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All I Want
Part 1 of 4
Synopsis:  Daniel gets down-sized, Jack takes him in.  But when Jack insists the adoption be as "normal" as possible, they're both in for a few surprises!  Response for holiday 'fic challenge on the DJsSG-1Lverse list.

All I Want

"He knew a path that wanted walking;
He knew a spring that wanted drinking;
A thought that wanted further thinking;
A love that wanted re-renewing."
— Robert Frost, "A Lone Striker"

Chapter 1

"No.  As in absolutely no way."

Jack O'Neill sighed and did his best to look un-intimidated, but he was well aware that he was at an unfair disadvantage.  He'd always found it difficult not to buckle under the blue-eyed death glare of the galaxy's most brilliant archaeologist, anthropologist, linguist, diplomat, etc., and the stubborn set of Daniel's jaw was a red flag warning that Jack was about to have a battle on his hands.  He briefly wondered what the other shoppers thought of him standing in the mall, arguing with Daniel and losing miserably.  Just as quickly, he realized no one probably cared; they were used to seeing grown men being pushed around by little kids.

And what a little kid he was, too!  It was hard to believe the six foot, broad-shouldered, muscular guy Jack had shared Thanksgiving Dinner with just eight days ago was ever such a cute little runt.  Despite his protestations that he was at least six, the SGC's new CMO, Doctor Lam, had put her dainty little foot down and declared him to be no more than five years-old—and a small five, at that.

"C'mon, Daniel!  Think of it as exploring a new culture."  The skinny little arms crossed the equally scrawny chest.  "Besides, I don't have any pictures of you at the house at this size."

"I've been 'this size' for three days," the stubborn mini-archaeologist began, "and with any luck, the Maidierans will be able to make me the right size again.  Soon."

"Daniel, even Thor couldn't figure out how it went wrong.  I hate to say it, big guy, but you're just going to have to get back to big the normal way."

That was so not the way to make a pint-sized Doctor Jackson a happy little camper.  Now he was not only annoyed with the holiday crowds in the shopping mall, but also ticked off at Jack, too.

"Fine.  You got a digital camera for Christmas last year, why don't you take a picture with that?  Because I will not consent to sitting on the lap of an old guy in a fat suit and a fake beard."

"Yeah, but it makes for a really cute phot—" Oh, crap.  Now he'd done it: he'd dared utter the 'c' word.

"Cute, Jack?  Cute?"

"Uh, Daniel?"  A quick glance at the Salvation Army ' Angel Tree booth confirmed that a few of the volunteers were glancing in their direction.  "The other shoppers can hear you."

"So?!"

"So... any further yelling you'd doubtlessly like to do is probably classified in nature and should wait 'til we get out to the truck."

The little monster clammed up faster than a Tok'ra giving mission intell, letting those dangerous eyes of his burn holes in Jack.  Unshielded by glasses—which the rugrat insisted he hadn't needed until he was seven—the effect was even more deadly.

He could probably kill a snakehead at fifty paces with that glare.

"Look, Daniel, we'll skip Santa—"

"Good."

"—Since the line's at least a mile long, and get photos taken at the Sears.  Whaddya say?"

"'No' to any photos, Jack.  If you want to use your digital, that's fine, I guess, but we are not wasting money on one of those cheap, generic department store things, either."

Of course, the little brat knew Jack hadn't yet figured out how to operate the camera, but it was still a compromise, so...

"Deal.  Now how about we head into the GAP?"  Daniel heaved a martyred sigh and grudgingly held his tiny hand up for Jack to hold.  Despite all his protests that though he looked like a kid, he was still a forty year-old man who could handle pretty much anything, thank-you-very-much-now-buzz-off-Jack, he hadn't put up much of a fuss when the general insisted he hold onto his hand or belt while they shopped.  The crowded, brightly-lit mall was probably pretty scary for a tyke no bigger than him.

For that matter, it was pretty scary for Jack, too.  Who'd have guessed the mall would be so crowded on a Friday afternoon?  He'd thought there wouldn't be a major press while kids were in school and parents at work, but he'd obviously thought wrong.

While he didn't have to dodge any teenagers, Jack found the many grandmothers, military wives, toddlers, and babies were just as likely to run over a gray-haired general and his fair-haired ward as anyone else.  He also found it rather awkward to be the only adult male in the building not wearing a big red suit.

Daniel was clearly unhappy with the children's clothing in the GAP, glaring at all the khakis and button-up shirts as though they were at fault for his diminished physical age.  While the squirt debated the merits of plaid versus pinstripe, Jack scooped up a pair of jeans, a polo, and a t-shirt.

"Try these on," he suggested, holding out the garments.

Daniel peered at the label.  "They're awfully small."

Jack sighed.  "I hate to say it, kiddo, but you're awfully small, too."

The mini-archaeologist glanced down at the much-too large clothing sagging off his scrawny frame.  The jeans, long-sleeved tee, and battered tennis shoes came on loan from Colonel Dave Dixon's seven year-old son, whose mother always kept him a change of clothes at the Cheyenne Mountain Complex's day care facility.  Greatly over-sized and somewhat tattered from wear, the outfit made Daniel look like a malnourished little third-world waif.  It also did nothing to detract from the dreaded "cuteness" factor.

Just as Jack was about to point out this particular feature, Daniel collected the clothes and marched off to the dressing rooms.  "Be sure to step outside when you have them on so I can see how they look," Jack reminded him.

"Yes, Dad," the little imp sniped over his shoulder.

As soon as he was out of sight, the saleswoman folding sweaters grinned.  "God makes 'em cute so you don't smother 'em in their sleep."

"Ain't that the truth," he grumbled, good-naturedly.  The real truth, though, was that he was simply grateful to have a living breathing Daniel of any size after the events of last week.

*      *      *

Prepared for a mineral survey, Dixon and his team were astonished to discover a sprawling glass metropolis in view just beyond the first bend of the path.  Before they could return to the 'Gate to wait for the next dial-in, the local law enforcement showed up, discovered the team, and knocked them all out with a weapon very similar to the intar weapons the SGC used for training.

Possession of lethal firearms was a crime in that particular part of the world, it turned out, and sensors in the park detected the presence of ammunition when the team arrived, scrambling the "law preservation" team to intercept SG-15.  Dixon and company were able to successfully plead their ignorance of the local laws, however, and had their weapons returned sans ammunition.  They were then welcomed warmly by the city government, given a filling dinner, and offered the grand tour of the local history museum.  While only a few of the artifacts on display were of any interest, one item in particular caught the team's eyes: a cheerfully glowing ZPM.

The locals, it turned out, actually had two Stargates on their planet, and only a freak accident which had knocked their primary 'Gate out of commission for several hours allowed the MALP and SG-15 to arrive by the one in the park.  They were only too happy to allow the team to dial back home, especially when they learned that one General Jack O'Neill possessed the ability to manipulate Ancient technology—a feat which they, themselves, had been unable to accomplish.  They were also very interested in learning how to read Ancient, which they had also been unable to decipher, so SG-1 and Jack stepped through the 'Gate to begin the first steps toward securing a new technologically advanced ally.

A gesture of respect Daniel insisted upon was that they arrive armed only with intars, in compliance with the local laws.  Though Jack protested, he eventually agreed since the training weapon could be used to render someone unconscious.  Further armed with a slight advantage in their understanding of Ancient technology, SG-1 set out to negotiate an exchange of their expertise and genetics for the fully-charged ZPM.

Chapter 2

"Thank you so much," Jeanette Autry gushed, taking off her coat.  "I know Christmas hasn't been the same for you since your son died, Roy, but it means a lot to each of the kids whose names hang on this tree."

"Roy?" asked the other volunteer just arriving, her expression puzzled.

"She's Jean Autry, so I'm Roy Rogers," Sara O'Neill replied with a grin, gathering her own belongings as the Angel Tree volunteers changed shifts for the afternoon rush.  "Anyway, like I tell you every year, Jean, if I can't see my kid smile—"

"—You can at least give a smile to someone else's," Jean finished.  "Have a great evening, Sara, and I'll see you tomorrow."

Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Sara headed for the nearby food court to fortify herself with a cup of coffee and a pastry before she headed for home.  Once she got her order and sat down at a small table, she finally allowed herself to reflect over what she'd seen earlier: Jonathan "Jack" O'Neill having a rather loud "discussion" with a blond-haired little boy.

Almost nine years since the divorce, and she still wasn't over him.  Of course, they'd been married for fifteen and parents together for an entirely too-short eleven, but they still hadn't spoken much with one another since the day their son died.

That didn't count, of course, that bizarre incident with the Jack-that-wasn't-Jack-but-also-wasn't-Charlie-either.  The military hadn't even bothered to try to come up with a plausible explanation for what happened, insisting that there'd been some sort of radiation leak at the hospital that caused hallucinations.  That didn't explain the strange lightning she'd witnessed before she took not-Jack to the emergency room, but as a former military wife, she knew that classified meant classified.

The last time she'd spoken with Jack, though, had been about six months after that incident.  He always sent flowers for her birthday and occasionally left a message on her answering machine, but she had never actually held conversation with him since.  She hadn't tried very hard to keep in touch, either, devoting her efforts to classes at the community college and volunteer projects whenever she wasn't working.  Then she'd accepted a position in a new career and did her best to put her ex-husband out of her mind.

It all came rushing back today, though, watching him try to keep a straight face while he held what looked like a "serious, adult conversation" with the skinny kid for whom he'd had to get on one knee and hunch his shoulders to talk to at eye-level.  She remembered with fondness how he'd done the same with Charlie, looking somber and involved when she knew what he really wanted to do was grin and ruffle their son's hair.  The Angel Tree booth was too far away from the pair to hear any details of the conversation, but she had a pretty good idea the skinny kid in the baggy clothes had Jack wrapped around his little finger.

And speaking of the devils, here came Jack and the boy now, loaded down with bags from three different children's clothing stores.  The baggy shirt and jeans were gone, replaced with a striped polo and better-fitted jeans which only served to re-emphasize how skinny the little guy really was.  Just as she'd made up her mind to go over and give Jack a friendly scolding for not feeding his kid enough, the pair waved at someone in the throng.

Sara's heart sank, and she chided herself for being stupid.  If Jack O'Neill had a young son, it stood to reason that the boy also had a mother.  The tall, attractive blond who'd returned the friendly wave was still carefully making her way toward Jack and the boy, but Sara didn't wait to see the happy reunion.  As she gathered her coffee and tossed her trash, she realized that while she may not have gotten over Jack, her ex-husband hadn't had the same problem.

*      *      *

"Save me from him!"

Sam chuckled at the first words out of Daniel's mouth.  "He's that bad, is he?"

"No, I'm not," the general protested.  "Carter, save me from him!"

"You're the one who keeps trying to make me look 'cute'.  If you're not trying to put a cartoon character across my chest, it's some sports name and number across my back."

"It's better than all those button-up shirts you kept grabbing—I didn't know they made that many different patterns of plaid for pre-schoolers."

"Six year-olds are first-graders, Jack."

"Five year-olds are kindergarteners, and you're shorter than even those.  And normal six-year olds, yes... but you weren't 'normal' the first time around either, were ya?  Were you in high school by six or college?"

Sam shook her head in amazement.  Some things, it seemed, would never change.

"That's not the point.  Sam, he even dragged me into The Disney Store.  Disney!"

"And who didn't want to leave without buying that Miles shirt?" Jack asked.

"Milo," Daniel corrected, "and I find the irony of me wearing that shirt to be worth it."

"Milo?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, the archaeologist who gets laughed at by all his peers, is hired by a mysterious person to translate an ancient text, gets a whole crew of new friends from diverse capabilities and backgrounds, and eventually discovers the lost city of Atlantis."

The colonel grinned.  "I like the irony, too."

"It's still Disney, Daniel."

"And who's the one who dragged me in there in the first place?"

"You know, I thought Daniel 3.5 would have at least half the fashion sense version 2.0 had."

Sam grinned.  "Actually, sir, version 2.0 had no clothes other than BDUs until Janet and I dragged him out shopping."

Jack raised an eyebrow.  "Well, that explains a lot.  Version 3.0 came back without clothes, too—"

"But 3.0 still had all of 2.0's clothes."  Leave it to General O'Neill to find an easier way to refer to the many incarnations of Daniel Jackson.  "And we had 3.0 for only a few weeks before he—"

"Was down-graded to 3.5?" Daniel finished crossly, lower lip jutting out stubbornly.

If the older Daniel was cute when he pouted, the younger version was almost sickeningly adorable.  "More like one of those space-saving package redesigns.  Same contents, smaller container."

"Ha," the little boy answered glumly, glaring at the brightly-colored Gymboree bag.

"Carter, are you sure you don't want to take over his clothes-shopping?"

She shook her head.  "I'd have to check the contents of the bags to be completely sure, sir, but I think the two of you managed well enough on your own.  You'll probably want to head over to Wal-Mart to get some basics, though.  I brought you a list."

Jack accepted the paper and gave it a quick once-over.  "Underwear and socks are already taken care of, but I didn't think about some of this other stuff."

Sam nodded.  "It's a modified version of the list Janet and I made for Cassie."

"Ah."

"Also, since you insisted on making everything seem as 'normal' as possible, all the paperwork's been filled out and submitted to the state... I just got back from the Child Welfare Services office, actually.  They'll be sending a social worker by on Monday."

"That's fast."

She'd thought so, too, but it had been explained.  "Given that Daniel's already living with you, they have to bump up the schedule a bit.  They normally don't do home studies while the child already lives with the adoptive parent, so they're making an exception."

"I don't get why we're doing the adoption thing at all," Daniel griped.  "What if the Maidierans figure out how to change me back?  Or Thor?"

Jack rolled his eyes as though this was an old argument.  It probably was.  "Because as smart as those guys are, even they can't figure out why the machine did what it did, and neither can Thor.  At this point, I don't care, either.  You're alive thanks to that machine, which is more than what can be said before we stuck you in it.  Now, since there may one day be some question about me having a five year-old kid at my house when it's public knowledge I'm neither married nor have a living biological child, I'm adopting you."

When Daniel's jaw set in that familiar, stubborn way, Sam's admiration for the general's patience went up a few notches.

*      *      *

Chapter 3

"I don't see why we have to do anything to the guest room at all," Daniel groused.

Jack paused, resting his forehead wearily against the bookshelf he was attempting to move.  "Because this room was originally decorated as the boring guest room of a boring old colonel, and now it's the bedroom of a not-so-boring child genius of a still-boring old general, that's why."

"It doesn't mean we have to repaint it."

"Yes, we do.  This paint is so old you could carbon date it."

"Could not."

"Whatever.  The point is, the social worker's coming on Monday, so we have two days to make this house look like a kid actually lives here."

"I'm not a kid."

Jack sighed, tired of the argument already.  "Maybe not inside that over-active little head of yours, you aren't, but on the outside you look very much like a kid."

"What I'm trying to say, Jack, is that the social worker will know I've been here less than a week.  If you make the place look too kid-friendly on Monday, she'll think you're trying too hard to impress her."

"So you're saying I should leave the paint?"

"Leave the paint, Jack," the stubborn little archaeologist insisted.  "Leave the bookshelves, leave the bedspread, leave all of it.  We can tell her we're going to re-decorate the bedroom later, but haven't had time yet.  She'll buy that."

"What if I want to redecorate and having you here is just giving me a good excuse?" Jack countered.

"I saw you looking at the monkey bedding in the housewares store, Jack.  Cute as you may think calling me the 'Micro-Spacemonkey' might be, I will not sleep on monkey sheets."  The stubborn set to the tiny little jaw was back.

The general wasn't even going to deny the charge, as he had looked at the monkey comforter set.  But what had really caught his eye—and that of the not-so-peaceful explorer who'd never admit to looking—was the burgundy Jeep bedding with matching blue plaid sheets.

Yes... plaid.

"I promise I won't make any decorating decisions you don't agree with, okay?" he suggested, instead.  "There was a bedding set there that I was thinking about buying, but it wasn't the monkey set.  And the sheets were even all-cotton, so we don't have to worry about scratching that tender skin of yours with bad sheets."

Daniel's arms crossed.  "Now you're just making fun of me."

"A little.  But you have to admit, Daniel, you're taking a lot of this way too seriously."

"It is serious, Jack.  I've been turned into a little kid entirely against my will—"

The "poor-me" thing was getting a little old, Jack decided.  "It's not like we had any choice in the matter.  I'd much rather have you around as a little kid then six feet underground.  You've died way too many times as it is, and I'm glad this wasn't the last.  Scratch that, it better be the last time for about a hundred years!  Now I'm sorry you've been poured into a smaller package than you're used to, but you're still the same guy and we're all just going to have to make the best of it."

"I know."  Suddenly quiet, the down-sized Doctor Jackson stared down at his feet.

"But?" Jack prompted.

"It's not all the same."

Ignoring the bookshelf for the moment, Jack dropped to one knee.  "What's not the same?"

One tiny hand tapped the side of his head.  "Up here."

A monosyllabic Daniel Jackson of any age was never a good sign, and Jack felt his blood chill.  "What's wrong?  You never said anything about it before, Daniel, what is it?"  Putting a finger under the boy's chin, he lifted the troubled blue gaze to meet his own.

"I still remember everything I knew when I was big, but it's sometimes like it's a different person.  It's even worse than when I came back—as version 2.0, and was reading about all the things the original me did.  I knew it was me, but it felt like somebody else."

"You never said anything then, either."

"It went away... I got used to it."

"You'll get used to this, too."

"Maybe.  When I was big, I could concentrate on stuff.  Now I have a really short attention span, and I get tired a lot more easily than I used to.  I can't do a lot of the things I used to, either, 'cause I'm not tall enough to reach the books in my lab, or too small to carry a P-90, or—"

"Daniel, we can get ladders and stools for your lab, but I'm afraid there's nothing we can do for the other.  There may be some instances, some missions, where it might be okay to take a kid offworld, but there won't be any more first contacts for you until you're bigger.  I'm sorry, too, kiddo, 'cause I know how much you liked exploring the galaxy and discovering new cultures."  Even though he knew the bigger Daniel had never been the tactile sort, Jack couldn't resist pulling the kid into his arms and giving him a reassuring hug.

It seemed to be the right way to go.  Daniel's arms came up and wrapped around Jack's ribcage, resting his tousled blond head in the crook of the man's shoulder.  "This is another thing I have to get used to," he added quietly, voice slightly muffled by the t-shirt pressed against his mouth.  "I didn't used to want hugs all the time."

"And now you do?"

He nodded against his neck.  "Uh-huh.  Ever since you got me out of the machine, I've wanted to be hugged more."

"Any time you want a hug, Daniel, you don't even have to ask.  To be honest, I think versions one, two, and three-point-oh could have used a few more hugs."

"Really?"

"Yep.  And I'd have been happy to give them."

"Spacemonkey."

"Yeah," Jack grinned, ruffling Daniel's hair like he had long ago.

Unable to contain the wistful smile that particular shared memory provoked, Daniel pulled out of the hug.  "I'm still a lot different up here though, Jack.  For a moment, I actually liked the monkey comforter."

Jack chuckled.  "All those bright colors and happy faces, huh?"

"Yeah."

"So that's why I'm going to offer you a compromise, Daniel.  No monkey comforters, but how about that burgundy Jeep set?"

Daniel's eyes widened.  "The one with the plaid sheets?"

"You thought I didn't notice, did ya?"

For the first time in a long, long time, Daniel actually grinned.

Chapter 4

Sara couldn't believe her eyes.  The first file in the stack on top of her desk was for her ten o'clock appointment, the contents of which included the adoption papers of one Daniel Jackson, Junior, by Jonathan O'Neill.

"Is this for real?" she asked no one in particular.

Nancy Montgomery, the office secretary, paused on her way back to the lobby.  Taking the file, she gave it a quick look and nodded.  "Looks real to me.  Oh, the adoptive parent has the same last name as you, ma'am... is he related?"

She'd forgotten that not everyone in her new profession knew of her troubled past.  "He's my ex-husband."

"Oh!  I didn't know you'd been married, ma'am."

Yes, Nancy Montgomery had been military, and the constant ma'am-ing reminded her of the fresh-faced youngsters she used to meet when she went shopping at the BX.  Resisting the urge to sigh at the younger woman, she nodded instead.  "We've been divorced almost nine years.  I'm just surprised—very surprised, actually—to see him adopting a five year-old boy."

"Oh, the Jackson boy!" Abigail Ramsey gushed, peering around the door frame.  "A lady in uniform came by here Friday with all the paperwork, including a copy of the boy's father's will.  Seems Jackson Senior stipulated his son be placed in his commanding officer's care in the event of his untimely demise."  She sniffed disdainfully.  "The lady seemed to hint that there was some very high political clout backing the adoption... one of those hush-hush military things, I suppose."

Sara sighed, watching the perceptible tightening of Nancy's shoulders.  A veteran of the war in Iraq, the former Sergeant Montgomery was medically retired following an injury sustained in combat.  Abby's superior attitude toward all members of the military was well-known, and often the cause of tension around the office.  It never ceased to amaze Sara how such behavior could exist in a major military center like Colorado Springs, but Abby was hardly the first she had met in the city.

She lifted her chin.  "Yes, my ex-husband was into very hush-hush military things.  Full colonel, special ops, sudden trips out of the country, that sort of the thing."

"Well, it's no wonder you divorced!"

Sara's jaw worked.  "Things were good while he was still in.  It's when he retired that we had problems."

"Oh.  Well, if it's your ex, you should probably give the case to me, and I'll give you one of mine."

Over her dead body!  "Actually, I've already started their homestudy.  I got the opportunity to see Jack and the boy out at the mall on Friday, and I can tell you I didn't realize they weren't related."  And knowing Abby's dislike of the military, she wouldn't give Jack a fair chance to prove he could look after a child by himself, despite the wishes of the biological father and the implied political movers and shakers.

Grabbing her purse and coat, Sara slid the file into her canvas satchel.  "I'll be back later," she promised.

Once in her car and away from the distractions of the office, she withdrew the file and perused the contents more closely.  The boy's parents had been separated.  The mother, Sherry, had been deceased since the child was barely a year old, so he'd been in the care of his maternal grandfather in some unpronounceably-Arabic city in Egypt.  When the grandfather passed away, the boy was sent back to Jackson Senior, who was very shortly thereafter listed as missing in action, then killed in the line of duty.

It was interesting to see that Jackson Senior was either not military, or was in such deep cover his military identity wasn't revealed.  She didn't expect any answers on how a "civilian advisor" attached to a deep-space telemetry project ended up missing in action when his office was under a mountain.  Some things you just didn't ask.

Fortunately, he had had time to change his will to include provisions for his five year-old son only days before his disappearance and death.  Jackson Junior then went to live with Jack, who began the necessary paperwork to adopt the boy as his own.  There was no mention of a political backer anywhere in the file, so she just dismissed it as Abby's chronic paranoia and focused on the boy himself.

Her heart went out to the skinny youngster for having seen so much death already in his young life.  She'd chosen this profession so that she could always do right by innocent children in unfortunate circumstances, and vowed to do what was best for this boy... even if that meant placing him with someone other than Jack.

She started the car and pulled out into the late-morning traffic, heading toward the house she'd visited only once since their divorce.  If she remembered correctly, it was in a very good neighborhood, so that was one point in Jack's favor already.

Chapter 5

"It's almost ten o'clock, Daniel, the social worker will be here any minute!"

"Is that military time or civilian?" the little imp mumbled, trying to get uncoordinated fingers to button his shirt.

Making a noise of exasperation, Jack tugged Daniel around on the stool so he could reach his front and swiftly straightened the shirt, ruffling Daniel's hair lightly when finished.  "Sarcastic little devil."

"Yeah... who'd I learn that from?"

"You keep that up and the social worker will think we're related."  There was the faint sound of a car pulling into the driveway, and Jack quickly peeked out the living room window at the dark green sedan.  "Crap!  She's here.  Did you brush your teeth?"

"Yes.  And combed my hair, too, which lasted all of five minutes before you mussed it all up.  Relax, Jack, the social worker's a formality," Daniel griped.

"Says you.  What if she says I can't keep you?"

"Then you'll just pick up the red phone on your desk and give the President a call and he'll make sure I stay here with you."

Jack raised an eyebrow.  "What happened to the kid who was squawking about not wanting to be adopted at all?"

"He was replaced by the more pragmatic side of me who realized that maybe you weren't such a bad choice after all."

"Thanks.  I think."

The doorbell rang, causing Jack to nearly leap out of his skin.  "Uh, that'd be her.  Ready?"

"Ready."

Steeling his nerves, he grabbed the door knob and yanked it open—

—Only to come face-to-face with the bemused expression on his ex-wife's face.

"Sara!  Hi!  Didn't expect to see you here.  Long time no see, how you been?"

Her lips quirked perceptibly, as though she was trying very hard not to smile.  "Jack, hi, nice to see you too, yes it has, just fine," she replied evenly, answering each of his statements in turn.  "You mind if I come in?"

"No, not at all... well, actually I was expecting someone important any minute now—not that you're not important, of course—but this is—"

"Really important?"

"Yeah.  Can I call you later?  You still have the same number, right?"

"Sure, yes, and how important?"

"Life-shatteringly important.  This could be one of the most important days of my life, if you know what I mean."

"Expecting the Publisher's Clearing House?"

"No—"

"The Avon lady?"

"No, but—"

"The door-to-door encyclopedia salesman?"

"Sara—"

"Ah, so it is the Avon lady!"

Despite himself, he grinned.  Sara O'Neill née Basham and Daniel Jackson were the only two people in the world who could get a rise out of him, and here he was with both only fifteen feet apart from one another.  "If you must know, Sara, I'm adopting."

"A puppy?"

"A kid."

"Oh.  So I guess that explains why I have a file here for a Daniel Jackson, Junior, doesn't it?" she replied, hefting the satchel on her left shoulder.

He gaped.  "You're the social worker?"

"Got it in one, Fly Boy.  So I'll ask again, mind if I come in?"

Aware that he was probably catching a goodly number of flies, Jack closed his mouth, stepped to the side, and held the door open.  Smiling broadly because she clearly knew she'd won this round, Sara stepped into the living room and looked around casually.  "Nice place," she commented.

"You've been here before."

"Just once, and that was years ago.  Not a lot as changed, has it?"

"With the house?  No."  Personally?  Yes.  Like the forty year-old archaeologist sitting on a stool in the kitchen, looking an awful lot like a five year-old kid.  He was even swinging his feet in the air as he finished the juice from his breakfast.  "Daniel?  Come on out and meet your social worker."

There was a muffled thump as Daniel's hiking boots landed on the vinyl floor, then the blond-haired little imp popped around the corner from the kitchen.  His brow furrowed in confusion, glancing first at Sara, then at the photo of the O'Neill family sitting on Jack's end table.  "Yep, kiddo, that's Sara.  That's Charlie's mom."

"Hi," Daniel began uncertainly, looking at Jack, then at Sara again.  "Nice to meet you."

Sara smiled warmly, casually setting her tape recorder on the coffee table.  "It's nice to meet you, too, Daniel.  How are you and Jack getting along so far?"

"Well, we annoy the crap out of each other, but that's not surprising, is it?"

Jack sucked in a breath, watching Sara's eyes widen.  This wasn't the approach he and Daniel had agreed to, but then again, their plan had been formulated before they'd found out the social worker was Jack's ex-wife.

"Not really," she replied hesitantly, gaze meeting Jack's for a moment.  "How do you like America so far?  I understand you're actually from Egypt."

"Yes, ma'am.  It's a lot different from Colorado.  Sand.  Camels.  No snow.  Pyramids... that sort of thing."

"Are you looking forward to starting a new school?"

Jack coughed lightly, sitting down on the couch opposite Sara and pulling Daniel into his lap.  "Actually, he's going to be home-schooled.  We haven't had any tests done or anything, but Daniel is really, really far ahead of his age-group."

"What about interaction with his own age group?"

"Daniel's more comfortable with adults.  I'm as big a kid as any there are around, though, so I'll be trying to get him to try out team sports and such like that, though.  It's still too early to say for sure, but I'm not going to let the little runt miss out on the best parts of being a kid."

"Jaaa-ack," Daniel griped good-naturedly.  Jack only wished it were true and that he could let Daniel experience what childhood was supposed to be.  Instead, he foresaw many days arguing with the mini-archaeologist over what constituted a day's work and just how many hours a five year-old linguist was allowed to put in every week.

"He made me watch The Simpsons yesterday, Ms. O'Neill," Daniel announced, "as if the most dysfunctional TV family in the world would help me understand what it's like to be the average American kid."  He shuddered dramatically.

Sara's eyebrows were now up to her hairline.  Clever, sneaky Daniel was really spinning the adjusted, mature angle for as much as he could.  By throwing out words like 'dysfunctional' and 'average'—which rarely made it into a ten year-old's daily vocabulary, let alone a five year-old's—he was forcing Sara to re-evaluate him as an intelligent and self-confident young man.

Even though he still looked like a scrawny five year-old.

"I didn't have any American clothes, so Jack and I went shopping over the weekend.  We also started to fix up my bedroom here, but the only thing we've gotten so far is a new comforter set and a step-ladder so I can reach all the books in my room.  We'll have to wait until spring to repaint my walls, but I think they're okay the way they are."

Jack resisted the urge to grin in triumph.  The brilliant linguist and diplomat was chattering on like the precocious child he both was and was pretending to be, telling Sara all about his trips to the mall and various shopping centers over the weekend, their preparations at the house, and the big dinner they'd had out at a steak house with Sam and "Murray".

When he finally finished, Sara swallowed heavily.  "Daniel, normally we handle adoptions very differently than this so I'm pretty much making this interview up as we go.  I'll have some more questions for you later, but for now I'd like to talk to Jack alone."

"Sam wanted me to call her today," Daniel agreed, hopping off Jack's lap and grabbing the cordless phone.  His hand was barely big enough to hold it, so he ended up carrying it with both hands.  "I'll talk to her in my room."  Giving Sara one last bat of his big blue eyes, he headed down the hall, looking very pleased with himself.

"Cute kid," she commented when the bedroom door clicked shut.

"Yeah, he is.  Just don't use the 'c' word in his presence...  it makes the little guy turn into a heathen," Jack grinned.  "This weekend at the mall, I accidentally used that word, and he lectured me long and hard about it."

"Was that what the conversation over at the Angel Tree was?"

He blinked in surprise.  "You were there?"

She shrugged noncommittally.  "I volunteer for the Salvation Army every year, Jack.  To be honest, I was surprised to see you there with a child.  Up until Daniel's file crossed my desk this morning, I would have sworn he was yours."

"He is mine," Jack answered softly.  "We've been best friends—uh, his dad and me, that is—for longer than the little guy's been around.  And while I miss Big Daniel, Little Daniel's just like him."

"Are you sure he's not just trying to be just like his dad?  To feel closer to both you and him?"

Jack shrugged.  "Big Daniel never was much on touching people, but the imp admitted Saturday that he sometimes needs a hug.  He also likes to pretend he's just as brave and strong as the bigger version, even though he was practically glued to my side at the mall.  But he's also every bit as stubborn as Big Daniel, too."

Sara smiled.  "It sounds like the two of you had an interesting friendship."

"More than you could ever know," he admitted.

"You must really miss him, then."

"I sure do.  No more pizza and beer on hockey nights, even though he hated beer and didn't care for hockey.  But I have the imp to take care of, now... I can't complain."

"Wait a second..." she began, furrowing her brow in concentration.  "You mean you were friends with a guy who wasn't military, hated beer and hockey, and was a scientist?  Who are you and what have you done with Colonel Jack O'Neill?"

He grinned.  "Actually, it's Brigadier General Jack O'Neill."

"And you let them promote you, too.  I repeat my previous confusion."

"Jack O'Neill the cold-hearted bastard died the day a shaggy-haired geek stood up to him and told him there were still things in this world worth living for."  He looked down at his hands as he spoke, then back up at his ex-wife.  "He saved my life, Sara, both literally and figuratively.  I couldn't for the life of me figure out why the general in charge of the mission—which was supposed to be one-way, I might add—assigned a civilian as our translator and liaison, but it worked."

"And now he's gone," she finished softly.

"Yeah, but Little Daniel's here, and I'm going to make sure he has the childhood Big Daniel never got to have."

His ex-wife tipped her head questioningly.  "What do you mean?"

"His parents were killed when he was eight, Sara.  He spent the next eight years after that being bounced around from foster home to foster home because no one had the patience to deal with a traumatized genius.  Who knows how he turned out to be the man he did, but this Daniel has a home, and I plan to keep him."

Sara smiled.  "That's good to hear, Jack, because I think I'll be recommending the placement."

Jack let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.  "Thank goodness.  And thank you."

"I'll still need to talk to Daniel one-on-one, but I think we can skip most of the formalities that go with normal adoptions.  It's clearly a good match, I know your capabilities as a dad, and even though you're a little older than the state normally allows for adoptive parents, there's the matter of Big Daniel's will.”

"Where there's a will, there's a way?" he quipped.

Sara grinned and shook her head.  "Only you, Jack... but in this case, you're right.  Now, can you keep yourself busy for a few minutes while I have a talk with Little Daniel?"

Chapter 6

Some people were born geniuses, others grew into it, and most never even came close.  Sara considered herself and pretty much everyone she knew in the third category and had met a few folks she counted amongst the ranks of the second group.  Daniel, however, was clearly one of the rare individuals born to brilliance.  His intelligence shone through his eyes even though he shyly avoided her gaze after Jack excused himself outside to split logs for the fireplace.

"So, Daniel... other than annoying the crap out of one another, how are you and Jack getting along together?"

He squirmed uncomfortably for a moment, then answered, "We're making progress."

Her eyebrows lifted at the rather adult-sounding statement.  "Progress?"

"We're both having to adapt.  Jack has to get used to there being a kid around, and..."  He trailed off, biting his lower lip.

"And you have to get used to having a dad again?" Sara prompted.

"Something like that, yes."  He gave a small, sad grin.

"How do you feel about Jack home-schooling you?"

He shrugged.  "It won't be Jack doing the home-schooling.  I think he was looking at a private tutor or something."

"You won't get to be around many kids your own age."

"I don't have anything in common with 'normal' kids."

She winced at the implications the emphasized 'normal' held.  So many children in foster care thought they were 'damaged' in some way.  "What do you consider 'normal'?"

Daniel gave her an assessing look which did not belong on the face of a five year-old.  "Normal five year-olds enjoy watching Dora the Explorer.  I'm already fluent in Spanish—as well as Arabic and German—and would much rather read a book."

Sara coughed in surprise.  "Verstehst du mich?  Wieviel Uhr ist es?"

"Ja, Frau O'Neill, ich koenne Sie verstehen.  Es ist fuenf nach halb elf," he answered with a small smirk, telling her he could understand her, and that it was ten thirty-five.  The "in the morning" went unspoken, but she was pretty sure the little smart-aleck far surpassed her own limited skill with German, and she had no way to test his claims on the other two languages.

He was probably right about those too, then.  Definitely not 'normal' for any five year-old but this one.

"You should still meet other kids.  I'll be the first to agree that you can learn a lot from books, but there are some things you can't."

"Jack's already threatened me with little league hockey as soon as I'm big enough to keep from getting completely flattened on the ice."

"You skate?"

"I'm from Egypt, Ms. O'Neill."

"That answers that question!"  With a big, resounding 'no', she added inwardly.  "So, are you excited about being adopted?"

Daniel sighed.  "Well, it would be much nicer to not need to be adopted at all, but if anybody does, I'm glad it's Jack."

He made a very good point, she decided.

"Can I ask you a question?" he blurted.

"Whatever you want."

"What was Jack like when you were married?"

Her smile was wistful.  "The Jack O'Neill I married wasn't the same man I divorced.  The man I talked to just a few minutes ago seems to be a lot like the old Jack I remember.  From what I can tell, we have your dad to thank for that."

Daniel looked a little embarrassed, and she thought the expression terribly cute on him.  Following Jack's advice, though, she mentally squelched the dreaded 'c' word straightaway.  She wondered at the shy gesture, though, as it seemed talking about his dad made him uncomfortable.

She chided herself for her foolishness immediately.  His father was dead only a few weeks—it was a testament to the boy's resilience that he was handling it as well as he was.  Much as she hated to, though, that meant one last question had to be asked.  "Daniel, I'm going to ask you something that might be really tough for you, so you don't have to answer if you don't want to, okay?"  He nodded.  "How are you coping?  Your mother, father, and grandfather—"

"—Are all gone."

The interruption surprised her.  "Yes, they are, Daniel... and your acceptance of that is a very good sign.  In situations like yours, though, I do have to ask how you are handling your... loss."

"No child should ever know loss," he began softly, "but it's always been with me.  You never get used to it, either, so your only option is to enjoy the time you have with your friends and family."  He looked up at her then, expressive blue eyes brimming with unshed tears.  "Jack is my family, now.  So are Sam and T—Murray."

Sara's heart broke to see the pain that wisdom had cost this child reflected on his thin features, and she swallowed hard to force the lump out of her throat.  "Thank you, Daniel... that'll be all."

He nodded again, biting his lower lip as it started to tremble.  "Should I go get Jack?"

"Please."  She used the time it took him to go to the back door and call his guardian to gather up her belongings and compose herself mentally.  A few rather traitorous tears were starting to sting her eyes, and she had to clench them tightly shut for a moment.

This was why she'd chosen this profession, she reminded herself.  Every day, she dealt with children who were abused, mistreated, and neglected by their parents, or—like Daniel—had no parents at all.  Fortunately, there were people in the world who agreed to care for and protect children who weren't their own, and she felt blessed every time she was able to join a child in need with a loving parent.  Though she'd witnessed Jack's parenting skills first-hand with Charlie, she never would have guessed Jack to be a good candidate for raising a child not of his own blood—let alone adopting—yet in this house she's just witnessed the sort of perfect match only fate could create.

The door to the deck rattled again, and she opened her thankfully-dry eyes in time to see Daniel disappear around the corner in the direction she assumed the bedrooms lay.  She had just switched off her tape recorder and tucked it back into her satchel when she sensed she was being watched.

"You know, I always thought it creepy how you could remember entire conversations verbatim.  Did you even turn that thing on?"

Sara turned toward him and smiled.  "Yes I did, Jack, but only because I've found audio recordings useful in the occasional custody battle."

"Ah.  So what'd you say that upset my kid?"

Normally, she would have bristled at a similar question from anyone else, but Jack's tone was very non-confrontational.  "Where'd he go?"

"He went back to his room.  He said he wants to be alone right now, but I'll go check on him in a few minutes."  He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall.

"I let him know he didn't have to answer, but I did ask him how he was dealing with the loss of his parents and grandfather."

"And?"

"And he said that no child should ever know loss, even though he does.  That you never get used to it, so you enjoy the time you have with your friends and family."  She shook her head.  "How does a five year-old get so smart?  So wise?"

"He's a special kid," Jack answered softly.  "So—uh, walk you to your car?"

"Thanks."  The walk out to the car was made in silence, but as Sara unlocked her car door, she blurted, "Do you want to go out for coffee?"

Jack rocked back on his heels.  "Now?"

"Oh, no!  I meant later.  Definitely later."

"That wouldn't be fair to Daniel."

She shook her head.  "You're right... you really need to spend as much time with Daniel—"

Jack grinned.  "What I meant was that Daniel loves coffee, but I won't let him have any no bigger than he is, and he turns up his nose at the decaffeinated stuff.  I'd have to get somebody to watch him."

"Oh!  So... later?"

"Later," he answered, and Sara felt a warmth she hadn't in years.

*      *      *

As a gesture of goodwill, a single ZPM was gifted to the SGC, which was promptly used to send a relieving task force to the besieged Atlantis expedition.  Although Daniel made clear his desire to join the Daedalus as it made its way to the Pegasus Galaxy by means of ZPM-boosted Asgard hyperdrive, Jack was able to convince him that they really had no idea what to expect in Atlantis until the Wraith threat was taken care of, and that his time was better spent on Maidiera, teaching their scholars how to read Ancient.

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