We all turn at the sound of wild barking and the front door opens again, releasing a large, frantic ball of fluff that races across the front lawn as if he might be left behind.

“Forget someone?” the General inquires, smiling.  “He sure seems to think so.”

Hershey does a 360 around Daniel and races to the truck where he puts his paws up on the running board and waits, looking at us over his shoulder.

“I thought you weren’t going with me.”

“We’re all going, Colonel,” Carter announces, handing her keys to Teal’c. 

Daniel’s already climbing into the truck. 

“Can we leave my car at your house?”

“Uh, what if you’re not invited?”

“Too bad?” She smiles benevolently as she heads around the front of the truck and climbs in, too.

“T?  You got a hat?”

From his back pocket, Teal’c snaps out a green plaid Irish walking cap.  He proceeds to adjust it on his head and pulls it down to cover his tattoo.   He plants his feet in his usual wide stance, clasps his hands behind his back, and turns his chin slightly in profile. 

“Do I not exhibit the family resemblance?”

For a full ten seconds I stand staring at him. 

“Oy,” I smack my forehead harder than intended in my overzealous relief and see stars for a second.  “Cousin Murray, a long lost . . .” I’m totally at a loss for words.

“Antecedent,” Teal’c replies, turning his head to look me in the eye. “So protractedly absent as to be almost alien.”  With a perfectly straight face, he adds solemnly, “Have you not said repeatedly, we are family?  Do you presume, O’Neill, we would abandon you in your hour of need?”

This is really bad for my ego – to be so humbled twice in less than forty-eight hours.  Deep breaths, O’Neill, deep breaths, this too will pass. 

“Uh . . . we’ll follow you to the house.  Carter says we’re leaving her car there.”  I swing into the cab of the truck a little bemused.

So it takes forty-five minutes, instead of the thirty I suggested, by the time we’re walking up the driveway past my parent’s rental car, which is parked next to a brand new Mercedes. 

Carter whistles as she runs her finger along the edge of the hood.  “Nice,” she says, grinning at me over her shoulder.  “Looks like she married for money this time.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Carter.”

“Any time, sir.” 

Daniel grabs my hand, Teal’c falls in behind, and Carter falls in on my left.  Hershey flanks Daniel.

“Kids?  We’re not all going to fit on the porch.”

“Can me and Hershey ring the bell?”

Before I can answer, the front door swings inward.  The F302 with the afterburners kicked in for hyperspace jump looks like a turtle compared to the blur that is my mother. 

I don’t have time to say more than “Mom,” before she’s in my arms, hugging so hard I think she’s going to break ribs.  She says nothing, but neither does she let go, so I wrap my arms around her and hold on through the storm.

The years drop away like I’ve just stepped into the Way Back Machine.  It’s not my arms around my mother, but hers around me.  I’m little more than Daniel’s current age and I’ve just come in from school.  Before I get the milk and cookies waiting on the table, I have to submit, with good grace no less, to being hugged by my mother.

“Mom, you remember all those years of milk and cookies after school?”

She nods against my neck, but still says nothing.

“I liked the hugs way better than the milk and cookies.”

A rain of tears is already sliding down inside my collar.  They come faster for a moment and my own mingle with hers - perhaps in an act of contrition.  I don’t know, but I do know I have Daniel to thank for this, too. 

Good thing I never cared what the neighbors thought.  We’re having this reunion in the front yard where the entire neighborhood can watch.  They all know both of us, I’m sure Sarah will hear about it, despite the fact they ought to be glued to their televisions watching bowl games and stuffing themselves with left over turkey, not lurking at their windows spying on us. 

When my mother finally pulls back, she wipes not only her eyes, but mine as well, which of course, causes mine to flow faster. 

“What happened to your hair?”  She smiles mistily, reaching one hand up to flutter through my very short, very grey hair.  “You’ve gone silver.  Your father’s is white; he dyes it.”

Her hair has gone silver, too and there are deep lines embedded in flesh drawn taunt over angular cheekbones.  Lines of sorrow bracket her eyes and mouth; lines I put there in my stupid arrogance.  I pull her to me and hold her tight again in thankfulness for this moment of grace. 

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” I offer in a fractured whisper.

“Oh no, honey, please don’t be.  We all share the blame equally in this.  It takes family to do things to each other we wouldn’t do to our worst enemies.”  She draws back again, but keeps hold of the arm I have around her waist.  Her other hand comes up to cup my cheek as she studies my face.  “Has something good happened to you, Jonathan O’Neill?”

How could she possibly see that in my face?

A finger taps my cheek, “No hon, it’s not in your face, I see it in your heart.”  She laughs ever so gently, gives me another quick, fierce hug and kisses my cheek.  “Don’t look so surprised, Jack, I could always read you like a book.  Can you tell me about it?” 

She threads an arm through mine and when I look around I see my team has deserted me.

“I can do you one better, Mom.”  We head up the sidewalk to the front door. “You’re about to meet them.  They’re . . . my team.  But we’ve been together for nearly ten years so we’re somewhat closer than your average military team.  I can’t tell you a thing about what we do, it’s classified.  And please don’t jump to any conclusions.  For the record - I’m not married, Daniel is under my guardianship, and Murray . . . well, Murray claims he’s a distant family member on Dad’s side, twice-removed.”

“And you’re going to tell your father he claims he’s a distant relative from my side, twice-removed?”

Busted!  I never could keep secrets from her; my mom has a built-in lie detector.

“Think he’ll see the humor in it?”

“Your father’s changed, Jack.  Charlie’s death took the starch right out of him.  He’s a lot more human now.”

I stop in my tracks.  Because she has her arm through mine and is hanging on me much like Daniel does, my mother stops, too.  She’s a tall woman, but she still has to look up to my 6’2”. 

“I’m sorry, dear, do you not talk about Charlie’s death?”

“Ahhh . . . uhm . . . well, yeah.” 

Just not with my mother – ever – and I’m sort of taken back by the casualness of her statement.  I’m still at ten years ago in my relationship with her.

She pats my arm.  “Oh, don’t worry, the awkwardness will wear off quickly once we’ve caught up on each other’s lives.  I’ve missed you so . . . but come inside.  I’m always surprised to find your weather so much like ours at home in Chicago.  We get that lake affect weather.  I suppose because you’re in the mountains your weather is much the same.  Do you like it here?  I didn’t expect you to stay after you and Sarah were divorced.  I thought you’d go back to gallivanting around the world again, but Sarah says you work out of Cheyenne Mountain now.  Are you with NORAD these days?  Do you still travel a lot?  Tell me what you can about your job and your new team.”

“Whoa, Mom, you sound like Daniel.”  Without realizing it, I’m in the foyer.  Up the stairs and to the right is my son’s bedroom. 

Daniel was the one who went to Sarah after the crystal Jack/Charlie incident.  He told me Sarah said crystal Jack came here looking for Charlie. 

My mother’s hand tightens around my arm.  “I’m sorry, Jack, but don’t let it spoil today, please?”

My heart is in my throat - literally.  It’s beating so hard it may be about to jump out of my throat.  One of the last times I was in this place I was an arm’s length from blowing my brains out.  Excuse me while I take a little side trip down It’s a Wonderful Life Lane.  If the Air Force had been a few minutes later, I would never have met Daniel, or Carter, or Teal’c. 

While my stuff wasn’t exactly on the curb when I came back from Abydos, Sarah made it perfectly plain I couldn’t board here anymore.  And though I was significantly better, you don’t shake off that kind of depression in a handful of days. 

I spent the better part of that first year Daniel was gone figuring out who Jack O’Neill was since he wasn’t a father or a husband anymore.  The fall back had always been Jack O’Neill, the special ops Colonel, but I’d only been re-upped for that one mission.  They sent me back to my peaceful retirement as soon as Kawalski and I were done lying our heads off about blowing Abydos to kingdom come.

On an unsteady breath I turn away from the scene and a small, warm hand creeps into mine.  I look down to find Daniel looking up at me.  There’s a huge question mark on his face.  He clamps his fingers around mine as I try to withdraw my hand, letting go only when he realizes I want to pick him up.  I slide my hands under his arms, swing him up and hug him before turning with him, back to my mother. 

“Mom, I’d like you to meet my ward, Daniel Jackson.  Daniel, this is my mother, Maggie May O’Neill.” 

“How do you do, Daniel Jackson?” 

Daniel takes the hand she offers and for a second his eyes widen.  I expect he’s gotten a jolt from the electrical current my mother seems to transmit. 

“Only Teal’c calls me Danieljackson, everyone else just calls me Daniel.”

“I see.  Who’s Teal’c?”  My mother lilts the name as Daniel blushes ten shades of red at his faux pas. 

Since at some time during the remainder of this afternoon, Teal’c is sure to call him Danieljackson, I’d best set the record straight before we get any more mired in this small subterfuge. 

“Tilk is Murray’s last name.” I give it a less exotic spin in an effort to decrease the alien sound.  “It’s one of those guy things, Mom, ya know, we always call each other by our last names.”

Daniel huffs a very small sigh of relief and rolls his eyes, accompanied by an elfin shrug.  “I always forget,” he says, smiling shyly at my mother.

“Oh, my,” my mother comments wryly, with understanding beyond this short acquaintance. “I bet he’s a handful.”

“Youbetcha, but he’s my handful.”  Since I have him captive I tickle him so he giggles.  I’d really like that sound to become an integral part of adult Daniel’s vocal expressions if he gets resized again.  Yeah, I know, it could sound a little weird coming from a forty-year-old, but that sound translates to a safe and happy Daniel Jackson in my lexicon.

Daniel leans into my ear. “I like your mother better,” he whispers in that seven-year-old, no-one-can-hear-me-if-I-whisper voice.

My mother just smiles and leads the way into the living room.

 “Where’s Hershey?” 

My father’s captured Carter, no surprise there, he’s always had an eye for the ladies; however, Teal’c appears to be deep in conversation with . . . uhm, Richard?  No, that’s not right, Roger?  Crap, what is Sarah’s new husband’s name?

“Another dog lives here and the blond lady let them both out in the back yard.  She has a beagle, Jack, named Obi wan Kenobi.”

Lance.  His name is Lance.  Now what’s their last name? 

“Do you have a dog, Daniel?”

“Hershey’s my dog; he just came to live with us a few weeks ago.  He’s a Bernese Mountain Dog, they’re from Switzerland where they were originally bred for . . .”  Daniel trails off when I give him a squeeze, frowning at me.  “What?”

“You don’t think that might be a little more information than is needed for the situation?”

“Your mom’s interested.”

“Her eyes are already starting to glaze over, she’s my mother, ya know.”

“Jack, don’t tease,” my mother chides, smiling. “Of course I’m interested.  What were they usually bred for, Daniel?”

“Work dogs,” Daniel says proudly, giving me an I-told-you-so look.  “They pulled carts of produce to market and stuff.”

“I see, so does your dog pull you around in a cart?”

“He’s still a puppy.  But Jack says he’s gonna be a monster when he’s full grown.”

“Oh, I want to be sure and meet your dog.  What did you say his name was?”  Mom steers us toward a sofa.  “Can I get you anything to drink?  Something to eat?  How about some pie?”

“Hershey,” Daniel inserts, not about to be left out of the conversation, but creating chaos with his apparent non-sequitur. 

“Mom, we just ate an hour ago.  I guarantee none of us are hungry.”

“Then I’ll just send the pie home with you.  Would you like some Kisses, Daniel?  I think I saw some in one of the cupboards.”

Fortunately Daniel’s following the conversation, I just look at my mother in bewilderment and ask, “What pie?”

However, Daniel’s laughter trills out merrily.  “No,” he grins, “my dog’s name is Hershey because he used to like Hershey Kisses.  Jack says I can’t give them to him anymore though, because they make him sick.”  The grin morphs into a frown.  “Isn’t that terrible?  Not being able to eat chocolate because it makes you sick?”

My mother nods in sympathy.  “That would be horrid.  Do you like chocolate?”

“I love chocolate,” Daniel says with relish.

“Me too,” my mother says, smiling again.  “How about later, you and I go see what we can find in Sarah’s cupboards.”

“If Hershey’s not around I can go with you.  I don’t think he knows he’s not supposed to like it, so I feel kind of guilty, now, if I eat chocolate around him.  He just looks at me with these big, sad eyes . . .” Daniel rounds his eyes, sags his chin and purses his lips, imitating the look the dog has perfected, then sighs.  “I just can’t eat it in front of him anymore.”

“Oh my, what a sacrifice you’ve made for your friend.  I hope he knows how well you love him.”

”He does,” Daniel confides, “I tell him all the time.”

“How old are you, Daniel?”

“I’m almost eight.”

“Try again, Sport.”

“All right, I’m almost seven-and-a-half.”  He squirms to be put down.  “Can I go look at the piano in the other room?”

“Piano?”

“There’s a piano in the conservatory,” Sarah offers from across the living room and I get the feeling she’s been watching us.  “Certainly, you can go look at it, Daniel.”  She’s sitting beside her husband, a long-haired, forty-something, artsy-fartsy looking type. 

I vaguely remember someone mentioning the guy she married is a concert pianist.

“Hey, don’t touch anything,” I yell after Daniel.  Yeah, right, like that’s going to work.  I start after him, only to be stopped by Sarah.

“He’s fine, Jack.  He can’t hurt anything just by touching.  Is he Daniel Jackson’s son?”

“Uhm, nephew,” I respond, torn between following Daniel, or following Sarah’s instincts.  She doesn’t know Daniel.  Okay, she doesn’t know this Daniel . . . never mind . . . this is already too complicated.

“Where is Dr. Jackson?”

Oh shit.  See, this is the reason I should have done this alone.  The fact that Daniel’s my ward is already established with both my parents.  We probably would have spun it differently for Sarah if we’d met her alone.  And Daniel’s being my ward instead of his uncle’s is going to raise questions in Sarah’s mind. 

“Sorry,” I shrug ineffectually.  “Classified.”

“Jack?”  Sarah scoots to the edge of the sofa.  “Is he all right?”

Dammit.  There are days when I hate the secrecy of this job.  “He’s fine.”

The look she gives me says she doesn’t believe a word of it.  But it’s true - he is fine.  Daniel, in the incarnation he currently inhabits, is a healthy, happy seven-year-old.

“He sure does look a lot like his uncle,” Sarah remarks.

“Yes, he does, doesn’t he?”  Hey, I’m glad she sees the resemblance to Daniel instead of Charlie.  “What’s this about a conservatory?” I ask, in an effort to change the subject. 

“We’ve added on - a studio and the conservatory, to accommodate Cancel’s practicing.” 

She pronounces his name, Can-sell.

Sounds a little bit like Lance, doesn’t it?

“I like what you’ve done with the place.” 

It’s upscaled, if that’s a word - no longer military shabby chic - which just goes to show what a little money and good taste can accomplish.  It doesn’t look designed, it looks like a home - one you might find on the cover of Architectural Digest or inside the pages of Better Homes and Gardens - but a home none-the-less.

Sarah leaves the sofa next to her husband and joins my mother on the opposite sofa.  I sit down carefully on a fragile looking piece of furniture I don’t have a name for, to be near my mother.

While conversations shift and conversational partners orbit around the satellite of my father, enthroned in the room’s only comfortable looking chair, I pretty much stay stationary at my own end of the room.  

It’s not really a conscious decision, but anger like we’ve lived with for ten years doesn’t disappear over night, or even over forty-eight hours.  We’re not avoiding each other, just . . . being a little cautious.

Throughout the afternoon Daniel repeatedly drifts back over to me, almost always appearing as some new pang of guilt or remorse stabs at me.  I’ve probably mentioned more than once how connected we are.  The big eyes, the small hand patting my cheek, miniature fingers curving around my wrist - all serve as a source of comfort.  By the end of the evening I’ve moved to the sofa and he’s curled up in my lap sound asleep. 

“He’s good for you, Jack,” my mother says quietly, brushing a gentle hand through his hair.  She’s sitting next to me on the sofa, an arm twined around mine and her head on my shoulder.  “You have a wonderful family.”

I haven’t used that word at all during the course of the afternoon.  I’ve deliberately bitten my tongue on more than one occasion where it would have been appropriate.  The way we interact speaks for itself; I don’t need to rub it in.  On the other hand, I am glad they see it.  My father has remarked similarly.

“You will stay in touch now?  Do you have an email address?” 

Carter comes to perch on the arm of the sofa next to us.  “You’ll never reach him that way, the Colonel checks his email only as a precaution, ma’am, never with enthusiasm.  But he always answers his cell.”

“The words O’Neill and technology have never been interchangeable,” my mother agrees mildly. “You’re so like your father, Jonathan.  I, however, decided I wasn’t going to let technology pass me by.  I have a laptop, docking station, PDA and an IPod,” she adds with more than a touch of pride.  “Of course I haven’t quite figured out how to download music to it yet, but I’m working on it.  Plus, I’ve just added a router to my system so I now have wireless at home.”

Every conversation in the room stops.  The silence is deafening as both Carter and my mother look at me with faint smiles of superiority.

“Daniel’s asleep, he’s not available to translate all that for me, but feel free to continue this conversation I haven’t the slightest expectation of understanding.”

“Several words of more than two syllables, sir; you’re improving,” Carter says with an unabashed grin

Daniel’s not my only brat. 

“Just remember, payback is hell, Major.”  My age-appropriate kid snuffles and I shift him to a more comfortable position. 

“Do you want to put Daniel down upstairs, Jack?” Sarah asks.

I glance at my watch and see it’s closing in on 2300 hours. 

“Thanks, but we need to go.  Kids?” I include both Carter and Teal’c - excuse me, Murray - in my glance. 

I think long lost Cousin Murray has imbibed something alcoholic this evening; he’s now sitting smiling beatifically at Sarah’s husband.  Apparently the impromptu concert Cancel and Sarah put on made a real impression on our resident Jaffa. 

Mom told me Cancel is trying to talk Sarah into doing a public concert with him.  She took up the harp after her dad died a few years ago.  I understand it’s how she met this husband; she agreed to be the entertainment for a friend’s hoity-toity dinner party.  Guess it was the kind of dinner party where the help’s allowed to mingle with the guests.

“Meow,” my mother says softly, in my ear, raking her fingers lightly down the sleeve of my dress shirt. 

“You can’t possibly know what I was thinking.”

Mom just raises that O’Neill eyebrow.  “Sarah deserves every bit of happiness she can glean.”

“Hey, I’m glad for her.”

“Genuinely, I’m pleased to see.  You were never a hard man, Jack O’Neill.  Circumstances may have caused you to behave that way occasionally in your life, but underneath that polished military exterior beats a heart of gold.”

“Don’t you dare tell the rest of my team,” I hiss at her.

“As if they don’t already know,” she snaps back, and laughs, unable to keep up the façade.
 
I’m much better at it.  I keep the frown firmly in place until she pokes a knuckle unerringly in my side and dances her fingers over the only spot on my body that’s ticklish.

“Uncle!” I surrender immediately. “Mom!  Hey, you’re going to wake up Daniel!”

This earns an immediate cease fire from my ruthless opponent.  When he stirs, she leans against my arm and reaches to smooth a hand over his hair.  The only thing that soothes Daniel quicker than someone running a hand through his hair is the swing at the hospital. 

Which reminds me, I still need to look into getting one of those things.

“Hey, Maggie?  Did you bring your laptop with you?” Carter asks as she turns back to us.  “If there’s some place to connect to the internet I could show you quickly how to download music to your IPod,”

“Really?”  My mother lights up like the proverbial Christmas tree.  She’s obviously not shy about accepting a helping hand when it presents itself.  “Sarah added wireless when she and Cancel did all the remodeling.  Do you have a few minutes more, Jack?” she asks, straightening.  “I could run upstairs and get my computer.”

“Sure, we only have to be at work tomorrow.”

“Oh,” her face falls.  “Early, I suppose?  What do you with Daniel while you’re at work?”

“He goes with me.  We’re home schooling him.  And yes, we have to be there early.  Carter?  This is only going to take a few minutes?”

“Yes, sir.  Showing her how won’t be a complicated process. If your mother can set up her own wireless system, she’ll catch on like . . .” Carter snaps her fingers, “that, sir.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter to Daniel where he sleeps.  Go on, do it.  Just remember, if I’m cranky tomorrow it’s because I didn’t get enough sleep.”

My mother bounds off the couch as if she’s Daniel’s age instead of nearly seventy. In minutes the dining room table has been turned into a mini show-and-tell and I hear exclamations of “I didn’t know it could do that!” followed by, “you’re kidding!  It’s that simple?” 

“So, Dad, what do you know about plumbing?”

“Still having trouble with that leaky faucet?”

I raise an eyebrow.  I’ve known all my life my mom has what the Irish call ‘the sight’.  I had no idea my dad can do it, too.

He chuckles.  “Daniel told me you were in the basement looking for washers to repair the leaky faucet.”

“That would be the one.”

“Changing out the washer didn’t fix it?”

“Actually I never got around to changing out the washer.  I found out it’s leaking under the sink as well.”

“Want me to come around in the morning and take a look at it?”

“Would you?  I couldn’t get a plumber out two days before Thanksgiving and the three I called said they’re booked for a week after the holiday as well.  Our kitchen sink is kind of in pieces right now.”

“If you’re working tomorrow, what about Saturday?  We could come by, have a look, maybe go out to breakfast if it doesn’t take the two of us too long to fix it.  We’d like to see you again before we leave.”

Damn, I forgot.  We’re scheduled off-world tomorrow on a two-day mission.  Daniel’s supposed to stay with the Doc and Cassie for the next two days. 

“Carter?”

“We can reschedule, sir,” she answers from somewhere in the depths of the dining room. “Monday should be no problem.”

What?  Is everybody channeling my mother tonight?

“Well, then, we could probably call in sick if you could come tomorrow.”

“How about we come tomorrow and work on the plumbing, and we all go out to breakfast on Saturday?”

Carter and my mother reappear in the archway leading into the dining room. 

“Breakfast Saturday?  Carter?  Murray?”

“Are you sure you want us tagging along?” Carter asks, heading for the hall where she gathers all our coats off the coat rack.

“What a wonderful idea, John!  Sarah and Cancel have to come, too,” Mom enthuses. 

“You go,” Sarah says, wrapping an arm around her husband’s waist and leaning into him.  He wraps an arm around her shoulders and rests his chin on her head.  “Saturday is usually the only day we have to sleep in.”

I used do that with her. 

Whoa!  Back away from the memories, Jack.  Don’t even go there; not your privilege anymore. 

“We’ll go for brunch,” Dad offers.

“You go without us,” Sarah demurs.  “This is your time with Jack, make the most of it.”

Carter hands Murray his coat, pausing to make sure he can get it on, and ends up putting the rest down to help him. His coordination is just enough off he’s having great difficulty finding the appropriate holes to put his arms through.

“Your libations appear to have engendered an exquisite feeling of euphoria,” Teal’c pronounces, touching a finger to his cap.

I offer up a quick prayer that he won’t accidentally knock it askew.  We might have a whole new show-and-tell.

“It has been my immense pleasure to have at last achieved your acquaintance, Cousin John.”  Teal’c gives his classic regal nod, except the gesture tips him off-balance and only Carter’s quick reflexes keep him from taking a nose dive.

“And I, yours, Murray.  If you’re ever in Chicago I hope you’ll stop around so I can introduce you to the rest of the family in town.”

I exchange a glance with my mother, who smiles almost as beatifically as Teal’c.  “I introduced him to your father as his long lost Cousin Murray while you were out with Daniel meeting Obi Wan.”

I just nod.  While I wouldn’t have qualified my father as prejudiced, he’s never been the most liberal thinking individual on the face of this planet – or any other.  Obviously he’s changed dramatically over the course of the last ten years.  Apparently for the better.

As Carter tries to pair the right arm with the right sleeve with very little help from Murray, my dad collects our coats and brings them over.  He hands Daniel’s off to Mom as he holds mine up and I juggle the kid from arm to arm to get into it.  Mom steps up and tucks Daniel into his, leaning up on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his forehead. 

“There’s much more to this little one than meets the eye, Jack,” she says softly, frowning slightly.  “I hope you understand that?”

I can at least put her fears to rest on that worry.  “I do, Mom.  He’s pretty special, no matter how you look at it.”

“Oh, I would think he was special just for the gift he’s given you, hon.  But it’s much, much more than that.  He is marked for destiny.”

‘If you only knew,’ I think, holding back a sigh.  Daniel’s met destiny so many times he should be comic book flat by now.  But no, like the Road Runner he just keeps coming back for more, more, more.  Not that I mind him coming back.  The part I mind is constantly watching him get steam rolled – it’s how I came by all this grey hair.

“Do you wish me to convey Danieljackson to the vehicle, O’Neill?”  Teal’c has both arms in his coat finally and Carter’s blowing her bangs off her forehead as though the process has raised a sweat. 

My dad helps Carter into her coat.

“Thanks, T-Murray,” I’m as bad as Daniel.  “I’ll take him out.  One of you will have to hold him in the truck though, the seats are likely to be freezing and I didn’t think to bring the blanket inside.” 

I’m tired.  It’s been a long, stressful day, even if in the end it was good stress.  I have a headache developing that feels like a nine-inch nail straight through my left eye. 

“Where’s Hershey?”  I haven’t seen the dog since Daniel took me out to the back yard to meet Obi Wan Kenobi.

“Oh, they’re probably downstairs.  I’ll get him,” Sarah says, straightening.

“Thanks.” 

Daniel’s been back and forth, playing video games on the downstairs big screen TV and keeping the dogs company, when he wasn’t coming to check on me.

As we’re walking out the door I find myself walking next to Cancel.  He looks over at me and smiles slightly. 

“Sarah has told me little of her first marriage, but I know the two of you lost a son.  It is good the universe sees fit to make some restitution, Colonel.” 

He has a faint, exotic accent I can’t place and I usually have a very good ear for languages. 

“I make Sarah happy, her music makes her happy; young Daniel appears to make you happy.” 

It’s not a question; he makes it a statement of fact.

He’s right.  I miss adult Daniel, we all do, but as Carter said months ago, there’ s something so engaging about this incarnation, he’s even harder to resist than big Daniel. 

And none of us were particularly good at resisting adult Daniel. 

“You only have to call me Colonel if you work for me and I don’t think that’s a likely scenario anywhere in the near future.  So, call me Jack.”

His smile widens briefly as he extends a hand.  “Good luck, Jack.  I think you have your work cut out for you raising this one.”

“I think you’re right about that, too.  Thanks for being willing to host this event in your home.”

“It was once your home, too.  I could no more deny my Sarah than you can say no to that one,” he nods at Daniel.  “Is it not so?” 

This is really bad, to be pegged for a lame duck by your ex-wife’s new husband. 

And I swear everybody’s channeling my mother tonight, because he adds, “It is always so with the ones we love and who love us.  We can deny them nothing.”

Okay, my headache has just blossomed into a full-fledged migraine.  I’ve had enough wisdom and philosophy for at least the next six months.  I just need to unwind with the Simpson’s. 

“Yeah,” I reply, stepping over the threshold into the freezing night air. 

It’s snowing.  Apparently it’s been snowing for a good portion of the evening because everything’s covered; every tree and bush, every roof and chimney, every car and lawn ornament.  Two doors down someone’s already put up Christmas lights.  They shine through the snow so the snow-covered bushes look like they’re inhabited by Daniel’s faeries. 

“Want me to drive so you can hold Daniel?”

“Keys are in my right coat pocket.  Thanks, Carter.”

“No problem, sir.” 

“Murray, let the dog get in first unless you want to be soaked.”

Thankfully we forego the Walton’s routine tonight, though goodbyes are exchanged through the thickly falling snow.  Sarah and Cancel wisely head back into the house, but my parents follow as we dash to the truck.  My mom leans in to kiss both Daniel and I, reaching over to squeeze Carter’s hand, then snaking an arm into the back seat to give Teal’c’s knee a squeeze. 

“Thank you, both of you, for taking care of him.  I’m so glad he’s had someone to watch over him all these years.” 

“The Colonel likes to think he’s the one does all the watching over,” Carter laughs.  “You’ll be destroying his macho self-image in another minute, Maggie.”

My mother laughs, too.  “Ahhh, you’re right to reprove me, Samantha.  We’ll see all of you on Saturday.” 

Teal’c hands the blanket out for Mom to tuck around Daniel. 

“And the two of you, tomorrow.” 

For a moment her hand rests on mine and I feel that little jolt Daniel felt this afternoon.  She murmurs something so low I can’t hear; but I know it by heart, it’s an Irish blessing. 

She said it over me every night for as long as I let her come in and kiss me goodnight.  It wouldn’t surprise me if she snuck in after I was asleep and said it over me until I was eighteen and left home for the Air Force Academy.

May you always have walls for the winds,
a roof for the rain, tea beside the fire,
laughter to cheer you, those you love near you,
and all your heart might desire.

“Come on, hon, let these people go home.  At least two of ‘em have to work in the morning.”

“Yes, yes, I know.  I love you, Jonathan O’Neill.  I hope you never forgot that.” 

A snail trail of silver sinks down into my hand, spreading a warmth through my body that has nothing to do with the truck heater, or even Daniel’s warm little body pressed against my chest.  The headache dissipates slightly and my mother smiles again at my look of disbelief.

“I’ve learned a few things over the last ten years as well.  If you had just a few more minutes, I’m sure I could fix that headache.”

It occurs to me, if she’s learned to ‘express’ her gifts like this, I could be endangering the most secret project on Earth just by letting her hang around me.

Carter rescues me.  “We need to get Daniel home.  Murray and I look forward to seeing you Saturday morning.  Email me what time, we’ll meet you at the Colonel’s.”

“I love you, too, Mom.”  When I finally get my voice back, the words roll easily out of my mouth because I’ve said them so often to this incarnation of Daniel. 

I hope I remember to thank him for these moments if he does get big again. 

She touches my hand one last time, tucks the blanket under my thigh so it doesn’t trail out the door, and steps back.  My father swings the door shut, slaps the cold metal, and stands away, tipping a two-fingered salute.

“Oh!”  My mother exclaims, “Wait!  I forgot the pie.” 

Before I have a chance to protest, she disappears fleetingly.  She’s back almost before I can get the truck door open again, thrusting a cellophane-wrapped pie into my hands. 

“Strawberry rhubarb.”  I’m instantly salivating, despite still wishing for a couple of alka seltzer. 

“What other kind of pie would I make knowing you were coming?” 

A fleeting touch on my cheek and the headache notches down another decibel or two. 

“Give that little one a goodnight kiss from me when you tuck him in tonight.” 

“I will.  G’night, Mom.  See you in the morning.”

“Until tomorrow,” she says, smiling as she steps back, once more leaving my father to perform chauffeur duty.  This time when he steps back off the curb, he wraps both arms around my mother and I watch them disappear in the rearview mirror.  

Teal’c and the dog are snoring in the back seat as we head down the street.  I lean my head back against the headrest and sigh, thankful this day is over. 

I think, for the first time in many years, I’ve experienced Thanksgiving the way it was meant to be experienced.  I would never admit this out loud, but tonight I’m overflowing with thankfulness. 

My list is very personal, not one I’d ever share over the Thanksgiving dinner table.

I’m thankful for life in a way most people wouldn’t understand; for family- both of them - again, in a way most people wouldn’t understand; for friends who are more like extended family; for the opportunity to make a real difference in this world, maybe even the universe.  I’m thankful I’ve learned to listen to the stars instead of merely watching them.  I’m thankful for the openness Stargate travel has engendered; the ability to be surprised and delighted by screw-ups like this downsized Daniel, instead of being pissed and depressed. 

That’s just scratching the surface, I could go on for the rest of the night if I had the kind of focus Daniel does when something captures his attention. 

But I don’t, so I won’t. 

I’ll quit with this - I’m very thankful for ties that bind.

~*~

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