Part 7
The kid falls asleep in the car on the way home. Not surprising, considering the day we've had and how little sleep he got last night. With his hair cut and his glasses, it's almost scary how much he looks like Daniel. His face still has some of that baby roundness, his chin soft and his cheeks pudgy, but the eyes—oh, the eyes. Vintage Daniel.
We dropped Teal'c off at the mountain with our thanks and a bunch of sandalwood candles from the Hallmark store, and with some convincing he allowed us to return home without his protection. I had to promise him that we'd lock up and set the security system. It's times like these that make me glad the team knows about my relationship with Daniel. Saves so much explaining.
Every time I glance in the rearview mirror, I see a sleeping child face topped by short, shaggy brown hair, his lips slightly parted and the slim, vulnerable curve of his neck exposed as he tilts his head to one side. There's something simple and real about that pose, about the trust implied. It's not something I thought I'd ever see again.
"Hey," Daniel says softly. "Where'd you go?"
"Hmm?"
"You're about a million miles away."
I shrug, keeping my eyes firmly on the road. "It's nothing."
"I'm sorry," he murmurs.
"What?" I turn to look at him, and he's giving me that Daniel face; big, understanding eyes, full of compassion. I can't look at that face for very long. It sees too much.
"I know this has to be hard for you. I shouldn't have made such a big decision without thinking of how it would affect you."
"It was something you had to do," I say dismissively. "I was a little surprised, yeah, but we'll be okay. We'll adapt."
"Will we?" Daniel stares blankly out the windshield for a moment. "I don't think you realize what's going to happen, Jack."
"Hey, I'm the one who knows about kids," I reply. "I know it's a big deal."
"You know about kids in general, but I know about this kid. I know how he's going to start behaving soon." Daniel twists to check on the boy, making sure he's still asleep. "He's being nice now, because we're new and he's uncertain and he's trying to make us like him. But once he settles in a bit, that will change."
"Damn," I mutter. "You mean he'll turn into you?"
Daniel snorts and shakes his head. "Oh, worse. Imagine me on my worst day, stubborn and argumentative and opinionated, and then add in the emotional control of a child who can't stop pushing his limits. If we tell him that we're not going anywhere, he's not just going to believe us. He's going to test it. He's going to act up and talk back and push until he's sure, absolutely sure that we're permanent."
"All kids misbehave," I say. "Charlie did it too. With consistent discipline and a good home, they outgrow it."
"He isn't Charlie," Daniel tells me quietly. "I know you want to pick up where you left off, so to speak, but that isn't going to happen. He hasn't had the life that Charlie had with you, safe and stable and loved. God, Jack, you think I just had bad luck in foster homes and that's why I was moved around so much? I got sent away time after time because I was a little pain in the ass."
"They gave up too easily."
Daniel shrugs. "Maybe. But it was a lot to ask of these people, most of them good people who only wanted to help kids that needed it. I don't think you realize how bad I was, Jack. I was destructive. I broke things, I stole things, I disobeyed constantly, I ran away over and over, I lied all the time, I refused to accept help from anyone..."
"Whoa," I interrupt, holding up a hand. "What are you trying to say?"
"I'm saying that the easy, obedient kid you met yesterday is not going to stay around very long. Taking care of the real child underneath that false front will not be easy, it will not be fun, and there will probably be days that we both regret walking into this so fast. Except you won't be the one regretting it, because I walked into it for both of us. And how long until you start resenting me for that?"
"I thought you were sure you wanted to do this."
"I am," he says. "I mean... I am. I have a better chance at helping him than anyone else. He's never going to tell a stranger what's going on in his head. Janet can push her ideas of therapy all she wants, but that won't work. I have an advantage that none of those foster parents had—I understand him. But that's not a magic wand that will make his problems go away. Knowing what is wrong doesn't mean I know how to make it right."
I give Daniel a sidelong glance and see that he's curled slightly, his arms folded and his chin down, staring through the dashboard. "Seems like you turned out all right," I say.
He laughs shortly. "Sure. I'm a wonderfully well adjusted human being. I'm sure that's why I turned into a total sociopath in that vision Shifu gave me."
I blow an exasperated breath through my teeth. "Crap, Daniel, not that again. I thought you'd accepted that it was the goa'uld knowledge making you act that way. And besides, it was only a dream, for crying out loud! I still don't believe for a second that you would really behave like that."
"You believe what you want to believe," he says coolly.
"Daniel..."
He shakes his head quickly. "Never mind. This isn't about me. Whatever happened in my past, it's over and done with and nothing will change that. But the boy, we can change things for him. He has a chance."
"What did happen in your past?" I ask. "It's very clear that some bad things have happened to this kid, above and beyond witnessing the accident in the museum. Just how much haven't you told me?"
"Probably a lot less than what you haven't told me," he shoots back. "I know you have nightmares about things that you *never* talk about, so don't give me that 'complete trust and openness' bit. We both have a past, and you know it. We've never felt the need to dig up all that old crap before."
"We've never had reason," I argue. "Now we have a kid who is living proof of some of your 'old crap,' as you put it, and how do you expect me to ever be an equal parent with you if you know everything about him and I don't?"
Daniel blinks and leans back slightly, twisting to look at the boy. "Parents? Is that what we are?"
"We're a couple who has just adopted a child. I'd say that fits the description."
"Oh," he says softly. "I hadn't thought of it like that. It's so..."
"Huge? Overwhelming? Scary?"
"All of the above."
I smile at him. "Welcome to parenthood. Constant worry, incredible responsibility... amazing rewards."
"He could have children of his own someday," Daniel says. "Janet said he was a normal human boy. He could have kids and we'd be grandparents."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," I tell him, holding up a hand. "Besides, if he's just like you, he may end up with a man."
"Sha're and I would have had kids if things had been different," he says stiffly. "If we'd had more time... we didn't think there was any hurry."
"I know," I reply, patting his leg. "And besides, the way things are going, by the time he grows up he'll be able to marry and legally adopt even if he is with another man."
"Maybe," Daniel says. "But like you said, we're getting ahead of ourselves. Maybe we should stick to what happens tomorrow."
"Hammond gave us some time off."
"Which means we can sleep in." Daniel grins at me. "I'm looking forward to that."
I laugh and shake my head. "Daniel, we have a kid now. Sleeping in is a thing of the past."
"It is?"
"Yep."
"Making out on the couch?"
"Not anymore."
"Walking around the house naked?"
"I wouldn't if I were you."
"Damn," he mumbles. "Maybe I didn't think this through."
"Ya think?"
Daniel punches me none-too-lightly on the shoulder. "Just remember that we're in this together, 'dad.'"
I feel my smile slide away and I nod at him, my eyes drifting up to the rear view mirror again. The boy is still sleeping, his new glasses barely hanging on to the tip of his nose.
"Was that the wrong thing to say?" Daniel asks quietly.
"Nah. It's fine. Just haven't been called that in a long time."
"I won't do it anymore if it bothers you."
"It's fine."
Daniel eyes me for a moment longer and then sighs and watches the streetlights go by for a while.
"So," I say.
"So?"
"The camera thing."
Daniel scowls. "Funny how you forget planet designations, gate addresses, and when to tape my shows, but you remember that."
"It's called prioritizing. I remember what's important."
"So your hockey games are important but my show on Aztec imagery as relating to the creation of the calendar isn't?"
"You're dodging the question."
"Yes," he says simply. "I am."
"Daniel..."
He sighs and twists to look at the boy again, his hands tight on the fabric of his seat. "Not now, Jack. This isn't the kind of conversation you have in a moving car."
Why does that not make me feel any better?
~~~
"Get him, would you Jack?" Daniel calls over his shoulder as he lugs our bags into the house. Danny is still conked out in the back seat, his glasses, finally having lost the battle, resting in his lap.
"Right," I call back. Right. Hauling a sleepy and none-too-light seven year old out of a car. I remember this.
When I unhook the seatbelt, Danny slumps forward and I catch him, his limp arms pinned between us. "Come on, big guy," I coax, tugging at him. "Need you to help me out a little."
He shifts and mumbles, and then suddenly jerks away, staring up at me and squinting. "Wha...?"
"Just me, buddy, Jack. You remember? We're home, but I need you to come in the house. Can't stay in the car all night."
He mutters something unintelligible but cooperates, slinging his arms around my shoulders and pushing off with his feet. It helps that my truck sits high off the ground, so I don't have to lift him so much as pull him sideways. Once we clear the door, his legs hook themselves around my waist and he drops his head onto my shoulder with a heavy plunk.
Oh yeah. I remember this.
I lug him up the sidewalk and into the house, where Daniel is already busy digging through the bags and looking for the sheets and blankets that we bought. "Sit with him for a few minutes while I get the bed ready?" he asks without looking up.
"Sure." I veer over to the recliner and drop into it with a distinct lack of grace. The kid shifts and grumbles again, and twists until he's sitting in my lap, curled against my chest. I start to rock the chair back and forth. It seems like the thing to do.
Daniel still has his back to me, tossing shopping bags aside and muttering to himself, so I decide it's okay to close my eyes for a moment and let my cheek rest on that fine, silky hair. I haven't held anyone but Daniel for a long time, and the child is startlingly different. Light and fragile where Daniel is big and heavy, soft where Daniel is hard, with a smooth face and small hands. I can feel his heartbeat through my hands on his back, slow and steady in his sleep.
His hair doesn't smell of Johnson's baby shampoo. But of course it doesn't, he used whatever generic stuff was in the VIP suite bathroom this morning. There's no reason to expect him to smell the way Charlie did. Even if he does feel the same way. It's been a long time... god, Charlie would be almost ready to move away from home by now. He'd be driving a car, working some part-time job to get money to take girls out on dates, he'd be graduating high school soon. So much that he'll never get to do, but now... Daniel thinks I want to pick up where I left off with Charlie. He thinks I'm using this kid as a kind of substitute, but that can't be true. I know he's a different child. I know he's going to have problems. I'm not expecting nonstop warm and fuzzies here.
But damn, it feels good to hold a kid again.
I take another peek from under heavy lids to see that Daniel finally found what he was looking for and is headed up the stairs with his arms full of bedding. I let my eyes slip shut again and keep rocking the chair. In my lap, the boy sighs and kneads sleepily at my shirt with one hand.
I could get used to this.
~~~
The kid falls asleep in the car on the way home. Not surprising, considering the day we've had and how little sleep he got last night. With his hair cut and his glasses, it's almost scary how much he looks like Daniel. His face still has some of that baby roundness, his chin soft and his cheeks pudgy, but the eyes—oh, the eyes. Vintage Daniel.
We dropped Teal'c off at the mountain with our thanks and a bunch of sandalwood candles from the Hallmark store, and with some convincing he allowed us to return home without his protection. I had to promise him that we'd lock up and set the security system. It's times like these that make me glad the team knows about my relationship with Daniel. Saves so much explaining.
Every time I glance in the rearview mirror, I see a sleeping child face topped by short, shaggy brown hair, his lips slightly parted and the slim, vulnerable curve of his neck exposed as he tilts his head to one side. There's something simple and real about that pose, about the trust implied. It's not something I thought I'd ever see again.
"Hey," Daniel says softly. "Where'd you go?"
"Hmm?"
"You're about a million miles away."
I shrug, keeping my eyes firmly on the road. "It's nothing."
"I'm sorry," he murmurs.
"What?" I turn to look at him, and he's giving me that Daniel face; big, understanding eyes, full of compassion. I can't look at that face for very long. It sees too much.
"I know this has to be hard for you. I shouldn't have made such a big decision without thinking of how it would affect you."
"It was something you had to do," I say dismissively. "I was a little surprised, yeah, but we'll be okay. We'll adapt."
"Will we?" Daniel stares blankly out the windshield for a moment. "I don't think you realize what's going to happen, Jack."
"Hey, I'm the one who knows about kids," I reply. "I know it's a big deal."
"You know about kids in general, but I know about this kid. I know how he's going to start behaving soon." Daniel twists to check on the boy, making sure he's still asleep. "He's being nice now, because we're new and he's uncertain and he's trying to make us like him. But once he settles in a bit, that will change."
"Damn," I mutter. "You mean he'll turn into you?"
Daniel snorts and shakes his head. "Oh, worse. Imagine me on my worst day, stubborn and argumentative and opinionated, and then add in the emotional control of a child who can't stop pushing his limits. If we tell him that we're not going anywhere, he's not just going to believe us. He's going to test it. He's going to act up and talk back and push until he's sure, absolutely sure that we're permanent."
"All kids misbehave," I say. "Charlie did it too. With consistent discipline and a good home, they outgrow it."
"He isn't Charlie," Daniel tells me quietly. "I know you want to pick up where you left off, so to speak, but that isn't going to happen. He hasn't had the life that Charlie had with you, safe and stable and loved. God, Jack, you think I just had bad luck in foster homes and that's why I was moved around so much? I got sent away time after time because I was a little pain in the ass."
"They gave up too easily."
Daniel shrugs. "Maybe. But it was a lot to ask of these people, most of them good people who only wanted to help kids that needed it. I don't think you realize how bad I was, Jack. I was destructive. I broke things, I stole things, I disobeyed constantly, I ran away over and over, I lied all the time, I refused to accept help from anyone..."
"Whoa," I interrupt, holding up a hand. "What are you trying to say?"
"I'm saying that the easy, obedient kid you met yesterday is not going to stay around very long. Taking care of the real child underneath that false front will not be easy, it will not be fun, and there will probably be days that we both regret walking into this so fast. Except you won't be the one regretting it, because I walked into it for both of us. And how long until you start resenting me for that?"
"I thought you were sure you wanted to do this."
"I am," he says. "I mean... I am. I have a better chance at helping him than anyone else. He's never going to tell a stranger what's going on in his head. Janet can push her ideas of therapy all she wants, but that won't work. I have an advantage that none of those foster parents had—I understand him. But that's not a magic wand that will make his problems go away. Knowing what is wrong doesn't mean I know how to make it right."
I give Daniel a sidelong glance and see that he's curled slightly, his arms folded and his chin down, staring through the dashboard. "Seems like you turned out all right," I say.
He laughs shortly. "Sure. I'm a wonderfully well adjusted human being. I'm sure that's why I turned into a total sociopath in that vision Shifu gave me."
I blow an exasperated breath through my teeth. "Crap, Daniel, not that again. I thought you'd accepted that it was the goa'uld knowledge making you act that way. And besides, it was only a dream, for crying out loud! I still don't believe for a second that you would really behave like that."
"You believe what you want to believe," he says coolly.
"Daniel..."
He shakes his head quickly. "Never mind. This isn't about me. Whatever happened in my past, it's over and done with and nothing will change that. But the boy, we can change things for him. He has a chance."
"What did happen in your past?" I ask. "It's very clear that some bad things have happened to this kid, above and beyond witnessing the accident in the museum. Just how much haven't you told me?"
"Probably a lot less than what you haven't told me," he shoots back. "I know you have nightmares about things that you *never* talk about, so don't give me that 'complete trust and openness' bit. We both have a past, and you know it. We've never felt the need to dig up all that old crap before."
"We've never had reason," I argue. "Now we have a kid who is living proof of some of your 'old crap,' as you put it, and how do you expect me to ever be an equal parent with you if you know everything about him and I don't?"
Daniel blinks and leans back slightly, twisting to look at the boy. "Parents? Is that what we are?"
"We're a couple who has just adopted a child. I'd say that fits the description."
"Oh," he says softly. "I hadn't thought of it like that. It's so..."
"Huge? Overwhelming? Scary?"
"All of the above."
I smile at him. "Welcome to parenthood. Constant worry, incredible responsibility... amazing rewards."
"He could have children of his own someday," Daniel says. "Janet said he was a normal human boy. He could have kids and we'd be grandparents."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," I tell him, holding up a hand. "Besides, if he's just like you, he may end up with a man."
"Sha're and I would have had kids if things had been different," he says stiffly. "If we'd had more time... we didn't think there was any hurry."
"I know," I reply, patting his leg. "And besides, the way things are going, by the time he grows up he'll be able to marry and legally adopt even if he is with another man."
"Maybe," Daniel says. "But like you said, we're getting ahead of ourselves. Maybe we should stick to what happens tomorrow."
"Hammond gave us some time off."
"Which means we can sleep in." Daniel grins at me. "I'm looking forward to that."
I laugh and shake my head. "Daniel, we have a kid now. Sleeping in is a thing of the past."
"It is?"
"Yep."
"Making out on the couch?"
"Not anymore."
"Walking around the house naked?"
"I wouldn't if I were you."
"Damn," he mumbles. "Maybe I didn't think this through."
"Ya think?"
Daniel punches me none-too-lightly on the shoulder. "Just remember that we're in this together, 'dad.'"
I feel my smile slide away and I nod at him, my eyes drifting up to the rear view mirror again. The boy is still sleeping, his new glasses barely hanging on to the tip of his nose.
"Was that the wrong thing to say?" Daniel asks quietly.
"Nah. It's fine. Just haven't been called that in a long time."
"I won't do it anymore if it bothers you."
"It's fine."
Daniel eyes me for a moment longer and then sighs and watches the streetlights go by for a while.
"So," I say.
"So?"
"The camera thing."
Daniel scowls. "Funny how you forget planet designations, gate addresses, and when to tape my shows, but you remember that."
"It's called prioritizing. I remember what's important."
"So your hockey games are important but my show on Aztec imagery as relating to the creation of the calendar isn't?"
"You're dodging the question."
"Yes," he says simply. "I am."
"Daniel..."
He sighs and twists to look at the boy again, his hands tight on the fabric of his seat. "Not now, Jack. This isn't the kind of conversation you have in a moving car."
Why does that not make me feel any better?
~~~
"Get him, would you Jack?" Daniel calls over his shoulder as he lugs our bags into the house. Danny is still conked out in the back seat, his glasses, finally having lost the battle, resting in his lap.
"Right," I call back. Right. Hauling a sleepy and none-too-light seven year old out of a car. I remember this.
When I unhook the seatbelt, Danny slumps forward and I catch him, his limp arms pinned between us. "Come on, big guy," I coax, tugging at him. "Need you to help me out a little."
He shifts and mumbles, and then suddenly jerks away, staring up at me and squinting. "Wha...?"
"Just me, buddy, Jack. You remember? We're home, but I need you to come in the house. Can't stay in the car all night."
He mutters something unintelligible but cooperates, slinging his arms around my shoulders and pushing off with his feet. It helps that my truck sits high off the ground, so I don't have to lift him so much as pull him sideways. Once we clear the door, his legs hook themselves around my waist and he drops his head onto my shoulder with a heavy plunk.
Oh yeah. I remember this.
I lug him up the sidewalk and into the house, where Daniel is already busy digging through the bags and looking for the sheets and blankets that we bought. "Sit with him for a few minutes while I get the bed ready?" he asks without looking up.
"Sure." I veer over to the recliner and drop into it with a distinct lack of grace. The kid shifts and grumbles again, and twists until he's sitting in my lap, curled against my chest. I start to rock the chair back and forth. It seems like the thing to do.
Daniel still has his back to me, tossing shopping bags aside and muttering to himself, so I decide it's okay to close my eyes for a moment and let my cheek rest on that fine, silky hair. I haven't held anyone but Daniel for a long time, and the child is startlingly different. Light and fragile where Daniel is big and heavy, soft where Daniel is hard, with a smooth face and small hands. I can feel his heartbeat through my hands on his back, slow and steady in his sleep.
His hair doesn't smell of Johnson's baby shampoo. But of course it doesn't, he used whatever generic stuff was in the VIP suite bathroom this morning. There's no reason to expect him to smell the way Charlie did. Even if he does feel the same way. It's been a long time... god, Charlie would be almost ready to move away from home by now. He'd be driving a car, working some part-time job to get money to take girls out on dates, he'd be graduating high school soon. So much that he'll never get to do, but now... Daniel thinks I want to pick up where I left off with Charlie. He thinks I'm using this kid as a kind of substitute, but that can't be true. I know he's a different child. I know he's going to have problems. I'm not expecting nonstop warm and fuzzies here.
But damn, it feels good to hold a kid again.
I take another peek from under heavy lids to see that Daniel finally found what he was looking for and is headed up the stairs with his arms full of bedding. I let my eyes slip shut again and keep rocking the chair. In my lap, the boy sighs and kneads sleepily at my shirt with one hand.
I could get used to this.
~~~