Hospital Shoes (#19 in LD Shoelaces Universe)
by Jennamajig

SUMMARY: Daniel tried to deal with being little Daniel. Inspired by the DJsSG-1Lverse yahoo list.

SEASON/SPOILERS: None.

DISCLAIMER: The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.

"But, Jack, I don't want to stay here. Don't go."

The words tore at Jack's heart. Daniel sounded so small and when

Jack looked down at him, the hospital bed seemed to dwarf him even further. His pint-sized archaeologist clutched the bed rail.

Jack sighed. "I have to, kiddo. They stretch the rules for parents, but I need to go home and feed Dannie. I'll be back before you know it." Jack hoped the use of the nickname might help, but Daniel frowned. He released his hold on the rail and plopped himself on the mattress.

"I know," he said, dejected. "I'm being stupid. You'll be back."

Jack watched Daniel do the self-hug thing, and it was even more painful to watch now that Daniel was six. "You're not being stupid, Daniel," he told him. "Hospitals are scary places."

"It's not that," Daniel said, but Jack didn't believe him for a second. "They treat me like a kid here. Look at the walls, Jack."

Jack didn't need to look at them. He'd seen the colorful Disney characters the first time the nurse had led them into the pediatric ward. He'd watched Daniel take one look at them and blanch. He'd been afraid Daniel would bolt.

"Only for one night," Jack had told him, trying to sound soothing. It was the second time he said these exact words in the last two hours. "By tomorrow afternoon you'll be eating ice cream and watching the History channel in our living from the comfort of the couch."

Ice cream. He made a mental note to buy lots of it on his way home to feed Dannie.

"I don't need my tonsils out." Daniel's thumb was creeping up towards his mouth and Jack reached out to intercept it.

"Dr. Richards seems to think you do." He rubbed Daniel's hand, hoping he'd settle.

"He's wrong."

Jack's brain sighed silently. He wasn't getting anywhere. He released Daniel's hand. "I'm going to go make a couple of phone calls. I'll be right back."

"Okay," Daniel agreed and Jack knew that he was terrified.

--

The whole ordeal had started four months ago, before Janet had strongly recommended turning Daniel's care over to a pediatrician.

"He has tonsillitis," she'd announced after peering down his throat. Daniel was outraged.

"That's a kid's disease!" he said, then winced, the mere act of speaking obviously a painful undertaking.

"Like it or not, you are physically a kid, Daniel," Fraiser pointed out. "I'll give you some antibiotics and you should be as good as new in a few days."

The next incident hadn't been as easy. It had been a month and a half since the visit to Janet and was their second trip to Dr. Richards' office. Daniel was listless, feverish, and refusing to eat. It took Jack three seconds to pick up on the sore throat. So off to Richards it was. Jack had grown fond of the physician after the way he handled Daniel during his initial visit. He figured it would be in and out.

It was, mostly. Richard's had frowned at the fact that it was Daniel's second infection, but said nothing as he scrawled the new information across Daniel's file. This didn't bode well, Jack thought. He'd pulled the doctor aside, remembering his own bout with the disease years ago. It had only taken one infection to raise a red flag and earn Jack a scary week long experience on the children's ward at the local hospital.

"It's too early to tell," Richards told him. "We don't remove tonsils after one infection anymore. Usually it only comes down to that if the child has over five bouts in one year. Daniel's only had two." He handed Jack a prescription. "He'll be back to normal in a couple of days, but make sure he takes all the antibiotics."

"Will do," Jack agreed.

The third infection occurred shortly after Daniel's first trip off-world. The fourth happened after Daniel broke his arm.

The fifth...well, the cast was off thankfully. Daniel had just learned to finally tie his shoes and spent three days tying everything he could his lay his hands on to improve his technique when Jack noticed the kid wincing when he swallowed. The fever followed and it was back to the pediatrician by the end of that week.

Richards wasn't happy to see Daniel again. He took a quick glace down the tiny archaeologist's throat before exchanging a look with Jack.

"It's time for those tonsils to come out."

Daniel wasn't thrilled, to say the least. He'd tried every which way to get out of the operation.

Jack wasn't buying it.

When Daniel finally realized he had no choice in the matter, he then tried to get Janet to do the surgery in the infirmary. But the red-haired doctor wasn't budging, either. She said the pediatric ward at the local hospital was the best place for him. Daniel was crushed, arguing about it even as they stepped foot into the hospital earlier that evening.

Daniel had clutched Jack's hand a little tighter as they made there way through the halls. Jack could tell that he was resisting the urge to stick his thumb in his mouth and trying to put on his best "I am not a child" expression.

"I don't need my tonsils out," Daniel said for the what seemed like the hundredth time. However his voice now had a whiny edge to it.

Ah, so now Daniel was going for the annoy-the-hell-out-of-Jack-until-he-caves tactic.

"Dr. Richards disagrees with you, kiddo." Jack had a feeling they'd be replaying this conversation later.

"Dr. Richards is wrong." Ahead of them, the nurse stopped at a room.

"Here you go," she announced cheerfully.

Jack saw Daniel swallow and squeezed his hand.

The room was too bright, and the comforter had Sponge Bob smiling right at him. Great. It was a double room, but thankfully the other bed was empty.

"I want to go home," Daniel pleaded, pulling Jack back towards the door.

"No can do." He had to be firm. Jack placed Daniel's overnight bag on the bed. He turned to the nurse. "He can wear his own pjs, right?"

She nodded. "For tonight, he can. He'll get a gown in the morning prior to surgery."

"Hey, he's right here." Annoyed, Daniel tapped his foot. The nurse smiled, a little too fake and perky for Jack's taste. This was not going to go well.

"Of course," she said before exiting, leaving Daniel and Jack with some semblance of peace. Daniel looked up at Jack, obviously ready to bat his eyelashes.

"We can go to the infirmary, Jack. I'll let Janet take my tonsils out. Please."

Jack shook his head and sighed. They'd been though this already. Several times. "Not happening. Listen, I know it looks like Nickelodeon and Disney threw up in here, but it's only for twelve hours. You've been though much worse and for a hell of lot longer. This pales in comparison to gate travel."

Daniel wasn't buying it. "I like gate travel. I don't like this."

"You'll keep getting sore throats that will keep you from the SGC and any hope of going through the gate. It's a necessary evil."

"I said I'd go to the infirmary."

"And I said it's not happening. So," Jack unzipped Daniel's bag as he spoke, "let's get you into your pjs and settled."

Daniel sighed. "It's six o'clock."

Jack shrugged. "Hospital rules. I could go and ask Nurse Perky for a hospital gown if you wanted?"

Daniel sighed and took the proffered pajamas. "This is under protest, just so you know."

"I think everyone knows, Daniel," Jack shot back. "Get changed."

--

Jack hung up the pay phone. Carter had agreed to feed Dannie, so at least that was taken care. The other Danny was a different story. That Danny was still scared and Jack wished a simple bowl of food could solve his problem.

Daniel was sitting up in the bed, using the remote to flip through the selection of children's channels the TV had to offer. At least he wasn't gripping the bedrails. If Jack had come back to see that again, he wasn't sure he wouldn't have caved.

"Daniel." The six-year-old turned his head.

"All kiddie channels," he complained, though Jack didn't miss the glint of relief in Daniel's eyes the moment he saw Jack.

"Children's ward. The History Channel isn't exactly every kid's choice when it come to TV." Jack pushed down on the rails so he could sit on the edge of Daniel's bed. "You okay, kiddo?"

"I'm fine, Jack. Stupid question."

Jack smiled. "No question is stupid. I believe a great philosopher, or maybe it was an archaeologist, who told me that."

"So?" Daniel blinked and looked down at his sheets.

"It's okay to be scared, you know." Jack figured if Daniel didn't want to admit it, Jack could admit it for him.

"I'm not scared," Daniel insisted.

"Your eyes so you are. Six-year-old eyes don't lie. Trust me."

"I'm not a kid, Jack."

"Not a conventional one, no. But you are scared, which is perfectly all right. I mean, a hospital's a big place. Scares the hell out of me and I'm...well, let's just say I'm well past the age of six."

"I know how old you are, Jack. You're not fooling anyone."

Jack snapped his fingers. "Oh, damn. And I thought I've convinced that nurse I was thirty." Daniel grinned. "See? I miss that smile.."

"I'm really not scared, Jack. Well, most of me isn't. I mean, it's just my tonsils, right? But there's this other part that well is..."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Is six and scared to death?"

"Yeah. Like the part that hates needles and didn't want to get his arm set. That part keeps thinking, will it hurt? Which is silly, because I know it won't. I'll be asleep."

"That's right," Jack agreed. "And you'll get ice cream. I had Carter make sure to stock up the freezer when she dropped by to feed Dannie."

"Feed Dannie..." Daniel trailed off and then his eyes brightened. "You're staying."

"Till they kick me out, kiddo. Which, in fact, I found out, they won't. Guardians get to spend the night. So here tonight, here tomorrow, before the surgery, and here when they bring you back to your room. Then we'll go home and left the hospital, your tonsils, and Sponge Bob behind."

"Yeah," Daniel agreed. "But Jack?"

"Yes, Daniel?"

"Um, I kinda like Sponge Bob. Um, can I, um..."

Jack simply grinned. He knew Daniel had to give into his kid urges eventually. And Sponge Bob, well, if Jack was honest, the show was a little addicting.

"We'll see what we can do."

--

Daniel hated being treated like the six-year-old kid he looked like.

Yet, at this moment, he felt every bit like that six-year-old kid.

"Say good-bye to Dad."

No, Jack couldn't go. He didn't want him to go. Please don't make him go away.

But the gurney started moving.

"Can I walk with you?"

Yes, please, yes, let Jack walk with them.

"Sure. We'll have to ask you to leave you when we get closer to the OR, though."

"Of course."

Daniel gulped. OR. A word he'd heard Janet say a million times, yet it never seemed as scary before.

He'd never had to battle a six-year-old psyche before. Why, oh why, was fate messing with him?

"Hey, kiddo."

Jack's hand reached for his, then squeezed.

"It's all right to be scared, you know. But you can do this."

Could he? Sure, he'd had surgery before. Emergency surgery, even. Life or death surgery. But that was when he had been an adult and usually too out of it to care. Now they'd poke him with needles and...

He closed his eyes. Don't think about it. Just don't think about it.

The gurney stopped.

"Okay, Dad, this as far as you can go."

"Daniel?"

Daniel peeled open his eyes and looked at Jack.

"Don't go," he whispered.

He saw Jack pause a moment. "I have too, kiddo. You've been through worse. Think about that."

He had been. But they had no bearing on what was happening now.

"Jack..."

The gurney was moving again, through double doors, into the bright white operating room. One that looked nothing like that ones on TV. Or the ones in the SGC for that matter.

Daniel didn't like this.

They asked him to scoot over onto the narrow operating table. The nurse was all smiles. Or at least Daniel thought she was. A surgical mask covered most of her face. But her eyes were kind.

Another masked woman appeared in his vision. He recognized her as the woman who'd stopped by his room last room. The anesthesiologist. Great, another person who'd smiled, then talked to him like he hadn't understood what was about to happen.

Which he did. Which, of course, was part of the problem. Too much information combined with that inane childish fear.

"You like balloons?"

Oh, God, he thought he might vomit. For several reasons.

He wanted Jack.

He wasn't sure if he answered, but obviously he did. The next thing he knew, the woman was holding a foul smelling mask over his mouth and nose and pointing to a rubber bag to the right of him.

"Big breath in, then blow it out like you're blowing up a balloon."

He didn't want to do this. He wanted Jack to be here. He wanted Janet to be here. He wanted to be thirty-nine and not dealing with this crap.

He turned his head to escape the mask, but the woman only followed him and pressed it firmer to his face. He was forced to take a deep breath in.

"And blow it out. Watch the balloon. Make it nice and round," she coaxed, not releasing her grip. He felt her tuck a finger under his chin, pushing the mask even tighter over his nose and mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bag fill again. He knew that he had no choice but to take in another lungful of the pungent sweet air and almost sobbed into the mask.

Jack was right. He was scared...

...and sleepy. He felt his eyelids start to droop. The "balloon" deflated as he took another deep breath in.

"Good," the anesthesiologist praised, but he didn't care. His brain felt fuzzy and suddenly his breathing sounded very loud, overwhelming all the rest of the noises of the OR.

Another breath and he closed his eyes...

--

His throat hurt. A lot. Worse than it ever had.

That was the first thought that entered his head as consciousness slowly crept in. His brain was full of cobwebs, but his throat was killing him.

And his mouth tasted bad. The foul sweetness of the anesthesia remained on his tongue and he licked and scrunched his lips to try and rid himself of the taste.

"Daniel?"

He knew that voice. That voice knew him.

"Come on, kiddo. Open those eyes."

Jack! That's it! He pried his eyes open and saw fuzziness above him.

"J-" he tried, but he couldn't get past the first letter. His throat hurt entirely too much.

"Shh. Don't talk. When you wake up some more I'll get you some paper and a pen. Oh, and some ice cream."

Ice Cream? He liked ice cream. He blinked, trying to get the image of Jack above him into focus.

Instead, he felt his eyes close and it was dark again.

--

The next time his eyes opened, he found himself staring at a white ceiling. But, unlike before, thankfully, it was at least in focus.

Still, there was no Jack.

He tried clearing his throat, but the action only reawakened a flood of pain through his entire throat. He swallowed and the pain magnified even more.

Damn it! He pounded his little fist on the bed.

"Daniel?"

A face came into his line of vision. Jack. He grinned.

"'ck," he tried to say, but failed. His throat was, as a normal six-year-old might say, one big "ouch." The thirty-nine-year-old side of Daniel's brain could come up with a few different, more colorful ways to describe the pain.

He realized his bed was moving up. And Dr. Richards was there. Standing next to Jack, who was pulling the tray table over. Daniel brightened when he saw a bowl on top of it.

Jack smiled. "Chocolate. No chips, though. They'll hurt."

Daniel just grabbed the spoon Jack offered. Chocolate would do just fine. The ice cream felt like heaven. He savored each spoonful, letting it sit, melt, and slide slowly down his throat.

"You did very well, Daniel," Dr. Richards said. "You'll be able to go home very soon."

Home? Now that was another word he liked. If Richards offered him something to help with the pain before he left, Daniel might kiss him.

"I'm going to write Daniel a prescription for antibiotics and another for Tylenol with codeine. The liquid stuff, since swallowing pills after a tonsillectomy is a whole different brand of torture. Make sure he eats something first, though. Codeine's not so great on an empty stomach. He'll probably need it for a first couple of days, but the great thing about being six is that you bounce back rather quickly." Richards smiled at Daniel. "By the end of the week, you'll forget you even had tonsils, Daniel."

Daniel raised an eyebrow as he shoved another bite of ice cream into

his mouth. Forget? Hardly.

"Trust me," Richards said. "Though don't let the pain keep you from eating or drinking. The severe pain should only last about three to five days, but I will warn you that it will probably get pretty bad for a day or two before it gets better. If the codeine isn't cutting it, though I'm pretty sure it should, call me and I can find something that'll work." He met Daniel's eyes. "That means you'll need to be honest with your dad, Daniel. Pain can mean many things. Some not so great."

Daniel glared. So Janet did have that long talk with Richards she had been threatening him with.

Jack just grinned and patted Daniel's head. "Oh, he will. He knows better not to. Right, Daniel?"

Daniel stuck his tongue out.

"Typical Daniel response," Jack told the doctor, shrugging.

"Of course. Now, I'll mention it again and it'll be on the discharge instructions, but I want to see Daniel again in six days. Just call the office when you get home and they'll get it set up for
you. Oh, and a reminder - no heavy lifting or exertion for ten days."

"Exertion?" Jack asked. "He had his tonsils out, not something like knee surgery."

"Every surgery is a trauma to the body, Colonel O'Neill. No matter how minor it seems." Richards turned to Daniel. "Now, let's see how well that ice cream sits and if it stays put, I'll spring you."

--

The ice cream stayed put. It stayed put all through Daniel's discharge, all through the wheelchair ride to the lobby, and all through the car ride home. In fact, Daniel even fell asleep and Jack had to wake him when they pulled into the driveway.

That's when his stomach decided to revolt. He and Jack barely made it through the front door when Daniel bolted for the bathroom.

Throwing up after a tonsillectomy sucked. A lot. He found himself in tears by the end of it all. His throat was burning and there was a slight copper taste in the back of his mouth. A little bit a bleeding wasn't uncommon, Richards said, but Daniel still found it gross. And it certainly didn't help the nausea at all.

Jack's hand rubbed his back. "You think you're done, kiddo?"

Daniel nodded and took the toilet paper Jack offered. He tried wiping his mouth, but his coordination was off, no doubt due to the drugs still in his system. Jack took the task into his own hands and Daniel sagged back into his chest when he was finished.

He knew he must have looked miserable, because Jack scooped him up into his arms.

"Bed or couch?" Jack asked. "Just point."

Daniel wasn't ready for bed, so he pointed towards the living room, surprised to see a pillow and blanket already out.

"Ah, Carter. I guess we'll both owe her a box of chocolates, huh, Daniel?"

His response was a yawn.

Jack grinned. "Don't know what Carter would say to that response." He stopped in front of the couch and plopped Daniel down, his knees creaking a bit on the way down.

"Sorry," Daniel mouthed.

"For the knees? Not your fault, well, maybe a few of those knee injuries off world were your fault," he teased, stroking a piece of hair off of Daniel's forehead. "Want some water? Or ice cream?"

Daniel gripped his stomach. The thought of anything entering his mouth made him nauseous. He shook his head.

"Okay," Jack conceded. "But you toss your cookies again and I'm calling the doc."

Daniel shook his head again. He hated not being able to talk. He mimed writing.

"Oh you want a pen?" Jack grinned. "I don't know...I kinda like you this way. Can't talk back."

Daniel sighed.

"Okay, okay." Jack got up for a moment, then returned with a pad and pencil.

Daniel gripped the pencil, but he realized that his small hands couldn't hold the yellow writing implement very well. Damn it! He'd forgotten this simple fact. He used overly fat pens at work because of this problem.

"Oh, sorry, Daniel." Jack switched the pencil in his hand for a larger black one. Daniel smiled. It took all his concentration to hold the pen steady, as his dexterity skills were still somewhat offline.

"I wish" he wrote and then realized he could barely read the words. While Daniel had never had great penmanship, even when he had been thirty-nine, his childish scrawl seemed ten times worse. He lowered the pad and frowned.

Jack craned his neck to read it. "You wish... You wish what?"

He blinked. "You can read this?" he mouthed.

Jack looked confused. "Of course I can. Why do you...oh." Realization hit his face. "Oh, Daniel, it'll get better. Well, maybe not that better - I mean I've seen your adult handwriting - but it'll get easier. And I can read it. That's all that's important for now, isn't it?"

It was, really, Daniel knew. As long as Jack understood, everything was okay. He yawned again and closed his eyes.

He felt Jack tuck a blanket around his shoulders and a hand brush across his forehead right before he drifted back into dreamland.

--

"Daniel, you need to eat something." Jack offered Daniel the bowl of Jell-o yet again.

Daniel shook his head and reached for his pencil. A moment later he held up the pad.

Jack read the two words and sighed. "I know it hurts, kiddo, but you're haven't eaten anything since last night. It's dinnertime. You have to eat."

Another headshake was the only response he got. Jack sighed again, deeper this time, and put the bowl on the coffee table. "Drink something at least, then." He picked the glass of water he'd brought with the red jiggly desert.

Daniel frowned and Jack knew that the water wasn't happening either. His little..."wonder" was as stubborn as they come.

Whether at six or thirty-nine, Daniel was set in his ways and didn't always listen to reason. Jack needed to try another approach.

"Fine, Daniel. But when you get dehydrated and I have to drag your little behind back to the ER, you can deal with Richards. Or better yet, another pediatrician on duty who will treat you every bit like a six-year-old. Perhaps that doctor that fixed your broken arm, even..."

Daniel reached out and grabbed the glass. He glared at Jack as he took a sip, then grimaced.

Jack grinned. "Much better. Now, eat something, and I'll be able to give you some codeine."

--

Twenty-hours post surgery was a little bit better. Thirty-six hours post surgery was good. Daniel was still pain and still miserable, but the kid was slowly coming back to normal.

He still couldn't talk and Jack had to admit, while the silence was nice at first, he missed the little voice. Daniel was clingy as well. Carter had stopped by, bearing a new trio of Sponge Bob videos hot off the Target shelve and Daniel had spent the entire hour and a half of viewing time watching the first video pressed against Jack's chest on the sofa. By the time the last credits rolled, Daniel was sound asleep and Jack couldn't help stroking his soft blond hair.

"He looks so peaceful," Carter commented from her perch on one of the armchairs.

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "Throat's still bothering him a lot, and the doc said it will for a couple more days. When he's asleep..."

Jack's voice trailed off.

Carter flashed him a grin. "I understand, sir."

"Jack," he corrected. "We're off duty, Carter. You're allowed to call me Jack."

"Okay, sir, I mean, Jack." The word sounded odd coming from Carter's mouth and she looked uncomfortable saying it.

"Sir it is, then," Jack conceded and decided to change the subject. "Daniel told me you and he had a productive afternoon the time I left the two of you alone together."

"We did," Carter agreed, and shifted in her seat. "I should have done it sooner. It's just, we didn't - don't still, really - know if this is permanent."

Jack looked back down at the sleeping mass of child in his lap. "It's been almost eleven months."

"I know. But don't you miss him? Older Daniel, I mean. I know that's a bit unfair to say, really. Thirty-nine-year-old Daniel is in there still, but he's mixed with this child that I love. But it's different."

Jack shifted his eyes off of Daniel and back to her. "It is different. But this is Daniel. I love him, big or small. This packaging just takes some getting used to."

"You didn't answer my answer, sir. You're closer to Daniel than I am. Than Teal'c is. Don't you miss him?"

"He's right here."

"Jack." This time there was no awkwardness in the use of his first name. Only questions seeking answers.

"For crying out loud, Carter." He sighed. "Of course I do." His voice was soft. "But it doesn't matter what I feel because it doesn't mean anything. It's not fair to Daniel. To this Daniel, the one sitting in my arms, with those blue eyes. The one who just two days ago asked me not to leave when they wheeled him down to surgery. One thing isn't different. Daniel needs me."

"And you need him." The words weren't a question, only a statement. Carter held his gaze.

"I do," Jack whispered. "I think we all do."

--

On the fifth day post-op, the pain worsened. Richards had told Jack to expect this, but Jack realized he hadn't really been prepared.

Daniel wouldn't eat or drink. In fact, Jack had been unable to coax the six-year-old to consume anything in the past twelve hours. A glance at pamphlet Richards' set home with Daniel's post-op instructions said that a physician should be contacted if the patient hasn't had anything for over twenty-four hours. Jack had twelve more to keep trying.

Daniel wasn't eating, so the codeine was a no-no, yet he was in pain and needed the codeine. But if he took the codeine, Daniel threw up. It was a catch 22 and Jack was glad that Daniel's follow-up appointment was scheduled for 9:30 the following morning. That was also just around the cut off time for Daniel's need to drink something, anything.

Jack opened the fridge and poured yet another glass of apple juice. Daniel was going to drink this one, he told himself as he picked up the glass and headed towards the living room.

Sponge Bob was on again. Nickelodeon was having a marathon and it was helping distract Daniel from his throat. Daniel's pad was thrown on coffee table. A box of tissues rested on top of it.

Jack frowned at the tissues. They hadn't been there before.

"Daniel?"

Daniel turned his head at his name and Jack held out the glass of juice, just waiting for that all-too-familiar shake of the head.

But Daniel did neither. Instead, Jack noticed the kid had a tissue balled up in his right fist. Daniel looked worried.

"Hurts," he mouthed and Jack immediately reached for the tissue, unfolding it.

He saw red.

The tissue was dropped, the glass practically dropped down to the coffee table, apple juice splashing onto the writing pad.

Jack couldn't find Richards' number fast enough.

--

A tonsillectomy. Daniel had had a fucking tonsillectomy. And now Jack was back in a tiny curtained off cubicle in the ER, a frightened Daniel clinging to him as they both sat on the gurney waiting for Richards.

Daniel was bleeding from his throat. Which, in itself wasn't pretty, but Daniel wasn't only bleeding, he was swallowing blood, and that led to vomiting blood, a whole mess of it in his car, on the floor in the ER, and in the basin on the foot of the bed.

Jack thought he might be having a nervous breakdown.

The ER doctor who performed the initial exam wasn't too concerned. He said hemorrhage was the most common complication of a tonsillectomy and it happened about three percent of the time. Plus, he noted, this was secondary bleeding, occurring well over twenty-four hours after surgery.

Wonderful, Jack had thought. The words did nothing to make him feel better. He wanted to call Fraiser, but cell phone usage was a no-no and he wasn't about to leave Daniel to use a payphone in the lobby. Damn it, maybe he should have called her instead of Richards. She would explain.

Jack lost count as what puke session Daniel had finished not too long ago and Daniel was shaking in his grasp. An IV line was now up and running into Daniel's left hand. Jack kicked himself. Stupid. He should have called someone else before bundling Daniel up and heading out. But the second Richards said he should take him to the hospital as a precaution, all of Jack's common sense went out the window, replaced by parental need to make it all better.

Parental need. He blinked at the thought. Even though it was the routine he and Daniel had started to settle in, Jack hadn't been able to admit to himself that he was, at least on paper, Daniel's father.

Oh yeah, he told Daniel that he had given him something he missed very much. But Daniel was Daniel. Six, yet not, stubborn, and still clinging to the hope that someday, somehow, someone would be able to reverse this whole situation and give him back the adult life he had. That he deserved.

Jack stroked Daniel's hair, murmuring reassurances.

Like it or not, he was definitely a parent again. And like any parent, the moment he saw Richards, he breathed a tiny sigh of relief.

It, however, was short lived.

Richards got Daniel to open up and peered into his throat. He picked up Daniel's chart from a table along side the gurney.

"I know it seems scary," Richards started.

"No shit it does," Jack huffed, before he had a chance to think. He quickly shut his mouth and nodded for the doctor to continue.

"The bleeding isn't too bad," the doctor continued. "However, in the three hours since you both have been here, it hasn't stopped." He crouched down a bit to meet Daniel's eyes. "You dad says you told him you've been bleeding since this morning. Is that true?"

Jack tensed at the question and tensed even more when Daniel slowly nodded. When Richards had asked him over the phone how long Daniel had been bleeding, Jack almost panicked as he realized he had no idea. Thankfully, Daniel had reached for his apple juice stained pad and written "since I woke up" across the top sheet.

"Okay, then. We're going to try and stop it." Richards straightened himself up to address both Jack and Daniel. "We'll try applying some pressure first to the tonsil fossa, the surgical site. Add some epinephrine and it usually does the trick."

Jack felt Daniel flinch at the word pressure. "That hurts, I would guess."

Richards nodded. "It does." He looked towards Daniel. "Don't worry, Daniel. We'll give you a little something for the pain, I promise."

"What if it doesn't work?" Jack hated the "what if" game, but in his line of work it had to be played and played often.

"Then it'll be a trip back the operating room, I'm afraid, where we can cauterize the tonsil bed under general anesthesia."

"Peachy," Jack muttered. "Just peachy."

--

Daniel wasn't a happy camper. Not at all. Jack wouldn't be either, if someone came welding a long clamp and a sponge, and wanted to stick it down his throat.

The procedure hadn't worked and Daniel was in tears at the end. If anything, the bleeding was worse, Daniel had thrown up yet again, and Richards had ordered an additional IV to start replacing fluids faster. Daniel was now bleeding and definitely dehydrated from the vomiting.

"Looks like a trip to the OR is in order," Richards informed the pair. He gave Daniel a small smile, but the archaeologist only burrowed his head further into Jack's chest.

Jack sighed. "This will work, right? I assume he'll need to stay overnight."

"At least. If all looks good tomorrow, Daniel, you'll be out of here early tomorrow evening."

Daniel was twisting his head now and tugging on Jack's hand. He was mouthing something, trying desperately to communicate. Jack forced himself to focus. Stay, he realized, Daniel wanted him to stay.

He turned back to Richards. "They didn't let me through the door last time and Daniel's scared. Any way I could head up with him? Stay with him until he goes under?"

Richards smiled and nodded. "I think that could be arranged. I'll get an anesthesiologist to talk to you." He started to walk away, then turned to look back at Daniel. "You know, this just happens sometimes and although it's pretty scary, you'll be just fine, Daniel."

"Of course he will be," Jack told him. "Because there's no way he won't be."

--

Jack gripped the rail of the gurney as it headed into the operating room. He maintained eye contact with Daniel the whole time. Daniel blinked, and Jack knew what question was on his mind.

"I'm coming this time, kiddo. Not leaving till you're asleep, okay?"

Daniel's lips curled into a small smile as a couple of nurses lifted him onto the OR bed. Jack gripped his hand. Behind him, the anesthesiologist settled herself on a stool and pushed herself right in front of Daniel's head.

"I need you to take some nice big breaths through this mask, okay? I know you can't count for me, but I think your dad can help us both out." She lifted her gaze to Jack. "Right, Dad?"

Jack nodded. "Right."

"Great." She reached behind her to fiddle with something, and then swept a clear plastic mask above Daniel's face. "Backwards from one hundred, then."

Jack squeezed Daniel's hand. "One hundred. Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight." Daniel's eyes were already drooping and Jack watched the anesthesiologist lower the mask and cover Daniel's mouth and nosecompletely.

"Ninety-seven. Ninety-six. Ninety-five..."

The anesthesiologist held up her hand. "He's out. I'm afraid you're going to have to leave, sir."

A nurse appeared out of nowhere and tapped his shoulder. He was reluctant to leave and cast another glance at Daniel. The anesthesiologist now had a finger curled under Daniel's chin. Her other hand was out of view. Probably by the anesthesia machine, he guessed. He watched Daniel's chest move with each breath.

"We'll take good care of him," the nurse promised. "I'll show you to the waiting room."

Jack took one more look at Daniel, so unnaturally still, before heading out.

--

He called Carter. And Fraiser. He knew one of them would call Teal'c, maybe even tell General Hammond. The surgery wouldn't take long he'd been told. It could even be done by the time anyone else made it here.

The pediatric surgical waiting room was comfortable - cozy even. It had nice, big, fluffy couches, two TVs, even a coffee maker. A couple of other parents milled around, no doubt waiting for their own news about their child. He wondered if he should strike up a conversation, but decided against it. He doubted he'd be able to utter one word.

It wasn't this hard last time. Last time Daniel simply got his tonsils out. Snip, snip, half an hour and a fishing magazine later, Richards came out, all decked out in his surgical gear, and told him Daniel was just fine and in recovery. A half-hour after that, Jack was at his side and Daniel was groggy and speechless, but awake and doing well.

Now it was different. Again, supposedly "minor" surgery, but this time it was because something went wrong. And how was Jack going to be sure nothing else would go wrong? He and Sara had been holding out their own hopes in a waiting room much like this one, years
previous, waiting to see if some supposedly wonderful neurosurgeon would work his magic on their son. He couldn't and Jack would never forget the look at his face.

He was not going there. Nope. Nadda.

He got up and poured himself a cup of coffee.

He stirred a plastic spoon in the Styrofoam cup until he felt droplets of scalding coffee hit his fingers. He hissed and pulled them back.

Coffee was not a good distraction.

He put his cup down and started hitting his hands against the front of his thighs. He tapped his feet. He skimmed through Woman's Day, despite the fact that under any other circumstance he wouldn't be caught dead reading such a magazine.

Anything to pass time. To not think.

He heard footsteps. He didn't look up, but knew every other parent in the room was turning to see if it was someone bringing news of their child. Good news, of course. No parent wanted to think differently.

"Colonel O'Neill?"

Richards. For a split second, he was afraid to look up. He braced himself, and did.

Richards was smiling. "He's fine."

Jack let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. A moment later, he saw Carter and Teal'c walk in. Carter looked at the doctor and then to Jack.

"Sir?"

"He's okay," he told her, grinning. "He's really okay."

--

"Look at all these cards, Daniel. I don't think you've ever made out this well after a hospital stay before."

That's because I wasn't six, Daniel wished he could say, but settled for tipping his head up and flashing Jack a smile.

The two of them were on Jack's couch. Jack was settled in the middle and Daniel was on his lap, his little body leaning into Jack's chest. It was a position he was extremely fond of, yet didn't like doing at the same time. The thirty-nine-year-old told him it was stupid; that he didn't need Jack to coddle him. The six-year-old craved it.

In this case, the six-year-old won.

In fact, the six-year-old has been in the driver's seat all week.

Daniel's emotions had been on a roller coaster in the last thirty-six hours, tears mixed with fear. He could still remember looking at Jack's face as the drugs started to kick in and thinking thank God he was there.

Daniel had never been more scared in his life. No even in his first childhood.

Jack was there when he woke up as well. So were Sam and Teal'c.

Janet dropped by bearing gifts, and even General Hammond had poked his head that evening. Daniel drifted in and out, his throat hurting, but for once he didn't care. That night, right until he had to leave, Jack sat next to his bed and stroked Daniel's forehead. They watched Sponge Bob on Nickelodeon in comfortable silence.

The same comfortable silence they'd enjoyed when Daniel was an adult, yet, not.

Daniel tried to not think about it. About his life "before." It had been eleven months. O'Neill was his last name and one thing this experience had taught him was that Jack was still there. He needed Jack. Jack needed him.

And, like it or not, Jack was more than a guardian. Jack was becoming his father. A routine he hadn't even been looking for was set. For every inch of fear inside of him during the last week, Jack had an equal amount shining in his eyes.

The nurses called him "dad" and Richards said "dad." Daniel never corrected him; it had gotten to be too much of a hassle. Jack took his lead.

Even so, Daniel would never be able to call Jack "Dad." It just wouldn't happen even if this were permanent, even if he had to grow up all over again. But it didn't really matter what Daniel called him. The implication was there, the roles were already in place.

He was six. He was also thirty-nine. Too smart for his own good, over-run with emotions, the most unconventional kid ever.

Yet...

He looked back up at Jack. The older man gave him a small smile and starting running his hands through Daniel's hair. He looked...peaceful.

"Throat bothering you?" Jack asked, the smile disappearing a second as a concern ran through his eyes.

It was, but it wasn't too bad. Daniel shook his head and Jack 's features settled. For the first time, Daniel could see how relaxed

Jack seemed.

Jack went off world less, now. Daniel knew General Hammond was taking about retirement and had suggested that perhaps Jack might want the SGC reins for a year or two before following suit. And while Jack said he didn't want to, Daniel knew the man had to be considering it. Jack was trying to think long-term.

Shouldn't he be doing the same?

It had been eleven months. Before he knew it, it would be a whole year. That gate address still wasn't working.

Would he ever be able to let go? Look ahead, like Jack appeared to be doing?

Daniel curled his body into Jack's, tucking his legs up. Jack started at the shift.

"Cold," Daniel mouthed and Jack reached behind him to get the blanket that hung on the back of the couch. Jack tucked the corners around Daniel's body and held him close.

"Better?" he asked.

Daniel nodded.

It was better. A little bit better. And right now, that's all he could hope for.

He closed his eyes and settled in.

--

Jack smiled as he watched Daniel drift off. The six-year-old weight in his lap felt so natural, so perfect. Yet...

Did he tell Carter the complete truth? Did he miss the "other" Daniel? Daniel missed being him, of course, and Jack could easily understand why. Still, if Daniel did ever go back to being "normal" Jack knew he'd miss moments like this very much.

Catch 22. He wanted his friend back, but don't want to lose the

child he already had. If given a choice, what would Jack choose?

This Daniel was safe. This Daniel didn't risk his life or encounter tragedy after tragedy...or did he? Did being six yet still thirty-nine count as a tragedy?

It was too much for him to think about. He and Daniel held out for a miracle that didn't seem to be coming. Or had it? Jack stared back down at the innocent face in his arms.

Choices didn't matter. Not when there was nothing to choose.

No, that was wrong. He did have a choice. Daniel had one, too. And it most definitely mattered. Maybe this was what this whole twist of fate was all about.

Jack had choices, and he knew exactly what to pick.

Fatherhood.