Kahlil Gibran said in The Prophet, "You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give."

Daniel pondered the words as he stood before the box that had been sitting unopened in his office since it had been sent to him from the mental institution his grandfather had been living in until recently. Inside was all he had left on this world, of Nick, the man who'd been unable to give of himself to his grandson. It had only been in those few days after they'd discovered the crystal skull and before Nick had decided to stay with the aliens on P7X 377, that they'd begun to finally heal old wounds and realize that the love and bond they'd shared had never been truly lost. It had just been set aside, until the time was right for them to find it again.

He opened the box and lifted out the dusty journals on top, their covers worn and soft with aging, the leaves yellowed from the passage of time. His grandfather's spidery handwriting traversed each page and Daniel skimmed the first page of each, then set them aside. He'd read them later, when the wound was less fresh, the sorrow less painful.

Truth be told, Nick had never been much on giving of possessions either, Daniel thought ruefully. He pulled from his pocket the small box he'd brought from home. Nick had given it to him years ago, when Daniel was just a child. Over the years, it had moved from place to place with Daniel, and then, once he'd become involved with the Stargate program, it had sat, forgotten, in the top drawer of his bedside table, until the call from the institution about Nick's things had reminded him of it. He'd brought it in with him, intending to place it with the rest of Nick's belongings. It was a small metal box, and inside was an ovoid shaped metallic object, its surface smooth with two small crystals set into indentations along the top edge. Holding it up to the desk light, he looked closely at the engraving on the surface. It wasn't a language he recognized, though some of the symbols looked almost Goa'uld-like. He wondered if Teal'c might have some insight into what it was.

Teal'c wasn't in his quarters so Daniel headed for Sam's lab instead.

"Hey, Sam," he said poking his head round the open door, "you seen Teal'c?"

"I am here, DanielJackson," came the Jaffa's deep voice from behind the door. "MajorCarter requested my help with the findings SG-13 brought back from P4Z 155."

"Oh, great." Daniel stepped inside and held out his hand, the small object nestled in his palm. "You recognize the writing on this?"

"What is it?" Sam asked, stroking a finger over it.

"I don't know. It's probably nothing. My grandfather gave it to me when I was a kid. I only remembered I had it when I got the call about his things."

"May I?" Teal'c asked.

At Daniel's nod, he took the disc from his hand and turned it this way and that, then held it close to his eyes. "I do not recognize the writing," he said. "It is not Goa'uld."

"No, I was pretty sure it wasn't. It's not Egyptian either, or Celtic, or any of the other languages I recognize."

"The metal looks unusual," Sam said. "Can I check it out a little? Where did Nick get it?"

"Not sure. Some dig he was on. I don't know if he ever told me much about it." Daniel grinned self-consciously. "As you know, Nick discovered the crystal skull and the aliens on P7X 377when I was six, and he became so obsessed with finding them again that he pushed us away. I used to stay with him sometimes, before he went on that dig in Belize. He even took me with him on a few digs. The night he gave me this, I was feeling homesick, missing my mom and dad. He came into my room and gave it to me, told me it had no importance except for the fact that he'd given it to me, and that if ever I felt lonely or sad, I could hold it in my hand and it would make me feel better."

"Did it work?" Jack's voice came from behind him and Daniel turned to face him. "Yeah, it did, till I got too old to need it. Guess that's why I forgot I had it."

"I was just suggesting to Daniel that I analyze it," Sam said. "Any objections, sir?"

"Go for it," Jack replied, settling himself on a corner of the desk. "It's a slow day round the ole SGC for a change."

"I really don't think it's anything out of the ordinary," Daniel said, but he sat down in the chair next to Sam's desk anyway.

Sam handed the object back to him. "I'll start with something simple. Just hold it flat on the palm of your hand." She picked up a hand-held scanner. "This should give me an idea of what metals it's not made out of."

Daniel did as he was asked and watched as the scanner made its first pass over his hand. Moments later as Sam brought the scanner back again, he felt the object begin to heat up. "Um, Sam, you might want to stop scanning—"

A sudden burst of white light jumped between the artifact and the scanner, and Daniel jolted back in the chair as if he'd been struck by a zat. There was a moment of flaring pain in his head and then nothing.

Voices hummed over his head, waking him from his restless sleep, and he opened his eyes and looked around, unsure at first where he was.

"Hey there, how are you feeling?" Soft lips touched his forehead gently and he made a face, pulling away a little. "Oh, eight years old means you're too old to be kissed by your mom?" His mother laughed and tousled his hair. "I was just checking your temperature. I don't have a thermometer handy."

"I'm okay," he replied. "Are we on the plane?"

"Yes. A few more hours and we'll be in New York." His father spoke from his other side, and Danny turned and looked up at him. "You didn't answer your mom, Danny," his father said. "Are you feeling any better?"

"I guess," he said. "I still feel kinda sick to my stomach." He gulped with sudden fear as the plane dipped, and he clenched his fingers around his mother's hand.

"It's okay, honey," she said, "just a little turbulence. Oh, I was going to give this to you when we got on the plane but you fell asleep so quickly, I forgot."

Danny looked down at the small round, metallic-looking object his mother pulled out of her purse and placed in his hand. "My artifact," he said.

"Nick said he gave it to you to keep," his mother said. "You left it under your pillow. Just as well I checked to make sure we hadn't forgotten anything."

"Do you think we can find out about the special writing on it?" Daniel asked, drawing a finger over the engraved text.

"I'm not sure," she replied, peering closely. "Maybe someone at the museum will know."

The plane plunged downwards again, a streak of lightning flashing past the small window. Danny tightened his fingers around his artifact and closed his eyes. He really wished he was big right now. He looked up at his father, who looked calm and unconcerned. Swallowing hard, pushing down his fear with all his eight year old determination, he forced himself to look through the window of the plane at the dark clouds rushing past, then shrieked with terror as another lightning bolt struck, this one seeming to hit the side of the plane right where he sat. Sudden heat engulfed his fingers, pain flashed through his head, and he gasped as the world seemed to turn upside down and then blink out.

If there was one thing Jack hated more than pretty much anything, it was waiting, and right now, he'd done enough waiting to last him a lifetime. He shifted on the rigid chair, wincing as his butt protested the unforgiving plastic and stared again at the monitors next to the bed. He had no idea why he was bothering to look actually, because he had no idea what any of the numbers or graphs or wiggly lines meant anyway... except for that one. Pulse rate, and it was going up, which meant— He turned his attention to the unconscious man in the bed and saw dazed blue eyes staring back at him. "Hey," he said, an enormous surge of relief making him feel weak, "about time you woke up, Sleeping Beauty."

The lights were on but no one was home if the confused look in Daniel's eyes was anything to go by. Finally, after a long moment, he frowned and spoke. "Where am I?"

Jack grinned. "Your favorite place - the infirmary."

Daniel nodded slowly. "I was sick." He sounded hesitant and unsure and there was something slightly off about his whole demeanor. He looked as though he was trying to shrink under the covers. "You a doctor?"

Jack's heart missed a beat. He turned and waved over a nurse. "Where's Doc Frasier?"

"In her lab," she replied.

"Get her," Jack ordered, his tone harsher than he meant. "Tell her Daniel's awake." When the nurse hurried off, he turned back to Daniel. "You picked up the stone..." he prodded. Daniel just stared at him. To his surprise, Daniel's chin began to quiver and a tear rolled down his cheek. "Where's my mom? I want my mom."

~o0o~

Jack paced the length of Hammond's office then stopped and turned to stare at Fraiser. "What do you mean, he doesn't remember us?"

Fraiser shrugged. "Just what I said, Colonel. He knows his own name but doesn't recognize anyone here... and he thinks he's eight years old."

"Brain damage?" Carter asked. "That stone I was scanning, I re-checked it, but there's no residual energy in it." She threw up her hands, looking defeated. "I couldn't find anything."

"Teal'c," Hammond asked, "you say you didn't recognize the writing on the object."

Teal'c shook his head. "I did not."

"What about this disease SG-4 seems to have brought back through the gate?" Hammond continued, looking at Fraiser. "Could Doctor Jackson have the same illness?"

"It's possible, sir. It appears to be spreading. Two of my nurses have now come down with the same symptoms as SG-4—"

"I sense a 'but' in there," Jack cut in.

Fraiser nodded. "Daniel is suffering from a low grade fever and his white cell count is elevated. He's showing every sign of having a mild viral infection, but none of the others are showing any indication of amnesia or brain damage."

Hammond sat back and steepled his hands on the desk. "What do you propose we do, Doctor?"

"We've definitely got a contagion on the base," Fraiser replied, "and until we know where it originated, I think we need to quarantine the base. I need to run more tests on Daniel, but I'd like to place him and the rest of SG:1 in one of the VIP rooms, just in case his illness isn't connected to the others..."

Jack gaped at her. "What? Why?"

"Because you were all with Daniel when this occurred, sir," Fraiser explained, "and until I get the test results back, I have no idea if the rest of you might be affected or not."

"Yeah, but—"

"It's an order, Colonel," Hammond interrupted firmly. "Besides," he continued in a gentler voice, "you're Doctor Jackson's closest friends, pretty much the only family he has. If Doctor Frasier can't find a cure for what's causing this, he's going to need some familiar faces around."

"Would it help to try and prod his memory?" Carter asked.

"I can't see that it would hurt," Fraiser said, "but keep it low key and focused on everyday things, and stop if he gets upset. At the moment, he's a very frightened eight-year-old boy inside a grown man's body."

Claire Jackson sat forward as the small hand clutched tightly in her own twitched. Reaching up, she brushed a lock of hair from her son's forehead and searched worriedly for signs of returning consciousness.

The rest of the flight had been a blur. Lightning had flashed against the window, the plane had dipped into a deep air pocket then Danny had screamed and begun to seize. An ambulance had been standing by on the tarmac in New York and they'd been quickly whisked to the hospital.

The examining doctor was uncertain what had caused Danny's seizure, but thought it was probably a result of the high fever he'd suffered from the virus that had laid him low in Cairo just before they'd returned to the States.

She sighed and rubbed at her burning eyes with her free hand. "We should never have taken him to Egypt," she said softly.

A hand squeezed her shoulder gently and she looked up into Mel's equally worried face. "We weren't to know," he said tiredly. "We had to get to Cairo, you know that, Claire, and he could just as easily fallen ill at home, then we'd have been stuck there, worrying about him."

"If Nick had taken him in—" Claire began, but Mel cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"You know your Dad. He's not all there any more. Even if he'd offered, I would have refused." He stared down at his son. "He's going to be fine," he said firmly.

"I wish I was as confident—" Claire broke off as she followed Mel's gaze and saw wide blue eyes staring up at her. "Danny! Thank god! How do you feel?"

~o0o~

The voice seemed slightly familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. A headache was pounding behind his eyes and his sight was blurry. "Where am I?" He frowned; his voice sounded strange to his own ears.

Someone leaned over him, her smiling face coming into view. He could see tears shining in her eyes. No! It couldn't be! He shook his head, trying to clear it but that only forced his headache to more excruciating heights and he couldn't stop the sob of pain that bubbled from his dry throat. A hand patted his forehead.

"Shh," she whispered. "Dad's gone to get the doctor. You're going to be just fine. Just rest."

He stared at her then slowly reached up a hand and touched her face. "Mom?"

She nodded. "I'm here, sweetie."

"Mom?" He stared at his hand where it rested against her cheek, her own hand grasping it – her larger hand. He looked down and stared at his child-sized body, his feet coming nowhere near the end of the bed.

Oh crap!

The last thing he remembered was showing Sam the stone Nick had given him. There'd been a small flash of light from within when Sam had run the device over it and a bolt of electricity sizzled through him at the same time he heard Jack's warning "Daniel!" He remembered nothing more till now.

Danny cringed and quickly stuck the hand he'd been studying under the blanket as a nurse strode swiftly by. The hospital was busy now, not like when he'd first woken up. When it looked like the nurse didn't notice that he was awake and wouldn't stick a needle into him again, he slowly pulled his hand out and held it in front of his face.

The fingers were rough and callused, and there were interesting scars here and there. He traced the thin tuft of hairs that grew on the back of his fingers with his index finger, wondering if someone had slipped a pair of funny clown gloves on him when he'd slept. Because the hands he was looking at weren't his.

He rubbed his eyes, wondering why he couldn't see clearly. The rubbing didn't do anything except make his eyes burn, though, and he blinked rapidly several times, but his vision didn't improve. Sighing, he went back to examining the stranger's hand attached to his body.

The sound of footsteps had him lying still once again, and he waited as the nurse came back, this time with someone who looked kind of sick. Danny suddenly caught sight of the piece of cloth the nurse wore around her face; he looked around in confusion, there wouldn't be any sandstorms here, would there? Why else would she try and protect her face?

He watched as the nurse settled the stranger into a bed close by, lying still and closing his eyes when she glanced his way. He tried to peek at the new patient, see if he recognized him from the plane, but he couldn't get a good view without raising his head.

Feeling suddenly cold, he pulled his knees up to his chest. He was shivering a little, and his body hurt everywhere, but he wasn't as sleepy as before. He licked his lips; he was thirsty, but he hesitated to call out and ask for some water.

When footsteps told him the nurse was walking away again, Danny slowly raised his head to check if the coast was clear. The moment he saw there were no nurses nearby, he pushed back the blankets and sat up.

If all these sick people were from the plane, maybe his mom and dad were here, too, in one of the beds. Or maybe they were outside those doors where people kept coming in. Maybe they didn't know he was here; maybe nobody told them.

He started to get off the bed, intending to start searching out the beds really fast, but froze the moment his feet touched the floor. His legs were long; they reached the floor without his having to slide his butt off the bed. He looked at his feet; they were long and skinny, like his dad's feet.

Slowly, Danny stood, not sure why everything was off kilter. He was too high off the ground, as if he were standing on a bed or a chair. He looked down at himself and even through the thin cotton pajamas someone had put on him, he could tell his body wasn't that of a child. It was hard, muscular, tall. With a hand shaking from more than shivers, he touched his chest. It felt like his dad's.

With more trepidation than curiosity, Danny reached for the waistband of the pajamas. He pulled the edge away and looked down. What he saw made him gasp. With fingers clutching the waistband in shock, he looked around desperately for help. This wasn't him. This wasn't what he looked like. This wasn't a little kid's body and he wanted his parents really, really bad.

His breath was beginning to hitch in his chest and he just wanted his mom and dad to tell him everything was okay. They'd fix this; they'd fix him and take him out of here.

"Doctor Jackson, is everything all right?"

At the sound of the nurse calling his father's name, Danny twirled quickly, looking for his dad. The movement made him dizzy but he ignored it, searching frantically for Doctor Melburn Jackson, while trying to keep the sobs at bay, but seeing no one but the nurse and a roomful of sick people.

"Are you okay?" she asked a little more softly, her hand reaching out for him. "Doctor Jackson?" she repeated.

Stumbling backwards as the hand came closer, Danny tripped over his feet and landed awkwardly on the bed. He realized she was talking to him. She thought he was Doctor Jackson. His father.

"Noooo," he cried, feeling the bed move slightly as he pedaled his feet on the cold ground in his attempt to get away from her. "I want my dad!" Trying to clamber over the bed, he felt her hand on his shoulder. With memories of needles pricking his skin, he reached out frantically, and to his shock, felt his hand impact painfully with something.

The loud thud shocked him. He'd heard the same sound during a scuffle between workers at a dig, and his dad had walked up to the two men and had broken up the fight. He looked back over his shoulder fearfully, and saw that the woman had stepped back away from the bed and was holding a hand to her face.

He couldn't stop crying, his breath hitching so forcefully that he couldn't speak. Deep down he knew he needed to apologize and his dad was probably going to smack him a good one for this. At the moment he'd welcome his dad's punishment, because that meant his dad would be standing next to him instead of being in him.

The sound of others hurrying towards him told him he was in trouble. Adults rarely ran unless something was really urgent, or really bad. He finished his abortive attempt to climb over the bed and swung his legs over onto the other side. He started running towards the doors the moment his feet touched the ground, trying to escape his pursuers. The increased height was disorienting, causing him to stagger slightly but in his mad dash, he managed to stay on his feet. But he was forced to a stop when the doors suddenly opened right in front of him and he came face to face with the stranger who'd been sitting by his bed when he'd first woken up.

They stared at each other for a long moment, then Danny turned and began sprinting in the opposite direction.

"Daniel."

There was enough of a command in that voice which Danny recognized as no-nonsense, forcing him to stop. He looked back over his shoulder to see the man slowly walking towards him, along with the doctor in a white coat; the other two stayed where they were, next to the doors.

The three nurses who'd run after him were blocking the other direction and he knew he was trapped.

He cringed as the man reached for him, but when his arms went around him in a hug, Danny drew closer, instinctively seeking comfort, and gave himself up to his emotions.

~o0o~

Jack had seen the naked terror on Daniel's face just before he turned and ran. Even now the sobs weren't subsiding and he and Daniel were sitting on the cold infirmary floor, their positions too reminiscent of a weirded-out Daniel coming down off of a sarc addiction.

Daniel had his face buried in Jack's neck, his soulful howls of pained emotional anguish punctuated by uncontrollable hitches and sobs were oddly disturbing, seeing as they were coming from a grown man. Drool dripped from Daniel's opened mouth, slowly sliding down Jack's neck and dampening his tee shirt around the collar. But even past the emotions wracking his friend's body, were the rhythmic shivers that were a sign of the fever he could feel even through their clothes.

"Blanket," he mouthed to Carter as she caught his gaze. A moment later a scratchy infirmary blanket was wrapped around the both of them. Jack caught the blanket's edge and held it between two fingers, not letting go his hold on Daniel in the process.

Fraiser, who'd been waiting for a nurse to return with a sedative, knelt down to their level once the medication had been handed over. She caught Jack's eyes before easing the blanket down to expose Daniel's bicep.

There was a minute shift in Daniel's body and belatedly, Jack realized he'd caught sight of the syringe. The next thing Jack knew, he had his arms full of a panicked one hundred and eighty pound archeologist who was trying his damnedest to climb over Jack in his panic to escape Fraiser.

His mind racing, Jack's first intuition was to hold Daniel down so that the doc could administer the sedative. But whatever emotions were coursing through Daniel needed to be played out. This hysteria, in an adult, wasn't normal, but then, these weren't normal circumstances.

Daniel had woken up from the lab fiasco with the mind of a child, somewhat confused from the after-effects of the seizure and... whatever had caused the seizure in the first place. But a child, instead of being locked away for an outburst, would be comforted until too exhausted from the emotional upheaval to continue. And would most likely calm down in a short while.

Decision made in a split second, he turned, blocking Fraiser with his body as Daniel grabbed maniacally at him, screaming something unintelligible at the top of his lungs.

"Doc, wait," Jack ground out as Daniel's knee painfully caught his thigh, "it's not gonna help if we scare him any more than he is." Normally Jack's strength would equal Daniel's, but in this terrified state, Teal'c would probably have had a hard time controlling him.

"He needs to calm down, sir," Fraiser said in a clipped voice.

"Daniel, stop it." Jack began envisaging Daniel being carted off to the looney bin once again, sporting the latest fashion of white jacket with extra long sleeves. They'd made a mistake then, leaving Daniel to struggle alone. If this was Daniel's route again, then Jack was going to make sure Daniel didn't take it alone.

The moment Fraiser backed off, Jack let go of Daniel and grabbed his face between his palms. "No needles," he said softly, realizing finally what it was Daniel was terrified of and what he'd been screaming. "No needles," he repeated again, forcing Daniel to listen to him as he caught the doc's gaze. She hesitated a moment before nodding, placing the unused syringe aside on a table.

The screaming stopped and so did the wild thrashing. Jack tried to untangle the blanket as Daniel plastered himself against him, then sighed a thanks when Teal'c wrapped a fresh blanket around them both. He rubbed Daniel's tense back as Teal'c and Carter both got down onto the floor, next to them. Looked like the rest of his team had come to the same conclusion as he.

"You are afraid, DanielJackson. We cannot help you if you do not tell us what you fear."

"T, he's in no condition to tell us what—"

"My dad," Daniel hiccupped, pulling away from Jack just enough to open an eye and look at Teal'c. "My hand's too big." He thrust a trembling hand in Teal'c's direction. "I'm not me. I'm my dad." The hand came back between them and clutched Jack's tee shirt.

"Daniel, why do you say you're your dad?" Carter leaned close, speaking softly as Daniel's breath hitched and hiccupped long and loud.

It took him a few tries before he got the words out. "She c-called me Doctor Jackson." The last ended on a wail, and for a moment Jack thought Daniel was going to start with the hysteria again. He was obviously tiring, unable to maintain the earlier level of emotions. Slowly the tension began to ease as Daniel's body sagged against him more and more.

"Daniel, how about we get out of here and go somewhere a little more quiet?" Now wasn't the time to start questioning him and Daniel was obviously too overwrought to handle any of their explanations.

When Daniel gave a slow nod, his nose rubbing against his shirt, Jack pulled away gently. "C'mon, Doc Fraiser's got a room set up for us."

They got Daniel up and he wanted nothing more than to hide his face against Jack's chest. They stood there, chest to chest, Jack's arms around Daniel, until a nurse did Fraiser's bidding and hurried over with a wheelchair.

"Wanna sit down and we'll give you a ride?"

Daniel pulled back reluctantly and eyed the chair warily.

"C'mon, it's fun. This way you won't have to worry about cold feet." Jack pointed to Daniel's bare feet.

It took them a moment to settle Daniel in the chair, wrapping one of the blankets around him, tucking them around his feet. Jack hadn't been wrong, the man's feet were icy.

Teal'c positioned himself behind the chair, leaving Jack and Carter to walk next to Daniel. Placing a hand on Daniel's shoulder, he motioned Carter to lead the way.

~o0o~

"Here we go, home sweet home."

The big man opened a door and Jack pushed the chair into a room. There was a large bed in the middle of the room, and Danny eyed it with longing. He remained in the chair, however, unsure of what to do next. He looked up at Jack, waiting for instructions. Instead it was the woman, Sam, who spoke.

"This is your room for now, Daniel." She gave him a smile and some of his nervousness eased. "The bed's yours; you can go lie down if you don't feel well. There's a television, we can watch something together a little later, if you're up to it."

He pushed the blanket aside, and with a last look at Jack, who nodded encouragingly, he stood. He hated the odd feeling of being too tall. He looked around quickly but other than a table and chairs, a small bathroom and a long, black picture hanging on the wall, the room was uninteresting. He shuffled to the bed and sat on it, pulling his feet off the floor and tucking them under his knees.

The big man... T... Teal, took the blanket he'd left in the chair and wrapped it around his shoulders. Danny grabbed the edges gratefully and leaned forward, rocking slightly.

"So..." Jack sat on the edge of the bed and flipped the edge of the blanket over so that it covered the tips of his bare feet. "Care to tell me what that was all about with the needles?"

"I hate needles," Danny said quickly. His throat hurt from crying and his eyes were all scratchy and swollen. He wanted to blow his nose but there were no tissues. He sniffed loud and hard and got an instant headache for his trouble.

"Yeah, but you've had them before—" Jack stopped and gave the woman a funny look when she hit him with her elbow.

"I had needles before," Danny admitted. "But my mom or dad were always with me." His voice hitched, and he bit his lip, trying not to cry. "Where's my mommy? I want my mommy."

"I know, Daniel." Sam sat beside him and put an arm around him. He wanted her to feel like his mom was holding him but her arm felt tiny compared to his mom's. Still, her hand felt good as it rubbed his back, and he sniffled again after taking another long, hitching breath.

"Look, what you were saying about your father earlier..."

Danny blinked at Jack, his heart full of fear.

"You're not him. Your father, I mean. You're you. Just not the you, you think you are."

"Sir, I don't think—"

"Go for it, Carter."

"Daniel?"

His attention had been bounding from one to the other. He wiped at tears that wouldn't stop sliding down his cheeks and turned to Sam.

"Do you know what amnesia is?"

His nose had chosen this moment to start leaking, and he nodded as he rubbed an arm under it. "That's when you forget something."

"That's right." She smiled at him again as Jack got up and walked into the bathroom. "That's what happened to you. You have amnesia."

"No, I don't. 'Cause I remember everything. I was in the plane with my mom and dad and we were coming to New York 'cause there's an exhibition that they have to set up in the museum and we're going to go to the zoo and go see the ocean even though we were flying over the water but I couldn't see anything because the plane was too high up and we're gonna go see a play and go to a ballgame and there was a thunderstorm and the thunder was really loud and I was scared and... and... and..."

Jack had come out of the bathroom with a box of tissues and offered one to Danny. He plucked one from the box and blew his nose. He didn't remember anything else about the plane ride, except the lightning and the pain.

"Daniel?"

He turned to face Sam, not knowing what to do with the tissue.

"Your parents. What museum were they—"

Danny dropped the tissue into a garbage can that Jack held out to him. "The New York Museum of Art," he said quickly, proud he could remember the name so readily. His parents had been talking about it for months and he'd been looking forward to visiting the museum. His dad had told him about all the neat things there.

"Sir—"

"Yeah, I know."

Danny looked from one to the other, wondering what they were talking about. He turned to Teal, wondering why he was so quiet all the time. Teal caught his eye and smiled. He suddenly didn't look so big and mean anymore.

"Perhaps DanielJackson would wish to watch a movie."

He didn't, not really. But he didn't know what else to do so he simply shrugged.

"Then I shall retrieve the DVDs from my quarters. I shall return shortly."

"Here, you might be more comfortable under the covers." Jack pulled the comforter off the bed while Teal left the room. Danny moved to the side of the bed until the sheets were exposed. He slid under the covers and Jack piled a few pillows behind his back to make him comfy. By the time Teal got back, Sam and Jack had chairs set up beside the bed, facing the black picture on the wall. Danny wondered where the television was; maybe Teal had gone to get it?

"Whatcha get?" Jack asked as Teal opened up a thin, square plastic box. He took out a shiny round thing and put it into another bigger box beneath the black picture.

"Star Wars."

Danny thought it funny the way Jack groaned and he couldn't help grinning at him. Then as the black picture on the wall exploded in color and sound, he sat up in bed, surprised.

"Cool!" he exclaimed as words began appearing on the screen along with the majestic music.

~o0o~

Jack watched Daniel fighting sleep, his eyelids slowly getting heavier and heavier despite his enjoyment of the movie. He'd been full of questions at first, then slowly settled down as the movie caught him hook, line and sinker. Unless Daniel's memory came back soon, Jack had a feeling they'd be watching the trilogy over and over again.

He'd have to find a way to make Teal'c pay for this.

Just as Daniel's eyes slid closed and Jack thought they seemed to be about to stay that way, Daniel sat up in bed, eyes wide in alarm. "My artifact. Where's my artifact?"

"Easy, easy. What artifact?" Jack was off the chair and was sitting on the bed beside Daniel in a flash, hoping to be able to calm him before the man decided to panic again. The movie's soundtrack appeared suddenly loud, seeming to add to Daniel's anxiety. Teal'c hit the pause button while Jack rubbed Daniel's shoulder, feeling the heat of growing fever through the thin scrubs. The motion seemed to calm Daniel, at least he didn't look like he was ready to jump out of bed and go running through the SGC.

"Nick gave it to me." Daniel's voice was full of anguish. "And I lost it."

"It's okay." Carter reached out and touched Daniel's leg. "It's in my lab. You didn't lose it."

"I... I..." Daniel stopped and looked at the light bandage Fraiser had wrapped around the burn on his right hand. "It hurt," he said in a small voice. "I was scared because it was thundering and the plane was jumping everywhere and there was lightning and it... it..."

"You fell asleep. You probably just dreamed it." Jack patted Daniel's shoulder and reached for the Tylenol Fraiser had given him.

"No!" Daniel swiveled in the bed so he continued to face Jack. "I was sick on the plane and mom gave me my artifact. It hurt... the lightning hit the plane and it hurt."

Jack shook out two pills and waited while Teal'c got some water. "You're not in the plane, Daniel. You're safe here. It was just a dream." He held out the pills for Daniel to take.

"Then what hurt my hand?" He held his burned palm and fingers out to Jack for a moment, before plucking the pills from Jack's hand. With a glare, he put them into his mouth and accepted the water from Teal'c.

Damn, the infirmary was noisy. Daniel shifted, keeping his eyes closed, trying to find a way to block out the ruckus. Loud voices, raised in anger, pierced his brain, bounced around and took up residency. Dreams. Crazy dreams about his parents and Jack had kept his sleep restless and a headache front and center. Pure and simple, he felt like crap.

Help was just a call bell away, a little something from Janet and he'd sleep. There'd be no headache. No noise. No crazy dreams. Giving into temptation, Daniel patted the bed. Behind him and to the right, that's where the call bell should be. Strange. He ran his hand up and down the sheets, searching.

"I'm right here, Daniel."

He'd been under Janet's care enough times to be familiar with the touch and feel of her fingers. The hand that held his wasn't Janet's, nor was it Sam's. Daniel's hand was encased in a grip that was callused and rough, the hand of someone who was a manual laborer or someone who worked outside or someone...

"Can you open your eyes for me?"

...who was an archeologist. "Mom?" Daniel's eyes flew open and his struggle to sit up was thwarted by an insistent hand pressed against his chest.

"Easy, son."

Daniel whipped his head to the left. "Dad?" A cry escaped him before he had a chance to stop it and he flopped backwards.

This wasn't the infirmary under Cheyenne Mountain, he was in a hospital. With his parents. His dead parents and he was... Daniel pulled his hand from his mother's grip and examined it once again. The dreams that he'd thought had been weird, obviously weren't dreams. They'd been real.

And he was slammed with a whirlwind of memories. Sam's lab. The stone. The pain in his hand. All true. Daniel pushed away his father's hand and threw back the blanket covering his body. A small body to match his small hand. Even the joy of being flanked by his parents paled at the shock. He was a kid. "Shit."

"Danny!"

"Daniel Garrett Jackson."

"Am I dead?" He looked from his mother to his father. "Is this heaven?" Being dead was a plausible explanation. Being dead was preferable to being a kid. Again.

"Shush." His mother's eyes filled with tears as she stroked his face, and Daniel tried, really tried not to lean into her caress, not to chase after the coolness of her cupped palm or remember her touch. He couldn't afford to think with his heart and not his head.

"Ow!"

"Mel," his mother angrily reprimanded, "watch his hand."

In a gesture so loving and familiar, Daniel wondered why it wasn't synonymous with his father's memory, his hair was gently pushed from his forehead. "Sorry, Doodle Bug."

Doodle Bug. Danny Doodle Bug. How could he have forgotten? How? His parents' pet name for him. Daniel remembered baulking when they'd call him that. He'd yelled at his mom the morning they'd died because she'd called him that in front of the curator. "It's a baby name," Daniel remembered yelling. "And I'm not a baby. I wish you'd stop calling me that." Less than five hours later, Daniel had gotten his wish.

This was a nightmare, worse than the Gamekeeper's world, and he tried to stop the moisture leaking out from under his eyelids. "I want to go home."

"We're trying. Doctors here seem to be at a premium. Mel, why don't you—"

Daniel felt a feather-light kiss on his cheek and opened his eyes to find his dad's face mere inches from his.

"I'm going to try and find us a doctor so we can get out of here."

Slowly, he brought his bandaged hand up to rub the spot where he'd been kissed. "Dad." Daniel stopped and thought. This man wasn't his 'dad'. The dad reference was an adult word. "Daddy," he amended, "I—"

"Careful, you got a pretty bad burn there." With extreme care, his dad guided Daniel's hand to rest on his belly.

Daniel saw it in the furtive glances they gave each other, the way they hovered protectively over him, and the way they kept touching him. His parents were worried. About him. His parents were worried about him... Well, not really him, they were worried about the other Daniel. The little Daniel who used to live in this body. The body he was now in. So if he was here... did that mean—? He groaned.

His father jumped up, obviously taking Daniel's vocalization as a sign of pain and not for what it was- frustration. "Doctor," he shouted, glancing up and down the aisle of the crowded ER. "We need a doctor over here..." He grabbed the first person in white who walked by.

"I'm sorry, sir."

Mel pulled the doctor over and squinted at his nametag. "Don't apologize, Doctor Fredericks, just help my son."

"He's not my patient."

"Goddamn it, he's somebody's patient."

"Please, Mr..."

"Doctor. Doctor Jackson."

Daniel watched from the gurney as the demeanor of Doctor Fredericks changed the second his father stuck the title of Doctor before his name. He himself had done it on occasion.

"Please excuse me, Doctor Jackson. I'll see if I can find someone with information about your son—"

"Daniel. My son's name is Daniel."

~o0o~

He was being released. With a prescription for an antibiotic, cream for the burn and with the advice not to come back to the hospital.

"What about the seizure?" his mother asked, walking up to join Daniel's father by the doctor's side.

There was low mumbling, head shaking and glances in his direction, enough to piss Daniel off. Awkwardly, Daniel levered his body up using his good arm. "What about the seizure?"

"I'm talking to your parents, Daniel."

"You're talking to my parents about me, Doctor, I would expect to be—" Daniel ignored the shocked looks on his parents' faces and forged ahead. "To be included in this discussion."

The doctor scowled at him, then continued speaking to his parents, his gaze locked on the papers in the chart.

"Excuse me," Daniel interrupted, loudly. Loud enough that a passing technician stopped and stared for a second. "I asked a question."

"Daniel!" His mother was shaking her head and his father was giving Daniel the patented "wait until you get home" glare.

"I'm sorry," he replied sheepishly. "But I just wanted to..." He'd always been precocious and Daniel remembered his parents' leniency, but the way the two of them were staring at him, there was a hint of fear that he'd crossed from precociousness into obnoxiousness without points being taken into consideration for fever and sickness. "I'm sorry," Daniel repeated.

"Oh, honey." His mother's expression of confused anger melted away and was replaced by a parental concern so strong that Daniel had to avert his head. As one, his parents stepped back to the head of his bed.

"You may finish speaking, Doctor."

"Mrs. Jackson—"

"Doctor Jackson."

The doctor blinked in confusion, then stared at Daniel's father. "I thought—"

"We're both doctors, actually."

"I'm sorry, excuse me." The doctor cleared his throat and stood up a bit straighter. "Danny here..."

"Daniel." No one called him Danny, except for his father, and eventually Jack. Jack called him Danny.

The doctor sneered at Daniel, but continued. "Daniel's seizure wasn't witnessed by myself, any hospital personnel nor by the ambulance drivers. We can find no physiological reason for the seizure nor does the EEG show any abnormalities or residual damage. His fever may have been high enough during the flight to precipitate a febrile seizure, but for the past few hours his fever has been hovering at 101, certainly not enough to warrant a seizure."

It took all that Daniel had not to stick out his tongue at the pompous, smug man. "So you have no idea why I had a seizure?"

The doctor made a show of clicking open his pen and writing in the chart. "Fever and the stress of flying."

"Stress of flying?" Daniel sputtered. He turned towards his mother. "Tell him I have no fear—"

"That's enough!" Mel warned. "Let the doctor speak."

"Actually, it says here you've just arrived from Cairo." Slowly, he nodded. "Based on your blood work, your white count is slightly elevated, but everything else is within normal parameters." He slammed the chart shut. "As I stated previously, in my opinion, the seizure was precipitated not only by the fever but the stress of flying."

"But you're still releasing him?"

The doctor waved Daniel's chart around the large area of curtain-enclosed cubicles. "There's a flu epidemic in the city, and while Dann—Daniel is sick, he's going to get a heck of a lot sicker, you all are, if you hang around with all these germs. So I would advise you to take him home and put him to bed. Let him watch some cartoons, drink juice, and give him the medication I prescribed."

"And the burn on his hand?"

While he understood the doctor's reluctance to take up a precious hospital bed with a child who was simply running a fever, Daniel was interested in knowing how he was going to explain the burn on the palm of his right hand.

"Obviously, he touched something he wasn't supposed to—"

"I did—"

The doctor was saved from Daniel's indignation when another member of the hospital staff shoved a stack of folders shoved a stack of folders into his arms. "I have to go. If you have any questions, call the pediatric resident. I'm sure he'll be able to... Take the meds, the cream and in a day or two Daniel will be as right as rain."

"Can we watch it again?"

Jack saw Teal'c grin broadly as he leaned forward and pressed the play button on the remote. He looked Daniel over with a critical eye. He looked better after taking the Tylenol, but he'd missed most of the movie the first time round when he'd drifted into an uneasy sleep. Every now and then, he'd rub at the burn on his hand or stare at it intently as if trying to remember how it had happened. Maybe, Jack thought, Daniel was the only one who could help them get to the bottom of this mystery, but in order for him to do that, they had to find a way to reintegrate him with his memories and his life. He thought there was a way to do that but he wanted to check with Fraiser first. Jack wanted to make sure that what he was thinking of doing wouldn't cause Daniel too much stress. All he needed was a reason to leave Daniel here with Teal'c and Carter for a while so he could go see the doc.

Daniel looked over and caught his eye. "My dad would love this movie," he said. "He loves science fiction." His lip trembled and he clenched down hard on it with his teeth. "I wish you'd get my parents for me," he said. "They'll be worried about me. Can't you at least tell me where they are?"

Jack stood up and stretched. "Tell you what. Why don't you finish watching the movie with Sam and Teal'c. I'm gonna go get us some snacks."

"Popcorn?" Daniel's voice rose in excitement, and Jack grinned and nodded. "Popcorn for sure. I'll get some sodas too, okay? What's your favorite?"

Daniel hesitated. "Mom doesn't like me having too much soda," he replied, "but I guess one wouldn't hurt. Do you have Coke? I haven't had Coke in forever. We only had a little icebox in Egypt and Mom said Coke would take up room that we needed for keeping meat and stuff cold."

"Coke it is." Jack looked meaningfully at Carter, who nodded.

"We'll be fine, sir. I'd love a Coke, too," she said. "Make it diet, will you, sir?"

"I will have Peach Snapple," Teal'c interjected, never taking his eyes from the screen. "And corn chips."

"Right," Jack replied. He waited until Daniel settled down to watch the movie again, then he quietly left the room.

He headed for Fraiser's office and knocked on the door, entering without waiting for her to call him in.

The doctor was sitting at her desk, sipping a cup of coffee as she perused a pile of papers in front of her. She looked pale and tired.

Jack slipped into the chair in front to the desk. "How's it going, Doc?" he asked. "You look like you're ready to collapse."

Fraiser put the cup down with the calculatedly careful movement of the truly exhausted. "I'm a little tired," she replied with a small smile. "The good news is we seem to have contained the contagion to only the two SG teams that were originally affected. They're quarantined and our anti-viral treatment seems to be working. They should all be out of the woods by tomorrow, though it'll be a week before I can let them back on active duty."

"That's good news," Jack said. "So, shouldn't you be getting some rest? I know you've got a good team here, Doc, but they're only as good as their team leader. If we lose you now..."

She smiled in appreciation at the compliment and concern. "If I fall in a heap, Doctor Warner is quite capable of taking over. However, I'm planning on getting some sleep in a while. Just need to finish up these reports for the night staff and then I want to check in on Daniel before I go. How's he doing?"

"Actually, that's why I'm here." Jack lifted a hand as he saw worry replace the fatigue on her face. "He's fine. He's watching Star Wars for the second time with Teal'c and Carter. Teal'c's in his element, as you can imagine."

Fraiser grinned her acknowledgment of that. The big Jaffa's penchant for Star Wars was well-known around the base. "So..." she prodded.

"Daniel's still asking about his folks," Jack replied. "I'm just wondering what we should be telling him. I think the longer he's left with no answers, the more upset he's going to get. I know that with most cases of amnesia you prefer to let the patient remember on his own, but I also think that Daniel holds most of the answers to what's happened to him if we can just get those memories out."

Fraiser nodded. "I agree, and in actual fact the thing about amnesiacs needing to remember on their own is a fallacy. There's no real harm to be done in helping the memories along. In Daniel's case, I'd suggest you simply answer his questions honestly. Don't prompt him to ask specific things, wait for him to ask, but when he does, tell him the truth as simply and as gently as you can. Don't embellish, tell him only what he's asked. As far as his parents are concerned, if he asks again where they are, tell him they're dead. Once he knows that, his mind may supply the memory of how and when they died which may then trigger other memories in turn."

"Sorta like a chain reaction," Jack said.

"Or a domino effect," Fraiser put in. "With that in mind, if he gets too upset, call me immediately. Whether he likes needles or not, I'll probably want to sedate him. Too much distress will only hinder the process of memory recall."

Jack stood up. "I'll go easy, Doc," he assured her.

"Okay. Let me know how it goes. I'm going to get a couple of hours sleep in one of the private cubicles here."

"Make sure you do that," Jack said firmly. "Colonel's orders."

"Yes, sir." Fraiser smiled and sketched a salute at him as he left.

Daniel was squished between his parents in the back seat of a cab and he shivered, as much from the fever as from the October weather. Mentally, Daniel's mind was accustomed to Colorado temperature, but this body, at this point in time, was acclimated to the warmth of Egyptian sun.

"We're almost there."

"There?" Daniel's gaze skipped from his mother to his father.

"The hotel. Remember?"

No, he really didn't remember, but Daniel wanted to connect the dots himself. Too short to see over the front seat, Daniel peered around his mother, studying the sights out the passenger windows. "New York." He gazed up at his mother. "This is New York."

"Correct," she said with a smile in her voice. "New York. A hotel."

Only once in his lifetime had Daniel and his parents ever flown into a New York airport. And it came back. Every minute. But as he sat in the back seat of the taxi, tucked against his parents, all he could focus on was that his head hurt. His hand hurt. And that he really, really, really wanted to be home.

~o0o~

"Mel. Claire... Daniel... Oh, thank goodness."

Daniel stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the woman approaching them with a speed of a freight train. Confused, he shot a glance at his parents, then stepped backwards, saved from being sucked back into the revolving door by his father's sudden grip on his arm.

His mom welcomed the woman with open arms, hugging her tightly, to the consternation of the hotel patrons who had to skirt around the two women to enter the revolving door.

Mel herded them off to the side, then cocked his head towards Daniel. "Come on, son."

Daniel shuffled behind, the noise of the hotel lobby after the hospital, the taxi, and the shock of where he was and with whom was more than a tad disorientating. His senses were in overdrive... too much, and he grabbed onto the hem of his mother's jacket like a shy schoolboy.

"I was so worried when you called me from the hospital." The woman disengaged herself from Daniel's mother, then bent down to examine Daniel. She smiled, then gently pushed up his glasses.

He smiled back. "Margie..." Tentatively, Daniel reached out and fingered a lock of her long, black, curly hair, so like Sha're's. He wondered why he'd never made the connection before. "I've..." He slammed his mouth shut before his thoughts could come flying out. What was he going to say? I'd forgotten all about you?

Daniel accepted her hug with a sigh, wondering how much more of his early life had been lost in the shock of losing his parents and his life.

"You're still warm," Margie admonished, glaring at his parents.

Daniel hid his smile. Margie was younger than his parents, but her take charge, no nonsense manner made her appear years older. She'd been their assistant. Their right hand person. The person who took charge of the trivial matters. Their buffer with the government, the museum, and his friend.

She stood, keeping one hand on Daniel's shoulder, pulling him up against her legs, her hand resting against his forehead. "The hospital released him? With a fever..."

His dad shook the bag of drugs. "With antibiotics." Gently his dad lifted his hand. "Cream for his burn."

"Burn?... What the..." Margie reached towards Daniel's hand, but changed her mind and draped her arm around his shoulder.

Daniel looked up at Margie. "There were too many sick people in the hospital."

Margie's glance bounced between his parents.

"He's not kidding," Claire said. "The doctor informed us that there was a flu epidemic—"

"So they released him?" She shook her head, her long curls brushing the top of Daniel's head.

"Yup."

"Well, give me the medicine and Daniel." She held out her hand and waggled her fingers.

Mel pulled the bag back. "No, I don't think so."

"Yes, I think so," Margie insisted. "Bill very politely requested your presence for a look-see at the progress—"

"No!" Daniel shouted. "Not now."

"Maybe we should stay here with Daniel... He's been through..." His mother looked towards his father for support.

"Nonsense. Go. Daniel and I will be fine... won't we, Daniel?"

Daniel didn't know what to answer, because it wasn't his health he was worried about.

~o0o~

His parents walked them to the elevators, kissing him one more time, the four of them waving frantic goodbyes as the elevator doors closed.

She pushed the button, then smiled at him. "Hey, if I don't know better, I'd think you didn't want to stay with me." Margie stuck out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout. "That's not true..." She bent down, coming face to face with him, her demeanor changing from playfulness to seriousness. "Is it?"

Margie Morning Glory. That's what he used to call her. But for some reason the name just stuck in his throat and the only thing he could produce was tears.

She opened her cape and like a pair of wings, it enveloped Daniel, shielding him. "This calls for a movie, my soft couch and a sinful chocolaty dessert paid for by the museum. Work for you?"

Daniel nodded, trying to forget how much it hurt and how much he'd hated, and had never really forgiven Margie for deserting him the day after his parents died.

~o0o~

His tears dried, and Daniel tried to remain aloof, sitting in the corner of the couch in her hotel room, ignoring the dish of chocolate ice cream delivered by room service, that was now melting on the table.

"I'm sorry." She sat on the table across from him, picked up the soupy mixture of ice cream and began to eat it. "I don't know what I did to make you angry—"

"You didn't do anything," Daniel mumbled, adding a mental 'not yet' to finish off the sentence. "This is just..." he shrugged. "Strange."

Margie stirred the ice cream, speeding its journey into soup. "Yeah, you're right. Forty-some hours ago, we were sweating under the hot sun, complaining about sand particles in unspeakable places." Her smile wasn't returned by Daniel, but she just shrugged and plowed on. "And now..." She shivered with mock exaggeration, "We're freezing in New York. Half way around the world. Wishing for my flannels as opposed to a cold drink of water and a blast of air conditioning. Things change in a flash. Right?"

"No!" Daniel yelled. "Things will not change in a flash! Everything will remain the same. I'm going to make sure..." Daniel jumped off the couch and ran to the door. "I want my parents. Now!" He turned the knob and it worked, but the door only opened a few inches. He looked up; the chain was in place. Standing on tiptoes, Daniel tried to reach it and he would have made it, if Margie hadn't interfered.

"Daniel?"

He shook his head. "Go away," Daniel said, tugging frantically at the door.

"You're scaring me." Margie's voice was soft and hesitant. "I'm not too sure what you want."

"I want to go home." Leaning his head against the door, the weight of his body snicked the door closed. "Damn it." Daniel gave the door a weak kick, then slid down the wall.

"Shit, Daniel." Margie sat next to him, so close that a piece of paper would have a hard time slipping between the two of them.

His knees hugged his chest, and he dropped his head on top of them.

Margie rested her head on his.

Daniel really wanted to move away, slide away from Margie, but he didn't.

"So Robin, want to explain to Batman why you totally flipped out?"

The Dynamic Duo. Margie's nickname for the two of them. He'd forgotten. Seemed like everything surrounding her was buried so deeply, he needed a steam shovel to uncover it.

"I had a bad day."

She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Plane, seizure, hospital and fever..." Margie pushed back his hair and planted a loud kiss on Daniel's temple. "You still have a fever, a burn on your hand and a bag of antibiotics. Bad day is an understatement."

Squirming, he tried to extricate himself from her grip. "I don't ever remember Batman hugging Robin."

"And I don't remember Robin ever having a temper tantrum that would make a two year old jealous."

"Sorry."

"Want to share what's wrong?"

Daniel tried not to cry at the concern in her voice. "No."

"Okay." She stretched out her legs, the bell at the bottom of her jeans hiding her feet. "Ahh... much better."

Daniel stretched out his legs. Damn, he was small. Margie wasn't as tall as either of his parents, but she still put Daniel's size in perspective. Lifting his ass, he stuck his left hand into his pocket, pulled out the artifact and palmed it. "Did I ever show you this?"

"I've seen you with it. I know it's important to you. Can I?" Margie's fingers hesitated, hovering over the stone.

Daniel nodded. "My mom doesn't recognize the writing."

She raised it up, turning it over, her thumb, rubbing along the inserted stones.

"What does it look like to you?" Daniel stared at the patterns in the carpet, seeing the stone in his mind's eye.

"Scribbling..." Margie traced it with her finger. "Sorta like a little kid would do." She looked at Daniel and smiled.

"You better not be referring to this little kid." He glared at her through narrowed eyes.

"You don't scare me, Daniel Garrett Jackson. I can take you with one hand tied behind my back."

"But you won't. You won't take me anywhere," Daniel said sadly. He scooped the stone from her hand, shoved it in his pocket, got up and headed towards the couch.

Margie appeared before him, stopping Daniel in his tracks, enveloping him in a bear hug before he could even manage of grunt of protest. "I'm not letting you go anywhere, Robin... not without me. What's Batman without his trusty sidekick. As my dear old, stuck in the 50's, military dad used to say... 'No one gets left behind'."

The emotional tsunami came out of nowhere, and Daniel stopped fighting her presence and gave into memories long buried but obviously not forgotten. He clung to her, crying, releasing thirty years of suppressed tears of a dejected, orphaned and lost eight year old boy.

~o0o~

Embarrassed beyond belief, Daniel couldn't even look Margie in the face. She must have sensed it and gave him space, a warm washcloth to clean his face and a box of tissues to blow his nose, then sat at the opposite end of the couch.

Daniel watched the TV but didn't see the images as she flipped through the TV stations. Margie paused at nothing, probably concentrating as much as Daniel. Truthfully, Daniel couldn't help himself and smiled at how much her attention span reminded him of Jack.

The phone rang, the sound incredibly outdated and old-fashioned to Daniel's ears.

"That's probably your parents."

Daniel nodded.

She answered the phone, and gave Daniel an okay sign, matching his nod with one of her own. "We're in room H-24. I have the keys to your room here." She winked at Daniel. "You can pick up Daniel and your keys..." Margie laughed. "We were just relaxing. Watching some TV... See you in a little while."

She hung up the phone and sat on the couch, this time closer to Daniel.

"Thank you for not telling them that..." He ducked his head. "I... you know."

"Lost it?"

Daniel cringed.

She reached out and touched his cheek. "It's been a tough day, Daniel. You've been hanging by a thread... Thank you for trusting me enough to let it all hang out."

~o0o~

Standing before the large picture window in the suite, Daniel gazed upon the expanse of the New York City skyline stretching as far as his eyes could see. He remembered the view. The hotel room and excitement. The view and the hotel room hadn't changed, the excitement was gone, replaced by stomach-churning fear. The TV played in the background, the canned laughter to the antics of the Laugh-In crew a poignant reminder of times long past.

"Come away from the window, Daniel."

Turning away from the city's lights, he offered his mother a slight smile.

"You're tired."

He nodded, inexplicably exhausted.

"Let's get you into bed." His father took over. Gently, he guided him into the bathroom. Daniel stood, compliant, while his father washed his face with a hotel handtowel, then washed his left hand, shaking his head over Daniel's bandaged right hand. "We'll take care of that tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? What day is tomorrow?" Daniel shook while his father hurriedly buttoned the top to his pajamas.

Mel pressed his lips to his son's forehead. "You still have a fever."

"Tomorrow?"

"We'll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow."

"You need to go to the museum tomorrow."

"You need to get better. Don't worry about the exhibit. We have three days to put the finishing touches on it, more than enough time for you to recover."

~o0o~

Daniel was in some type of shock. He knew it. Totally aware and powerless. Fully medicated, he was in bed in the hotel, in his pajamas, tucked in, watching his parents watch him. Their eyes were full of anxiety. The anxiety of being back in the US with a sick child. Anxiety over his seizure, his fever and the inexplicable burn mark on his right palm. Anxiety over their coming exhibition at the museum.

Daniel's anxiety was for how he was going to try his damnedest to rewrite history. Both theirs and his. The next, and last, seventy-two hours of his parents' lives was in his hands.

By the time Jack got back to the VIP room, the tray he carried laden with snacks and drinks, it was clear that Daniel was more relaxed than he'd been since he'd regained consciousness. "Snack time," he carolled as he put the tray down on the dining table.

"Oh, great," Daniel said. "I'm starving. Can you stop the movie, Teal?"

"My name is Teal'c," the Jaffa said, emphasising the final letter.

"Oh." Daniel's face flushed. "Sorry."

"It is of no consequence, DanielJackson," Teal'c said.

"Why do you call me that? DanielJackson?"

"Is it not your name?" Teal'c asked, standing and moving over to the table to snag his drink and chips.

"Well, yeah, but most people just call me Daniel."

"I have always called you DanielJackson. However, if you wish me to change—"

"No, it's fine. It's different. I think I like it," Daniel said, joining them at the table. He picked up the can of Coke and sipped, his eyes closing in apparent bliss. "Yum," he whispered reverently, grinning broadly at them all as they burst out laughing.

"Here." Jack handed him the bag of popcorn then ushered him back over to the bed. "Let's finish watching this movie."

"You've missed most of it," Daniel said, holding the bag out to Jack so he could grab a handful. "We could rewind it for you," he offered in a hopeful tone as he made to reach for the remote.

"Nah, that's fine," Jack said, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "I know how it ends, anyway."

They watched the end of the movie in companionable silence, then Teal'c stood up and turned off the TV. "There are more adventures of Solo and Skywalker," he said. "I shall bring them for you tomorrow. Goodnight, DanielJackson. Sleep well."

Carter stood as well, covering her mouth to smother a yawn. "I think I'll head off, too," she said. "I want to get an early start to study that... thing we were looking at this morning."

Jack nodded his understanding. "Think you might be onto something?" he asked, keeping his question deliberately vague.

"It's the only thing I have to go on right now, sir," she replied. Hesitantly, she leaned down and kissed Daniel's forehead. "See you in the morning, Daniel."

Daniel turned wide eyes on him as they left. "Do I have to sleep here by myself?" he asked, sounding worried.

"Nope," Jack assured him. "I'm staying."

"Oh. There's only one bed," Daniel pointed out.

"I'm having a cot brought in." Jack looked up at a knock on the door. "There it is now," he said, going over to help the airman in with the cot and bedding. "Why don't you go brush your teeth before we hit the hay?" he suggested. "That Coke'll strip the enamel off your teeth overnight if you don't."

"Okay. Mom's really strict about me brushing my teeth," Daniel said, heading to the bathroom.

"Well, that's what moms are for," Jack said.

By the time Daniel came out, Jack had the cot in order and the blankets pulled back on the bed. "Wanna toss for the bed?" he asked, grinning.

"No way," Daniel replied, climbing under the blankets on the cot. "I've never slept in a real army cot before. You can have the bed."

"Sweet."

It seemed like only minutes had passed before Jack was jolted awake by the soft sound of sobs. Switching on the bedside lamp, he saw Daniel, his head completely covered by the blankets on the cot, his shoulders shaking.

"Hey." Jack reached down a hand and patted Daniel's back. "Easy, big fella."

When the crying continued, Jack climbed out of bed and perched on the edge of the cot. He peeled the blankets back from Daniel's red, tear-stained face. "Aw, Danny," he murmured, pulling his friend up and into his arms.

They sat like that for long minutes till Daniel sighed and pushed himself away. "Why haven't my mom and dad come to get me?" he asked, his voice husky with tears.

Jack swallowed down the huge lump that seemed to have taken up residence in his throat. "They can't, Daniel."

"Why?" Daniel asked, his voice pleading. "If you just let me use a phone I can call them. I know where they're staying—"

"Daniel, listen to me really carefully," Jack said softly. "Your parents aren't here because they're dead. They died a long time ago—"

"No!" Daniel screamed. "That's not true! You're lying! I want to see them! Let me go!"

Jack reached for him but Daniel shrugged him away then stood and retreated to the cot, flinging himself down on it and turning his back. "You're lying," he muttered. "Leave me alone."

"Crap!" Jack whispered feelingly. He lay back down against his pillows, turning onto his side, watching as Daniel pulled the covers over his head again.

He stayed awake as long as he could after that, but Daniel never moved or spoke. Eventually, Jack drifted into a restless sleep, waking only when his watch alarm bleeped.

Standing, he stretched the kinks out of his back, rubbed the sleep from his aching eyes, then bent down to check on Daniel.

"Shit," he muttered as his hands encountered only the rumpled blankets.

Daniel was gone.

Daniel sat up in the hotel bed with the covers huddled up about him. He had so much to think about and so little time. He'd been given another chance. A chance to re-live his childhood with his parents, and the very thought of it gave him chills.

He'd thought through everything that had happened after his dad had tucked him into bed. God, how he'd missed that when he was little! He'd tried desperately to make sense of the puzzle he now found himself living and had come up empty. Alice in Wonderland was beginning to look pretty damn tame compared to this.

He'd had a moment's wild thought that he could phone Jack, then realized dejectedly that Jack, at this time, would only be twenty years old and wouldn't have a clue who he was, or anything about the Stargate Program. That thought led him on to worrying about the consequences of what he was hoping to do. Changing the past. How would it affect, not just his future, but that of everyone he knew?

Would he still join the SGC? Would he still go to Abydos and marry Sha're... and lose her, he forced himself to think. What about Jack? Maybe he'd be the one to die on that Special Ops mission, instead of his friend, John. Perhaps they'd go through the Stargate but be killed by Teal'c, instead of him allying himself with them. Maybe they would never meet the Tok'ra and Sam's father, Jacob would simply die of the cancer that plagued him.

He remembered talking to Nick when he was around six years old. He'd had to do an assignment for school about the voyage of the Mayflower. Nick had offered to help and Daniel had eagerly agreed. It wasn't cheating, he'd told himself. He could just as easily look up the information he needed in the encyclopedia, but listening to his grandfather's stories of times past was so much more exciting.

"Nick, what would have happened if the Indians had killed everyone on the Mayflower? Would we still have America?"

Nick had chuckled at him. "Of course, Daniel," he said, ruffling his grandson's hair. "Perhaps not the America we know now, but it would still be here." He'd been silent for a moment then spoke again. "One must be very careful with such things. For by altering one's past, we would, inevitably, alter our future."

The morbid, disquieting thoughts circled endlessly until his head throbbed with pain. He looked down, picking at the bandage on his hand... and a thought struck him. The burn on his palm seemed to be the exact shape as the stone he'd been holding when Sam had scanned it, and after that, he couldn't remember anything until he'd woken up here... in his eight year old body.

Slipping out of bed, his feet thumped loudly on the floor and he froze. He'd forgotten that his shorter legs didn't reach the floor anymore. He waited a moment for his door to open and his mom to chastise him for being out of bed, but when silence reigned, he crept over to the dresser drawer and pulled it open. Fumbling for a moment in the semi-darkness, his hand finally closed around the smooth, round object and he pulled it out. Cradling it against his chest, he headed back to bed and scrambled in.

He ran his fingers blindly along the lines and curves carved into the smooth surface. He knew the writing was vaguely familiar, but all he could bring to mind was that they were similar to Babylonian script. He knew he was missing something, and it would probably be something idiotically simple.

He rested the stone against his bandaged hand, wincing at the pain of pressure against his burned flesh, then closed his eyes and tried to send his thoughts through the years to Sam. "It's the stone, Sam," he whispered softly. "The stone."

He opened his eyes, a little embarrassed at himself. Only in a B-grade sci-fi movie could something like that work. He sighed and lay back against his pillows. Then again, he'd seen some pretty weird stuff since the first time he stepped through the gate. As much as he relished the opportunity to be here with his parents, he missed his team, too.

His bedroom door creaked open and his mother stood in the doorway, hands on hips but an expression of fond exasperation on her face. "Daniel Jackson!" she admonished quietly. "You're supposed to be asleep."

Daniel sat up and smiled at her. "I'm not sleepy." He pushed the stone under his pillow but his mother frowned and stepped up to his bed.

"What are you hiding there?" she asked, holding out her hand.

Daniel sighed. "Just the stone Nick gave me." He held it out to her. "See? I thought I might be able to decipher the markings on it."

Claire's eyes widened at his words. "It's just a stone, Danny. Your grandfather told you it has no significance."

"I know." He looked up at his mother hopefully. "I just wanted to try and figure out what it says."

"Danny, it's getting late—" his mother paused for a second. "How about I give you Nick's journal that you insisted we drag with us all over Kingdom Come. I'm sure his writing would be enough to put you to sleep." She stared at him for a moment longer, then sighed and shook a finger at him. "Half an hour, young man, then it's light's out."

"I promise," Daniel vowed. As she turned to leave the room, he called to her. "Mom? I love you."

She smiled sweetly at him, then bent and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I love you, too, Danny."

~o0o~

An hour and a half later, Daniel's eyes were burning from squinting at his grandfather's cramped notes by the beam of a small flashlight and he was just about drooping with fatigue. Closing the book, feeling dispirited and dejected, he lay down and turned onto his side, sliding his hand beneath his pillow to palm the artifact. In moments, he'd sunk into a restless slumber, tossing and turning as fractured nightmares of his parents' death, and dreams of his lost friends assailed his subconscious mind.

~o0o~

"Mom... do you think...?"

"Not now, Daniel."

He scowled and paced in front of the area where his parents were working. He studied their position intently, inching forward, getting more nervous by the moment. Daniel's stomach gave a sickening flip flop and he rubbed it absently, praying it behaved. Experience had taught him not to take his eyes off his parents, not to be distracted for even one second.

The collision was sudden and unexpected. Daniel had no time to break his fall and he landed on the floor with a thud and a yelp more of surprise than pain.

"Honey, I'm so sorry." Claire was struggling to her knees, offering Daniel a hand. "Are you okay? Did you get—"

"Daniel!" Mel hurried over to them, helping his wife to her feet, separating Daniel from his mother before he had a good grip on her hand. "You promised if you came with us you'd be quiet and stay out from underfoot."

"I was quiet," Daniel said indignantly. It was the underfoot part he failed to mention as he rubbed a sore elbow.

"Daniel!"

His name was spoken too curtly, through gritted teeth, touching off a spark of memory. Daniel had gone too far. Pushed one of his father's buttons, a button Daniel had inherited. "I'm sorry, Daddy. You and mommy are working. I should've known better." Daniel's glance bounced to the empty overhead wench. "I just wanted..."

"Our attention. I know... we won't be much longer." Under his mother's heated gaze, his father's fury abated and he bent down to Daniel's level. "I promise you a hamburger for lunch, how's that?"

"In the restaurant across the street?" The less time his parents spent in the museum, the happier Daniel would be.

"Oh, Claire, Mel... I spoke to the electrician..." Margie's face appeared around his father's shoulder. "What are you doing on the floor, Daniel?"

His dad picked him up under the arms and set him to rights, and the thirty-eight year old part of his brain struggled against being manhandled.

"Whoa, easy, Daniel." His father gave him a curious look.

"You just surprised me," Daniel lied. He glanced at Margie then brushed off his pants. "My mom and I sorta ran into each other."

"Oh," Margie said. "And you fell down and went boom?"

Claire rolled her eyes, stepping in between Margie and Daniel. "Electrician?"

"Oh, yeah. Mr. Sullivan said he'd be here around ten thirty to discuss the lighting options." Margie handed his mother a folder of papers. "Here are the curator's ideas. Mr. Sullivan put comments in the footnotes."

Daniel strained his neck to see what was in the folder. He stood on tiptoes, pulling down on his mother's arm in order to make sure he was privy to their discussion.

"Daniel!" Now it was his mother's turn to be annoyed as the papers slid from the folder onto the floor.

"Daniel..." Margie gripped his elbow and pulled him out of the line of fire. "Why don't you take a walk with me?"

"No..." He tugged his arm from her grasp. "I want to—"

"Go with Margie."

"You can't tell me what to..." Daniel blinked at the shock turning to anger on his parents' face. "Going now..." he said softly, blindly reaching for Margie's hand.

~o0o~

"Do you have a death wish I don't know about, Daniel?" Margie and he were walking down a huge hallway, which had been an offshoot of another hallway she'd turned down while dragging Daniel away from his parents. These were the first words Margie spoke out loud. Daniel wasn't counting the ones she'd been mumbling under her breath.

Daniel stopped dead in his tracks, pulling back on Margie's hand.

She turned, exasperated. "What?"

"Where are you taking me?"

"Isn't it obvious? Out of your parents' hair before they kill you." She shook her head. "You know better than that." Margie pointed in the direction they'd just come from. "What was that back there?"

"Lighting can enhance an exhibition. I just wanted to make sure—"

"You're eight."

"And?"

"You're eight," she repeated with more force. "As in little. As in children should be seen and not heard."

"That's bull..."

Teal'c had nothing on the speed in which Margie's eyebrows met her hairline.

"Crap."

Her eyebrows landed safely back in position. "You're too old for your own good, Daniel Jackson."

~o0o~

"It's says 'private'." Daniel gazed suspiciously at Margie. The door was huge. Old. Tucked away in a corner and had some weird sort of combination lock to keep out trespassers.

"Shush. I know it says private." Margie dug into her well-worn jeans and pulled out a scrap of paper. "It pays to have relatives in high places."

"Huh?"

"No, huh. Here..." Margie handed Daniel the paper. "Unfold this and read me the numbers."

"Twelve." He watched as Margie cautiously dialed the tumbler until it rested on twelve.

"Go ahead."

"Twenty-nine... and, umm, fifteen... then seven."

"Bingo!" Margie's fist pumped the air with the click of the last number.

She crossed the threshold, flicked on the lights then motioned for Daniel to follow her. He slipped in behind her then jumped when she closed the door, the sound was loud in the hushed quiet.

"Oh."

Margie laughed. "Yeah, pretty impressive, isn't it."

It was a library. Not the kind of library where you take out books, but the type of library used for research. Years in academia had taught him the difference.

"Hey, you can breathe," Margie said with a slight chuckle, then checked her watch. "Two hours enough for you to play in here?"

Dumbfounded, Daniel just nodded. Rooms like these were the heart of museums, and he'd spent more hours than he cared to add up in places just like this.

"You got that rock you showed me yesterday?"

Daniel patted his pocket. "Yes."

"Come on," Margie said, tugging at him. "Let's see if we can entertain ourselves with some research."

~o0o~

"No," Daniel insisted.

"Yes," Margie countered, cupping her hand over the stone that Daniel had just placed on the table.

They only had two hours. Daniel wasn't familiar with the layout of the library, but then again, he didn't believe Margie was either. "I want to help."

"How?"

She was damn close to laughing at him and he was damn close to telling her that he could find the answer faster than she ever could. Daniel knew the stone was the reason he was in this predicament, but if he pushed this, Margie was astute enough to become suspicious of all of Daniel's knowledge housed in an eight year old body. He couldn't risk that.

"If I get stuck I'll give you a shout."

"Don't be condescending," Daniel replied. He growled in frustration and stomped away from her, the etchings on the stone committed to enough of his memory to be able to conduct his own research.

~o0o~

Daniel was hidden behind a pile of books and documents, reading. Uncharacteristically, researching the stone was getting pushed into the back corner, along with the problem of timelines and still living dead parents, as well as being stuck in an eight year old body.

"Daniel, do me a favor. Come here, take a look at this."

"Hmmm?" Daniel peered around his tomes, glancing up at the clock in the process. Damn. Only twenty minutes left. He tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "What's the matter, Margie?"

"I think I found writing that looks familiar to your—"

Daniel was by her side before she finished the sentence. "Where?"

"Here. Look at the etchings in this photograph, it matches the—"

"No, it doesn't." It looked familiar, but it wasn't the same.

"Are you crazy? Look." Insistently, she tapped the photo. "Right here. Look."

And with an annoyed shake of his head, Daniel pulled over a stool, sat and pushed Margie's hand to the side. "I'm looking, are you happy?"

Damn.

"Daniel? Shit, Daniel?"

He blinked, staring at the very familiar writing in the opened book before him, then at the stone which sat atop the bandage on his hand. His world narrowed to those two objects. Something was different... hell - that was an understatement. Something was fucked up. The writing... it had been backwards. A mirror-image of the stone he'd brought to Sam.

"Jeesus, what the hell were you trying to do to me?" She shook him gently. "You're as white as a ghost."

Goa'uld. Daniel closed his eyes and sunk into her open, waiting arms. The writing on the stone was an ancient derivative of Goa'uld... which meant... Daniel wasn't too sure exactly what it meant, except that he was angry. Furious. That once again the Goa'uld had stepped up and interfered with his life.

Daniel broke from her grasp and slammed the book shut. "I think it's almost time to go," he said adamantly, pushing the ancient tome to the side. Dropping the artifact on the table, Daniel made a show of rubbing his forehead. "I got a headache." The lie slipped easily off his tongue. "I think I'm probably hungry."

Margie looked as if she didn't believe him, and Daniel pulled backwards when she went to check his forehead. Jumping off the chair, he grabbed the rock and stuffed it in his pocket. "I don't want my parents to get worried."

She checked her watch. "Yeah," Margie said reluctantly, her eyes narrowing to suspicious slits as Daniel began to clear up his workspace.

"You never told me how you managed to get us into the room." Changing the subject was easy.

"Relatives in high places." She picked the uppermost book from Daniel's pile and began to walk towards the bookcase.

"You said that already." Daniel was on her heels.

"Oh, I did, didn't I?" she said with an innocent glance over her shoulder. Margie slid the book back to where it belonged and grabbed another from Daniel's arms. "My Aunt Catherine."

"Aunt Catherine?"

"Yeah... you wanted to know whose code I used to get into the—"

"Ahhh... Aunt Catherine."

Margie laughed. "You say that like you know her."

"Well, if she can give you codes that get you into places like this..." Daniel shifted the books in his arms, waiting until Margie put the one in her hands away before beseechingly looking at her to grab one of the last two books he held. "I do want to meet her."

"I bet she'd love to meet you as well. Maybe one day I'll take you to meet my Aunt Cath." Margie put the book away then grabbed the last one from Daniel. "She's my mother's sister, hence the different last name. Aunt Cath never married... She still goes by her maiden name, Langford."

Unnoticed, the book slipped from Daniel's hand, and for once, he was at a loss for words. Dumbfounded, he stared at Margie who, drawn by the sound of the book hitting the floor, was staring at Daniel.

"Headache," he reminded her, bending down to pick up his book. Daniel's stomach growled loudly, offering a helping hand to his lie.

"Hungry, I know." Margie plucked the book from Daniel's grasp and went to find its home.

Daniel watched her walk away. Studying her. Trying to see if he saw any of his Catherine in her. Maybe in her walk... the color of her eyes? Daniel gave a small, barely detectible groan. Whoever said, 'the more things change the more they remain the same', was a hundred times wrong.

~o0o~

"Daniel? Something wrong with your burger?"

Daniel blinked and looked over at his mother. "Sorry, what?"

Claire pointed at his still uneaten burger. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Not really." He pushed aside the artifact he'd been translating, and sighed.

It made no sense, none at all. Didn't explain why he'd been shot backwards in time, didn't explain why the writing on the artifact had suddenly changed from a mirror-image to one he could read, and most of all, didn't explain why he'd been given a second chance – one where he could save his parents' lives.

She reached out and felt his forehead. "Your fever's gone, that's good. It might take a while for your appetite to return." She turned to Mel. "Are you still going back to the museum after lunch?"

Mel wiped his chin with his napkin and nodded. "Just want to make sure everything's arrived in one piece. You coming?"

"I'd like to take another look at the notes we took," Claire said. She took a sip of her water. "Danny can come back with me and take a nap."

"Can't I go with you, Dad?" Daniel asked, an idea forming in his mind. "I promise I'll be good this time." If he could just take another look at the area, at the equipment, maybe he'd be able to figure out what had gone wrong the first time.

Mel considered it for a moment, then smiled. "Why not?" He called for the check, and after paying, kissed Claire goodbye and led Daniel out to the front of the restaurant. They watched Claire get into a cab, waved goodbye and then began to walk. The museum was only a short distance away and Daniel used the time to formulate a plan in his head.

"You're still awful quiet," Mel said, affectionately ruffling Daniel's hair. "Normally you're talking a mile a minute."

"Just thinking about stuff," Daniel said, grateful when his father left it at that.

They entered the museum. Mel showed his ID to the girl on the desk. Daniel was momentarily taken aback when he recognized her from his dream, fabricated by the Gamekeeper.

"You can't be back here," she said, staring down at Daniel.

"It's okay," Mel assured her. "He's my son. He was here earlier. He won't touch anything."

She looked a little doubtful but nodded and left them to go back to her desk.

Daniel spotted the exhibit partially constructed in the far corner of the vast room, the coverstone now raised on the winch, waiting to be placed into position. The closer they got, the more his steps slowed. In his mind, he could hear the coverstone crashing down, his parents' screams. He stifled a sob.

"Bill!" Mel greeted his chief assistant, who ducked out from under a makeshift canopy that protected the precious artifacts and strode toward them. "Almost ready to go, Mel," he said, shaking Daniel's father's hand. "Hey, Danny, bet you're pretty excited about all of this, huh?"

Daniel swallowed convulsively and nodded. "I– I guess." He looked fearfully at the chains securing the coverstone. "Are you sure the chains are strong enough?" he asked.

"Of course they are, son," Mel said. "Bill's an expert at all this stuff."

"Yep." Bill smiled proudly. "Watch." He stepped beneath the coverstone and tugged on the chain.

"Don't!" Daniel screamed, fear clenching his heart. "Don't do that! It might fall!"

"Daniel!" Mel crouched in front of him, grasping his shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"The chains might break," Daniel sobbed, mortified by the tears that overflowed and ran down his cheeks, but unable to stop them. "Please, Daddy..."

Mel gathered him into his arms and hugged him tightly, stroking a comforting caress down his back. "All right. Shh... It's okay." After a moment, he released him and studied him for a moment. "Okay now? Would you rather I go find Margie and you stay with her?"

Daniel took a hiccuping breath and fought to control his emotions. Finally, he shook his head. "Sorry," he whispered. "I want to stay with you."

Mel smiled at him. "That's all right. Give me just a few minutes to check the deliveries and then we'll head back to the hotel, okay?"

Daniel swiped a hand across his nose. "Okay."

By the time his father returned, took his hand and led him out of the museum into the late afternoon sun, Daniel had already made up his mind. "Sorry, guys," he whispered softly to his absent friends. "I have to try and save them."

~o0o~

His dad went to signal for a cab, but Daniel tugged on his hand, stepping backwards.

"Daniel?"

"I don't want to take a cab." Daniel looked up into his father's concerned expression. How could he explain that he wanted to spend time walking, holding his father's hand, skirting around the crowds on the sidewalk, feeling loved and protected, just for a little while longer, pretending that this was his life. And he was happy. Ignorant of what the future would hold.

Daniel gave his father's hand a little swing. "Let's walk."

His dad shook his head. "It's too long a walk, Danny— "

"Please," he begged. "Just until I get tired?"

His dad bent down and zipped up Daniel's jacket, just like he was a child and incapable of doing it... Daniel gripped his father's fingers, stopping him. "You don't have to, I can..." Oh, he was a child. His father's act was, well, fatherly, and common and normal.

The enormity of the situation hit him hard. Daniel was going to grow up normal. Just like most kids, he was going to have parents. "I love you, Daddy." He dropped his hands and his dad finished zipping up his jacket.

He kissed Daniel on the tip of his nose, then stood. "I love you too, Danny Doodle Bug. Oops, sorry, I didn't mean to call you that, you being all grown up. I just keep forgetting."

"It's okay, Daddy, I changed my mind. You can call me that as long as you want."

"It's not going to be too long, especially if your mother finds out we're walking since you've been sick."

"I won't tell her." Daniel smiled. "I can keep a secret."

"You don't have to keep a secret, maybe if we bring her a hot pretzel, she'll forgive us."

"Bribery?"

His dad laughed, and Daniel laughed, just because his father did. "Bribery would include chocolate and flowers, Daniel. The pretzels is just the we're-walking-down-the-streets-of-Manhattan-and-thinking-of-you gift."

Jack had his hand on the door and was turning the knob when someone knocked on the other side. He pulled the door open to the sight of a sweaty-faced Daniel, accompanied by an SF.

"Colonel O'Neill. I'm sorry to wake you, but I found Doctor Jackson by the elevators."

"Daniel, you okay?" Jack stepped aside to let Daniel in. When he didn't move, Jack pulled on his arm and gave him a tug. Daniel took a few steps into the room and then stood there, looking uncertain.

"Sir, I believe Doctor Jackson isn't well," the SF said in a lowered voice. "He appeared disoriented and as the duty roster stated you and he were occupying this room, I thought it best to escort him back."

Jack watched as Daniel wrapped his arms around himself as he turned to face him.

"Yeah, he's not exactly himself right now." He turned to the SF. "Thank you." Jack shut the door and turned to Daniel.

"I don't feel so good."

"You gonna be sick?"

Daniel gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I already was." He glanced quickly at the closed door and dropped his head to his chest.

"Why don't you get back into bed and see if you can sleep a little more."

As Daniel shuffled slowly towards the cot, Jack waved a hand at the bed. "Wouldn't you rather sleep there? You might be more comfortable."

Shaking his head, Daniel slid under the covers. Jack crouched down next to him, wondering whether he should call Warner. Even from the meager light coming from the bathroom, Daniel's face looked flushed. When Daniel shivered, Jack placed a hand against his cheek and felt the heat. "Well, you've got a fever. Do you think your stomach could stand to drink a bit of water?"

"Maybe."

"Okay, tell you what." Jack stood and went into the bathroom and quickly filled the plastic glass a quarter full of water. "You drink just enough so you can swallow a pill for your fever." Jack put the glass down on the floor next to the cot and got the Tylenol from the top of the bureau. He palmed two, handed them to Daniel and then gave him the water.

Once Daniel had swallowed the pills, Jack got back into bed and punched his pillow. He could hear Daniel turning restlessly on the cot. "You okay?"

"I'm cold."

"Okay, I'll get another blanket." It took him only a moment to find a spare blanket in the cupboard and spread it over Daniel. "Better?"

"Uh huh." Daniel pulled the edge of the blanket right up to his chin, tucking his legs up against his abdomen.

"You gonna be able to sleep now?"

Daniel shrugged, the blankets moving up and down with the motion.

"Why'd you leave the room? Were you looking for your folks?"

Jack had been about to go back to his bed but when Daniel didn't answer, he realized his friend needed some sort of reassurance, and he wasn't sure how to go about it. He sighed as he sat on the edge of the cot. The joints of the cot legs creaked ominously and Daniel giggled softly. "If this thing falls apart, you better be there to break my fall."

"I don't weigh that much. You'll crush me if you fall on top of me."

"In that case, you better not move around too much." Jack deliberately shifted his weight on the cot, making it creak some more and eliciting a couple more giggles from Daniel.

"Don't. Stop it." There was no fear in Daniel's words, and his eyes shone with a lessening of the shadows that had haunted him since he'd woken up from the incident in Carter's lab.

Jack leaned over Daniel and adjusted the blankets, then put his hands on Daniel's shoulders. "Okay. It's still early so maybe this old Colonel and his sidekick archeologist can get a bit more sleep." Jack figured another hour or two wouldn't make all that much difference in his schedule today, as long as he got to his office to check out his emails.

"I'm not an archeologist." Daniel shifted, trying to get comfortable. "My mom and daddy are, though." He turned onto his back and stretched out, and his feet hung over the edge of the cot. With an irritated huff, Daniel turned onto his side. "But I'm going to be one when I grow up."

With Daniel settling down again, Jack returned to his bed. He'd barely slid under the covers when Daniel spoke softly.

"Why are you all lying to me?"

With a grimace, Jack turned onto his back. "We're not."

"Why did you tell me my parents died?"

"Because... Daniel, remember Carter asking you about amnesia?"

"Yeah."

"That's what happened to you. See, you're not a little kid. You're grown up. But you've forgotten a good part of your life and only remember up to when you were, what, seven? Eight?"

"I'm eight."

"Think about it, Daniel. There's no way on Earth an eight year old kid could be transported into the body of his adult self—"

Jack suddenly realized how wrong his words were. Okay, maybe part of his logic was off but hell, he'd shared Daniel's body for several minutes thanks to Machello, and Teal'c's for even longer. Maybe, just maybe, this was more than plain amnesia.

"It's kinda like the stuff out of a Buck Rogers story, huh?" Daniel turned over and looked at him excitedly. "Or Star Wars? Maybe I'm like Luke Skywalker, and the Force did this to me."

"Well, something did this to you, and everyone's working hard trying to figure out how it happened."

"And my mom and dad?"

"Daniel, I'm sorry. They've been gone for a long time. I guess, to you, it seems like you last saw them yesterday."

"So... they're not waiting with the other people from the plane—"

"There was no plane. It was a dream, or a memory, maybe."

Daniel was quiet for a long time and Jack began to suspect that he'd fallen asleep. He closed his eyes, only to open them when Daniel turned around on the cot, his movements vigorous enough to cause the feet of the cot to shift loudly.

"It's not a memory. You're wrong. Even though you say it can't happen, I know it did. I know my mom and dad are looking for me, and if you won't help me find them, then I'll look for them myself.

"Daniel—"

"I was in the plane. And there was lightning and it hit and Nicks' artifact burned my hand and... and... and... where is it?" Daniel was suddenly pulling the bedcovers apart, throwing them onto the floor. He'd managed to take the cot apart by the time Jack sat up in bed. He watched with a heavy heart as Daniel next began searching the room.

"Daniel."

"I have to find it. Mom's gonna kill me if I lose it." He opened the drawers haphazardly, slamming them shut when he found nothing inside. He ran to the table and began rummaging through items, knocking an opened bag of popcorn to the floor in his haste. "Nick gave it to me. It's special. I can't lose it." He moved to the small night table next to the bed.

"Carter told you already. It's in her lab. You didn't lose it."

"Can we get it?" There was such an anxious expression on Daniel's face that Jack caved. He nodded slowly.

"Great. C'mon." Daniel hurried to the door and pulled it open. He hurried out into the hallway, his bare feet pattering loudly on the cement.

Jack grimaced and reached for his boots. It didn't look like Daniel would be getting any extra sleep this morning. He'd barely set his butt back on the mattress when Daniel peeked inside.

"Are you coming?" he asked impatiently.

Jack slowly thrust one foot into his boot and began lacing it up. "Put your slippers on." As Daniel hurried to obey, putting Jack's slightly too large slippers on his feet, Jack finished with his second boot.

He grabbed a bathrobe from the pile of clothes Carter and Teal'c had appropriated from their lockers and threw it at Daniel. He fumbled the catch, then awkwardly manipulated the material until he was able to put it on over his scrubs.

"Is it far? How come it's in Sam's lab?" Daniel hurried along beside Jack, his slippers making scuffing sounds on the cement floor. He paused, however, at every open door, peering inside quickly before rushing to catch up.

"It's just a few floors above us." They stopped at the elevator and even while waiting for the elevator, Daniel moved off to explore. Obviously this amnesiac version of his best friend was just as curious. He finally stood still when they got inside the elevator.

"Hey, we're going up."

"Yeah, I told you it was two floors up."

"But the numbers are going the wrong way."

Jack smiled. "That's because we're underground."

Daniel was flagging, he tried to pretend he wasn't, but he was. He was cold and tired. Much colder and more tired than he should've been, even though the walk had been a long one. If he picked up his head, the top of their hotel was visible in the surrounding skyline.

"Daddy?" Daniel stayed plastered to his father's side as they crossed the busy street. The world from this size was crowded, and more than a tad scary.

His father waited until they'd crossed the street and the intersecting avenue before answering. "Yeah, Daniel?"

"Don't forget the pretzels."

~o0o~

Daniel held the paper bag filled with the three large pretzels out to his mom, but she wasn't looking at him, she only had eyes for her husband. "I was getting worried." She was angry. Very.

"We bought pretzels." Daniel stepped between the two and held the bag up for his mom. "It was daddy's idea."

"Not now, Daniel." Gently, she pushed him to t