#4 in the Life's Little Problems Series
Color Outside the Lines A Little!Danny fic by: Maj. Cliffhanger
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Part 1
Both Cam and Danny glanced up at the sound of the doorbell and frowned. They'd only just gotten home and their friends were all tied up in a meeting back at the mountain. Glancing at the kid, Cam shrugged. Probably just a Jehovah Witness or something, but he didn't like the timing. "Stay put," he decided, setting aside the half-opened newly purchased electric can opener on the kitchen table. "I'll check it out. You hit the panic button if I yell." He pointed to the security system control pad beside the garage door.
Danny nodded off-hand and opened the appliance's instruction manual.
"Don't plug it in while I'm gone!" Cam admonished him even as he turned to head for the door. He paused in the entry hall to check the surveillance camera, then smiled in surprise as he recognized Col. Dave Dixon and a couple of his boys. He quickly disarmed the alarm system and swung the door open.
"Hey, neighbors!" he greeted the wheelchair bound man jovially.
"Hey, Mitchell," the other returned easily. "Busy?"
"Nope," he answered readily and stepped back to admit their guests. "I take it you talked to Landry?"
The oldest boy – about twelve – wheeled his father forward while the younger boy brought forward a large Tupperware container of some kind. "Welcome to the neighborhood," he recited dutifully.
"Yup," Dixon answered even as Cam took the pro-offered gift. "'Said you'd explain. 'Hope you like chocolate chip."
Cam popped the lid to take a peak inside and was immediately greeted by the unmistakable aroma of homemade cookies. "Oh, man," he sighed appreciatively. "I do believe someone's appetite is going to be ruined for dinner – and I'm not talking about the kid."
"Dad said you had a little boy?" The youngest of the two boys immediately spoke up, craning his neck to look around Cam for the object of his curiosity.
Cam grinned at the kid's sense of priorities. "Danny!" he shouted over his shoulder even as he turned to lead their guests into the living room. "Cookies and company! Come say hi!" He stripped the Tupperware lid off and offered the container to the others.
The colonel declined but neither of his boys did. "One only!" their father admonished them sternly. "You got another three or four dozen back home."
Cam snagged one as well and offered a groan of ecstasy as he bit into the still warm gooey goodness. "Your wife got a sister, Dixon?" he asked around the sweet mouthful.
Daniel had popped out of the kitchen but hesitated uncertainly by the breakfast bar. Dixon's youngest wasn't shy. He grabbed another cookie and went right over to Danny, offering it up with a bright, "I'm Jason. Who are you?"
The men exchanged knowing glances as the kids quickly sized each other up. Danny was a little disconcerted by the candid approach, but recovered quicker than Cam expected and took the cookie. "Danny," he answered readily and bit into the treat. "Mmmm!" he exclaimed. "These are good!"
"Mom makes 'em all the time," Jason answered with a shrug. He popped the rest of his own in his mouth and thought nothing of trying to talk around it. He turned to point at Dixon. "Thath's mith dthath."
Ever the linguist, Danny had no trouble understanding him. He offered their adult guest a shy wave.
"Yoth goth anyg thoyths?" the other boy mumbled
"Sure," Danny shrugged and, with a wave of his hand, led Jason back to his room. A simple nod from their father had the older boy tagging along with a much-put-upon roll of the eyes.
"Andy will keep 'em busy while we talk," Dixon promised. "You wanna go outside or maybe an office or something?"
"How about the dining room table?" Cam suggested. It was far enough removed from the hall that little ears couldn't remain hidden and eavesdrop – especially if he clicked on the TV. Putting thought to action, he chose a wonderfully boring infomercial and stole another chocolate chip cookie before setting the container on the coffee table.
The other man wheeled his chair around with way too much dexterity, bringing back memories Cam tended to try and forget.
"You joined the rehab basketball team yet?" he asked as he led the way to the dining room and slid the end chair out of the way.
"Won't be in the chair that long," Dixon replied. "They got me up on the parallel bars the other day when we talked."
"Cool," Cam nodded. "So, they're expecting a full recovery?"
Dixon grinned. "I'm too stubborn to give 'em what they're expecting!"
Cam understood far too well what the man meant and offered up a mischievous wink. "Give 'em hell, sir," he told him.
"Absolutely." The commander of SG-13 nodded decisively, then folded his arms and cocked his head to the side. "So...?"
"So..." Cam echoed. A glance toward the hall confirmed they were still alone. "What do you want to know?"
Dixon gave him a bit of a blank look for a second. "You tell me!' he chuckled in surprise. "You were the one who told me I needed to call Landry, then Landry tells me to talk to you. What's with the verbal run around, man?"
Cam's brows rose. "They didn't tell you anything?"
"'Phone's not secure and Landry said it wasn't worth the pain in the ass of driving in and dealing with all the security check points, what with the wheelchair and all. 'Said you were the best one to explain it anyway." He cocked his head to the side again. "Then he laughed."
"Oh, sure," Cam sighed rolling his eyes. "He thinks it's funny! Well, okay, not funny – but I suppose there is a bit of a 'cute' side to it all if you think about it the right way - just don't let Danny catch you saying that."
"Danny," Dixon repeated knowingly. "I thought that story about him being the son of a friend lost in Iraq sounded a bit too convenient – especially given the kind of job we do. Exactly who – or should I say 'what'? - am I letting my kids play with at the moment?"
"You remember that 'other Danny' you said the kid looked like the other day?"
"Jackson?" Dixon asked in surprise. Then he cast the hallway a glance of his own before leaning forward and lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Are you saying he knocked up some alien princess or something and the kid is his? Why isn't he taking care of him instead of you?"
The question took Cam by surprise and won a sharp bark of laughter – not that Jackson hadn't had ample opportunity to get into that kind trouble or anything, but.... Cam forced the laughter back to an amused grin. "Sorry," he apologized for his confusing reaction. No wonder Landry had laughed at the idea of having to fill Dixon in! "No. The kid's not Jackson's. Jackson is the kid."
Dixon stared at him for a long moment as he absorbed what Cam had just said, then sat abruptly back in his wheelchair. "You're kidding me, right?"
Cam offered an self-deprecating shrug of his shoulders. "Nope. SG-1 walked into an Ori trap 'bout three weeks ago and this was the result: one mini-archaeologist."
"...Why?" the other man asked bluntly, still obviously wrestling with the whole idea.
"'Don't know," Cam shrugged yet again. "We think they were actually trying to kill him - you know reverse age him so maybe he couldn't ascend or something? - but we're not sure. Carter figured out a way to stop it, but...."
"...But now you're stuck playing Mr. Mom," Dixon concluded. "Does he, you know ... remember anything, or--"
"--Oh, yeah." Cam nodded, tapping his own temple for emphasis. "It's all still up there. Just a little scrambled around. His brain got rewired with the downsizing, so.... Doc says it's like he's remembering in reverse ? what happened thirty-five years ago seems like yesterday; and what happened yesterday seems like thirty-five years ago. Not a perfect analogy, but ? you get the idea."
"So he thinks he's five years old?"
Cam offered that a shrug and nod both. "He is five years old," he noted, "--kinda. He's still this galaxy's foremost expert on the Ancients and the Ori, but he needs to be held when he's scared and told to take a nap when he gets cranky."
"Can it be fixed?"
"Carter says it can," Cam answered, refusing to believe otherwise. "And we've got the Asgard and Tok'ra helping out too." He nodded. "'Just a matter of time."
"In other words, they don't know," Dixon surmised grimly.
Cam laughed lightly in answer. "I learned a long time ago not to bet against Carter. If she says she can do it; she can do it."
* * *
"I can't do it." She shook her head. "Sorry, sir."
"Why not?" Jack wanted to know waving her to take a seat beside him at the conference room table.
The lieutenant colonel sighed in frustration before taking the indicated seat. "Unfortunately, the Asgard and Tok'ra haven't been real good at keeping us in the loop."
"Now, why am I not surprised by that?"
"I can't give you the gist of a report I myself haven't gotten."
As obviously true as that was, it didn't stop Jack from offering up his most pathetic look. "Not even a hint?"
It won him a small smile at least and then she glanced at her watch. "They'll be here in fifteen minutes, sir," she assured him.
Fifteen minutes he should be spending on paperwork and didn't want to.
"What's that?" he asked, nodding at the thick sheaf of papers she plopped down in front of her own place, half-suspecting she was going to add to his own small pile.
"Notes mainly," she answered, flipping the top folder open and frowning down at it. "A more detailed analyses of the original energy pattern we detected in Daniel's cells and some comparison analysis against various other energy forms we've encountered over the years, most significantly the residual energy patterns that were detected within both yourself and Daniel following your sarcophagus addictions--"
"-Ah!" Jack chose to stop her right there, offering the memory of his repeated exposure to Ba'al's sarcophagus a definite shudder and warning her off the topic with a single raised finger.
She offered the warning an apologetic nod and continued. "There does seem to be a correlation, sir."
"You knew that last week, Carter," he noted. "Did your team manage to learn anything new while you were busy being chased by man-eating bugs?"
She offered her own shudder for that memory. "No, sir, not really," she admitted.
"Good report, by the way," he offered quickly, hoping to lift her spirits. A frustrated and dejected Carter was not a pretty thing. "Clear, concise – 'make a great script for Martin Lloyd and his 'Wormhole Extreme' show – if it hadn't gotten canceled, of course."
The distraction didn't work.
With a little sigh, he glanced back down at the thick stack of papers before her. "'You even had the chance to go through all that yet?" he asked.
He knew she hadn't. She'd only been back at the SGC for a couple of days before she was tapped, along with Col. Reynolds and SG-3, to take the IOA delegates on their disastrous little tour of the Gamma Site. Landry had ordered her to take some down time upon getting back – the research into young Daniel's problem could wait a day or two – and then the boy had scared them all to death with that damn fever of his! Dr. Lam had insisted on keeping him for twenty-four hours before finally releasing him earlier this morning when it became obvious the kid had no lasting side effects from his 'traumatic memory flashback' which had resulted in 'flooding and brief reactive psychosis' – whatever the hell that all meant.
Carter offered the stack a mild grimace. "Not as well as I need to," she admitted unhappily.
Jack nodded and forced himself to go back to scanning through his own morning brief. "You'll figure it out," he told her confidently as they waited for the others to arrive.
He frowned down at the daily summary reports he was required to read and sign off on. He'd let them stack up a bit over the last few days, but his secretary had called to bug him about it this morning. Apparently his aide-de-camp was incapable of sifting though the morass to decide what should and shouldn't be passed on to the President and Joint Chiefs, let alone the IOA.
A glance through the Plexiglas star map at the back of the room showed him Landry busy talking to Walter about something or other. What Jack should have done when he originally left was take the chief with him! Too late now, he knew; Landry wasn't about to let the other man go.
He opened the file and skimmed the top page. The first item got X'ed out and a jotted, 'Get on their asses about this!' It had been nearly a year since the subspace communications repeater on M42-213 had gone on the fritz and the Combat Communications Unit had yet to fix it. True, it was in a scarcely populated area of space that both the Ancients and the Goa'uld seemed to have largely ignored, but it was a blind spot in their ships' communications network and it should have been fixed by now.
Next to hit the chopping block was a suggestion from the IOA that this might be a good time to re-open negotiations with the Aschen Confederation. That won a lifted eyebrow before getting several big X's through it and the note, 'Are they insane!?' - underlined, of course. Repeatedly. Bureaucratic idiots! The enemy of my enemy was most definitely NOT my friend in this instance. He seriously doubted the Aschen could do anything to stop the Ori anyway, completely lacking any real interstellar capability even if they were advanced in other areas. They might manage to distract the Priors for a few days – maybe weeks if Earth was lucky – but he fully expected the Ori would roll right over them.
Assuming the Replicators or Anubis hadn't taken care of the job already. It wasn't something they'd bothered to ask their allies about.
Frowning, he fought the urge to play with his pen. He puffed out his cheeks and blew out a sigh as he turned the page.
The Canadian Deputy Commander of NORAD had retired two months ago and his replacement, Lt. Gen. Bouchard, had yet to be fully brought into the SGC loop – meaning he'd been fed the standard line of crap about NORAD's day-to-day operations being moved to Peterson Air Force Base. After the Prior Plague scare a few months back, the Pentagon had finally decided to move NORAD for the sake of increased security at the SGC. As far as most people were concerned, the Cheyenne Mountain Complex was to be reduced to a backup facility for NORAD and kept on 'warm standby' - thus explaining the fact people were still obviously coming and going, albeit, not quite as many as before. However, NORAD and USNORTHCOM were still supposed to provide the SGC with secondary security forces in the event of a 'Foothold' situation so Bouchard needed to be read in. Maj. Davis had been scheduled to brief him twice so far and both times the meetings had been canceled at the last minute. Note: 'Beam his ass to the mountain and give him a tour if you have to!'
...A request from Atlantis for two dozen 'Odor Eaters', size 10DD? Dr. Rodney McKay. No wonder. Another big X and a suggestion he go see the doc.
Sheppard wanted water skis – something about them being more cost effective than using puddle jumpers. That got a snort - not when you figured in the cost of transporting and storing the fuel! Sam offered Jack a surprised glance and he shook his head, mumbling a quiet, "Sorry." Another X and a note: 'Nice try!'
Teal'c arrived about then. The two men exchanged greeting nods as the big guy sat down. Teal'c also got a quick smile from Carter. A glance at Jack's watch told him they had about three minutes – which meant the geeks were probably going to be late. Naturally.
With another sigh, he went back to the brief. Next - Alpha Site request: 200 boxes of 64 color Crayola crayons, 100 feet of 'flight line' and 100 gallons of 'jet wash' - industrial strength. Jack sighed and shook his head. Apparently, someone was having way too much fun messing with the off-world trainees....
The sound of voices in the hall drew his attention – thankfully! - and Jack glanced up to watch Dr. Lam, Dr. Lee and Nyan make their way into the room. A glance at his watch again said they had about one minute. And then he realized he wasn't sure if the Asgard and Tok'ra were going to beam down or come via the Stargate. He turned to Carter beside him and opened his mouth to ask just as the room filled with bright white light.
"Never mind," he told her and happily closed the folder with his daily briefs to be finished later.
