was the worst of it. That was something Jack couldn't allow to happen. And yet – he didn't have the power to stop it. Because he couldn't take the pain away. He could try to ease it somewhat, but that required Daniel to work with him. And that wasn't going to happen just yet.

Jack nudged him with his elbow. "Sandwich?"

Daniel nodded.

"What kind of sandwich?" Jack asked.

Daniel shrugged.

Jack swallowed a rather sharp remark. Instead he took Daniel by his shoulders and gently, but firmly, forced him to make eye contact. "Answer me, please," he said quietly.

"Cheese," Daniel said flatly.

"What else? And there's no 'whatever' in the fridge or the pantry."

There was a pout, but a reply nevertheless. "Tomatoes. Ham."

"Are you going to eat it?"

A nod. Then, after a moment of hesitation. "Yes."

"Okay. I'll be right back." Jack got to his feet and walked briskly back to the cabin.

As he put together a couple of sandwiches in the small kitchenette that was part of the big family room, he tried to make up his mind about whether or not he should call the SGC and talk to Carolyn Lam. Or the kiddie shrink in Hermantown Daniel had seen for a while once he'd started talking again. Jack could call them and... and then what? He didn't need help to figure out what was wrong with his kid. He needed to fix it. And he couldn't. Neither could the shrink nor Lam. But if the horse didn't come back and Daniel couldn't cope...? That horse wasn't just a pet. She had been part of Daniel's healing process, part of his new safe haven. If she was gone for good Jack had no idea how to make this better.

They had looked everywhere. Daniel had asked Harry for some time off, telling him they were going on a camping trip, looking for their horse. Harry didn't mind. The 'town' wasn't a tourist attraction except for a couple of regular summer guests who owned cabins out here. The store was mostly just a hang out point for the 'town's' elders who would sit out back, have beer and coke and snacks while they played cards and smoked. Harry had wished them luck and promised to drive out to the cabin to feed the cat, no biggie.

So Jack and Daniel had taken the truck and a tent and tried their best to find a trace of their horse lady. They had tried several of the long hiking trails around their woods, moved out to further away campgrounds and taken other trails from there. What they had found were old horse droppings,trampled down brush that could have been tracks of a horse or a deer – who knew? They had hiked around the bigger lakes up north where the woods surrounding Jack's cabin and the 'town' thinned out and turned into a kind of prairie and later into another forest area that only had deciduous woodland. They had searched the logging and forest roads, had even stopped at some other cabins and small communities and asked if anyone had spotted a semi wild horse.

Some people actually had seen her, or at least were sure they had. But after three weeks of trying to find a needle in a haystack Jack had felt like they'd been on a wild goose chase. Wild horse chase. Whatever. And Daniel had kept saying she might be back home while they were trying to find her elsewhere. So finally they had given up and returned to the cabin – where the cat had greeted them happily, but no horse had been waiting for them.

That's when Daniel had started to fall apart. Slowly, but surely.

Before they'd gone on their trip they had plastered flyers all over the 'town', asking everyone if they had seen their horse. Some claimed they had, weeks ago, seen her in the woods. Some had started venting; telling them their horse kept eating from their vegetable patches and trampling down the fences to their yards. Daniel was sure their horse wouldn't even go close to other humans because she had been hurt in the past. Daniel knew their horse didn't plunder other people's vegetable patches and while Jack had caught her trying to eat their carrots several times, he believed Daniel was right. There were probably deer trampling down people's fences and eating their cabbages and whatnot. Jack had deer vandalizing his own veggie patch more often than the horse.

Sheriff Bueler had told Jack to finally claim ownership on that damn horse and put her behind a fence and into a stable. "If no one wants her and she took a liking to you and your boy, take her in and keep her. But don't let her stray like that. She might get shot or someone else might catch her and sell her on the horse markets."

Jack kept mulling that over for a while now.

There'd be horse markets in September, over in Hermantown and St. Paul and other larger towns. Maybe it was worth a try to go there and look for her. If someone had caught her they'd most likely try to sell her there.

Jack picked up the plate with sandwiches and grabbed two cans of coke from the fridge. They had a lot of their evening meals over there by Daniel's watch post lately.

It has to stop, Jack thought. Soon.

But the truth was that he was driven by guilt as much as he was missing the horse, too.

Bueler had been right. Jack had known it all along, had been aware he was taking big risks by letting the mare run free. He should have kept her by the house on her fenced pasture, with a proper stable. Instead he had let her come and go as she pleased and risked her being hurt, or caught, or wandering off. If something had happened to her, if she had been shot or broken her leg, not being able to come home... It would be his fault. Because he'd been irresponsible and naive enough to believe she could take care of herself. But the Minnesota woods weren't the Rocky Mountains where Mustangs roamed free. The woods were large and there were many wild and untamed areas, but there were also homes and private properties with barbwire fences and farmers who might shoot a horse on sight thinking she was an invading deer.

All water under the bridge now. All they could do now was hope she'd found a new home or was still running free elsewhere.

Jack carried their dinner outside and joined Daniel once more at his favorite spot. They sat and ate in silence. Jack noticed the grass needed mowing now that the horse didn't graze here anymore. He could mow it and give it to Harry who would feed it to his bunnies.

Speaking of Harry...

"You need to go back to work next week," Jack said.

Daniel sighed. "I need to be here."

"You have a job. You can't just stay away."

"Harry doesn't need me, really."

"That's not the point."

Daniel grimaced. "Need to be here."

"I'll be here," Jack said. "I promise. I'll look out for her while you're gone." Maybe now was the right time to say it. "Daniel, how much longer are you going to sit out here?"

Daniel stiffened, his eyes narrowing.

Jack chose his words carefully. "I'm not saying you should give up hope. Or that you have to stop coming out here and wait for her. I'd never do that. Just," he spread his hands in a helpless gesture, "don't forget everything else. You've got the kitten to take care of, too. And you can't just stay away from work forever."

Daniel shrugged.

"You could quit your job at Harry's. It's not that important, really," Jack went on. "It made the old guy happy to have you around and you took some of the work off his shoulders, but you're right; he'll get by without you. The townspeople really like you and are going to miss you, but they'll understand. I know you're old enough to stick to your responsibilities, but you're in a lot of pain right now and so, if you wanna quit I guess that's what you have to do. But you can't just stay away like this."

The crickets were lazily chirping here and there as Daniel kept brooding, not giving away if he had even listened to what Jack said. A curios beetle investigated the empty plate between them on the grass.

"I like Harry," Daniel said finally. "He's nice, but old."

"So he needs you after all? To help?"

Daniel shrugged again, then remembered Jack couldn't hear his thoughts. "Sometimes. For carrying and stacking boxes. Maybe."

"Then don't quit. Go back next week. It might distract you. Might be good for you."

Daniel wiped the heel of his hand over his eyes. "It all just goes away."

And just like that Jack was back on that balcony all those years ago, trying to stop Daniel from jumping. He could see the cloudy gray sky, the gray sweatshirt Daniel had been wearing, could hear the bleakness in Daniel's voice and the forced calmness in his own.

It just goes away – we'll get it back – you can't get it back...

Don't, Daniel, Jack thought, just as he had been thinking back then. Don't jump. Please don't go back to that dark place inside where I can't reach you.

Jack shifted closer to him, but Daniel pulled his knees to his body and wrapped his arms around himself. "Replicator Sam tried to make me believe I was safe. That I was with you. With SG-1. She showed me all kinds of happy things – to make me share my memories from when I was ascended. I didn't know what was real and what wasn't. Then I thought everything was just fake, even when you really came and took me home. But you were real. You and the horse were real."

"Yeah, we are. You know that," Jack said flatly, afraid of where this was going.

"Yes. I know that." Daniel looked at Jack, a single tear glistening on his cheek. "It all goes away. That's how it is in the real world. That's how it always was."

"Some things do," Jack agreed, wishing he knew the right words, knew a way to ease the pain. "But not everything. Not everone, Danny. You don't want to live in Repli Carter's world, do you? You never want to go back there."

Another tear trickled down, was wiped away angrily. "No. Don't want to go back there. Never."

"But right now you don't like the real world much either, do you?" Jack asked gently.

He hadn't thought for one moment that Daniel would ever want to trade the real world for Repli Carter's 'make believe' universe in which she had manipulated and then finally killed him... but he was still afraid Daniel was going to go back to that place inside his own head where he had been hiding from Repli Carter and her mind probing. That he was trying to retreat from the real world in the same way to protect himself from further pain.

Daniel shook his head, blinking away more tears.

"Stay with me," Jack whispered, desperately trying to squelch the flutter of fear inside him.. "Can you do that?"

Maybe tears were a good sign, Jack couldn't tell. At least it was a reaction. Different from just sitting here all day.

Jack held out a hand, palm up, offering to be Daniel's anchor the only way he knew how. "Sometimes life has teeth and then it bites," he said. "All you can do is pull through and hope it gets better. Most of the time it does."

Daniel stared at Jack's hand, then grabbed it and squeezed it, held on to it. "I want to believe that," he whispered. "I want to believe it. I have to."

A Monarch hovered close by and settled on a flower, its wings oscillating as it balanced itself out, then drank from the bloom's nectar.

A watery smile, the first one in weeks, blossomed on Daniel's face despite the tears. His grip around Jack's fingers tightened.

It wasn't good.

But maybe it was going to get better from here.

II

The Monarch had planted a seed that had grown into a plan overnight and when Jack played out his idea to Daniel over breakfast, he was relieved and excited when it was picked up with tentative enthusiasm.

Baby steps.

They picked an area by the shed to make sure their new part of the garden was shielded from too much wind, but still sunny. They worked all morning on shoveling a flower bed; getting rid of grass and weeds. That done, they climbed into the truck and headed out to an old closed quarry pit, a two hours drive away from the 'town'. Daniel kept glancing back as though he'd rather stay at the cabin on his watch post, but Jack pretended not to notice and so they drove on and Daniel, while not talking much and being subdued for the whole ride, didn't insist on going back.

The old quarry pit offered plenty of rocks and a dead sun bleached tree trunk. Once they had collected and loaded everything they needed on the truck's bed, they headed back, taking a short break at Hermantown for burgers and milkshakes at a drive-in diner. Daniel managed all of his burger, maybe for the first time in weeks distracted enough from his worries to enjoy a meal.

Back home, once they had unloaded everything, Daniel came out to their chosen spot with a notebook and a pen and they started planning, plotting and sketching until late in the evening when the sun was riding deep, sending tendrils of orange and pink all over the sky. It was too late to go out and pick their plants now. Daniel was disappointed, but listened to the voice of reason (Jack's) that they had all day tomorrow to finish their project.

Daniel went to bed with the cat snuggled by his side and, later, Jack stood in the doorway and watched them sleep.

Was he succeeding in keeping Daniel from withdrawing? Was giving him distraction with a project he loved enough to cross the troubled water; to cover the hole the horse's departure had ripped into Daniel's fragile layer of trust and sense of security? To at least pass the time until Daniel would feel less distraught about the possible loss of a friend he loved so deeply?

All Jack could do was hope.

The next day was as bright and sunny as ever and they looked at their list of flowers over breakfast, discussing which of them they would find in the woods and which of them they'd have to buy.

Equipped with shovels, buckets and several plastic bags they moved out to Daniel's favorite wildflower meadow. Jack caught the kid searching the area longingly with sad eyes for a flaxen mane or tail, a silhouette by the tree line. Hell, Jack caught himself doing the very same thing. Was there the noise of something heavy breaking through the brush, a low snigger? Nope, nothing to hear, nothing to see, that resembled a horse.

They unearthed pink blossomed milkweeds, cornflowers with blooms the color of Daniel's eyes, white rock cress and blanket flowers in yellow and red. They found wild bergamot with its lance shaped toothed leaves and clusters of violet flowers.

Daniel dug them up, almost tenderly brushing over the roots and making sure they weren't damaged. He handled plants and animals with the same great care he used to handle artifacts and other precious objects. It was comforting to know that while the focus of Daniel's passion had changed, the essence didn't.

Sometimes, when he watched Daniel strolling through the woods, picking berries, climbing trees, chopping wood like a pro, or lying in the grass watching the birds fly... Sometimes when Jack looked at the boy with the wild blond mane, not unlike the horse's, and the fit suntanned body that was slowly loosing the softness of a child and turning into the gangly form of a teenager... Sometimes Jack had to remind himself that this child used to be his archeologist. The guy who had known more about dead civilizations than anyone Jack had ever met. The man who could sit hours and hours in the dirt and brush off dust from shards of pottery or try to decipher text on temple walls. The man who had been Jack's best friend, his conscience more often than not. And then on other days the man Daniel had been seemed to be so close to the surface that Jack could almost see him behind the 13 years Daniel appeared to be now.

They carried home their findings and re-planted them on their chosen spot which had just the right mix of sunlight and shade. The soil here was the same as the plants had been used to so Jack hoped they'd forgive them for their relocation.

"Do you think the Monarchs will find it, Jack?" Daniel asked when they stood back and looked at their progress. They had arranged the rocks as natural breaks between groups of flowers and the dead tree trunk in the middle. The rocks and the trunk would give shelter and places to lay eggs. So would the bushes by the shed.

"I'm sure they'll find it and take advantage of it. They are going to move soon so they'll need places to rest."

"It's not as large as the cemetery in Kinney though. Is it big enough to feed them all?"

"I'm sure it'll feed at least groups of them. They're going to rest here and there and not all in one place if there's not enough space. Don't worry, bud, it's great."

"The caterpillars will have enough to eat, too," Daniel said satisfied. "We can buy lilac and tawny lilies. And prepare the feeder."

They had to drive to the next Linders Gardencenter which was in the opposite direction from Hermantown on a Highway exit.

Once they arrived there, Daniel's eyes grew big at the huge assortments of flowers, small trees and other goods. Jack dismissed the plan of a quick in and out of the shop. Instead he followed Daniel from the outside floral area to the tree area, to the vegetable house and on to the fruit trees and bushes.

Then they reached the rose garden. Daniel walked slowly among roses in all sizes and colors, taking in the different hues of red, pink, yellow, white, apricot and blue. Yes, they had blue roses here. Some were climbing roses, some were large bushes with tiny blooms and others were just standard roses, but beautiful nevertheless.

Daniel stood still at one point, taking a deep breath. "Can you smell them, Jack? Some smell sweet and some smell like perfume. Others smell dark and rich like a warm safe place. And some smell like fresh rain drops on a spring day."

Where does he take these analogies from, Jack thought. Adult Daniel used to talk a lot. He'd talked about stuff that interested him, about things he'd thought Jack needed to listen to – whether Jack had wanted it or not. Adult Daniel had been a well of information and knowledge. Little Daniel didn't use words like his adult self had. But when he used them these days, Jack felt compelled to listen. And sometimes Daniel's words were still pearls of wisdom and insights.

"I have never seen so many flowers and plants together," Daniel said later, keeping his voice low, as they strolled through an indoor aisle with potted plants like bamboo, rubber trees and other green leaf plants.

"You didn't have many plants in your house before..." Jack made a vague hand gesture.

Daniel frowned. "I kind of remember the house, but it's like a blur. Was it a nice house? There were lots of old things I liked. Artifacts."

"It was a nice enough place," Jack said. "And yeah, it was full of artifacts."

"You used to call them stuff. And rocks," Daniel remarked absently.

Jack winced a little. "Ye-ah."

"I can't imagine living anywhere else but at the cabin," Daniel said thoughtfully. "But if I ever do, I want lots of plants and a huge garden."

Once they had rounded the whole in- and outside area of Linders, they bought four lilacs and several lilies.

They finished the planting that evening and Daniel prepared a feeder from a small jar that had formerly held pesto sauce. Jack kept small vessels like these in case they had to prep medication for the horse or the cat. Daniel drilled a small hole in the center of the lid and plugged it with cotton after they had filled the jar with a solution of sugar and water. They wrapped the jar in colorful duct tape to attract the butterflies and then hung it in one of the lilacs.

Last they carried the old bench down from the small deck by the front door they used as a back door. Since they were usually sitting on the porch facing the lake, this bench had never been used much. Now they placed it under the old oak. Close enough to their new garden so they could watch the butterflies.

The hotel was ready, now they were waiting for the guests to move in. Jack hoped with something close to desperation that their work would be rewarded. Daniel loved the butterflies and if nothing else they would keep him away from sitting at the same spot all day, staring at the path leading into the forest.

III

The butterflies arrived by the end of August when the temps finally started dropping down to 80 degrees. Daniel had been waiting for them even though he had tried not to appear too impatient. He divided his time between doing his chores, sitting by his favorite fence post with view on the woods, and sitting on the bench beneath the oak to watch the butterfly garden.

He also went back to Harry's twice a week, which was good.

They had taken the Lord of the Rings book out there with them and continued to read with low voices. It had soon become their new favorite spot. Daniel was glued to the adventures of the hobbits, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf.

That particular evening he was biting his nails when the Fellowship reached the mines and cried a few silent tears when Samwise Gamgee lost his beloved pony Bill at the gates of Moira when the 'Watcher of the Waters', a huge ugly kraken, attacked the Fellowship.

"He's not dead," Jack assured Daniel. Yep, he had watched the movies.

"How do you know?" Daniel asked.

Jack smirked. "I just do. Trust me."

Daniel scowled. "You said the horse will be back, too."

Aw, crap. Jack put the book down. "Daniel... I was sure she'd be back. I'm sorry."

There was a long stretch of silence, then a sigh. "It's not your fault."

Jack looked out over the colorful assemblage of flowers. Spots of blue, red, yellow and pink, white and violet. "You know..." he began, verbalizing his doubts for the first time. "Maybe you're right to blame me. I should have put her behind a fence. Get her used to living in a stable."

That's when the first Monarchs appeared.

Daniel grabbed Jack's hand and whispered. "There!"

At first there were only a few, twirling around the lilacs, touching down here and there. Others followed and soon they were swarming in. Not nearly as many as they had seen at the Kinney cemetery, but still enough to put out the 'no vacancy' sign on the hotel.

In mesmerized silence they watched, the book forgotten on the bench next to them.

The Monarchs drank from the flowers and the feeder and rested on the lilac and the milkweed, but they also used the dead tree trunk to settle down. After a while groups of them took off again, but lots of them stayed.

"She didn't want to live in a stable or behind a fence," Daniel said out of the blue. "She wanted to be free. To go wherever she wanted. Like the Monarchs."

"She would have been safe," Jack said.

"But not happy," Daniel replied quietly.

She might have gotten used to it, Jack thought. But he didn't say it out loud because it was too late now. And in the end Daniel was probably right. Living free in the wild was better than being safe, but caged and unhappy.

"I miss her," Daniel murmured after another period of silence where they watched the Monarchs inspecting their new temporary home. He sounded sad, but there were no tears now.

"Yeah, me too, buddy," Jack said and, strangely, now he felt like shedding a few tears. But he'd never been a crying-kinda guy, so his eyes stayed dry, too.