22

Daniel sat in silence, at once relishing and despising the solitude of his living room. He focused on the ticking of a clock as he stared into the gray dawn, a cup of herbal tea warming his hands. He never bothered to take a sip. Part of him would have preferred coffee -- the part that wanted to stay awake, to never fall asleep again and thus avoid the nightmares that would forever plague him.

Once, he'd found a brief and blessed reprieve building a new life with Sha're. Yet when Apophis destroyed that, the old nightmares came back, vengefully adding Sha're's death to the evolving visions of his parents' tragic end. Now he'd found even more ghosts to haunt him, new faces to taunt him with his guilt and his grief.

Sleep had long been his enemy. Yet staying awake had lost its appeal as well. Staying awake also meant facing things he would rather ignore.

Six weeks had passed since his rescue from Osiris. In that time Daniel had learned there might be worse things he would never escape, neither in sleep, nor in wakefulness, nor even in death. As Shakespeare so poignantly pointed out, "The dread of something after death, that undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns, puzzles the will, and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of."

But Shakespeare wasn't right about everything. Conscience does more than "Make cowards of us all." It also manufactures reluctant heroes who actually believe they can make a difference. Daniel was just such an idiot. He was not ready to abandon his fight. Not by a long shot. In fact, the events on Osiris' ship just made him more motivated.

Motivated to carry on the fight against the Goa'uld, not to play politics on Vyus and pretend nothing happened.

The doorbell buzzed. Daniel was not startled, reacting only by closing his eyes. The visit was expected. It was just another one of those events he wanted to avoid.

He remembered Jack's words in the infirmary, "The only way to get over it is to put it out of your mind entirely. And all that'll end up doing is tear you apart from the inside out. You can't let that happen. I won't let you let that happen."

Jack was definitely keeping his promise. No matter how much Daniel complained or argued, Jack had refused to let him decline Nodaal's and Layale's invitation.

The buzzing gave way to pounding. Frustrated, Daniel set his cup on an end table. Propping his elbows on his knees and resting his head in his hands, he made a silent plea for the pounding to stop, for the world to leave him alone.

"Daniel Jackson."

He was surprised to hear Teal'c's stern voice instead of Jack's. Jack would have been much easier to ignore.

More pounding. "Daniel Jackson, will you not open your door?"

Choiceless, the specter of Aris Boch said in the depths of Daniel's weary mind.

He'd barely gotten the door unlocked before Teal'c pushed his way inside, followed immediately by Sam and Jack, both in their dress blues. Teal'c wore the brown suit Daniel had helped him pick out two months earlier.

"You're not dressed," Jack complained, eyeing Daniel's gray sweats.

"I'm dressed. I'm just not dressed for Vyus. I'm not going."

"Now, Daniel. We've been through this. Nodaal postponed his son's naming-celebration-thingie for you."

"Name Day."

"Whatever. The point is, his son doesn't have a name yet! If they postpone it any longer, the kid's gonna get a complex. You want him to go through life as 'hey, you'?"

"They don't need me there to have this celebration. I'm sure they'll be happy with the three of you."

"They want you there." Jack glared at him.

"They'll get by without me." Daniel did not look away.

"Daniel."

"Jack."

"Here, Daniel." Sam moved between them and pressed a garment bag into his hands. "We brought you this."

"What is it?"

Teal'c answered from behind him. "It is a suit identical to the one you purchased before."

Daniel turned, surprised as much by Teal'c's pleased expression as by the Jaffa's words. "How?"

"The establishment retained sufficient information about your previous purchase to provide us with another."

Sam grinned. "Let's just say they were thrilled to make another sale."

"You bought this for me?" After unzipping the bag to examine the fabric, Daniel gave his attention back to his teammates. "The same suit?"

"Indeed."

A quick glance at the label confirmed it. "I can't accept this." Shaking his head, he held the garment bag out toward Sam. "It's too expensive. It was a nice gesture, and I appreciate it. But it's too expensive."

"Tell me about it!" Jack complained. "But it's too late."

Teal'c added, "It has already been altered to fit your measurements."

"My measurements?"

"Indeed. That information also was retained."

Daniel sighed and draped the garment bag over his arm. "I'm sorry. I'll pay you back."

"You'll pay us back by putting it on right now and going with us to Vyus." Jack used his best command voice for that one.

Choiceless. The word didn't have to be spoken. Daniel saw it in Jack's eyes.

* * *

For the first time since joining the program, the whoosh of a forming wormhole made Daniel jump. And for the first time since learning about the Stargate's existence, he wanted no part of it. He stared at the shimmering, blue waves feeling infinitely small in his too large suit. Either the measurements had been wrong, or he'd lost more weight than he'd thought.

"Piece 'a cake." Jack came up beside him and planted a hand on his shoulder.

Great. His nervousness was that obvious. He'd hoped he might be the only one aware of his sweaty palms and quickened breaths.

Piece 'a cake. That line was for new travelers, people who'd never encountered a Stargate before. Humiliated, he clenched his jaw and felt his fingernails digging into the soft flesh of his palms. If Jack tried to explain the experience....

Daniel relaxed, closing his eyes and sighing. Jack wouldn't do that.

Piece 'a cake. Maybe that's how it used to be. Would it ever be that way again?

"What's a party without cake?" Jack added, apparently noticing his attempt to ease Daniel's discomfort was having the opposite effect.

Daniel looked at him, feeling curious, angry, thankful and embarrassed all at once. Behind it all lurked that ever present terror. Could Jack's attempts to help him actually work? Could anyone help Daniel climb out of this river of emotions he found himself drowning in?

No. No one could chase away his ghosts but him. He lowered his head and let his shoulders sag under the weight of that realization. This was a battle he would have to fight alone.

The hand on his shoulder squeezed gently, reviving his worn muscles. Daniel straightened as the squeeze became a nudge, pressing him forward while the older man kept talking. "Think they'll have chocolate?"

His attention returning to the Stargate, Daniel watched it loom closer and closer under Jack's guidance. In some ways he felt like an animal being led to slaughter. In others, it seemed more fitting to imagine himself as a kitten being dragged to safety by the scruff of its neck. There was something comforting about Jack's touch, despite Daniel's misgivings. It made the colonel's forcefulness oddly acceptable.

"And ice cream," Jack continued. "They've got to have ice cream."

Just a few more steps up the ramp and they'd be through. Just a few more. Yet Daniel felt the anxiety lift away from his chest rather than settling more heavily upon him, even as Jack's hand slid off his shoulder, moving down his spine to the center of his back.

"Maybe some whipped cream. A little cherry on top...."

With one, gentle shove, Jack pushed Daniel through the 'gate.

* * *

Daniel's terror faded the moment he arrived on Vyus. Everything was different. The "gate had been moved outdoors, and they arrived in a park rather than the dark warehouse he'd expected. It was tranquil there. Peaceful.

A white, wooden gazebo stood to his left, looking like something out of Currier and Ives. He could imagine it serving as the pulpit for walrus-mustachioed politicians giving speeches, or as the stage for an old-time barber-shop quartet serenading families at a county fair. The Air Force sergeant occupying it now seemed out of place, though his presence was not entirely unexpected. Daniel found the two airmen moving toward the 'gate from behind the gazebo slightly more unnerving. Still, it wasn't until the archeologist turned around to find a courtyard opening out to a long, wide cobblestone street that his anxiety fully returned.

There was not a Vyan in sight.

"Jack," He prodded softly. "You told me Linea's weapon didn't harm the people here."

Shortly after Ke'ra had regained her memories of Linea, she greeted the threat of war from Tyrea, a country across the sea, with the zealousness typical of her former life as the 'Destroyer of Worlds'.

You - should - have - let - me - die! Daniel could still hear Ke'ra's voice taunting him. If he had let her kill herself that day long ago back at the SGC, none of this would have happened. She wouldn't be a Goa'uld now, he wouldn't have gone through what he had and, most importantly, half of the population of Vyus wouldn't have been virtually erased.

"It didn't." Jack's answer brought him back to the moment.

"Then where is everyone?" He noticed Teal'c gazing deep into the city streets.

"I believe they have all congregated further up this road," The Jaffa announced.

"What do you say we go have a look-see?" Jack gave Daniel a gentle pat and started walking. "Grandma always said there's nothing like a Sunday morning stroll downtown."

"It's Friday."

"Details."

They were soon flanked by the two airmen, the escort suggesting Teal'c had been correct in his assumptions.

As they neared the first intersection, any doubts Daniel might have had disappeared when he noticed a distant hum. It grew louder with nearly every step thereafter, slowly evolving into a melody produced by the clearly distinguishable sounds of a pipe organ and people singing.

Several blocks later they rounded a corner. They might as well have stepped through another Stargate.

This street was crowded with people moving between tents and carts that were loaded with sweets and colorful things for sale. There was almost a carnival feel to the setting, though some key elements were clearly lacking. There were no clowns, no acrobats -- and most important, no children. There had not been a child born on Vyus in a generation. Until now.

When the organ struck up a new song Daniel was awed to see everyone join in. Not a single Vyan ignored it. But it wasn't just the singing that moved him.

These people sang together with such intensity, such an outpouring of passion that it reached directly into his soul. He could feel every note. Because they were his notes as well.

Daniel finally came to realize how useless his rampant emotions had been. The actions of Aris Boch, Ke'ra and Osiris could not be undone any more than the Vyans could replace the lives of their enemies, lives they'd allowed Linea to erase -- a fact that had to weigh heavily on their collective conscience. Yet the Vyans were moving forward. They were eager to take this chance to build a new world with a brighter vision, while Daniel skulked around bearing a hatred more suited to destruction.

The Vyans were survivors. It was time for him to become one as well.

23

The music accompanied the team all the way to an enormous, red brick building festooned with ribbons, banners and flags. Since several other SGC personnel had already arrived, Daniel was not surprised to find Janet Frasier waiting at the top of the stairs.

"Where have you been?" She scolded when they came near enough to hear her small voice over the roar of the song. "They waited as long as they could. I swear Layale was near to tears when she realized they had to start without you." Her eyes singled out Daniel with that last remark.

Properly chagrined, he opened his mouth to utter an apology but didn't get the chance to say the words. People began shoving from behind, forcing him, Janet and the rest of SG-1 into the packed auditorium. Once inside, more chaos moved them down a long, narrow aisle toward a small stage at the center of the building.

Daniel felt like he'd been caught in a massive whirlpool as he followed the eddies and flows in a sea of strange faces, each smiling and laughing and looking at him as though he was important. He felt his chest growing tighter, found himself gasping for breath. Dizzy and lightheaded, he was distantly aware of finally being plunged into a plush, velvet seat.

A gentle squeeze at his shoulder helped revive him. His head began to clear.

"Daniel?"

This time it was not Jack comforting him. Surprised, he turned to meet Janet's concerned stare.

"Are you all right? You look pale."

"I'm ... fine."

She cocked her head, disbelieving.

As her hand wrapped discretely around his wrist checking his pulse, he closed his eyes and sighed. This had to stop. He couldn't let it go on any longer. It was time ... it was past time for him to get a grip and move on with his life, for him to let everyone else stop worrying over him like he was some poor, trembling puppy afraid of a little thunder. He'd been through enough storms in his life to know there was at least some truth to the adage 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.' And since he wasn't dead yet, surely it was time for him to accept the fact that he was alive.

"Friends!"

A familiar voice drew his attention to the stage. The music had stopped.

"Friends," Nodaal repeated to the hushed crowd.

Beside him Layale cradled the infant whose birth had prompted this celebration. When her eyes met Daniel's, she flashed him a smile that seemed bright enough to chase away even his dark demons. It must have at least sent them into hiding, because he found himself grinning back.

"One year ago," Nodaal continued, "we were a dying civilization. If not for the people of Earth, most especially those of the SGC, our end would have been inevitable. Now, we are reborn."

Despite the new storm brewing in the thunder of an exuberantly cheering crowd, Daniel found his smile growing wider. He even raised his own voice after Nodaal gave a special thank you to Janet for the help she'd provided throughout Layale's pregnancy and especially during the infant's birth.

Seeing the good doctor's discomfort at the unexpected acknowledgement, Daniel reached for her hand and gave a gentle squeeze of his own.

I really am fine. His smile told her when she turned to him. Or at least I know I will be.

This time he could see she was starting to believe him.

As the cheers faded, they returned their attention to the stage.

"In the days of our fathers," Nodaal said then, "it was long a custom to name our children for their ancestors. Today, my wife and I wish to change that custom."

Startled murmurs did not concern the new parents. Instead, Layale grinned so broadly it seemed she might be ready to start laughing. Nor did Nodaal let the disruption stop him.

"Our son owes his life more to the people of the SGC than to his own ancestors. In honor of that debt, we have chosen to name him for them."

More startled murmurs built to a guarded round of applause as Daniel shared puzzled glances with the rest of his teammates.

"To our friends, and to our honored guests, we present our son, Daniel."

* * *

When Layale rescued a hungry baby Daniel from his crib, his older namesake took the opportunity to escape to the solace of the infant's bedroom. The rest of the house was still crowded with revelers, even at this late hour.

The elder Daniel was managing to come to terms with his constant bouts of anxiety, but the peace of this quiet room provided a much needed reprieve from the endless questions and good wishes from the rest of Nodaal's and Layale's guests. Deserving of it or not, he'd become an instant celebrity.

Why couldn't they have just named the baby Jack?

Settling into a rocking chair beside the crib, Daniel let his eyes wander. The orange glow given off from a small, globed oil lamp on the dresser added to the room's tranquility. It was a good room in a good home. This would be a wonderful place for a child to grow up.

Daniel found himself hoping the newborn received that chance. To truly grow from infancy to manhood right here, in this house, with both his parents beside him every step of the way -- that was what he wished for this child.

The baby shared his name but Daniel certainly did not want him to share his life, one filled with loneliness and tragedy.

A giant, stuffed teddy bear on a chest across the room contradicted him. He could almost hear Jack's voice saying "Hey, that's not fair! What am I, chopped liver?"

Daniel couldn't help but smile. Jack was right. Well, the teddy bear, make-believe Jack was right anyway. Jack, Sam, Teal'c, Janet ... even General Hammond had filled the lonely places in Daniel's life. They'd become family.

He rose, drawn to the bear, and had begun absently playing with one of its arms when Janet entered.

"Are you all right, Daniel?"

Greeting her with a weary smile, he said a small, "Yeah."

After thinking about it a little longer, he realized it was finally true. He nodded more confidently, his smile growing wider. "Actually I am."

Janet took a deep breath and shook her head. "If I'd known everything they had planned for you, I'm not sure I would have encouraged you to come."

"If I'd known what they had planned, I would've headed for the hills so I wouldn't have to come." He leaned against the wall, the glow from the lamp dancing in his eyes. "But it's ... okay. I'm glad I came."

"You look okay." She studied him, and then grinned, "You look surprisingly okay."

"Janet!" Sam intruded on their quiet moment, bounding through the door, out of breath. She threw a quick glance at Daniel and the bear before giving her full attention to the doctor. "Maira's in labor."

Janet sighed. "Well, all right. You had me scared there for a minute. It's labor, Sam. The house isn't burning down. Besides, there are at least a dozen newly trained midwives downstairs."

"Right. Of course."

The doctor brushed past Sam in the open doorway. Turning back when the major made no move to follow, she asked, "Are you coming?"

"Ah, well ... I," Sam stammered, unable to deliver a decent excuse.

"Uh huh. Then why don't you just stay up here and keep Daniel company for a while."

Janet didn't wait for a reply. She was already halfway down the stairs when the major's eyes moved to the empty crib.

"Sam?" Daniel called her attention over to him and pointed a finger at his chest. "I think she means me."

"Right." Spying the vacant rocking chair, she plopped gratefully into it.

"Holy Hannah." Sam leaned back, drawing on the soothing, swaying motion. "You wouldn't believe it down there. All those women, all that talk of babies." She threw Daniel a teasing glare. "Looks like you found a pretty good sanctuary up here. I wish you'd told me about it."

"It's only a sanctuary until...."

"Oh, so this is where everyone disappeared to," Jack interrupted, walking into the room with the infant in his arms. "This little guy was starting to feel abandoned without his namesake and all." He gave Daniel an exaggerated look of disgust. "Namesake," He repeated softly, shaking his head.

Looking back at the child, Jack softened his voice, "Ya think they could've found a better name, wouldn't you? Something like, oh, I don't know, Jack's got a nice ring to it. Yeah. You like that, don't you? Jack. Yeah." Realizing his voice was reverting closer to baby-talk with each word, Colonel Jack O'Neill stopped himself and cleared his throat.

"What?" He said to Daniel's raised eyebrows. "It's a baby. That's how you talk to babies."

"Where's Layale?" Daniel thought he'd help out by changing the subject.

If Jack was grateful for the line, he didn't show it. Instead he merely nodded toward the door. "She's downstairs helping Maira. I volunteered to put the kid to bed."

It was obvious Jack was enjoying this time with the baby. His comfortable approach made it clear fatherhood suited him.

Daniel felt a pang of despair realizing how much of a survivor Jack had to be. He'd survived the loss of his only son, a loss so tragic, so intense it shattered what was left of his marriage and nearly destroyed what was left of his life. Yet Jack survived. Daniel truly could find no excuse great enough to prevent him from moving forward with his own life when Jack could come so far with his.

A shadow filled the doorway, pulling Daniel's eyes away from Jack and the baby.

"Teal'c." Seeing the Jaffa wore one of his deepest scowls, Sam's greeting was cautious. "Is everything okay?"

"It is not. This house is filled with the screeching of women unfamiliar with the natural order of birth, while the porch outside is filled with men inhaling the smoke of medicinal herbs though none are in need of healing."

Jack looked up from the crib as he set the blankets in place around the baby. "Sounds like the natural order to me."

"I no longer wish to remain in these surroundings."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah? Well, join the club."

"Kids, kids, kids," Jack scolded. "Maybe it's time we called it a night, huh? Do what little Daniel, here, is...." He grimaced. "Daniel. I just can't call him that." He focused on the older version. "If I call him Daniel, pretty soon I'm gonna be telling him to shut up and telling you bed-time stories."

Returning his attention to the baby, he began to experiment with nicknames. "How 'bout we try Danny? Dan? Dan-boy? Dan-ster? Dan-o? Dan-erino? Little D? Dan-Jack? Jack-Dan? Jack-Daniels? Hey, there's one." He shot a questioning look at his teammates.

The elder Daniel was the only one who responded. "You're not serious."

"What? I'm thirsty."

Daniel smiled and shook his head. He couldn't remember ever feeling so much at home, so much a part of a family.

"All debts are now paid," Linea had said.

Maybe it was finally true.

- The End -