AU: Daniel tries to talk to Sam. Daniel and John have a heart to heart.

Part of my Lost and Found Universe.

Triggers: Depression, Underage Relationship, Reference to a Major Character Death, Suicidal Thoughts, Foul Language, Reference to War.

Please note that this story deals with an underage character and a very mature age character. I DO NOT CONDONE this behaviour, but please remember that this is FanFiction, not real life, and the characters are Sam and Jack in other forms. While Jack's clone is 16 in this story, he is still a 52 year old man.

Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to Amazon/MGM. I'm just throwing them a curve ball and making their lives a little derentis!

Chapter 7:

Friday, 13th February 2004 – Cascade House – Daniel Jackson

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I asked as we pulled up in the driveway.

"Nope." John replied in full Jack O'Neill style. Damn, it was going to be hard referring to him as John instead of Jack. He sounded so much like my friend when he wasn't threatening my life.

A shiver ran unbiddenly through my system when I remembered our confrontation from earlier today. I thought I had known Jack at his lowest on the first trip to Abydos. How wrong I had been. Never once had he demanded one of his men kill him. Never once did he kill an unarmed soldier or threaten a civilian as that hard arse Colonel who had lost his son in the worst possible way.

"Daniel?" The young man said, giving my shoulder a nudge.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry." I replied as I released the seatbelt and pulled the keys from the ignition, then looked up towards him.

"No. I'm sorry. As much as I know that man wasn't me today. He's in here." He confessed with a heavy sigh while removing his sunglasses. His eyes bore into mine. The same eyes that had stared me down four hours ago. The same eyes that held an insurmountable pain of loss, willing me to move aside and let Teal'c take his life.

"I don't know if I can do this, Jack. I don't know if I can sit in that house with you, and her and pretend that we haven't lost Sam, that we aren't on a precipice of losing my best friend." The pain in my voice as evident as the snow on the ground. "I need to talk about things, and no offence, but you suck at talking." I threw the truth out there hoping he'd understand me not staying beyond the drop off tonight. His hand landed on my shoulder heavily making me look back at him.

"I get it Daniel, and I can promise you that I don't give a damn about pretending or maintaining facades. You won't find me internalising anything. Not anymore. If I have learned anything since waking up like this, it's to cherish what you have, who you have, before it's gone." The profoundness of his little speech hit me square in the chest as he unfolded his tall frame from Sam's car. The one that Jack – as Sam's executor and sole beneficiary – had said the kid could have to get around.

Jumping out of the car, I opened the rear driver's side door to lug out a heavy duffle bag of clothes while he gathered another duffle that consisted of two heavy jackets, a set of snow boots, Sam's favourite beanie, four sets of gloves and three hand knitted scarves of various colours. Throwing the handles onto his shoulder, the last thing he reached for was the laptop bag. I'd found it in Jack's quarters when Janet had sent me there with his personal effects. I figured if anyone could benefit from having the laptop, it was Sam. Maybe we could get her to stop with the self-imposed isolation and come back to the team. Start talking to Samantha again. Maybe talk Samantha into coming to this reality.

Anything was possible.

Janet and I had spent enough time with this Sam in her first two weeks here that we would have noticed any entropic cascade failure, so I figured it was safe for Samantha to come through the mirror.

Once we had everything, we closed the doors and I hit the button to lock the car. Together we walked in silence around the shed, across the courtyard and through the back door. I couldn't help but smirk when I noted that it was unlocked. How very Jack O'Neill.

"You remember where her room is?" John asked as he placed the laptop bag on the dining table. "I'm gonna unpack this one down here." He motioned to the duffle he had. It made sense since it was full of outerwear used in winter.

"Yeah, I remember." I murmured, looking at the carpeted stairs to the sunken lounge knowing that she was down there. Ignoring the pull to see her now, I turned and took the steps to the second floor two at time, noting how cold it was. John had said that he was planning on fixing the central heating system tomorrow. For tonight, he would just stoke the fire and sleep on the sofa.

Once the bag was unpacked and everything was its place, I pulled out one final item and placed it on her bedside table. John didn't know I had packed it. I didn't know how long it would be before Sam slept in this room again, but when she did, it would be here for her. Rolling the bag up, I shoved it into the top of the wardrobe and made my way back downstairs in time to see John walk out of the kitchen, two beers in hand. I raised an eyebrow and smirked as he handed me one.

"Shut up, Space Monkey. I'm 52 somewhere in the world." He said with a return smirk as he twisted the top off and flicked it across the room, straight into the waste paper basket with precision.

"Didn't say a word, Jack." I replied as I took a seat next to him and grabbed the remote for the television.

"Oh, no. I don't think so." He growled and snatched the remote out of my hands. "Talking about stuff is the only concession I am making in this life. Watching historical documentaries with an archaeologist is not."

"Oh, c'mon Jack. I hear there is a fascinating episode on the history of the ancient Mesoamerican tribes." I jibbed before taking a long pull of my beer. The glowering look he gave me was the only answer I was to receive. Fiddling with the cap from my bottle for a few moments, eyes wandering to the stairs every so often, I took after pull of my beer and looked at Jack. "Do you mind if I go and see her?" I asked when the waiting got the better of me.

"Be my guest. I can't guarantee you'll get anywhere. She's as stubborn as every other Carter I've met." He replied with a gesture towards the sunken lounge before taking another pull of his beer. Nodding my understanding, I came to my feet and deposited my near empty bottle on the coffee table, then headed towards the stairs.

It was quiet, the only noise being the steady drip drip drip from the tap in the small bathroom at the foot of the stairs. The darkness was broken only by the flickering of the flames from the gas-powered fireplace. The worst part was the stale mustiness combined with the dead food aromas which seemed to permeate every part of the room. The smell of the funk in the air was worse than the inside of our team's tent after four days off world without showers.

"Sam?" I called out to the lump on the couch. I knew she wasn't sleep. After years working together, we all knew each others patterns. Her breathing was faster and shallower that when she slept. "I know you're awake. I need to talk to you."

"So, talk." She replied without opening her eyes.

"Please, we need your help. Jack needs your help." I pleaded with the figure laying wrapped up on the dank sofa surrounded by unwashed cans and muesli bar wrappers. God had she really been living this way for days. John didn't know how long she had been here before he arrived.

"I can't help anyone. Go back upstairs, Daniel. Talk to John, then leave." She ordered without opening her eyes to even look at me.

"John? Who is John?" I asked obtusely, knowing full well who she meant. I just wanted to hear it for myself. The young man upstairs had told me about her stubborn refusal to acknowledge him for who he was, but I refused to believe that she could be so insensitive. She didn't bother responding, my question going unanswered. Taking a step over to her, I placed my hand where I thought her shoulder would be and shook. Crouching down beside her, I could see the toll the last few days had had on her face.

"C'mon Sam. Get up. Jack needs you. It's killing him not having you in his life. Please." I pressed, giving her another shake. "Jack sent your Volvo up. We're sorting out John's licence so that you can come and visit. We miss you."

My last words finally got a reaction, just not a good one. Her eyes flew open and flashed angrily, "I'm not your Sam!" She roared as her arm launched the blanket and my hand off her shoulder, her closed fist landing on my upper cheek, dislodging my glasses and sending me to my backside. "I am not Sam Carter, and he is not Jack O'Neill." She screamed, her pointing in an upwards direction to indicate John. "He is a child, and your Sam is dead, Daniel. She is dead."

"I know!" I yelled back, not bothering to hide the tears in my eyes and the catch in my throat. "Why don't you care? She was you!"

"She was not me! I am me. You are not my Daniel, and your Jack is not my Jack. My Jack left me; I won't give another one the opportunity to do it again!" She bellowed, the rage giving away to the familiar broken voice I had heard from her before, whenever Jack was lost or sick.

"Jack would never..."

"DON'T!" She roared, "You are not welcome here, Doctor Jackson. Leave." She spat my official title and surname vitriolically, the anger and hatred coming off her in waves.

"Right. OK." I responded listlessly, getting back to my feet, and dusting off my clothes even though nothing was there. What more could I say. She had made her position transparent. We were not her friends, not her family. We were nothing and she would not help. Fixing my glasses, I turned to the stairs and started the journey back up into the semi warmth and the light where John met me with a bag of frozen corn. I smiled sadly as I placed it on my cheek thinking of the many times Sam had given me a bag of corn to do just that with an injury.

"Told ya." He murmured as he retook his seat and stared into the fire. There was another cold beer next to my unfinished one. Picking the open one up, I tipped the rest into my mouth then opened the second one while juggling the bag of corn. "Sorry Daniel." He apologised, but I waved him off. It wasn't his fault.

"So, what have you been up to?" I asked him. He shrugged and I was expecting the same noncommittal bullshit that I received from Jack whenever I asked him questions about his life or his feelings.

"School sucks. There's this girl. Veronica. Ronny for short. Dated her for a while. Until I made friends with the school geek patrol. Heh! They almost remind me of Felger, Coombs and Chloe." He confessed making me nearly choke on my beer. Was Jack O'Neill opening up? "What? Told ya I was done with pretending Danny."

"Yeah, you did. Didn't believe it though." He smirked and took another drink. "So, this girl. Do you love her?"

He snorted into his beer, "God, no. She's not my type." He replied and looked sideways at me. "Besides, she's way too young."

"Young? Jack, you're a sixteen-year-old adolescent. You should be out there doing what young men do." He snorted again and shook his head then leaned forward resting his forearms against his knees. He really was Jack O'Neill all over. Every word, every mannerism, every pregnant pause. It was astounding to watch him and my heart ached for my friend who was struggling with his loss of Sam.

"I'm 16, Daniel."

"Yeah, I know."

"So, let's think about that, shall we? Seven months ago, I was 51 years old, madly in love with my much younger 2IC." I baulked at his admission of loving Sam. I knew it, but I had never ever heard the words from his mouth. "I went to sleep and woke up as a 15-year-old, but in here." He pointed to his head, "I was still 51. With all the memories and experiences of man that age."

"Oh. Oh, damn." I finally got it. "She's 16. Actually 16."

He clucked his tongue while doing the two fingered shoot thing. "You got it. I'm now 52 in my head, and Veronica is 16." He spelled it out once again just in case I was slow on the uptake. I wasn't. I got it.

"Wow. That's… disgusting. Urgh, how do you do it?" I asked, referring to school and girls, my skin instantly felt like it was crawling and a sick taste rose in my mouth.

"Simple. I don't. I talk to them, study with them, make friends, hell – I go dancing with them, but I leave them at their door and go home." He confessed.

"Sweet sixteen, never been kissed, hey?" I jested as he took another sip.

"Not never, just not more than once. I was intrigued at first, so I tried it. I don't have the words to describe how wrong it felt." He replied with a shake of his head. "That, and I realised that even in this body, I loved Sam." He was all confessions tonight. It was refreshing to see.

"Nothing quite compares once you've been with the woman you love." I reminisced, thinking of Sha're. Though I was with Janet now, Sha're would always be my greatest love.

"Tell me about it. Though Sam and I only ever made out, but still. That's why I don't take things beyond friends."

"So, how about… I mean does your… you know." I motioned to the front of his trousers. His mind might be 52, but his body was 16 and from what I remembered, I had very little control over that region of my body when I was that age. It had been embarrassing walking down the corridor of my high school, seeing Jennifer Wilkins in her short skirt and getting a raging boner.

"Yeah, well that's been an occupational hazard for six years that I've had lots of practice concealing my interest, Danny boy." He replied with a sideways smile.

"I knew it! I always wondered if that was why you started wearing baggier clothes. Those first few missions, your uniform fit perfectly. It was the Shavadai, wasn't it?" I sought to clarify.

"What can I say – that blue dress and watching her kick Turghan's arse to the grass did it for me - but it was having her jump me in the locker room that set it in stone. She'd get this look in her eyes whenever she saw me like she was daring me to take her right there." He answered my question in more words than I had ever heard from him use before, especially on the topic of Sam. "Sitting opposite her in some of those briefings..." He whistled, "...made walking very difficult afterwards."

I looked at him in side profile and smiled. His current age wasn't his problem with the young girls. Sure, it was unthinkable and frankly off putting and I could see why he had an issue and applauded him for not taking advantage, but it wasn't the real reason. This was a man – age aside – who was so far in love's ring of fire that he was burning. He loved Sam so much, that being with any other woman was a non-event. She was everything to him. The sad thing was that this Jack would live his life alone and celibate because he'd never be able to replace what he had lost at the hands of a rogue Asgard scientist.