Part 8
My king sized bed, which I bought when Daniel moved in, seems a bit crowded this morning. Daniel warned me last night that this might happen, and I'm glad we took the precaution of wearing pajama bottoms and tees instead of our usual nothing. The kid sleeps peacefully between us, arms and legs flung out in a sprawl that takes up much more space than a little kid should be able to occupy. Daniel has a foot in his back and is bent awkwardly around it, one arm hanging off the edge of the bed. I have a small, pointed elbow getting friendly with my ribs and I can feel the bedside table against my shoulder.
It's nice.
I can't remember the number of times that I woke up to find Charlie had wiggled in between Sara and I. Maybe because of a bad dream, or a thunderstorm, or because he felt sick, or just because. I would prop myself up on one elbow and look at the two of them, Sara and Charlie, and feel so rich. Now, I can look at Daniel and the kid and be rich again, but it's a little scary. I had it all once, and I lost it. I don't know if I could handle losing it again.
If Daniel didn't live with me, it might have been easier. I could deal with seeing him with the kid, and even with the kid being a part of my life by proxy, but it would be at a safe distance. I wouldn't feel so much like... hell, like a father. I remember that shaky, flighty feeling I used to get in my guts when I looked at Charlie, love and pride, sure, but also worry and responsibility and the sinking feeling that I didn't have a clue what I was doing. Am I really going to try this crazy thing again with another kid?
Crap, it's too early to be thinking like this. I'm going to paint myself into some mental corner and get stuck there if I don't knock it off. Better to lie back down and enjoy what I have right now.
I shift and nudge and the boy slowly gives ground until I can actually lie on the bed without falling off. Unfortunately, this means that Daniel gets nudged as well, and he catches himself with a startled grunt, waking up and clinging to the mattress a second before he would have gone tumbling to the floor.
"Wha...?" he mumbles. "Jack? Huh?"
I close my eyes and feign sleep, settling more comfortably into the blankets.
"You're not fooling anyone, Jack."
I keep my eyes shut. He could be bluffing. The quiet draws out and I begin to get an odd tingling sensation on my face and neck, like someone is not quite touching me. The prickles extend to the back of my neck and down my spine, coupled with the sensation of being watched. What is he *doing?* It's a ploy, I'm sure, to make me admit I'm not actually asleep. No dice, Daniel.
There is a sound, a very small, indistinct sound. It could be nothing. It could be Daniel's breathing. It could be the sound of a cap being removed from a permanent marker.
I open my eyes.
Daniel is sitting on his side of the bed, his arms folded and his hands empty, smiling sneakily at me. "Paranoid much?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure," he says. "Sleep well?"
"Well, actually, I slept like there was a miniature bed hog stealing all the covers."
Daniel's smile ratchets up another notch. "What a coincidence. I think the same thing happened to me."
"Remind me why we bought blankets for him if he's just going to sneak into bed with us?" I ask, tilting my head to one side and rubbing at my neck muscles.
"He had a bad dream, Jack," Daniel says. "What was I supposed to do, send him back to an unfamiliar room so he could sit there alone and not be able to sleep?"
"I didn't say that."
"I know." Daniel sighs and smiles ruefully down at his hands. "Sorry. I may be taking this all a little personally."
"I would be surprised if you didn't."
"Yeah."
We both look at the kid for a long moment, his face visible in profile, half hidden in my pillow. Which explains why my neck is sore. "So," I say. "We never did have that discussion last night."
Daniel tries for innocence. "What discussion?"
"Daniel, when I first met you and you had that long hair and that air of distracted academic flakiness and you blinked a lot, I *might* have believed that you didn't know what discussion I'm referring to."
"Distracted flakiness?"
"Don't change the subject."
"Not my fault you fell asleep in the recliner," he says defensively. "By the time we got Danny in bed and you sleepwalked your way through getting changed for bed, all you wanted to do was go back to sleep. I was all set to talk about it."
"Oh yes, I'm sure," I drawl. He frowns at me and I sigh and sit up in the bed. "Look, Daniel, I'm aware that it's not going to be pleasant. Something happened to you that made you scared of cameras as a kid, for whatever reason, and caused you to not speak for nearly a year. I realize it's a bad memory, and not something you want to dig up."
"But I have to," he says. "You're right about that. I know everything about this boy and you know very little, and we can't be equals in his eyes if I don't change that."
"Do you think he realizes what our relationship is?" I ask. "I mean, we're sharing a bed, that's a clear sign, but does he get what that means?"
Daniel frowns down at the kid. "I don't know. A country like Egypt, which is very patriarchal, doesn't exactly welcome gay relationships. It's not something that he's seen before. He may be too young to read anything into it."
"You didn't think of this before you stuck him in the bed with us?"
"I was half asleep, Jack," Daniel retorts. "I wasn't exactly analyzing the impact on his perception of our relationship at the time. I was more concerned with carrying him down the hall without banging his head on the door frame."
I pull back and redirect before Daniel can start one of his pre-coffee snarls. "We'll have to tell him about us eventually, anyway. If he's living with us, hiding our relationship from him isn't exactly practical, and besides, I don't want to have to hide in our own home."
"We'll tell him," Daniel says. "I think he's young enough to be open minded. Besides, while he's not familiar with the concept of a same-sex couple, he's never been introduced to homophobia, either. That's a learned response, passed down through generations, like racism. If we behave as if what we have is normal, he should follow suit."
"Except that what we have isn't normal," I point out. "It's something we have to keep behind closed doors. Can he understand us acting like a couple at home and like we're only friends when we're out? Can he keep a secret?"
Daniel gives a brief, humorless laugh. "Oh, he's good with secrets."
"Daniel?"
"Never mind." He shrugs and offers a small, stilted smile. "Camera stuff," he says. "I'll tell you later."
"Ah," I say, which seems to be enough. "So. You think he'll be fine with us?"
"He should be. Even when I started fooling around in college and I realized that I wasn't only attracted to women, it didn't throw me that much. I was a little confused, but you know, college at Oxford in the eighties... a few bisexual tendencies were hardly unheard of."
"Huh." That actually explains a lot. Like why Daniel was so calm when we first got together, while I had my obligatory "I thought I was straight" freaking out episode. Luckily for both of us, he saw right through that and stopped my sputtering, stupid argument by opening my fly, yanking the waistband of my pants to my ankles, and going down on me before I could remember I wasn't supposed to like it. He essentially led from there, and I found it was surprisingly easy to follow.
"Jack?"
"Hmm?"
"You disappeared on me again."
I offer him a vague smile. I think I'm starting to realize how much there is about Daniel that I don't know, and it's unsettling. I know he's an adult and he had a lot of experiences before we ever met. I know I have a past too, that he knows very little about, but somehow I expected him to be a clean slate before me. It's normal for me to be surly and silent because I'm a guy, but I didn't apply that same standard to Daniel and I guess I should have.
"We probably shouldn't talk about this now, anyway," I say, waving at the kid still sleeping between us. "If he hears..."
"It would upset him," Daniel finishes, nodding.
"So. Rain check?"
"Yeah." He looks serious, thoughtful. "We will discuss it, Jack. I know I've been dodging and I'm sorry about that."
I shake my head. "Nah, s'alright. Hell, there are plenty of things that I'd rather not talk about, so I know where you're coming from."
"Yes, about those things," Daniel begins purposefully.
"What are we planning on doing today?" I interrupt. "I mean, we've got the day off, we should make the most of it."
Daniel's mouth curves into a wry smile. "Right, Jack," he says. "Well, since you asked, I'd like to take Danny to the museum in town. He was quite interested in some of the artifacts I showed him in my office yesterday."
I manfully refrain from wincing. "Um... aren't museums bad? In the same way that cameras are bad?"
"Not really." Daniel pauses, considering. "Well, yes, that one particular museum is bad, I wouldn't take him in there right now, but the little one we have here is different."
"Peachy," I say dryly. "Did you ever go back to the one in New York?"
"Sure I did. It's just a place, Jack, and considering what I do, it's a place that I'd have a hard time staying away from."
"How old were you when you went back?"
A line appears between his eyebrows and he draws in a little, hunching his shoulders. "I was ten. A class trip. That... that might have been a bit too soon, actually."
"Oh?" I keep my voice quiet. If he's going to tell me anything, it has to be his choice—trying to force him will only make him clam up.
"I was fine until we got to that room. They, uh..." He runs a hand through his hair and looks away, clearing his throat. "I guess they finished setting up the display after they got everything... cleaned. The temple was there, the cover stone in place, and you could actually walk underneath and see the carvings on the pillars. The class started to go in and I... ah... I kind of panicked a little."
"I'll bet," I say. "Didn't the teacher know about you? I mean, to expect you to just walk under there..."
He shrugs diffidently. "They didn't know. It was in my file, I suppose, but those details are confidential."
I reach across the bed and squeeze his shoulder, and for this I get a smile, small but genuine. "I did intend to go under it eventually," he says. "When I was in college. I spent some time in New York and I went to the museum specifically so I could go stand under the temple display. I was all set for it, had talked myself around until I was certain I could do it, but when I got there, the temple was gone. They'd changed the displays to more recent discoveries."
"So you never actually did it."
He nods. "I was going to, though. I could have done it."
"I know," I say simply, and that seems to be what he needs. He smiles again, bigger this time, and shakes himself a little.
"We should get ready."
"Hmm." I consider that while I slide back down on the bed, lacing my fingers behind my head and stretching my legs.
"Aren't you usually the one who drags me out of bed when I want to sleep in?" Daniel asks pointedly, hands on his hips.
"Yes, and you're getting entirely too heavy for my back to handle," I reply. "Maybe it's time you stopped keeping the hours of a college student."
Daniel bristles slightly. "Well, maybe you should stop keeping the hours of a drill sergeant."
"Okay."
He blinks. "Okay?"
"Yes, okay. You win. I'll start sleeping in later. Starting now." And I shut my eyes.
He's very quiet and I wish I'd kept my eyes open because I'd love to see the look on his face right now. It's too late for me to go back to sleep anyway—the sun is too high and I've lost that heavy lethargy of just-woke- up, but it's fun to screw with his head.
After a long stretch of straining my ears and hearing nothing, I'm starting to think he's given up. Or maybe that's what he wants me to think. But Daniel doesn't give up, ever, so it must be something else. I'm considering cracking one eye open for a second to check on him when I hear a knock at the front door.
"Nice try, Daniel," I mumble. He's not going to get me out of bed that way.
"It isn't me," he says, from the bathroom.
I sit up and stare at him as he stands in the doorway, still in his thin pajama bottoms and tee shirt. "What were you doing?" I ask.
He grins. "I was considering whether I could get away with shaving off your right eyebrow."
"You were not."
He holds up the razor.
"Bastard." I can't help laughing at his smug grin as I slip out of the bed, exchanging the pajama bottoms for a pair of jeans before padding barefoot down the stairs and to the door. It's most likely Carter or Fraiser, wanting to ask if we need anything and generally hover over the kid.
"Before you ask, the kid is fine, and—"I stop short when I see Colonel Simmons standing on my doorstep. He's in civilian clothes, as usual, smirking at me with those rubbery looking lips of his. He always reminds me of that smartass alien on Star Trek, for some reason.
"I'm pleased to hear that the child is doing well, Colonel," he says silkily. "May I come in?"
I cross my arms and lean my shoulder against the doorframe. "Nope."
He gives a small, condescending laugh. "Perhaps I should go back to Doctor Jackson's house. I was surprised to find it empty, considering that he took the child home with him last night. You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"
My palms itch and I press them close against my sides. I won't hit him. No matter how tempting it is.
"Jack? Who's at the... oh."
"You have excellent timing, Daniel," I growl, not taking my eyes off Simmons for a second.
"Doctor Jackson," he purrs. "Fancy finding you here."
"Uh... yeah," Daniel says. I glance over my shoulder and wince when I see he's still barefoot. So am I, for that matter. At least he put pants on and the tee shirt could be considered daywear, but his hair is still mussed and he's not wearing his glasses. Yeah, this isn't incriminating at all.
"Perhaps you gentlemen could invite me in and explain to me why Doctor Jackson appears to have brought the boy here last night? Or maybe I could ask General Hammond. Maybe he knows why."
I can hear Daniel grinding his teeth. "Fine," I hiss. "Come in."
Simmons nods and oozes into the room, crossing to sit on the couch like he owns the place. Daniel casts an uncomfortable look down at his pajamas and tugs at the tee shirt, raising his eyebrows at me. I shrug and jerk my head toward the couch. No point in changing now that Simmons has already seen everything.
I let the oily bastard sit down, but I remain standing, borrowing a little from the Teal'c school of looming. Daniel grabs a chair and leans back, his chin lifted slightly, managing to radiate contempt despite his general dishabille.
"So what are you doing here?" I ask, going on the offensive.
"Perhaps I should ask Doctor Jackson the same thing."
"It's quite simple, actually," Daniel says mildly. "You should be able to grasp it." Simmons' smile falters, and I fight the urge to slap Daniel on the back. "You see, I've never cared for a child before. As you might imagine, I was a bit at sea as to what to do. Fortunately, I have a good friend who is an experienced father, and he offered to let me bring the boy here and stay for a little while until I felt more confident."
"I see," Simmons says, his face pinched. "And where is the child?"
"Sleeping." Daniel folds his hands together and nods once, clearly indicating that the subject is now closed.
"I would like to speak with him."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you."
Simmons glares at Daniel, who smiles back blandly. I drop into the recliner and sit back to enjoy the show. Should have known better than to think Daniel would need me protecting him from this asshole.
"I'm not sure you realize the gravity of the situation," Simmons says.
Daniel's smile sharpens a bit. "Oh? Perhaps you could explain it to me? Please, go slowly."
Simmons shoots me a death glare when I laugh. "You've brought an unknown alien being out of the SGC—"
"Alien?" Daniel interrupts. "I'm sorry, but it appears you've been misinformed. The boy is a normal, healthy human being."
"He's a clone!"
"What's a clone?"
Oh, hell. Danny is standing on the stairs, still dressed in the plain tan pajamas he picked out yesterday, eyeing Simmons nervously. Simmons looks up at him and immediately shows a lot of teeth, rising from his seat.
"Hello," he says. "My name is Colonel Simmons. And you are?"
The kid stares at him and says nothing. Daniel calls something out in their language and the kid runs forward, bypassing Simmons with a wide margin and placing himself firmly in Daniel's lap. I see that we're not going to be leaving his lap fixation behind anytime soon. Simmons sits back down with a forced, saccharine smile.
"A clone," he says deliberately, "is a living copy of another person. A duplicate. That is what you are."
"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" I inquire calmly. Daniel shoots me a quelling look. He knows what my calm voice means.
"The boy has a right to know what he is."
Daniel smiles. "Yes. And you have a right to know what you are. Shall I tell you?"
"Daniel," I warn. Not that I wouldn't love to hear him tear Simmons up, but even with Daniel's glib excuse, the fact that he slept here last night is enough to start the wrong kind of rumors if Simmons decides to push it. If Daniel pisses him off enough, he might try to get back at us that way out of spite.
Simmons ignores this byplay and focuses on the boy, leaning forward and speaking earnestly. "You see, Danny—may I call you Danny?—you see, we here on Earth are fighting against some very bad aliens. They would like to hurt us. They have, in fact, hurt Colonel O'Neill and Doctor Jackson more than once."
The boy shrinks back and looks at us anxiously, his eyes wide. "That's enough," Daniel growls. "He's only a child. There's no point in frightening him."
"That's why we need your help," Simmons says, disregarding Daniel's words. "You see, some different aliens made you, copied you from Doctor Jackson. They have some very special tools and knowledge that we would like to have in order to fight the bad aliens. You were there, with them, for some time, and we hoped you could remember what you saw and tell us about it."
Danny shakes his head, clutching at Daniel's wrist. Daniel squeezes him and looks daggers at Simmons, who continues to take the path of least resistance and ignore him.
"He doesn't remember any of that," I say, rising to my feet. "And now, I think you should go."
"Maybe he doesn't remember consciously, but with some... persuasion, he may be able to access hidden memories."
The only thing keeping Daniel from crossing the room and kicking Simmons' ass is the fact that he's still got the kid in his lap. However, I don't have that problem. I'm in his face with two long strides, standing in front of his chair and effectively trapping him there, under me. I don't know what my face looks like, but it makes Simmons swallow and look away.
"Jack," Daniel cautions.
Right, right. Court-martial and all that, although I think Hammond would definitely try to give me some leeway on this one. Simmons *so* has a punch in the teeth coming to him. Or a zat... yeah, I could totally get behind zatting him. No need to find a place to hide the body. Zats are convenient that way.
"Maybe I should be going," Simmons says.
I smile at him, coincidentally showing as many teeth as possible. "Yes. Maybe you should."
"Ah... ahem... if you would excuse me, Colonel?"
I stay still long enough to make my point and then take a step back, meaning that Simmons has to stand very close to me as he rises. I've got a couple inches on him and I play them for all they're worth, grinning into his eyes and trying to look as dangerous as I possibly can. Daniel laughs softly behind me and Simmons reddens a bit.
"I'm sure you can find the door," I say smoothly. I refrain from adding the bit about not letting it hit him on the ass on the way out. Barely.
"Yes," he says. "I'm sure I can." Then he offers the boy another smarmy smile. "Maybe I can visit you again sometime?"
"Maybe not," Danny says coolly. This time both Daniel and I laugh and Simmons' smile falls right off his face.
"Well," he says. "I'll just be going."
"Sometime today?" Daniel asks with a fuck-you kind of smile. He's very good at those kinds of smiles.
Simmons gives a disdainful sniff and turns on his heel. "I couldn't stay long anyway," he says in a feeble attempt to recover his dignity. "I have a meeting with General Hammond later."
"Tell him I said hi," I say. If he thinks a reference to meeting with the general is supposed to be threatening, he doesn't know Hammond very well. He'll never let this rat bastard near the boy.
Simmons slams the door behind him and I can't help laughing again. Daniel mumbles something in another language that sounds far from complimentary, and the kid covers his mouth and laughs.
"That was fun." I flop down on the couch and smile at the kid.
~~~
My king sized bed, which I bought when Daniel moved in, seems a bit crowded this morning. Daniel warned me last night that this might happen, and I'm glad we took the precaution of wearing pajama bottoms and tees instead of our usual nothing. The kid sleeps peacefully between us, arms and legs flung out in a sprawl that takes up much more space than a little kid should be able to occupy. Daniel has a foot in his back and is bent awkwardly around it, one arm hanging off the edge of the bed. I have a small, pointed elbow getting friendly with my ribs and I can feel the bedside table against my shoulder.
It's nice.
I can't remember the number of times that I woke up to find Charlie had wiggled in between Sara and I. Maybe because of a bad dream, or a thunderstorm, or because he felt sick, or just because. I would prop myself up on one elbow and look at the two of them, Sara and Charlie, and feel so rich. Now, I can look at Daniel and the kid and be rich again, but it's a little scary. I had it all once, and I lost it. I don't know if I could handle losing it again.
If Daniel didn't live with me, it might have been easier. I could deal with seeing him with the kid, and even with the kid being a part of my life by proxy, but it would be at a safe distance. I wouldn't feel so much like... hell, like a father. I remember that shaky, flighty feeling I used to get in my guts when I looked at Charlie, love and pride, sure, but also worry and responsibility and the sinking feeling that I didn't have a clue what I was doing. Am I really going to try this crazy thing again with another kid?
Crap, it's too early to be thinking like this. I'm going to paint myself into some mental corner and get stuck there if I don't knock it off. Better to lie back down and enjoy what I have right now.
I shift and nudge and the boy slowly gives ground until I can actually lie on the bed without falling off. Unfortunately, this means that Daniel gets nudged as well, and he catches himself with a startled grunt, waking up and clinging to the mattress a second before he would have gone tumbling to the floor.
"Wha...?" he mumbles. "Jack? Huh?"
I close my eyes and feign sleep, settling more comfortably into the blankets.
"You're not fooling anyone, Jack."
I keep my eyes shut. He could be bluffing. The quiet draws out and I begin to get an odd tingling sensation on my face and neck, like someone is not quite touching me. The prickles extend to the back of my neck and down my spine, coupled with the sensation of being watched. What is he *doing?* It's a ploy, I'm sure, to make me admit I'm not actually asleep. No dice, Daniel.
There is a sound, a very small, indistinct sound. It could be nothing. It could be Daniel's breathing. It could be the sound of a cap being removed from a permanent marker.
I open my eyes.
Daniel is sitting on his side of the bed, his arms folded and his hands empty, smiling sneakily at me. "Paranoid much?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure," he says. "Sleep well?"
"Well, actually, I slept like there was a miniature bed hog stealing all the covers."
Daniel's smile ratchets up another notch. "What a coincidence. I think the same thing happened to me."
"Remind me why we bought blankets for him if he's just going to sneak into bed with us?" I ask, tilting my head to one side and rubbing at my neck muscles.
"He had a bad dream, Jack," Daniel says. "What was I supposed to do, send him back to an unfamiliar room so he could sit there alone and not be able to sleep?"
"I didn't say that."
"I know." Daniel sighs and smiles ruefully down at his hands. "Sorry. I may be taking this all a little personally."
"I would be surprised if you didn't."
"Yeah."
We both look at the kid for a long moment, his face visible in profile, half hidden in my pillow. Which explains why my neck is sore. "So," I say. "We never did have that discussion last night."
Daniel tries for innocence. "What discussion?"
"Daniel, when I first met you and you had that long hair and that air of distracted academic flakiness and you blinked a lot, I *might* have believed that you didn't know what discussion I'm referring to."
"Distracted flakiness?"
"Don't change the subject."
"Not my fault you fell asleep in the recliner," he says defensively. "By the time we got Danny in bed and you sleepwalked your way through getting changed for bed, all you wanted to do was go back to sleep. I was all set to talk about it."
"Oh yes, I'm sure," I drawl. He frowns at me and I sigh and sit up in the bed. "Look, Daniel, I'm aware that it's not going to be pleasant. Something happened to you that made you scared of cameras as a kid, for whatever reason, and caused you to not speak for nearly a year. I realize it's a bad memory, and not something you want to dig up."
"But I have to," he says. "You're right about that. I know everything about this boy and you know very little, and we can't be equals in his eyes if I don't change that."
"Do you think he realizes what our relationship is?" I ask. "I mean, we're sharing a bed, that's a clear sign, but does he get what that means?"
Daniel frowns down at the kid. "I don't know. A country like Egypt, which is very patriarchal, doesn't exactly welcome gay relationships. It's not something that he's seen before. He may be too young to read anything into it."
"You didn't think of this before you stuck him in the bed with us?"
"I was half asleep, Jack," Daniel retorts. "I wasn't exactly analyzing the impact on his perception of our relationship at the time. I was more concerned with carrying him down the hall without banging his head on the door frame."
I pull back and redirect before Daniel can start one of his pre-coffee snarls. "We'll have to tell him about us eventually, anyway. If he's living with us, hiding our relationship from him isn't exactly practical, and besides, I don't want to have to hide in our own home."
"We'll tell him," Daniel says. "I think he's young enough to be open minded. Besides, while he's not familiar with the concept of a same-sex couple, he's never been introduced to homophobia, either. That's a learned response, passed down through generations, like racism. If we behave as if what we have is normal, he should follow suit."
"Except that what we have isn't normal," I point out. "It's something we have to keep behind closed doors. Can he understand us acting like a couple at home and like we're only friends when we're out? Can he keep a secret?"
Daniel gives a brief, humorless laugh. "Oh, he's good with secrets."
"Daniel?"
"Never mind." He shrugs and offers a small, stilted smile. "Camera stuff," he says. "I'll tell you later."
"Ah," I say, which seems to be enough. "So. You think he'll be fine with us?"
"He should be. Even when I started fooling around in college and I realized that I wasn't only attracted to women, it didn't throw me that much. I was a little confused, but you know, college at Oxford in the eighties... a few bisexual tendencies were hardly unheard of."
"Huh." That actually explains a lot. Like why Daniel was so calm when we first got together, while I had my obligatory "I thought I was straight" freaking out episode. Luckily for both of us, he saw right through that and stopped my sputtering, stupid argument by opening my fly, yanking the waistband of my pants to my ankles, and going down on me before I could remember I wasn't supposed to like it. He essentially led from there, and I found it was surprisingly easy to follow.
"Jack?"
"Hmm?"
"You disappeared on me again."
I offer him a vague smile. I think I'm starting to realize how much there is about Daniel that I don't know, and it's unsettling. I know he's an adult and he had a lot of experiences before we ever met. I know I have a past too, that he knows very little about, but somehow I expected him to be a clean slate before me. It's normal for me to be surly and silent because I'm a guy, but I didn't apply that same standard to Daniel and I guess I should have.
"We probably shouldn't talk about this now, anyway," I say, waving at the kid still sleeping between us. "If he hears..."
"It would upset him," Daniel finishes, nodding.
"So. Rain check?"
"Yeah." He looks serious, thoughtful. "We will discuss it, Jack. I know I've been dodging and I'm sorry about that."
I shake my head. "Nah, s'alright. Hell, there are plenty of things that I'd rather not talk about, so I know where you're coming from."
"Yes, about those things," Daniel begins purposefully.
"What are we planning on doing today?" I interrupt. "I mean, we've got the day off, we should make the most of it."
Daniel's mouth curves into a wry smile. "Right, Jack," he says. "Well, since you asked, I'd like to take Danny to the museum in town. He was quite interested in some of the artifacts I showed him in my office yesterday."
I manfully refrain from wincing. "Um... aren't museums bad? In the same way that cameras are bad?"
"Not really." Daniel pauses, considering. "Well, yes, that one particular museum is bad, I wouldn't take him in there right now, but the little one we have here is different."
"Peachy," I say dryly. "Did you ever go back to the one in New York?"
"Sure I did. It's just a place, Jack, and considering what I do, it's a place that I'd have a hard time staying away from."
"How old were you when you went back?"
A line appears between his eyebrows and he draws in a little, hunching his shoulders. "I was ten. A class trip. That... that might have been a bit too soon, actually."
"Oh?" I keep my voice quiet. If he's going to tell me anything, it has to be his choice—trying to force him will only make him clam up.
"I was fine until we got to that room. They, uh..." He runs a hand through his hair and looks away, clearing his throat. "I guess they finished setting up the display after they got everything... cleaned. The temple was there, the cover stone in place, and you could actually walk underneath and see the carvings on the pillars. The class started to go in and I... ah... I kind of panicked a little."
"I'll bet," I say. "Didn't the teacher know about you? I mean, to expect you to just walk under there..."
He shrugs diffidently. "They didn't know. It was in my file, I suppose, but those details are confidential."
I reach across the bed and squeeze his shoulder, and for this I get a smile, small but genuine. "I did intend to go under it eventually," he says. "When I was in college. I spent some time in New York and I went to the museum specifically so I could go stand under the temple display. I was all set for it, had talked myself around until I was certain I could do it, but when I got there, the temple was gone. They'd changed the displays to more recent discoveries."
"So you never actually did it."
He nods. "I was going to, though. I could have done it."
"I know," I say simply, and that seems to be what he needs. He smiles again, bigger this time, and shakes himself a little.
"We should get ready."
"Hmm." I consider that while I slide back down on the bed, lacing my fingers behind my head and stretching my legs.
"Aren't you usually the one who drags me out of bed when I want to sleep in?" Daniel asks pointedly, hands on his hips.
"Yes, and you're getting entirely too heavy for my back to handle," I reply. "Maybe it's time you stopped keeping the hours of a college student."
Daniel bristles slightly. "Well, maybe you should stop keeping the hours of a drill sergeant."
"Okay."
He blinks. "Okay?"
"Yes, okay. You win. I'll start sleeping in later. Starting now." And I shut my eyes.
He's very quiet and I wish I'd kept my eyes open because I'd love to see the look on his face right now. It's too late for me to go back to sleep anyway—the sun is too high and I've lost that heavy lethargy of just-woke- up, but it's fun to screw with his head.
After a long stretch of straining my ears and hearing nothing, I'm starting to think he's given up. Or maybe that's what he wants me to think. But Daniel doesn't give up, ever, so it must be something else. I'm considering cracking one eye open for a second to check on him when I hear a knock at the front door.
"Nice try, Daniel," I mumble. He's not going to get me out of bed that way.
"It isn't me," he says, from the bathroom.
I sit up and stare at him as he stands in the doorway, still in his thin pajama bottoms and tee shirt. "What were you doing?" I ask.
He grins. "I was considering whether I could get away with shaving off your right eyebrow."
"You were not."
He holds up the razor.
"Bastard." I can't help laughing at his smug grin as I slip out of the bed, exchanging the pajama bottoms for a pair of jeans before padding barefoot down the stairs and to the door. It's most likely Carter or Fraiser, wanting to ask if we need anything and generally hover over the kid.
"Before you ask, the kid is fine, and—"I stop short when I see Colonel Simmons standing on my doorstep. He's in civilian clothes, as usual, smirking at me with those rubbery looking lips of his. He always reminds me of that smartass alien on Star Trek, for some reason.
"I'm pleased to hear that the child is doing well, Colonel," he says silkily. "May I come in?"
I cross my arms and lean my shoulder against the doorframe. "Nope."
He gives a small, condescending laugh. "Perhaps I should go back to Doctor Jackson's house. I was surprised to find it empty, considering that he took the child home with him last night. You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"
My palms itch and I press them close against my sides. I won't hit him. No matter how tempting it is.
"Jack? Who's at the... oh."
"You have excellent timing, Daniel," I growl, not taking my eyes off Simmons for a second.
"Doctor Jackson," he purrs. "Fancy finding you here."
"Uh... yeah," Daniel says. I glance over my shoulder and wince when I see he's still barefoot. So am I, for that matter. At least he put pants on and the tee shirt could be considered daywear, but his hair is still mussed and he's not wearing his glasses. Yeah, this isn't incriminating at all.
"Perhaps you gentlemen could invite me in and explain to me why Doctor Jackson appears to have brought the boy here last night? Or maybe I could ask General Hammond. Maybe he knows why."
I can hear Daniel grinding his teeth. "Fine," I hiss. "Come in."
Simmons nods and oozes into the room, crossing to sit on the couch like he owns the place. Daniel casts an uncomfortable look down at his pajamas and tugs at the tee shirt, raising his eyebrows at me. I shrug and jerk my head toward the couch. No point in changing now that Simmons has already seen everything.
I let the oily bastard sit down, but I remain standing, borrowing a little from the Teal'c school of looming. Daniel grabs a chair and leans back, his chin lifted slightly, managing to radiate contempt despite his general dishabille.
"So what are you doing here?" I ask, going on the offensive.
"Perhaps I should ask Doctor Jackson the same thing."
"It's quite simple, actually," Daniel says mildly. "You should be able to grasp it." Simmons' smile falters, and I fight the urge to slap Daniel on the back. "You see, I've never cared for a child before. As you might imagine, I was a bit at sea as to what to do. Fortunately, I have a good friend who is an experienced father, and he offered to let me bring the boy here and stay for a little while until I felt more confident."
"I see," Simmons says, his face pinched. "And where is the child?"
"Sleeping." Daniel folds his hands together and nods once, clearly indicating that the subject is now closed.
"I would like to speak with him."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you."
Simmons glares at Daniel, who smiles back blandly. I drop into the recliner and sit back to enjoy the show. Should have known better than to think Daniel would need me protecting him from this asshole.
"I'm not sure you realize the gravity of the situation," Simmons says.
Daniel's smile sharpens a bit. "Oh? Perhaps you could explain it to me? Please, go slowly."
Simmons shoots me a death glare when I laugh. "You've brought an unknown alien being out of the SGC—"
"Alien?" Daniel interrupts. "I'm sorry, but it appears you've been misinformed. The boy is a normal, healthy human being."
"He's a clone!"
"What's a clone?"
Oh, hell. Danny is standing on the stairs, still dressed in the plain tan pajamas he picked out yesterday, eyeing Simmons nervously. Simmons looks up at him and immediately shows a lot of teeth, rising from his seat.
"Hello," he says. "My name is Colonel Simmons. And you are?"
The kid stares at him and says nothing. Daniel calls something out in their language and the kid runs forward, bypassing Simmons with a wide margin and placing himself firmly in Daniel's lap. I see that we're not going to be leaving his lap fixation behind anytime soon. Simmons sits back down with a forced, saccharine smile.
"A clone," he says deliberately, "is a living copy of another person. A duplicate. That is what you are."
"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" I inquire calmly. Daniel shoots me a quelling look. He knows what my calm voice means.
"The boy has a right to know what he is."
Daniel smiles. "Yes. And you have a right to know what you are. Shall I tell you?"
"Daniel," I warn. Not that I wouldn't love to hear him tear Simmons up, but even with Daniel's glib excuse, the fact that he slept here last night is enough to start the wrong kind of rumors if Simmons decides to push it. If Daniel pisses him off enough, he might try to get back at us that way out of spite.
Simmons ignores this byplay and focuses on the boy, leaning forward and speaking earnestly. "You see, Danny—may I call you Danny?—you see, we here on Earth are fighting against some very bad aliens. They would like to hurt us. They have, in fact, hurt Colonel O'Neill and Doctor Jackson more than once."
The boy shrinks back and looks at us anxiously, his eyes wide. "That's enough," Daniel growls. "He's only a child. There's no point in frightening him."
"That's why we need your help," Simmons says, disregarding Daniel's words. "You see, some different aliens made you, copied you from Doctor Jackson. They have some very special tools and knowledge that we would like to have in order to fight the bad aliens. You were there, with them, for some time, and we hoped you could remember what you saw and tell us about it."
Danny shakes his head, clutching at Daniel's wrist. Daniel squeezes him and looks daggers at Simmons, who continues to take the path of least resistance and ignore him.
"He doesn't remember any of that," I say, rising to my feet. "And now, I think you should go."
"Maybe he doesn't remember consciously, but with some... persuasion, he may be able to access hidden memories."
The only thing keeping Daniel from crossing the room and kicking Simmons' ass is the fact that he's still got the kid in his lap. However, I don't have that problem. I'm in his face with two long strides, standing in front of his chair and effectively trapping him there, under me. I don't know what my face looks like, but it makes Simmons swallow and look away.
"Jack," Daniel cautions.
Right, right. Court-martial and all that, although I think Hammond would definitely try to give me some leeway on this one. Simmons *so* has a punch in the teeth coming to him. Or a zat... yeah, I could totally get behind zatting him. No need to find a place to hide the body. Zats are convenient that way.
"Maybe I should be going," Simmons says.
I smile at him, coincidentally showing as many teeth as possible. "Yes. Maybe you should."
"Ah... ahem... if you would excuse me, Colonel?"
I stay still long enough to make my point and then take a step back, meaning that Simmons has to stand very close to me as he rises. I've got a couple inches on him and I play them for all they're worth, grinning into his eyes and trying to look as dangerous as I possibly can. Daniel laughs softly behind me and Simmons reddens a bit.
"I'm sure you can find the door," I say smoothly. I refrain from adding the bit about not letting it hit him on the ass on the way out. Barely.
"Yes," he says. "I'm sure I can." Then he offers the boy another smarmy smile. "Maybe I can visit you again sometime?"
"Maybe not," Danny says coolly. This time both Daniel and I laugh and Simmons' smile falls right off his face.
"Well," he says. "I'll just be going."
"Sometime today?" Daniel asks with a fuck-you kind of smile. He's very good at those kinds of smiles.
Simmons gives a disdainful sniff and turns on his heel. "I couldn't stay long anyway," he says in a feeble attempt to recover his dignity. "I have a meeting with General Hammond later."
"Tell him I said hi," I say. If he thinks a reference to meeting with the general is supposed to be threatening, he doesn't know Hammond very well. He'll never let this rat bastard near the boy.
Simmons slams the door behind him and I can't help laughing again. Daniel mumbles something in another language that sounds far from complimentary, and the kid covers his mouth and laughs.
"That was fun." I flop down on the couch and smile at the kid.
~~~