Part 10

Jack pulled the bedroom door shut then rested his forehead against the doorframe. He wasn't at all surprised that Daniel was still asleep, especially given his rather spectacular crash from his caffeinated high in the wee hours of the morning. Still, it kind of put a damper on his plans to take them into St. Anthony for breakfast. The town itself consisted of little more than a gas station-slash-convenience store and a diner. Mable made the best flapjacks in the Midwest, so he hoped a pile of the sweet, fluffy cakes would help to get his friend out of the funk in which he was currently existing.

He decided to give the tuckered-out kid a few more hours' rest while he puttered around the cabin, doing minor chores. There had been some debris in the yard yesterday which was probably leftover from early spring storms, a few loose nails on the dock that needed to be hammered back in, and his old rowboat to haul out of the shed and inspect for leaks. If Daniel still wasn't awake by nine, he'd wake him up so they could go to town.

As soon as he stepped outside he realized it had rained the night before, which put the final nail on the coffin of Daniel's alien invasion theory. The flash had been lightning and the loud bang thunder, of course. It was curious that the storm hadn't awakened Jack, but then again he had been tired, or maybe all the excess caffeine had heightened the kid's senses like the guy in that buddy-cop show Daniel and Carter liked so well... "Centennial" or whatever the name was.

After the boat successfully held a stack of bricks plus his own weight without taking on any water, Jack glanced at his watch and was surprised to see it was already a quarter after nine. Climbing onto the dock and tying the boat off, he crept inside the cabin and quietly opened Daniel's bedroom door.

The still-sleeping waif had kicked off his covers at some point but had his whole body curled around one of the pillows as though hanging onto it for dear life. One hand was tucked up under his chin and with all the little frown lines that children his physical age weren't supposed to have smoothed out by slumber, he looked positively angelic. Jack was momentarily taken aback, as he'd spent the last few days trying his utmost to see his grown friend and not a child. Fast asleep and surrounded by a few of Charlie's old belongings Jack had never managed to get rid of, he was forced to view Daniel in a completely different light.

What if he'd been going about it all wrong? He'd been trying to treat Daniel almost exactly as he'd treated the grown version, but what if that wasn't what he needed? Maybe this young new body had young new emotions and the same craving for hugs and positive reinforcement that he'd sorely needed when they first met, before their relationship dissolved. If Jack were honest with himself, part of what had gone wrong with their friendship had been Daniel's sudden declaration of personal independence and subsequent deliberate withdrawal from Jack's paternal instincts. Jack hadn't helped matters any by pulling away himself.

There was really only one way to prove his theory, and he didn't need to know any of Carter's sworn-by scientific method to test this particular hypothesis. In fact, he'd much rather give it the patented Daniel Jackson approach: feet first, full speed ahead, and never look before you leap.

Settling carefully down on the edge of the bed, Jack carded his fingers through the soft blond hair that would eventually darken to brown, smiling to himself as he allowed himself to actually touch Daniel for what felt like the first time in years. The boy stirred under his touch, but didn't awaken. For step two, Jack cupped the back of the small head and leaned in, gently calling his name.

Startled blue eyes flew open, darting around in panic before settling on Jack. His fingers curled into fists on the pillow, clutching the fabric tightly as his gaze slid to one side, staring past the colonel's shoulder. "Hi, Jack."

"Hijack what?" he joked, unable to help himself. "A car? A train? A boat?"

A peculiar thing happened then: Daniel actually giggled. As soon as the noise escaped him, though, his face took on a brief expression of mortification before slipping into what Jack now realized was a careful mask that just screamed the dreaded "fine".

He cleared his throat. "Anywho... want to go get breakfast?"

Daniel picked at the pillowcase. "Um, I think we should've listened to Janet. No more coffee for me for a while."

"Now that I'll agree to, but it doesn't mean we can't still have pancakes. The diner in St. Anthony makes the best you'll find in the state. Mable even ships in syrup from Vermont every spring. Whaddya say?"

"Okay."

"Attaboy," Jack grinned, ruffling Daniel's hair affectionately. Maybe the two of them could find the right balance after all.

Author's Notes:
Heehee! You know it's bad when even Daniel admits he should probably lay off the coffee. I'm reminded of one of my favorite quotes from Star Trek: Voyager, when a frustrated Captain Janeway waves off a fresh pot and says, "No thanks, Mr. Neelix. One more cup of coffee and I'll jump to warp!"