Part 3

"Okay," he sighs. "Okay. Doctor Herbig. Who I thought of as a 'fake' doctor, because he wasn't licensed to practice medicine, only psychiatry. He was the child therapist assigned to Hanson Home. I had quite a few sessions with him.

"Doctor Herbig was often pressed for time, with too many patients and not enough hours in the day, so he didn't bother taking notes. The pause to write something down would have been wasteful, he said. He always hated that, anything wasteful. I went through a period of refusing to eat, and he got so angry, because it was 'wasteful.'

"So, instead of taking notes, he set up a video camera, and recorded all his sessions. For his personal records."

"I see..." I say when Daniel pauses, apparently waiting for a response.

"Not yet, you don't," he replies grimly. "Doctor Herbig didn't like me. The state said I was required to have therapy, because of seeing the accident, so I got forty five minutes of his day every week, and I didn't say a word. I wasted his time. He hated waste. So finally, about a month after the accident, he said that if I would be taking his time, I might as well do something useful.

"He wanted to be a real doctor. A medical doctor. He said he wanted to go into pediatrics. 'To help good little children, Danny,' he said. 'Children who are really sick, and not those who would waste my time, like you.' He said that if I was going to be so much trouble to him, the least I could do was help him study to be a doctor.

"So he moved his camera in close, 'to get the details, Danny. God is in the details.' Then he said he had to... to examine me. Thoroughly."

"Son of a bitch," I mutter, and Daniel nods.

"The first time wasn't too bad. I kept most of my clothes on that time. And he never... his clothes always stayed on. He never did... that. But he, ah... his hands..." Daniel closes his eyes, and I can hear his teeth grinding from across the room.

"You didn't report him?"

"He said it was secret," Daniel says softly. "It played in his favor that I wasn't speaking, and he encouraged that. He kept telling me that as long as I didn't speak, he'd eventually have to give up on me. That the therapy would stop, and I wouldn't see him anymore. But if I started talking, then I wouldn't be wasting his time anymore, and our... sessions could continue for a long time. He acted so sad that I wasn't talking. 'Why don't you want to spend more time with me, Danny?' he'd ask. 'Don't you like our sessions? If you don't start speaking soon, I won't be able to see you anymore.'"

"So, of course, you didn't talk."

He nods. "Completely transparent reverse psychology, and I fell for it. And then there were the threats."

I hear a snap, and look down to realize that I've broken the pencil I was fiddling with. "Threats?" I ask, aware of the dangerous tone in my own voice.

"The bad people," Daniel whispers. "It was the usual predatory, manipulative garbage. Looking back now, I think what bothers me so much is how obvious he was. How unimaginative and cliché. 'You're a bad boy, Danny. Only bad boys let people touch them like that. If you ever tell anyone, the bad people will come and take you away.' He couldn't even come up with a real, specific threat. Just these vague 'bad people,' and that was enough to keep me quiet."

"You were only a child."

"I was stupid," he hisses. "Stupid and scared. I let him bully me, knowing full well that it was wrong, knowing that there were no 'bad people' and I kept my mouth shut anyway. I let him win."

Daniel glares at me, daring me to disagree, and I sit on the couch and say nothing. What do you say to something like that? I sure as hell don't have any pat answers for him. I could tell him that it wasn't his fault, that monsters like Herbig know exactly what buttons to push, but Daniel knows all that. Nothing I can say will make this better for him.

Staring fixedly at his trembling hands until they grow still, Daniel takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. "So," he says. "Now you know."

"Daniel..."

"Don't." His eyes snap up to mine, and there is absolutely no give in them. No room for persuasion or discussion. "Don't give me any worthless platitudes. 'It's not your fault, you were only young, you didn't have a choice.' Because I did have a choice, and I chose to say nothing."

"Actually, I was going to ask what changed. Why you eventually started talking." It's a hard thing to keep my voice smooth and steady, but I manage it.

He laughs, a short, brittle sound. "One of the other kids reported him. Apparently, I wasn't the only one. This other kid--a six year old girl-- told a social worker what he did, and they found his stash of tapes. He had over a hundred of them. He'd been working at the home for nearly five years, and they went back almost all the way to the beginning. That little girl had the guts to do what I didn't."

"It sounds like that girl had the guts to do what a hundred other kids didn't. You weren't the only one to keep the secret."

Daniel shrugs and doesn't answer me. He's got his arms tight around his middle again, his fingers tugging and twisting nervously at the material of his shirt. "That's why Danny can't go into therapy," he says after a long silence. "If we send him in to face some psychiatrist, he's only going to clam up. There's no way he'll actually speak to any doctor, no matter how good they are."

"I think you're underestimating him," I argue. "If you sit him down and explain that Herbig was a one time thing, that not all shrinks are like that, I think he'll overcome his problem with psychiatry in general. Hell, he talked to Fraiser on your say so alone."

"That's because I told him she was a real doctor, not a head doctor."

"So tell him the same thing about whoever the therapist is. Say that he's a real doctor who only wants to talk to Danny."

Daniel shakes his head, his jaw thrust out stubbornly. "That would be lying to him."

I take a deep breath and fight the urge to thump my fist into the couch cushions a few times. "Daniel, you cannot always be completely honest with a child."

"Why not?"

"Think about it. Would you tell Danny the complete truth about the goa'uld if he asked? About what they are, how they use hosts, how they could wipe us out if they chose to attack? Or what about us, you and me? Would you tell him the exact nature of our relationship, up to and including what we do when he's sleeping?"

Daniel's eyes widen, shocked. "Of course not!" he snaps. "He's much too young."

"So you soften the truth," I continue, pressing my advantage. "You tell him that we're doing our best to fight the bad aliens, and that he's safe, because it's what he needs to hear. You tell him that you and I love each other, and that we're both his new parents, and leave it at that. And you tell him that the nice doctor is perfectly safe, and only wants to talk to him."

"I still don't like it," Daniel grumbles.

"I know you don't."

"Maybe we don't have to lie to him," he says thoughtfully. "If he knows the situation going in, at least he's prepared for it."

"You think he'll talk to a psychiatrist if he knows that's what he's doing?"

"Maybe... if I was with him, that might help."

Hello... I see a possibility for Daniel to work out some of his own crap here. Maybe the shrink can slip in a little therapy for both of them. "That's a good idea," I tell him.

"He does need help," Daniel concedes. "This thing with the dog was only the beginning. He's likely to start getting into fights at school next."

"Was that what you did?"

He shrugs, but the embarrassed look on his face says yes. "I guess I could consider therapy for him," he finally says. "But I want you to remember that I argued against this. If it causes more problems than it solves..."

"You'll get to say 'I told you so,'" I finish, rolling my eyes. "Yes, dear."

"Don't say that," he snaps, suddenly sitting straight and glaring at me. "Don't even joke about it."

I blink stupidly for a moment, shaking my head. "What? About you saying 'I told you so?' I didn't mean--"

"No," he interrupts. "That 'yes, dear' crap. And what you said when you got in, your 'honey, I'm home' joke. Not funny."

"I'm only kidding around."

"Well, stop it. Just because you're going off-world and I'm staying here to take care of Danny, that doesn't make me... I'm not your wife, Jack. Don't make me into the woman in this relationship."

"I'm not," I reply stiffly. "You're overreacting."

"Maybe." And that seems to be his final word on the subject. We're left staring at each other from opposite sides of the room, each waiting for the other to back down first.

"Carter was upset that you didn't welcome us back today," I say, going for the obvious guilt trip.

Daniel rolls his eyes. "You were only gone for a day. I hardly think she was devastated by my lack of gushing over your return."

Sarcasm is considerably less fun when somebody else does it to you. "Okay, the real reason she was upset was because you weren't with us out there."

"Something wrong with Cortez?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "Don't ask stupid questions."

He sighs and drops the pretense of innocence. "I don't know why she's taking this so hard. I miss being on the team, but I had to make a choice."

I open my mouth, and then shut it again, tilting my head to one side. "Are we done arguing?"

Daniel smiles, a hint of mischief lightening his eyes. "For now."

"Then c'mere."

I gesture at him, waving him over, and he sighs laboriously but gets up to join me on the couch. He settles in, grabbing my hands and placing them on his shoulders, and then shooting me an expectant look.

"Yes?" I inquire, raising my eyebrows at him. "Something you wanted?"

"You didn't get to finish that shoulder rub."

"As I recall, you're the one who pulled away. It's your own fault."

"But Jack," he cajoles, "don't you want to be giving and generous and selfless? Don't you want to show kindness to the one you love?"

I snort, trying hard not to laugh at his overly innocent expression and deliberately fluttering eyelashes. "Knock it off. And besides, that stuff is vastly overrated."

"Hmm." Daniel looks at me shrewdly. "How about you pick up where you left off, and I'll rub your bad knee for you later?"

"Thirty minutes? With the added... oral bonus?"

He grins. "Twenty. And yes to the oral bonus."

"Deal."

The smug smile on his face suggests that I just got suckered, but never let it be said that I don't live up to my side of the bargain. I start back in on his shoulders and he sighs happily, letting his head drop forward and making a low, pleased mumble in his throat.

"So, I talked to Carter today," I tell him.

"It would be hard not to, seeing as you were on a mission together."

I give him a little shove and then blow on the back of his neck, because it tickles and he hates that. He pulls his shoulders up tight and squirms, laughing softly.

"You know what I'm talking about," I chide him. "We talked about you leaving the team. About why she has a problem with it."

"You did? Jack O'Neill had a discussion about feelings? Did the world stop spinning without me noticing it?"

"Smartass."

He laughs again, and I can feel his muscles growing lax and soft under my hands. I move down to his back and he leans forward obligingly, grunting when I dig my thumbs into the knotted muscles on either side of his spine.

"She says you chose the boy over the team," I say.

Daniel twists to look at me, raising an eyebrow. "Well, obviously that's true, but it was my decision to make, and despite the rough start, I still think it's the right one."

"I'm glad to hear that, but you're missing my point. Carter had a choice like that a few years back, remember?"

"Cassie," he muses, a thoughtful frown creasing his face. Now he sees where this is going.

"Right, Cassie." I finish his lower back and pull him close again, so I can rub little circles on the back of his neck and up into his scalp. He hums and closes his eyes, angling his head to get the pressure where he wants it most.

"She put the team first," he says. "She gave up a chance at parenthood for us, and she thinks I should have done the same thing."

"Bingo."

"I'm sorry if she regrets her decision, but I can't do anything about that," Daniel argues. "It was her choice to make, and all I could do was support her whichever way she went. Is it so unreasonable to ask her to do the same for me?"

"She's trying, Daniel." I stop the massage and let my arm rest around his shoulders, idly smoothing down the soft hair on the back of his head. "It's not easy for her. For any of us, really. We only just got you back, and now you're leaving us again."

Daniel turns troubled eyes to me, shaking his head slightly. "I know, and I'm sorry. I'll catch her tomorrow, drag her out of the base for lunch or something. We'll talk. My leaving the team is no reflection on her or any of you. I really do wish I could have both, but..." He shrugs and lifts his hands up for a moment. "This has changed all our lives, but I have to do what I think is right."

"I know," I tell him simply, because it's true. I do know.

We sit quietly for a while, mostly because I think Daniel needs the time to settle and think after dragging that bad old memory out. He was surprised when he actually told it, by how small it was. After all those years of hiding it and denying it, I think he made it into something bigger and worse than it actually was, and by bringing it into the light, it lost a lot of its power. No child should have to go through something like that, but Daniel has endured worse and come out the other side. He's stronger than he gives himself credit for.

"Hey," a quiet voice calls from the base of the stairs. "Can I come out now?"

We look up to see Danny standing there, eyeing us warily. He takes in the way we're sitting, Daniel slumped against me with his hand on my leg, my arm around his shoulders and my fingers in his hair, and the boy's face develops a keen, speculative look, but he doesn't ask. I'm grateful for that small mercy, because I think I'm all talked out for today. We'll save that conversation for some other time.

"Sure," Daniel says, offering the kid a wide smile. "Come on over and sit with us."

So he does that, sitting beside Daniel and wriggling in close, accepting the arm placed around him with a grin. I'm vaguely relieved that he didn't try to sit in Daniel's lap again.

"Are you feeling better?" I ask, reaching over to ruffle that short, baby- fine hair. One of the first things I bought for him was a bottle of Johnson's baby shampoo.

He nods, regarding me with wide eyes. "I'm sorry," he blurts out, ducking his head. "Sorry about the dog and about yelling at you and stuff. Sorry I was bad."

"That's all right," Daniel says gently, rubbing his hand up and down the kid's arm. He looks at me, raising his eyebrows, and I nod. I knew the kid would come around, given time to get over his sulk.

The boy plucks nervously at his shirtsleeves, tugging them past his wrists and then pushing them back. "What are you going to do?"

"Do?" I ask, giving Daniel a questioning glance.

"He wants to know if he's going to be punished." Daniel's helpless look suggests that he has no idea what the answer to this question is.

"Well," I say slowly, making a show of thinking it over. "Hurting the dog was wrong. Deliberate cruelty is never allowed. If you're mad then it's okay to yell, or stomp your feet, or kick a ball really hard, or draw a picture of who you're mad at and then tear it up, but it's never okay to hurt someone. Do you understand?"

Danny nods mutely, his head down.

"Are you going to do it again?"

"No!" he promises, shaking his head earnestly. "I swear I won't. I don't even know why I did it."

I nod and mull this over for a bit, letting the kid sweat. "Okay," I say finally. "Since you know it was wrong, and since you won't do it again, then I think being bitten was punishment enough. But if you break this rule again, there will be consequences, do you understand?"

A huge, relieved grin splits his face, which makes it very hard to maintain my stern expression. Even Daniel looks relieved. It's nice to know I haven't lost my touch.

"I understand!" he agrees, all but bouncing on the couch with the release of tension. "I promise to be good, I really do."

Daniel's smile fades, and I think he knows as well as I do that it isn't going to be that easy. "Danny," he says, dropping his chin to look the boy in the eyes. "Would you like some help to be good? Someone who can teach you how?"

The kid narrows his eyes, watching us both carefully. "What do you mean?"

Daniel glances at me again, but I just lean back and keep my mouth shut. This part is his show. "I'd like you to talk to a doctor," he tells the boy.

The look of suspicion sharpens. "What kind of doctor?"

"A special kind. This doctor will help you to be good, and maybe to not have so many bad dreams."

The kid is scowling now, pulling away and crossing his arms. "A head doctor? That's what you're talking about, isn't it?"

Daniel shifts uneasily, and I can see him trying out various responses and discarding them, searching for the right words. "Yes, but a good one," he says. "A good, real doctor who wants to help you."

That scowl doesn't give an inch, his chin thrust out and his head lowered. "Will he give me dizzy pills?"

"No," Daniel answers quickly. "Absolutely no dizzy pills."

Danny licks his lips and leans closer, darting me an uncertain look. "Will he have a camera?" he whispers.

"No camera," Daniel says with finality. "I promise. And I won't let anything happen, because I'll be right in there with you. You don't have to talk to him alone."

The kid considers this for a long moment, chewing absently at his lower lip. "A real doctor?"

"Very real."

"He'll help me be good? And you'll be there with me?"

Daniel nods, relaxing a little. "Yes."

"I want to be good," Danny assures us. "It's just hard sometimes."

Isn't that the truth. "I hear you, kid," I say, grinning at him. "It's hard for me, too."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah. So many rules, so little time."

Daniel gives me a disapproving look and I stick my tongue out at him when he turns his back, making the kid dissolve into a fit of laughter. Daniel blinks at both of us suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at my too-innocent face.

"Okay," the boy finally says, settling back against Daniel's side. "I guess I'll talk to the doctor. As long as he's a real doctor and he doesn't have a camera and I don't have to be with him alone."

"Outstanding," I reply, squeezing his shoulder and nodding. "I knew you were a brave kid." I look at Daniel when I say this, and he looks back, a small, pleased smile on his face.

Then Danny wants one of us to read to him from the Harry Potter book that Teal'c, of all people, got him hooked on, so I do that for a while. Daniel extracts himself from the couch and cleans up the rest of the pizza, pretending that he isn't listening to the story. When the boy's head grows heavy and limp against my shoulder, I close the book and cart him upstairs, a little unnerved by how quickly the sleeping weight of a child has become familiar again.

After the process of coaxing Danny's clothes off his limp form and replacing them with pajamas has been completed, I slip him under the blankets and pull them up. I lean over to kiss his forehead, drawing in a deep breath of Johnson's and that universal kid smell of dirt and sunlight.

Danny has been almost constant trouble since the moment he arrived. He's taken Daniel away from SG-1, something I was determined could only happen if he died again, he's caused a new tension between Daniel and Carter, and he's changing the way we live in our own home. He's also attracted interest from the NID, which means Daniel and I have to be more careful and discrete than usual, and that we have to worry about him being snatched away when we aren't looking. He's difficult and temperamental and requires a huge amount of time and energy. Just being around him is draining.

And in spite of it all, I'm so glad he's here.

When I go back downstairs, Daniel is engrossed in something on his laptop, with an open book on either side of him. He's got one hand on the mouse and the other marking his place on one of the exposed pages, and he doesn't even glance my way when I stand beside him.

"Daniel. It's late."

"Go ahead," he mutters absently. "I'll be up later."

I reach over his head and lower the laptop screen, stopping just short of the point where it goes into standby mode so his work won't be lost. "No, you'll be up now. I believe somebody owes me a knee massage."

Daniel tries a pleading look from under his eyelashes. "But, Jack, I've been waiting all evening for Danny to go to bed so I could finish this."

"You could have finished earlier instead of listening to Harry Potter."

He blinks and sputters in indignation, but the two circles of color high on his cheeks give him away. "It won't take long," he says, still with the puppy eyes.

"Don't even try giving me that look," I tell him flatly. "As far as you're concerned, two hours is 'not long.' You pay up first, and then you can come back down here and do this."

He grumbles, but it's all for show. I notice he saves his work and shuts the laptop down before he trudges up the stairs. He knows perfectly well that he's going to get... distracted, and end up falling asleep afterwards.

I strip down to boxers and a tee shirt--nudity is no longer an option in this house--and then I lay back, my hands laced behind my head and my legs sprawled across the bed.

"Look at you," Daniel snorts, still in the process of getting undressed. "Like royalty waiting to be serviced."

"You bet. Now I believe we had an agreement?" And then I make a point of checking the clock, raising my eyebrows at him impatiently.

"So pushy," he grumbles. "Making me rub things and talk about things and not letting me get stuck in self-doubt and refusing to allow me to throw myself a pity party... such a pain the ass." Then he gives me a sly smile and kneels between my legs, his hands already going to my bad knee.

"Takes one to know one," I reply, the words coming out automatically. He's amazingly good with his hands, and while it does wonders for the body, it's rather detrimental to the thought processes.

"Mmm." He huffs out a soft breath of air in an almost-laugh and leans forward far enough for me to feel his breath on my skin. "Missed you, Jack. Welcome home."

Then he goes in for the negotiated oral bonus, as promised. Man of his word, this guy. It's good to be home.

OOO

End Book Two May 4 - 6, 2004