Part 11

Daniel was confused. Jack had turned tactile overnight.

He'd been awakened with a hand curled at the nape of his neck, had his hair ruffled playfully, and not had to climb up into the booster seat in the back of the Jeep on his own, but was lifted there before he could protest. All by Jack. The same Jack who had only this morning told General Hammond that he couldn't wait to foist Daniel off on someone else.

Or had he? Maybe that had been another delusion conjured up by his over-active imagination. But no, he'd definitely been awake then because he'd snagged one of his socks on the wooden floor during his mad dash through the living room away from Jack's door. He'd seen the snag when he picked the discarded socks off the floor while getting dressed.

Apparently, he was once again dealing with Black Jack, the veteran of Special Forces. The man who could drink beer and smile to your face while stabbing you through the heart. The man who was seemingly on assignment to introduce Daniel to a new "foster family" before abandoning him in Minnesota while he returned to Colorado and the SGC.

Of course, that didn't make as much sense in the light of day as it had seemed to earlier this morning. Why would he be left with a family that had absolutely no connection to the SGC? It had been proven, despite his smaller stature, that all his memories and skills were intact, so why not keep him on at the Mountain? General Bauer would finally get his wish, as Daniel would have no choice but to--as Jack would say--fly a desk.

The "foist him off on someone else" part was still worrisome, as was the part about Jack not trusting him. It was a foregone conclusion that Daniel would no longer be able to live by himself as long as he was this short, and at first he'd thought Jack would let him live with him as he had when he first came back from Abydos. But if Jack couldn't wait to "foist him off", then--

"Wow, that's some heavy thinkin'. Don't you know all that frowning'll give you wrinkles?"

Daniel blinked and looked up to see Jack eyeing him in the rear-view mirror. "What?"

"You were thinking too hard," Jack replied. "I was worried you were going to short-circuit a few brain cells. What was that all about, anyway?"

The archaeologist wasn't so sure he hadn't already fried some helpless neurons. "Nothing," he answered too quickly, then decided to change the subject. "I thought you said St. Anthony had fewer than a hundred people."

"It does, but one of the residents just happens to own and cook for a great diner, and her daughters wait the tables. There's even a gas station convenience store that employs five more of the residents. Pretty much everyone else works in or near St. Cloud." He paused. "That can't have been what all that heavy-duty concentrating was about, though."

Daniel sighed. "It's nothing, Jack."

"When you say 'nothing', you mean 'something'. What's eatin' ya? You can tell me, Danny, I'm your friend."

"You are?" he blurted before he could stop himself, slapping his hands over his mouth in horror.

Jack's eyes widened. Seconds later, they were pulled off into the strip of gravel that was the diner's parking lot. Jack shut off the engine, then turned around in his seat. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Daniel denied, lowering his hands to his lap and finding the hem of his polo shirt suddenly very fascinating. "I didn't mean to say that." The sewing machine was a marvelous invention, wasn't it?

"Say what you mean and mean what you say," Jack replied. "In this case, I'd say you did both. Look at me, Danny."

He couldn't do that. If he looked at Jack, Daniel would probably cry and make a tee-total fool of himself. This little body did stuff like that, he knew, having inadvertently given into a few tears after he'd woken up small in the infirmary. It was no wonder the colonel said he couldn't trust him, because he couldn't even count on himself to not do something as completely stupid as starting to sob like the baby he now looked like.

Jack unbuckled his seatbelt, opened the car door, then was suddenly leaning through the back door toward him. "Look, kiddo--Daniel--I know I haven't been the best friend to you for the last several months, but everything's going to be different now. That's a promise, buddy. Everything will be different from now on, okay?"

It wasn't okay. Everything was going to be so much different because Jack was going to be leaving him here with the Jorgenssons or otherwise "foisting him off" and nothing would ever be the same again! Even this stupid little boy body he'd been stuck with wouldn't be the same ever again--well maybe in twenty or thirty years it would be--but right now, it didn't work right. In fact, it was letting the traitorous moisture he told not to fall seep out of his eyes anyway.

To his complete surprise, Jack slid into the back seat and wrapped his arms around Daniel's shoulders. Nearly thirty years with minimal physical affection meant that being enfolded in a hug now was too much for him to bear. Being hugged by the one man whose approval and friendship he craved like a drowning person needed air was more than he could handle, especially when said man had already expressed his desire to be rid of him as quickly as possible.

Burying his face in the shirt in front of him, Daniel felt his shoulders shake as he gave in to his confusion and fear. Why was Jack being so nice to him?