Wayward Son - The Journey Begins:

Counting Your Blessings

by devra and JoaG

Authors' Notes: This is a Little Daniel story which is a pre-cursor to our Wayward Son.

Also, yes, it's AU, so don't rely on canon to keep you on the straight and narrow :) Characters may make cameo appearances in odd places where they didn't normally belong.

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Jack rested Daniel's ass on the ledge while he one-handedly signed the clipboard by the receptionist's desk. The young girl turned it around and read his name. "You can have a seat, Mr. O'Neill, the doctor will be with you in a few minutes.

Jack walked to the line of blue cushy chairs. "Can I put you down?" Please? Jack was fairly close to residual arm damage from carrying Daniel. He bounced him up and down a few times to get his attention. "Look at these nice chairs. Don't you want to sit in these nice, soft chairs instead of my boney lap?"

Daniel shook his head, totally miserable. He was sick again and Jack was ready to throw in the towel and cancel his appointment for the pediatric surgeon, but Fraiser had nixed that idea in the bud, argued and sent him and Daniel on their merry way out of the infirmary. Sent him here to the semi-crowded waiting room with the large, inviting, soft-looking chairs.

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to sit." He lowered himself and Daniel into a corner chair, as far from the maddening throng of children as he could manage. Sliding Daniel off his lap, he lifted him up and over to the empty seat on his right.

Daniel would have none of it and scrabbled over the arms of the chairs, trying to get back to Jack.

"No." Jack placed a hand to his shoulder. "Stay put just for a little while."

Daniel plopped back down in the seat. Then got up on his knees, took off his backpack and dropped it with a resounding thud to the carpeted floor. Daniel pouted and rubbed the front of his throat. "I want to go home," he rasped.

Jack sighed. He agreed with Daniel. He wanted to be home. Or at work. Daniel's chronic bouts of tonsillitis were wearing on him also. Four days at work for him. Four days at school for Daniel. Then a day home. Three days for Daniel in the infirmary while he worked and worried, then the cycle would begin all over again.

"Well, fancy meeting you here."

Jack stood and extended his hand. Damn, he knew her face, even recognized the kid that had ambled over to play with Daniel. But he couldn't remember the woman's name. Not if his life depended on it.

She shook his hand and then took the seat opposite him.

"Jack."

"Jack," she said. "Hopefully I can remember that the next time we meet."

Jack hesitated.

"Gina. Gina Middleton," she filled in with a smile. "And that mini person is Corey."

"Oy." Jack shook his head. "Honestly, I used to have a memory."

"Parenthood does that to a person."

Jack laughed.

"Honest, it's the truth. In my previous life, I used to be a professional. I wore suits and shoes... not sneakers and sweatpants."

Jack smiled, a little overpowered by this woman, though Daniel, who didn't usually warm up to kids on a good day, was showing the contents of his backpack to Corey.

"So, Jack, if you don't mind me asking, why are you and Daniel paying a visit to Dr. Bennett?"

"Tonsils."

"Aaahhh," Gina nodded in understanding. "Been there, done that."

"And..." Jack stomach was somewhere around his bent knees.

"Daniel will bounce back faster than you will. He'll have ice cream and cuddles..."

"And me?"

"Make sure you have an endless supply of coffee. A new bottle of Tums... and, oh yeah, don't forget the Tylenol."

"Oh, sounds like a blast."

She had the good grace to blush. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make light of it. It certainly wasn't fun when I was going through it with Corey."

"Is that what you're here for?"

"No, he's here for his post op check up. Hernia."

Jack stole a quick glance at Corey, who was sitting on the floor playing with Daniel's favorite green car while Daniel drove the cars in his hands up and down the arms of the chair. "He doesn't seem any the worse for wear."

"Youth," Gina said with a sigh. "Me? I rely on a good supply of hair dye."

Jack gave a noncommittal shrug, his gaze trained on Daniel's interaction with Corey, who had reached for one of the cars in Daniel's hand. Jack waited for the inevitable explosion.

"Those aren't your cars, Corey."

"We're sharing," Daniel answered Gina.

"Sharing?" Jack was stunned. When it came to his cars, Daniel didn't share well. Hell, not even his mother was allowed to touch a car without Daniel keeping his hand on the car being examined. Here... Daniel was giving freely of part of him. This was nothing short of amazing.

Jack smiled guiltily when Daniel caught him looking at him.

Daniel smiled back, then rubbed his eyes.

Ahh, the fever headache was probably still bothering Daniel, but right now social interaction and sharing took precedence over the whining and crying that had been so prevalent this morning.

"Jack—"

"You call your dad by his first name?" Wide-eyed. Corey stared at his mother, then at Daniel.

"Corey!"

"What? I was just asking him a question."

"None of your business, Corey."

Daniel began to gather up his cars, and Corey handed them over slowly. "Don't be mad, Daniel."

"Jack's my guardian daddy," Daniel said, giving Jack a half, almost apologetic smile. "But that's okay, I love him anyway."

"Mr. O'Neill?"

Jack looked up at the nurse hugging a clipboard to her chest. "Yes."

"The doctor will see you and Daniel now."

Jack nodded his thanks. Saved by the bell.

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Jack hated waiting. At least in the waiting room, Daniel had been occupied with Corey. Here in the tiny room, there was nothing to hold Daniel's attention. Five minutes rolled into ten and out of desperation, Jack took two of Daniel's cars from his backpack and then a red crayon.

Daniel watched, puzzled, the intensity of his smile building as realization dawned.

"Ready?" Jack asked.

Daniel nodded enthusiastically and stepped up onto the chair Jack had pushed up against the examination table.

Jack put both cars behind the starting line he'd drawn. "Red or green."

"Green."

Jack put his hand on the red car.

Daniel put his hand on the green car.

"On your mark. Get set. Go!"

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They were on their third lap along the racetrack Jack had drawn on the paper covering the examination table when the doctor knocked and walked in.

Guiltily, Jack stood up, the car still clutched in his hand, while Daniel continued around the bend and finished the lap.

"Mr. O'Neill?"

Jack stuck out his hand, realized he still held the car and dropped it on the track. "Colonel O'Neill."

The doctor accepted his hand with a grin and glanced over at the track. "Nice work."

"Jack did that," Daniel answered proudly.

"And he did a wonderful job."

Thankfully, Fraiser had filled the doctor in on his and Daniel's familial relationship so the man didn't even blink an eye when Daniel called Jack by his first name. "Well, it's no Indy 500," Jack replied, "but I figured it'll do to pass the time."

The doctor picked up the paper and examined it. "You probably could make a mint selling stuff like this to doctors. Keeping the patients occupied."

Jack laughed. "I'll keep that in mind in case my day job doesn't pan out."

"Pleasure to meet you, Colonel, and you? You must be Daniel."

Daniel jumped off the stool and skirted behind Jack.

Jack scooped him up and held him close. "Daniel, this is Doctor Bennett. Doctor Bennett, this is Daniel."

"Pleased to meet you." The doctor offered congeniality and nothing more, but Daniel eyed the doctor suspiciously.

Bennett pointed to Daniel's right hand. "Is that a green Mustang?"

"Yes."

"I used to have one."

Daniel's eyes grew huge. "A real one?" He turned to Jack. "He had a real one."

"I'm jealous," Jack said.

"I was much... much younger," Doctor Bennett said, smiling wistfully. "Now, Daniel, how about you let Jack, your dad, put you on the racetrack and let me take a look at you."

"Are you going to hurt me?"

"Nope. Just going to have a look."

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Jack sat in Bennett's office, once again waiting, but this time, Daniel was half-asleep in his arms, the green car clutched in his hand.

Bennett walked in, dropped Daniel's folder on the desk then took a seat, his leather chair squeaking as he settled in. "I'm sure Doctor Fraiser spoke to you about..."

"Surgery." Subconsciously, Jack hugged Daniel a little tighter and he mewled in protest. "He's had more than a few bouts of tonsillitis in the past months."

"I know. Even now they're pretty badly inflamed. He's running a low-grade fever. And I'm sure both of you are pretty miserable." He scribbled something on a pad. "I'm giving you a prescription for an antibiotic. A little stronger than what he's been taking."

Jack could only nod.

"We can't do the surgery unless Daniel's feeling a hundred percent."

"Yeah, I figured."

"I'd like to see him again in two weeks."

"Two weeks," Jack repeated idiotically.

"Hopefully, at that time, I'll be able to clear him for surgery." Bennett wrote a note on Daniel's file. "I'm going to pencil him in for surgery the day after that exam. Do you have any questions?"

A million of them. "No. Not at the moment." Two weeks and one day. Piece of cake. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.

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Daniel was playing in the living room and Jack was in the kitchen, pacing the floor, talking to his mother on the phone.

"I'll be out there for the surgery."

"Why? I'm not even sure if it's going to take place on that day."

"Just in case. Because I want to be with you. With Daniel. Because that's what Grandmas do."

"I guess I can't argue with that logic."

"No, you can't argue with your mom."

Jack didn't really want to argue with her. He wanted her. He needed her and he wasn't afraid to admit for the first time in a long time, he needed his mommy.

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Daniel swallowed the teaspoon of antibiotics, grimaced and hurriedly plucked a strand of spaghetti off his plate. "That's yucky."

Jack took a whiff and fought back his own grimace. "It's different than the one Fraiser gave to you."

"I like the pink stuff better." He slid off the chair, opened the fridge, took out the bottle of amoxicillin, placed it on the table then hoisted himself back into the chair. "See, there's more of this left. I don't need to take that stuff."

Jack exchanged the bottle of pink stuff for the yucky medicine. "This is the one you have to take now."

Daniel put down the fork he'd just picked up. "I don't wanna."

"Do you want to feel better?"

Daniel sighed, stared into his plate of spaghetti, then gave the bottle a sideways glance. Obviously he was weighing his options. "Can I have Snapple every time I have to take it?"

Always the diplomat. "Not a whole bottle."

Daniel lifted the fork and tapped the prongs against the plate. "A small cup. Like the cups in the bathroom?"

Jack got up, went to the bathroom and pulled out a number of small paper cups. Back in the kitchen, he took a bottle of Snapple out of the fridge, poured two fingers' worth and placed it with great flourish in front of Daniel. "Here you go."

Daniel finished chewing his mouthful of spaghetti and with a mouth outlined by a ring of sauce, he downed the drink. "I love Snapple," he said, eyeing the opened bottle on the counter.

"I know you do, now finish your spaghetti." Jack made himself a plate and sat in the chair across from Daniel.

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Daniel was bathed... all traces of the spaghetti dinner had been soaped up and rinsed down the drain. He was under the blanket on the couch, because even after Jack had read him two books, getting Daniel to sleep in his own bed had been an exercise in futility.

At least the couch was better than the recliner and Jack's lap. "Why don't you close your eyes?"

"I can't." He glared at Jack as he rubbed his throat. "You said this medicine would make me feel better."

"You had one dose. I'm sure by tomorrow—"

"When tomorrow?"

"How about we call Grandma tomorrow and you can tell her how yucky your new medication is." Proudly, Jack remembered distraction was the secret of parenthood. "And about the Snapple."

Big, huge tears overflowed from Daniel's eyes. "I want Gramma."

Shit. So much for distraction.

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Daniel, the blanket, his pillow, Lumpy and the scrub top all sat on Jack's lap.

"Can Corey come over and play?"

Damn! Stupidly Jack had thought Daniel was sleeping. "When you feel better."

"Tomorrow? You said tomorrow—"

"Let's wait on this."

"Okay," Daniel sighed. "What are we going to wait for?"

It was Jack's turn to sigh.

Daniel settled against Jack, tucking the blanket around his body and Jack's, trapping his fevered body heat.

"Daniel?"

"Hmmm."

Sure, now he was falling asleep. Though this was the perfect time to pry a truthful answer from him. "Why did you call me Jack in the doctor's office?"

" 'S your name."

"Yes. It is. But I kinda like Dad."

Daniel lifted his head and stared at Jack. Fever-bright eyes filled with joy. "Dad?"

"Yes."

"All the time daddy?"

"Yup."

Daniel's giggle was one of pure happiness.

Jack saw his opportunity and ran with it. "What'cha say I put you to bed?"

"Okay," Daniel said, sliding off Jack with his entourage.

He stood, stretching out cramped legs. He scooped up the blanket and put his hand out for Daniel. See, he hadn't been wrong, it was all about distractions.

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Jack glanced at the clock then poured himself another cup of coffee. Waiting for 0600 hours was taking longer than the two weeks they'd had to endure before the okay from Bennett. And when the doctor had given Daniel the thumbs up for surgery at their appointment yesterday, suddenly Jack had wanted to change his mind.

At six he could wake Daniel up. Dress him. Then throw him in the truck and head off to the hospital. Hopefully, all of that would be accomplished without Daniel being too awake or coherent.

"Daddy?" Daniel walked into the kitchen, rubbing his right eye and yawning.

"Daniel?" Best laid plans and all that crap.

Daniel smacked his lips and leaned into Jack. "What'cha doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep. What about you?"

Daniel's yawn was so large that Jack caught a glimpse of his soon-to-be-gone tonsils. "Thirsty."

"Sorry, buddy."

Daniel's jaw snapped shut. "I'm thirsty," he repeated, slowly.

"I heard you." Jack tapped the already dog-eared list of Bennett's instructions that were laid out on the kitchen table. "But remember, no food or drink or—"

"I'm thirsty."

"I know you are."

He stood on tiptoes, peering into Jack's coffee mug. "You're drinking."

Guiltily, Jack pushed the mug to the side, but that wasn't enough for Daniel, who nailed him with an accusatory squint. "Excuse me." He grabbed the mug, stood then tipped the contents down the sink. He followed that with the three quarters filled coffee pot. Jack turned around to find Daniel still staring at him.

"I'm still thirsty."

"Let's get out of the kitchen. Maybe that will take your mind off the fact that you're—"

"Thirsty."

Jack groaned. Six couldn't come fast enough.

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And suddenly it was six, the sky was lightening and it was time to leave.

Daniel was pissed. Thirsty and upset that Jack wouldn't let him brush his teeth and he buried his face in Lumpy's body as Jack buckled him in.

Jack was worried. Heart-pounding worry that was gnawing at his insides and turning the coffee into an acid that was slowly burning a hole in his stomach.

The ride to the hospital was quiet, interrupted only when Jack's cell phone rang. Quickly, he attached the hands free headset. "O'Neill."

"How's Daniel, sir?"

He checked the rear-view mirror. Daniel was pointedly ignoring him. "We're on our way now."

"I'm taking that means you can't talk."

"Ditto."

"Ahhh. How are you doing?"

"I've been better."

"I got the surprise covered."

"Appreciated."

"My pleasure. We'll make sure the package is delivered safe and sound."

Carter was obviously in the mood to play special ops.

"Give Daniel a hug from me and from Teal'c. Tell him we'll see him later."

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Daniel tugged at the front of the hospital gown. "I want my own pajamas."

Jack took Daniel's hands in his. "As soon as you get home, I promise. You can get right back into your pajamas."

"My tush is sticking out." He turned his head to stare accusingly at his very visible butt.

"Hold on." Jack released Daniel's hands and began to retie the strings, holding the flimsy gown together. "Better?"

Daniel nodded then pulled at the neckline. "Choking me."

"I can fix that." Jack pasted a smile on his face and loosened the top. "How's that."

The nurse came into the room, carrying a tray and Daniel tensed. "Hi, Daniel."

Nervously, he glanced at Jack.

"I'm right here." Jack sat on the edge of the bed and put his arm around Daniel's shoulders.

"I'm going to give you a shot." The nurse looked over Daniel's head towards Jack. "It'll just make you relax."

"It's not surgery time yet?"

"Nope, not yet."

Daniel smiled.

Jack smiled.

And the nurse looked thoroughly confused at the little boy who barely flinched when she stuck him, but Jack knew, as sad as it was, Daniel was used to and was very familiar with needles and testing.

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The sedative worked quickly and Daniel gazed up at Jack, blinking in confusion. "Over?"

"Close your eyes," Jack said, softly stroking Daniel's cheek with his knuckles.

Daniel fought Jack's order and lethargically raised his arm. The one with the plastic hospital ID band. "Read."

"Well, here's your birthday. And a long number and your name."

"Read."

"July 8th..."

"Name," Daniel insisted, the word garbled.

"Daniel Jackson O'Neill... oh. Daniel, I didn't—"

"My Daddy... Same name." Daniel closed his eyes, a dopey smile on his face.

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Jack paced the family waiting room. He'd lost count of the amount of times he'd circled the bank of blue print chairs in the middle of the room, Lumpy hanging by his tail from his fingers. The stuffie swung and bounced with every step he took. He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes. He tapped the face because there obviously was some sort of space-time continuum going on in this room and time was standing still.

Two sets of parents had entered in tandem and Jack stopped, waiting until they picked out their seats before he resumed. He was annoying them with his pacing. There was no missing their grumbling every time he passed them, so he dropped into the chair closest to the door. He sat there for a few minutes then got up and moved so he was now facing the door. First Lumpy had the chair to his right, then he moved into his lap and he began to pet the camel.

He checked his watch again. Okay, Carter was on her way to the airport with Teal'c riding shotgun and suddenly Jack felt terribly abandoned. It was stupid. Carter and Teal'c were doing him a favor, but that didn't change the way he felt.

He stood with a growl and began the circuit again, this time smiling slightly at the parents sharing the room with him. They smiled back. The second time he passed them, one of the woman spoke. "I hate waiting."

Jack stopped and shrugged. "Me, too."

"Tubes."

"Huh?"

The father laughed. "Our son is having tubes put into his ears."

"Ahhh."

"You're here for?"

"Tonsils."

"Our daughter had that done last year," the father from the other set of parents said. "Hernia for our son this year."

Jack gave an uncomfortable smile, unsure if this was the type of club he wanted to be a member of.

"Daniel Jackson's father?"

Jack whipped around to the opened door. "That would be me," he said, waving Lumpy.

The nurse stepped into the room. "You son is doing fine. The surgery went well."

"Can I see him?"

"At the moment he's on his way to recovery."

"I need to be there when he wakes up. I promised."

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The nurse checked Daniel's vitals and Jack remained silent as she recorded them. "Daniel," she said when finished. "Come on, Daniel, it's time to open your eyes for me." She tapped him on the cheek and he mumbled something but only turned his head. In invitation, she gave Jack a quick nod.

"Hey, sport, can you open your eyes for Daddy?"

He struggled with returning to the land of the conscious, whining and moaning in protest.

"Come on, the sooner you open your eyes, the sooner..."

Daniel's hand went to his throat. "Ow. Hurts."

"You had your tonsils out, sweetie." The nurse moved to push Daniel's hand down.

It seemed it was the touch of a stranger that sliced through Daniel's sleep and he awoke with a bang and a flood of tears.

"It hurts... Ow. Ow. Ow." He thrashed across the bed, yelling in pain as loud as his hoarse voice would allow.

"Shush." Jack put Lumpy down on the bed, then with shaking hands, he pulled Daniel into his arms. "It's over. Done."

He was crying, soundless sobs and Jack glanced helplessly at the nurse.

"It's just a reaction to the anesthesia. Give him a moment. Talk quietly to him. It would be in his best interest if you could get him to calm down."

Jack nodded, but waited until the nurse walked to another patient. "You did it, Daniel." Jack took a breath and hugged him a bit harder. "We did it."

The crying eased, Jack felt Daniel relax in his arms, and couldn't help but smile when Daniel reached out, latched onto Lumpy and drew him into their embrace.

"Time to leave?" Those three words sounded as if they hurt.

"Don't talk. Listen."

Daniel nodded.

"Well, Doctor Bennett's gonna come and have a look-see at you and your throat. Maybe give you some Jell-O—"

"No!" came out as an emphatic whisper. "Just home."

"Okay," Jack promised. "No Jell-O. Just home when Bennett says."

Happily, Daniel curled in Jack's embrace, gave a little sigh of relief and within minutes, much to the consternation of the nurse who had made a return trip, he drifted off.

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Four hours later they were on their way home. Jack wasn't sure if it was the after-effects of the anesthesia or the pain medication Bennett had administered, because he was out like a light, slumped over in the booster.

Daniel looked a bit better. The two teaspoons of Jell-O that Bennett had insisted Daniel eat before discharge had almost backfired. A wave of nausea had almost forced an overnight stay, but the extra time seemed to have done the trick.

Jack used the rear-view mirror to once again check Daniel, and from an adult's point of view, he shuddered at the boneless way Daniel was sleeping. Arms hanging down, he was practically bent in half, his stomach pressed into the bar across his midsection. He was tempted to reach around and wake Daniel, advise him to change positions, but Jack could readily admit that he wasn't that crazy. Sleeping children weren't in pain. They didn't cry. And they didn't need a pair of hands for hugging; the same pair of hands Jack needed for driving. So a sleeping Daniel was fine for now.

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Even before Jack withdrew the keys from the ignition, Teal'c was by the truck's side, his hand on the passenger door, shooting Jack a look of impatience. Jack hit the switch on the console to unlock the door and in record time, Teal'c flung open the door, then stopped. Jack caught a glimpse of his friend in the rear-view mirror reaching with incredible gentleness towards Daniel. Teal'c hesitated, stepping back.

Jack opened his door, slipped out and went to stand behind Teal'c. "He won't break."

"DanielJackson does not appear to be awake." There was no missing the disappointment in the baritone voice.

"Believe me, the kid's uncomfortable. Sleeping is preferable to awake and crying."

"The operation was not the cure to his ailment?"

"It was. It's just that right now he's hurting. In his throat."

Teal'c answered with a tight nod. "May I carry him into the house?"

Jack stepped to the side. "Be my guest."

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Daniel looked small and fragile in Teal'c's arms and Jack watched as his mother approached him, eyes huge and watery behind her glasses.

"He's fine, Mom. Uncomfortable, but the surgery was a success."

"Teal'c, step away from the door with him," she ordered.

Teal'c bowed, stepped further into the house, but didn't move, waiting for further instructions.

"Couch. Let's make up the couch for him so we can keep an eye on him."

Teal'c obeyed her without hesitation and a burst of laughter spewed out of Jack, which he quickly silenced when two pairs of eyes burned a hole into him. Punch drunk, that had to be the excuse for the visual of his mother leading a platoon of Jaffa bending to her every whim.

"Sorry."

Already his transgression was forgiven as Teal'c and his mom focused their attention on getting Daniel settled. Teal'c hurried off to retrieve the pillow and blanket from his room while Rose stood guard. They fluffed. Gently arranged. And covered on the couch as per her orders.

Jack placed Lumpy into Daniel's arms just before the covers were tucked in, backing away, giving his mother access to assess. Daniel slept on.

"I'm here, mhuirnin."

A smile, then Daniel slowly opened his eyes. "Gram—" was all he managed before swallowing.

Tears filled his eyes as pain registered.

"Shhhh." She sat at the edge of the couch. "No need to talk. Because I'm sure it hurts."

Daniel nodded.

"You know what will make you feel better? Ice cream."

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It took two bowls of ice cream, a small sip of water and a trip to the bathroom before Daniel was resettled on the couch and his eyes began to close. The three of them stood watching Daniel breathe when Carter entered, her arms filled with bags.

"How's he doing?" she whispered, taking her place next to Teal'c.

"DanielJackson is sleeping."

She gazed at Daniel with a look that Jack had never seen from his 2IC. "Carter?"

"He's okay?"

"I've been warned that he might be cranky."

"Cranky, I can deal with." She smiled broadly at Jack.

Jack sniffed the air. "Is that Chinese I smell?"

"Yup. Your mom figured you might be—"

"Ravenous?" Jack tried to peek into one of the bags.

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Jack was exhausted and full. Satiated and semi-content as he settled himself in the recliner. He figured his snoring after Chinese had given Teal'c and Carter the hint because when he woke up, they were gone and it was only the three of them in the living room. But he'd been the only one sleeping.

Daniel was sitting in his mother's lap, head resting on her shoulder while she read him a story.

Jack blinked a few times, forcing his uncooperative eyes into focus. "Ma?"

She placed the flat of her hand against Daniel's forehead. "He's a little warm."

Jack thunked the chair into an upright position. "Bennett said that a fever was a possibility." The discharge papers also said that, but still Jack had hoped that maybe, just maybe, Daniel would have skipped right over that. He stretched then walked over to Daniel and squatted down. "Hey, sport."

"Gramma gave me ice cream again." The voice was raspy and breathy, and it hurt him just to hear Daniel struggle.

"Again?" Jack stuck his hand under Daniel's shirt and rubbed the too-warm belly.

"Yup... Ow... My throat hurts." Tears welled up and spilled down.

"Maybe it's time for some of the medicine Doctor Bennett—"

Daniel leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Jack's neck, melting into Jack's return embrace.

Damn, he was warm. "How about we run you a nice warm bath with bubbles, get you in fresh jammies and get you ready for bed. Wanna sleep in my bed?"

Hurting or not, Daniel recognized a treat and he pushed away from Jack, sat up and smiled.

"I'm taking that as a yes."

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The bath had been a good idea in theory, but in reality Daniel was half-asleep on his feet as Jack dried him off. "Don't go to sleep yet."

Daniel needed pain medication, Jell-O and antibiotics before he went to bed, but instead he collapsed against Jack like a limp noodle.

"You're not going to make me carry you? Are you?"

Daniel made a sound that sounded something like a giggle.

"So really not sleeping, are you? Just wanted to get outta your requisite Jell-O quota for the day."

He nodded against Jack's shirt.

Jack wrapped the towel around Daniel with a playful growl. This experience was definitely not as bad as he thought it would be. Daniel seemed to be in good humor, his pain would be controlled with some medication, and his fever wasn't anything more than a bump on the road.

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"Eat this."

Daniel clamped his mouth shut and shook his head.

"Daniel..." The good feeling from the bathroom had disappeared about twenty minutes ago. Just about the time Jack made the offering of Jell-O, which Daniel had flatly refused.

"You need to eat something. Or drink—"

"No drink." Daniel pushed the bottle away.

Jack could almost understand Daniel not wanting to drink past the hurt but Bennett had been emphatic about Daniel's fluid intake. "You need to drink."

Daniel clamped his hands over his mouth.

"Does your throat hurt, mhuirnin?"

His glance slid from Jack to his mother but his hands stayed over his mouth. He answered her question with a nod.

"You like Dr. Bennett, don't you?"

Daniel hesitated a moment before nodding again.

Jack sat back and watched an expert at work, taking mental notes.

"Dr. Bennett said that your throat would hurt. Does it hurt?"

There was the slightest nod at this question.

"See, Dr. Bennett didn't lie. He told you the truth." She pulled two bottles out of her sweater pocket. "Dr. Bennett said these will help you. One for the pain in your throat. One for the fever and headache. And we both know that Dr. Bennett tells the truth. Right?"

Damn, Jack saw right where his mother was going. Painting poor Daniel right into a corner and the kid never saw it coming.

Slowly, Daniel dropped his hands, reached for Lumpy and pulled the stuffie into his lap. He pointed to the bottles his mother held. "Help?" was all he could manage.

"Oh, definitely," she promised.

The two spoonfuls went down easily, his attempt at turning away the water was half-hearted at best, and he managed two swallows before settling down under the covers with Lumpy, the scrub top, Jack's mother, and a book.

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Jack stood in the doorway of his room. It wasn't late, and with the nap he'd taken, he shouldn't really be tired, but he was. Worry had worn down into exhaustion and he had kissed his mother goodnight and headed to bed, but he couldn't bring himself to go into the bedroom and disturb Daniel.

"To sleep usually means you lie down in bed."

He put his arm around his mother's shoulders and pulled her close. "Fatherhood isn't like riding a bicycle... You forget."

"Forget what, Jonathan?"

"Never mind... I'm just tired."

"Forget what?" she prodded in a soft voice. "Jonathan?"

"I love him, Mom. God forgive me, I love him."

"And why is that a bad thing?"

"Because I don't want to." He released her and pounded his fist against the doorframe.

His mother grabbed the fist and held it between her two hands. "Why?"

"Why? Why? Because I'm afraid and way too old to survive another—"

"Daniel's not Charlie."

"I know."

"No, you don't." She tugged his hand and while he held his ground for a moment, frustrated, he eventually followed her to the side of the bed. "Look at him."

Jack averted his face.

"Look at him," she ordered.

"This is ridiculous."

"Either you look at him and see him for who he is, or you find someone who will love him how he needs to be loved and not the half-assed way you claim to love him."

"That's not fair."

"To who? You or Daniel?" She sat on the bed and smiled up at him. "This is parenthood. Are you going to face what you've been given and thank God for a second chance? Or are you going to cut your losses and run? I beg of you to tell me now, before I love this child more than I already do."

"Daniel's not Charlie."

"Why?"

"Because I failed Charlie and I won't fail Daniel."

"Jonathan, guilt is not a reason to love someone. That's a lesson you and Sara learned."

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Jack was drinking a beer, staring out the living room windows into the darkness.

"I hit a nerve." His mom's voice wasn't apologetic.

"A nerve? I'm thinking you didn't leave any unscathed."

"I can't say that I'm sorry."

"No, I wouldn't expect you to," Jack said. He raised the bottle, toasted their reflection in the glass and swallowed deeply. "Would you hate me if I ended it now with Daniel?"

"I'd hate you more if you forced us all to live a lie. The decision is yours."

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The house was quiet. Dark. And Jack had graduated from a beer to a tumbler of whiskey. He hadn't drunk any of it, just palmed the glass with contemplative slowness as he stared and saw nothing.

He was cold and damp, but getting up and starting a fire would take too much of an effort. So here he sat, cold and damp, facing a dark fireplace with a full tumbler of alcohol and no answer to his mother's questions.

"Daddy?"

Shit. Bad timing. He wasn't ready yet.

Daniel stood before him. Pillow. Blanket. Lumpy, scrub shirt all hanging from his grasp. "I called for you." The words were a mere whisper and he stared at the drink in Jack's hand.

Jack put the glass on the table. "I'm sorry, buddy." He stood and checked his watch, surprised that it had been four hours since they'd put Daniel into bed. "Hold that thought, I'm going to get you some of Bennett's magic elixirs. Good for what ails you."

Daniel dropped the blanket, and followed Jack with Lumpy and the scrub top stuck under his arms.

This time there wasn't a complaint and Daniel downed the teaspoon of pretty colored medications in quick succession. Then had a bowl of Jell-O and some water.

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Jack sank back into the recliner and without waiting for an invitation, Daniel picked up the blanket and he and his belongings crawled into Jack's lap.

He was hot, so hot, and Jack's heart constricted with worry. "Feeling pretty lousy?"

Daniel nodded, fumbled for the blanket and waited while Jack settled it around them. "It's dark. Inside and out," he rasped.

"Yeah, it is." The scrub shirt was tucked under Jack's chin and he pushed it away, only to have a little hand push it back. "Daniel!" Annoyed, he shoved the scrub top back into Daniel's hands.

Daniel took the top with a grunt, and tucked it against his own body. "Is it still today?"

The windows showed nothing but darkness and their reflection. "It's been a long day."

"... Feel better tomorrow?"

"A little better every day. Promise."

Daniel's sigh, as he fought to find a comfortable spot, was one of disbelief.

"Do you want to go back to bed?"

"No."

"The couch?"

"No."

"How about something to—"

Daniel lifted his head, digging his elbows into Jack's chest for leverage.

Immediately, Jack moved to reposition the bony little daggers. "Ow! How about you—"

"Who's Charlie?"

"Why?"

" 'Cause whenever Gramma says his name, you get sad." Breathy words, said fast, rushing past the pain he must be feeling.

It was so tempting to cut this conversation short with a lie, but denying the truth would be almost like denying who Charlie was. "Charlie was my son."

"Like me?"

Jack bought time. He moved Daniel's elbows off his chest, pushed and prodded until Daniel was curled in his lap, his head now resting against his chest, Jack's arms holding him there. It was safer than looking into those eyes.

"Charlie was your real son?" Big or small, hurting or not, Daniel was a persistent SOB.

"Sara and I were married—"

"The mean lady in the store?"

"Daniel, she's not—"

"She yelled at Gramma, she's mean." There was finality in Daniel's judgment that left no room for argument.

"When Sara and I were married, we had a little boy. His name was Charlie."

"He doesn't live here anymore?"

"No, he doesn't."

"Charlie lives with Sara? You left your son with the mean lady—"

"Charlie's dead."

Daniel prattled on for a few more seconds and then was silent as Jack's words sunk in. "Charlie's dead?"

"Yes."

"Was he sick? Like me?"

"No. No. No. He died because of an... accident."

"Car?"

"Nope. Not a car."

"Crossing the street? Didn't hold your hand—"

Damn, Jack wished somewhere in his heart that Bennett's pain medication hadn't worked so well. "Please, can we not talk about this?"

A little hand patted his chest. "I'm sorry."

There was a long pause and Daniel lay quiet and still, hopefully heading towards sleep.

"Did you get me to take Charlie's place?"

Daniel hadn't been sleeping; he'd being thinking of the question that would pull the rug out from under Jack. "Get you... What? No."

"Was Charlie sick like me?"

"No, Charlie wasn't sick like—"

"Did he play Lego's?"

Since Charlie could walk, his favorite toys had always been balls. Baseballs. Footballs. Tennis balls. "No, Charlie didn't play with Lego's. He liked airplanes though. And playing ball."

"Did he like books?"

"He liked Gramma to tell him stories, but no, he really didn't like to read."

"Crayons and paper?"

"He would draw airplanes."

"Puzzles?"

"Not really."

Daniel began to fiddle with Jack's buttons. "I don't think I want to play Legos anymore."

"Daniel?"

"We can give my books away. Unless they're airplane books. And the puzzles that Sam brought me, will she be mad if I—"

"What the hell—"

"I don't want you to be sad anymore. And if I were more like Charlie, then you wouldn't be sad."

"But where would Daniel be?"

"Do you want to call me Charlie... Then I can—"

"You're Daniel. I want you to be Daniel. I love Daniel."

"But you love Charlie."

"Yes, I loved Charlie and I love Daniel. I want you to love your books, Legos, puzzles. I don't want you to be anyone else. Ever."

"Then why did you get me?"

"Because I needed someone to share my home with. Someone who needed a family as much as I did."

"Do you love me?"

The one word was spoken without hesitation. "Yes."

"Just wanted to make sure."

Jack kissed the bent head. "I'm glad we got that straightened out."

"I promise not to die."

"Daniel..." Jack was bordering on exasperation. Shouldn't Daniel be tired? Shouldn't talking be next to impossible? Didn't Bennett mention something about the painkillers making him sleepy? Because Jack was tired, and tired people said things that shouldn't be said. "Charlie didn't want to die."

"Am I going to die?"

"When you're older. Much older."

"But Charlie wasn't old when he died."

"No, he wasn't."

"Did you ever tell Charlie he wouldn't die until he was older?"

"Charlie found my gun."

"You have a gun?"

Jack ignored the question. The last thing he wanted was for inquiring, inquisitive minds turning the house upside down looking for the gun. "Charlie found where the gun was hidden and was playing with it. He—" Jack couldn't say the word.

"Didn't he know he wasn't supposed to play with the gun?"

"Didn't you know you were supposed to stay with me at the mall and you didn't?"

Daniel began to cry.

Shit. Jack wanted to cry, too. But he would do the next best thing. Sleep. Sleep was an excellent method of escapism. He moved the lever, pushed back on the recliner so it was almost horizontal. "Sleep."

"Not tired," Daniel sniffed, then dragged his nose across Jack's shirt.

"I am," Jack said with a finality that left no room for argument. "Close your eyes."

"I don't—"

"Close 'em," Jack growled, taking the bite from his words with a more than gentle squeeze of his arms. "And give your voice a rest, 'cause your throat must hurt."

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To be continued